Beauty and the Wolf (20 page)

I
sabella’s forehead creased. “I don’t understand.”

The barrister rested his elbows on the chipped table. “I’ve received some rather startling news, my dear. That is why I came to Thorncliff Towers.”

“If you’re going to tell me that Uncle Morton isn’t in debtors’ prison, my husband has already informed me as much.”

“I’m glad he relayed the news to you. But that is not what I was going to tell you.”

“What then?” Her eyes widened.

Overlapping his hands, he leaned forward on the table. “Isabella, they’ve unearthed your father’s remains in Egypt.”

“What are you talking about? My father is alive!” The shrillness of her voice caused the other patrons to glance over.

Benjamin looked sympathetic as he ignored the stares. “I’m afraid he’s not. Think about it. Morton is your father’s
identical
twin brother.”

Isabella’s hand flew to her mouth. Benjamin continued as tears spilled down her cheeks in streams. “When your father resurfaced in Society, I expected him to contact me but he didn’t. Naturally, I deemed it strange after our long history of friendship and that’s when my suspicions began. I wrote to the second in command at Harris’s archaeological site. A Mr. Simon Collingsworth. Miraculously, Mr. Collingsworth managed to survive the terrible landslide and vowed at that point not only to repair the damage done to the Valley of the Pharaohs, but to restore it to a level beyond even what your father had managed to do before he disappeared.

“I told him I would pay handsomely if he continued to search for your father’s body in the process. You see, something was telling me that your father was not who he seemed to be. After a long, arduous process, Collingsworth discovered your father’s remains.” He paused and clasped her hands with empathy. “Isabella, Harris’s skull was bashed in. The Egyptian authorities have deemed it foul play.”

She struggled to make sense of what Benjamin was saying. “Papa was murdered before the landslide took place? I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true,” Rayburn conceded. “I told Collingsworth that I suspected Morton was involved. He wrote in his reply letter that Morton had talked your father into some antiquities dealings—to help finance his lengthy dig. Collingsworth discovered that these antiquities dealings were disreputable and unprofitable. I believe that Morton showed up in Egypt and that the two brothers argued. Morton killed Harris, set the landslide into motion, then seized the chance to become his twin. It was very easy for him. After all, he is a man with the coldest of hearts and the blackest of souls.”

Isabella’s hands began to shake. “But why did Morton kill my father?”

“Hasn’t Morton always been envious of Harris?” Rayburn asked.

She nodded.

“Envious to the point of obsession, in fact. Your father had everything Morton desired—fame, notoriety, a beautiful family. I know it is hard to fathom such a jealousy, but I think that overwhelming envy gave Morton reason to dedicate his life to destroying Harris.”

Hot tears continued to sting Isabella’s face. “I can’t believe my father is dead.”

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news.”

She accepted the handkerchief he offered and shook her head. “It’s no wonder I thought my father was acting strangely. His sudden outbursts seemed so uncharacteristic. Uncle Morton stole my amulet from me—the one Papa sent me from the Valley of the Pharaohs.”

“I know why Morton took your amulet,” Rayburn said. “Collingsworth told me that during the conversation he overheard, Harris asked Morton to contact you. Your father wanted you to know that the amulet he sent you is very valuable after all.”

“It can’t be—not without the bracelet of Amenhotep.”

Without saying a word, Benjamin withdrew something from his greatcoat pocket. A circle of pure gold glittered in the light. He handed the infamous bracelet to Isabella with a smile.

“My God,” she whispered.

It was a heavy thing, inlayed with sparkling jewels and an intricate border design consisting of polished coral. Thicker than four inches, it opened by way of a hinged clamp. Her fingers trembled around it.

“Be very careful with it, Isabella. Morton might know that Collingsworth discovered it among your father’s belongings. Out of respect for your father, he gave it to me to pass on to you. Of course, if Morton doesn’t know about the bracelet’s discovery, he may be trying to get the amulet from you and return to Egypt in an attempt to unearth it. Together they are worth a fortune.”

With her other hand, Isabella touched the coldness of the stone that dangled from her neck. The fact that these two pieces of jewelry were in her possession feathered her spine with a shiver.
If I can get Amenhotep’s bracelet on Draven’s wrist, I could avoid killing him altogether
.

Rayburn studied her in the dim light. “This is what I think,” he said. “Under the guise of Harris, Morton planned to bring you to Thorncliff Towers, confiscate the amulet, and do away with all those involved so that he could profit from Draven’s money.” He paused. “Morton is a very dangerous man.”

“I need to warn Helena and Draven that my father is an imposter,” Isabella said.

Benjamin put his hand over hers. “Try and calm yourself, my dear. You shall stay here in London with Willa and me. After a few days, I will accompany you to the Winthrop estate and together we shall tell your husband and his mother. Then we will find and confront Morton.”

Isabella’s thoughts flew to Draven’s daunting time-line. “Thank you, Uncle Benjamin, but there is an urgent reason I must return by tomorrow afternoon, at the very latest.”

“What reason is that?”

“I cannot tell you everything except that I’ve fallen in love with my own husband,” she answered in a soft tone.

He smiled forlornly.

“In being cruel earlier in his life, he has isolated himself from everyone. Now I’m all he has,” she said.

“Very well then.” Rayburn finished the last drop of ale in his glass. “Since the last post chaise to the coast has already departed, you’ll stay the night at my home and make the journey back to Dunwich first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you so much, Uncle Benjamin.”

“Of course, my dear. Before we take leave and get you home to Willa, tell me where Morton is.”

“He’s here in London. With Fiona. He said he had no desire to return to Thorncliff Towers.”

Rayburn seemed relieved. “Good. Since I’ll need time in the morning to round up the proper authorities, I will come to Dunwich shortly thereafter.”

As they left the pub, they walked in silence for a while. Then Rayburn placed a hand on her arm to stop her. “Remember, if Simon Collingsworth is willing to testify about what he heard, we can have Morton arrested on three legal counts: murder, illegal business dealings, and stealing his brother’s identity.”

D
raven’s head was heavy with confusion as he stormed back to Dunwich. He could swear he had smelled Isabella’s blood at the Gypsy camp, but when he’d exited the wagon, he saw no trace of his wife.

Of course, the multitude of scents within the camp had bombarded his senses and he could have been mistaken.

What dominated his thoughts even more were Marga Yavidovich’s words. The Gypsy never said that a
woman
must shoot him with a silver bullet. It made Draven wonder: could a man who loved him like a father pull the trigger instead?

Draven knew this was one request the faithful valet would turn down, but he was determined to persuade the old man otherwise.

Once he retrieved Lucifer in Dunwich, he directed the horse back to Thorncliff Towers. Before he spoke with Rogers, Draven wanted to tie up some loose ends with Helena. They had never had it out with one another and he considered that silence unfinished business.

Since his stepmother felt no maternal affection for him, she would probably be happy that he was going to vanish from her life forever. A long line of nannies and tutors had raised him without any effort or involvement from Helena. During that time, she never bothered to show an interest in him or inquire about his development. Bitterness had always plagued him on that account, but now he must release himself from it. And he wanted Helena to share in the moment.

He yanked Lucifer to a halt in front of the stables. After tossing the horse’s reins to Viktor, he entered the house with his riding crop in hand. Striding determinedly throughout the first level, he was called to the parlor by the shadow of the flickering hearth. Entering the room in a rush, he saw Helena reclining on the divan, enjoying a glass of sherry. She didn’t seem to notice him standing there.

“For once, Helena,” he said, “I’m glad to see you.”

Her brows dipped into a frown. She turned to him. “You needn’t concern yourself with my presence much longer,” she said. “I am leaving for London in the morning.”

“Having a sentimental moment, are we?” he asked, eyeing the glass of sherry.

Helena’s look went sour. She glared at the riding crop her stepson held in his hands. “Did you torture your horse during your ride, Draven?”

“Of course not.” He shunned her sarcastic tone. “And I wasn’t riding for pleasure. I had business in town.”

“What sort of business?”

Draven squeezed the leather rod until his knuckles turned white. “Business I must discuss with you here and now.”

“Certainly,” she said vaguely.

Draven sat across from Helena on a low, cushioned stool then leaned forward anxiously.

“What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“There is no delicate way to bring this to your attention, Helena, so I will get straight to the point.”

Her tone grew impatient. “What
are
you talking about?”

“Did you know that my maternal grandmother placed a curse on me after I killed that Gypsy girl? A curse that would ultimately transform me into a murderous beast?”

She set her sherry on a side table. Crossing her arms, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Yes, I am aware of that.”

Draven stared at her in disbelief. “You knew? And you never discussed it with me? You couldn’t have thought to prepare me for what would happen on my twenty-seventh birthday?”

“I followed you into the woods that night, Draven,” she said. “I saw you kill that girl.”

His face flushed.

She put a hand up to calm him. “You told me that it was an accident when you returned to the house, but I knew firsthand that you were telling the truth.”

“Still, you buried that secret by having me committed?”

Her stare softened. “To protect you.”

He drew back, confused.

“You see,” Helena explained as her demeanor completely changed, “I heard that woman cast her curse. And I thought that if you were safely tucked away in an asylum, you couldn’t be hurt, or hurt anyone else.”

Anger heated his stare as she struggled for composure.

“Though you were not aware of it at the time,” she said, “I visited the asylum. I saw how you were being treated by those inexperienced doctors. And when I saw those torturous machines, I ordered you to be released.”

“What were you thinking before you had me committed?” Draven scowled. “That time spent in an asylum would equal a stay at a high-class hotel?”

“No one could have guessed how terrible that place was.”

He flew to his feet. “I don’t believe it. This is a bunch of rubbish. You hate me. You’ve always hated me.”

She drew in a defiant breath. “No. I hated your father for what he did to me. The humiliation was more than I could bear and seeing you every day reminded me of his infidelity.”

“So you transferred your hatred of my father to me?”

“I did. I was outraged over his betrayal. So much so that you became a pawn in our relationship. I am certain you’ve learned this from servant gossip, but I threatened your father with divorce if he ever left me. I had proper grounds to do so.”

“And my father refused.”

“Yes. He enjoyed being a well-respected earl with an impeccable reputation.”

Draven’s teeth tingled with hatred.
Why must she tarnish Father’s memory?

Finding her familiar air of superiority, she continued. “Cyril and I were very much in love at one point. Then he had the gall to succumb to that bedeviling woman. Following their tryst, we never placed ourselves in the position to have children of our own. It’s something I never forgave him for. Therefore I wasn’t about to allow him to disgrace me
publicly.
That explains why, to this day, no one in Society knows that you are illegitimate, Draven.”

He wanted to strangle her, but the notion that Helena had gotten her fill of pain over the years would have to do. He took a moment to calm himself. “So you felt that all Father left you with was me?”

“Yes,” Helena’s face twisted with despair.
“You
.
”

Before Draven could pose his next question, Helena said something quite unexpected. “I never told you this before, but a part of me regrets not being a proper mother to you. Resentment paralyzed me from being maternal in any way.”

The statement caught him completely off guard. What did she expect him to say? That she had always been as cold-hearted as they come and that it was perfectly fine with him?

“I have my own confession,” Draven said. “I allowed you to stay here at Thorncliff Towers on the thread of a hope that you would become more affectionate. After all, you were all I had left after Father died.”

“Is that true?” Pain laced her indigo eyes.

Draven pushed his fingers through his hair, unraveling his queue. His voice quivered and belied his emotion. “I regret never knowing my birth mother. Did you know that she committed suicide on the very night she came here to Thorncliff Towers to speak with Father?”

“Committed suicide?” Shock rocked Helena’s voice.

He nodded. “She drowned herself in the pond just beyond Dunwich. It’s safe to say that giving me away broke her heart.”

Her face went ashen. “I had no idea. H . . . how did you know?”

“I’ve had contact with a member of the Gypsy tribe. The grandmother of the girl I killed, in fact.”

She leaned forward. “Have you asked her to revoke your curse?”

“Yes. I practically got down on my knees and begged her to lift it. Do you know what solution she presented me with?”

Helena shook her head slowly.

“She said that the woman I love is doomed to end my life whether I like it or not.”

“Isabella’s Egyptian prophecy—” Helena gasped.

He tossed the pearl-handled pistol into her shaking palm. “This gun contains a silver bullet. Supposedly Isabella will kill me with it tomorrow evening, as the full moon peaks. This will stop my reign of terror as a wolf.”

Staring at him in horror, she thrust the gun back at him.

“I can think of no one who despises me more,” Draven said, “so I’m sure this is all you ever dreamed of. To be forever rid of me, a scandalous thorn in your side.”

Helena tilted her head back in her regal fashion. “I can’t deny that I have wished you out of my life many times.”

Draven gave her a half-smile. “After tomorrow night, you never have to worry about being publicly disgraced again. I’ll be dead. Isabella will be in London. And you can remain here.”

“But I thought Isabella would be dead too, according to the prophecy.”

“I have another plan.”

Perspiration beaded his upper lip while Helena’s hatred for him resurfaced.

“This is morbid beyond belief,” she said.

As difficult as it was, he had come here to tell Helena that he didn’t blame her anymore. Never thinking he’d see the day he would pose the words, he took in a breath. “Since we’re speaking so frankly, I’d like to tell you something. I know my father made you suffer greatly. I also know that I shouldn’t have been born the bastard son of a Gypsy woman. I should have been
your
son. For that reason, I forgive you for hating me. In fact, I consider you vindicated.”

“You are . . . forgiving me?” She seemed flabbergasted.

“Yes. And for what it’s worth, I wasn’t responsible for poisoning your food. It may not matter to you, but it’s my wish to inform you of that before I’m gone.”

Draven rose, spun on his heel, and left the room in order to spend his last afternoon elsewhere.