Heart of Brass (32 page)

Good lord, he did look like a bedlamite—one that had been lobotomized. His hair was back from his forehead, revealing the healing wound from Dr. Stone’s surgery. Little wounds from last night made tiny angry red slashes on his skin, and around his left forearm was a snowy white bandage that he should have pulled his sleeve down to conceal.

“The three of you are here to decide my fate, are you?” he asked gruffly, making eye contact with each one of them. One thing Luke did remember was how to pin a man with his gaze and stare him down. Wasn’t that part of being a peer?

“Lord Henry has expressed concern for your health, Lord Huntley,” the man he assumed to be Kirkpatrick, the solicitor—no one had introduced them—said convivially. “We are here to offer whatever assistance we can.”

“Concern for his inheritance, you mean,” Luke corrected. “You needn’t speak to me as though I was a child, sir. I assure you that while my memory might be spotty, the rest of my mind is perfectly sound and capable of knowing when I’m being patronized and treated as a half-wit.”

The solicitor flushed. Luke cast a glance at Arden and found her practically gaping at him. He fought the urge to grin.

“Why don’t you gentlemen just go ahead and line up whatever hurdles I’m to jump over, or ask whatever questions you have so Lady Huntley and I can get back to our life?”

“The life that someone is obviously trying to end,” Henry interjected. “Good lord, think of what this scandal does to the family.”

“Aren’t you a peach.” Luke couldn’t help but sneer a little. “Your brother is injured, your sister-in-law almost killed, and all you can think of is the scandal. Our mother would be so very proud.”

Henry turned crimson but didn’t back down. “Our mother would be humiliated by you and your behavior.”

“Would she? I’ve been a prisoner these past seven years, of an enemy of England, and now I’ve returned, doing everything within my power to bring that enemy to its knees. Do you really believe Mother would be ashamed of her son being one of the few peers in England doing more than arse-warming a bench in Parliament?”

Arden looked as though she was about to applaud. Meanwhile, the men in the room looked heartily ashamed, which had been the point of his impassioned speech. He had no bloody idea if his mum would be proud of him or not. He couldn’t even remember her name, and her face was nothing more than a wisp of dream.

But he couldn’t think of that now. He had them where he wanted them. He stood up straight even though his battered muscles protested, and used his impressive height to even further advantage. He kept his expression firm, eyes hard. “I am Lucas Harris Stratford Grey, the Earl of Huntley, and if my brother wants the title he can get in line and kill me for it, or wait for someone else to do the job. Meanwhile I have read the correspondence from my stewards, have written to them, and my wife and I plan to visit each of my country estates once the Season is over so that I may resume my responsibilities.”

They all stared at him—even Arden. He hadn’t told her what he’d been up to those couple of days when he’d been trying to sort out how much of an arse he’d been to her.

“Henry, I thank you for taking care of things in my absence. I only wish you had included my wife in that care, but since she’s not part of the earldom I suppose she slipped beneath your notice.”

His brother looked as though he might choke—or actually attempt to throttle him. Henry’s hand was bandaged from their last encounter, so Luke suspected the younger man wouldn’t try anything so rash. “I paid her bills and her staff, which is more than most would have done. I allowed her to live in our family home.”

“It is her home—and mine. All you did was oversee the fortune attached to the title. How much of it did you use as your own?”

“Are you accusing me of stealing from my own inheritance?”

“I’m accusing you of being a heartless bastard,” Luke shot back. “You couldn’t even give her the kindness due your own brother’s wife.”

Henry didn’t respond. He glanced down at his feet, but only for a second before shooting Luke a dark look. Christ, but the runt was angry. Angry at him, and at the entire world.

Luke could relate.

“What say you, Dr. Vincent?” Luke asked, turning a hard gaze to the old physician. “Am I sound? Or am I bound for Bedlam? Before you decide, I think it only fair to inform you that I’ve received a written thank-you from the prime minister for the sacrifices I’ve made for this country. Would you care to see it?”

Their horrified expressions revealed that he had won, although he was going to have to answer for it to Arden, whom he hadn’t told about the P.M.’s note. First Vincent, then Kirkpatrick took their leave.

“I think you should go as well, Henry,” Lucas told his brother. Perhaps he would feel a greater sense of betrayal if his memories were clearer. As it was, he was more annoyed than anything else. “Perhaps we might talk again when you’re not so angry.”

To his surprise, Henry nodded. “Perhaps. But I shouldn’t hold my breath were I you.” Even more surprising was the disappointment Luke felt at those words. Surely at one time there had been a measure of brotherly love between them? Some sort of regard or loyalty?

When they were alone once more, he turned to Arden only to find her on her feet, watching him with an oddly amused expression. “Not too many people can say they’ve gotten personal correspondence from the prime minister.”

He shrugged. Even his shoulders ached. “She probably had her secretary write it.” That had been one of the biggest surprises of his return—discovering that England had its first female political leader. It shouldn’t be that astounding—after all they had a female monarch—but he’d never thought the Tories and Whigs would stand for it, the bunch of old curmudgeons.

“Still, it should go a long way with the Wardens.”

“The fact that someone thinks I suffered when really I did it all willingly?” Harsh laughter crawled from his throat. “It doesn’t matter that they altered my mind; I thought I was doing the right thing. I believed that I was on the proper side.”

She regarded him thoughtfully, yet with an odd sort of impartiality. “You know, it occurs to me that you’ve punished yourself more than the Wardens ever could. Perhaps you should just admit that you were taken advantage of and start fresh. Or does self-flagellation make you feel more like a man?”

Damn that tongue of hers. She knew just where and how to best strike with it. It stung all the worse because she was right. “The Company made a fool of me.”

“And if you’re lucky, they’ll be the only ones in the span of your life.”

“You’re so bloody blasé. They robbed me of seven years. Robbed
us
.”

“They could have simply killed you,” she retorted, “but they decided to use you, and when it came time for you to do what they ultimately wanted of you, you didn’t. If anyone should feel foolish, it’s the Company. You’re alive, we’ve been given a second chance, and there are worse things in life than losing seven years.”

“Such as?” he asked with a scowl. “Have you any idea what it’s like to be betrayed by your own mind?”

Arden held out her hand, her lips tight. “Come with me.”

The Featherstone Sanitorium was situated in a picturesque location on the western fringes of the city. In the interest of comfort, they took the touring carriage with its superior spring and wider wheels that would hamper the jostling of their aching bodies. Honestly, Arden didn’t know how Luke was even able to move, let alone drive, which he had insisted upon doing.

God bless Evie and her magic potions.

She didn’t even mind him driving, she was so caught up in her own thoughts and anxieties. Not about Luke, not really. Today with his brother and the other gentlemen she’d gotten her first real glimpse of the man he now was. The old Luke would have tried a bit more charm—smiled and cajoled them into bending to his will. This man simply told them how it was going to be, and dared them to challenge him.

Best of all, he had spoken for her—acknowledged that she had been alone for the past seven years. She hadn’t wanted or even needed Henry to look out for her, but neither had her brother-in-law ever offered. Oh, he let her stay in the family house, but without declaring Luke dead he couldn’t kick her out. Besides, he and his wife had their own town house. She’d had access to money, and all the bills were paid. She made extra money on the side with her work for the W.O.R. and her inventions, so she never wanted for anything.

Except perhaps the friendship and support of the family she’d married into. The joke of it was that Luke didn’t seem to know how much his words had affected her. He hadn’t said them to earn her goodwill; he’d said them because he meant them. He might one day forgive his brother for trying to usurp him, but he would never forget that Henry hadn’t done right by her.

Luke had never been more beautiful to her than he had in that moment. She loved every little bruise and cut, line and shadow on his gorgeously sharp features. In fact, after all the time and pain, there was part of her that still loved him. There was an even bigger part of her that was in danger of falling in love with the man he was now. There was no artifice to him, no polite veneer. He spoke his mind and offered his emotions freely. He laughed with real delight, raged with raw anger, and when it was impossible to tell where her body began and his ended, he looked at her as though she was the other half of his soul.

Good lord, when had she become so bloody romantic? Where was her rationality now? Laughing at her from some place far away, no doubt, for there was nothing the least bit rational about her feelings for Luke.

She wanted to throw herself over that precipice, but common sense held her back. He remembered little of their life together, so he didn’t have those old feelings. What if he couldn’t love her now? There was no denying the attraction between them, but that had never been an issue. What if he didn’t fall in love with her? Or worse, what if he stayed with her because she was his strongest link to the past he couldn’t quite remember?

They passed through the gates at the foot of the sanitorium’s drive. When Luke saw the sign with the name of the place on it, he turned his head to give her a questioning look. He was the only man she’d ever seen, with the possible exception of Alastair, who could wear driving goggles and still look good.

Did he wonder if she planned to have him committed?

Judging by the amount of vehicles parked out front, they were not the only visitors who chose to call on this sunny and pleasant day. They parked near the front door, behind a wine-colored carriage pulled by four gleaming brass horses. It was a frivolous display of wealth. An automaton horse could do the work of four, and cost about as much. To have this many was just…showing off, though a touring carriage such as her own wasn’t cheap either. Her only excuse was that her father had built it.

They removed their goggles, and Arden checked to make certain her broad-brimmed hat was as it should be on her head. She smoothed the front of her peacock-blue driving dress and held out her hand as he came round to her side. Luke took it without a word, offering the comfort of his touch without knowing just how badly she needed it. She’d never brought anyone here—not Hannah, not Alastair.

The sanitorium was an imposing old estate dating back to Henry VIII. Red stone, dark trim and spires that reached toward the sky. Only the bars on the windows betrayed that this was a fortress and not a home.

They climbed the shallow stone steps to the heavy front door. Arden lifted the earpiece from the hook and placed it against her ear. When a voice inquired as to who was calling, she leaned toward the voice amplifier on the wall and said, “Lord and Lady Huntley.”

There was a pause and then, “Identification verification, please.”

From a small holder inside her glove, Arden extracted a round bit of metal that was notched around the perimeter—resembling a completely unsymmetrical cog—and placed it into the slot of the mechanism on the wall beside the visitor audio phone. The piece fell into place and immediately set the rest of the clockwork device into motion. It rotated clockwise, then clicked back, then forward once more, before it stopped and spit the tiny cog out into a small receptacle, from which Arden retrieved it.

“Come right in.” The voice crackled in her ear. “She’s in the solarium.”

Arden thanked the woman and hung up just as a loud clunk filled the warm air. Slowly, the large doors split apart, sliding open with a low, grating noise. She gripped her husband’s fingers tightly now, urging him over the threshold with her.

Luke glanced around at the stately foyer, and the guards all dressed in black, cudgels in their belts. “This is where Henry would have me. Tucked away like a dirty secret.”

She stiffened. “Featherstone’s not like that. These people need to be here to get the care they need.”

He glanced at her, but she ignored it. She’d answer his questions later. Right now, she just needed to get through this.

“What’s in the bag?” he asked.

“A surprise,” she replied, hefting the satchel in her right hand.

“What are we doing here, Arden?”

She sighed. His patience was obviously reaching its end. “You asked if I knew what it was like to be betrayed by your own mind. You also asked me why I waited for you. I’m going to answer both.”

Silently, he walked alongside her as they continued down a wide, sunny corridor to a large, glassed-in area at the back of the building. There weren’t bars on the glass in this area—those were used to keep people from jumping out of windows, and from escaping. All of the furniture in the solarium was bolted to the floor so it couldn’t be thrown through a pane.

Here it was warm and bright, and patients sat on padded reclining chairs and enjoyed the day, while staring out at the gardens beyond. Patients walked out there, most with staff escorts, but the people in this section were those for whom actually experiencing the out-of-doors might be more frightening than pleasant, or more dangerous.

Arden spotted her immediately, her graying auburn hair bright in the sun. Her throat tightened as she approached, her fingers slipping free of Luke’s. A face the color of cream, freckled across the nose, softly lined and creased, lifted at their arrival. Wide brown eyes crinkled at the corner.