In the Barrister's Bed (31 page)
Read In the Barrister's Bed Online
Authors: Tina Gabrielle
James arrived home from Lincoln’s Inn to learn that Bella and his grandmother were out of the house. Stodges informed James that the women were shopping, choosing slippers, fans, and jewels for tonight’s ball.
James was looking forward to presenting Bella to all of society on his arm. He had kept his distance from her over the course of the past week because he found that he could not be in the same room with her and not touch her. He had wanted to show respect for her wishes, but damned if it hadn’t cost him. Just a glimpse of her at the top of the staircase, in the gardens, over dinner, was enough to set his heart pounding.
The wedding could not come soon enough.
I’ve turned into a lovesick fool,
he mused. He wanted her as his wife and the thought of her having his child did not terrify him. Rather, he was thrilled.
he mused. He wanted her as his wife and the thought of her having his child did not terrify him. Rather, he was thrilled.
A child he could love the way he was never loved. And if he had a son there would be no boarding schools, no seasonal visits. James would spend time each day with his child, share meals with him, and teach him how to ride and hunt, how to read and write, and how to never doubt he was loved.
There was a knock on the door. Stodges wasn’t near so James opened the door himself. Gregory stood on the front steps.
“Good afternoon, Gregory. The dowager is not home,” James said.
“I’ve come to speak with you,” Gregory said.
James opened the door, and Gregory stepped inside. James studied his half brother with a critical eye. Gregory appeared to have cleaned up his appearance for today’s visit. His moss-colored jacket and matching waistcoat had been tailored to his shoulders. But the tailoring revealed how cadaverously thin Gregory had become. He looked like a man in need of his next meal.
It’s the damned opium that eats away at his flesh. The decreased appetite for food increases the need for the drug.
James motioned for Gregory to follow him to the library and offered him a whiskey.
Gregory accepted the glass and sat in an armchair across from him. “I realize congratulations are in order.”
“You must be speaking about my upcoming nuptials.”
“No. I’m speaking of your unborn heir.”
James set down his glass and leaned forward.
“Oh, don’t try to deny it,” Gregory said. “I was here yesterday to discuss another matter with you when I witnessed the dowager ordering one of her loyal footmen to fetch a cradle from the attic. The old bat was going on and on about the heir to the house of Blackwood. The cradle, she said, belonged to our father. I easily surmised the truth after that. You need not worry, brother. I can keep a secret.”
James was surprised to hear the dowager knew of the babe. Bella must have told her. But why?
“I find it hard to believe you’ve come here today to wish me happiness,” James said.
Gregory ignored his mocking tone. “No wonder you acquired a special license. You had best marry quickly to ensure the child is legitimate. You wouldn’t want it to be looked down upon as you were.”
James’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me what you want.”
“I’d like to speak of the allowance you had mentioned. I spoke in haste. I realize our father had deemed to leave his heir everything. He has not left me with a shilling.”
“As I mentioned before, if managing a ducal estate is not to your liking, I have many business interests. Some are even listed on the London Stock Exchange. I would be willing to pay you to assist managing them.” James knew it would be an act of charity, rather than business sense, but despite it all, Gregory was his half brother.
Gregory laughed bitterly. “It’s no wonder you don’t understand. You were a barrister, for Christ’s sake. You were never meant to have the title. I, on the other hand, am a gentleman. We don’t work.”
James’s voice hardened. “Don’t be a fool. Circumstances have changed. I hold the title now, and I’m not inclined to hand it over. Accept what I’m offering. I can be generous, Gregory.”
“What do you know of generosity? You have taken my title, my wealth, and my betrothed.”
“I never touched Lady Caroline.”
“She’s cried off our betrothal.”
“Perhaps you should look to yourself,” James said.
Gregory scoffed. “What are you implying?”
“I can help you with the opium. I have aided former clients. There are physicians that specialize in treating those that are addicted.”
Gregory’s face became red and blotchy with anger. “You think I’d agree to have you lock me up?”
“Don’t let the opium ruin your life.”
“The opium hasn’t ruined anything.
You
have.”
You
have.”
James scraped back his chair. “If the purpose of your visit was to attempt to use the knowledge of my unborn child against me, then you have failed. Go now, Gregory, before I change my mind about my financial offer.”
Chapter 33
Bella stood beside James in the ballroom, greeting a long line of well-wishers. The dowager had announced their engagement moments ago, and the ballroom swelled with extravagantly dressed guests all eager to congratulate the new Duke of Blackwood and his betrothed. Bella spent the next hour smiling and curtsying, completely surprised at the number of people James knew—judges and barristers as well as influential members of society and the government. Then there were the dowager’s acquaintances, who carried themselves with the haughtiness that Bella associated with the titled and wealthy individuals of the
ton.
ton.
A viscount with a curled mustache that resembled a walrus bowed low before Bella and peered down her bodice. Bella rolled her eyes and stole a glance at James standing beside her. Among the garish colors worn by the male popinjays, James looked strikingly handsome in simple black-and-white evening attire. He stood tall and broad-shouldered, his hawklike features arresting and elegant, conveying a compelling sensuality that captivated her.
As the evening progressed, it was clear the ball was a huge success. There were no whispers of her unladylike interruption at the dowager’s private soiree. Lady Jersey herself, one of the powerful patronesses of Almack’s Assembly Rooms, kissed Bella’s cheeks in congratulations and invited her to a Wednesday evening at that establishment’s hallowed halls on King Street.
At last the line of well-wishers dwindled, and Bella spotted Evelyn and Jack taking a turn on the dance floor. Brent and Anthony stood by the refreshment table near the open French doors leading to the terrace. She understood their intent. Without an invitation permitting Rupert entrance through the front door, he would have to sneak in through the gardens. She assumed James’s hired men were among the numerous footmen stationed at the doors and seeing to the guests’ needs in the ballroom.
They had all seen the sketch she had provided to the Bow Street Runners. They knew whom to look out for.
In between dances, glasses clinked and laughter floated throughout the ballroom. Yet Bella remained tense, her eyes darting every few minutes to the open French doors.
James reappeared by her side. His gaze appraised her form-hugging silver gown from head to toe. “Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?”
His heated glance made her senses reel and brought a hot blush to her cheeks. “Four times to be exact, Your Grace. But I must admit to finding your flattery quite thrilling.”
He grinned devilishly. “Then I promise not to disappoint you in that regard.” He held out his hand. “Shall we dance, my dear?”
He led her to the dance floor just as the orchestra struck up a waltz. As he whirled her across the floor in his arms, she was painfully aware of the attention they received and forced a smile on her face. Only her quickened breathing revealed her nervousness.
“Bella, love. What are you thinking?” he asked.
“It’s past midnight, and Rupert has not made an appearance. Could we have been wrong?”
His hand tightened on her waist. “It’s unlikely. I leaked word that the ledger has been found, and Jack told a former client who is well-connected in the underworld that an incriminating ledger will soon be turned over to the authorities. Rupert cannot afford but to try and seize it. I suspect he is waiting for the perfect opportunity.”
“Then we must give it to him.”
The dance ended and he escorted her off the floor. “What are you suggesting?” he said.
She leaned close and whispered her plans in his ear.
He jerked back, his eyes darkening. “No, Bella. I’ll not permit you to put yourself at risk. The night of the highwaymen has already aged me ten years.”
“I wouldn’t be at risk. I’d have you and your friends watching out for me. It’s a solid plan.”
“Still—”
“This is our last chance,” she urged. “I wouldn’t want Rupert to make an appearance at our wedding.” She stepped close, her silver skirts brushing his legs. “Please don’t be stubborn about this, James.”
He let out a rough laugh. “I see I will never stand a chance against your persuasive techniques.”
With her hand resting upon his sleeve, she was aware of the coiled tension in his body. She gazed up at his profile, and was struck by his determination.
He guided her to where Anthony and Brent stood, and James motioned for his friends to join him in a corner. Quick words were exchanged and plans made.
Brent looked surprised, but nodded. Anthony’s lips curled in a calculated smile.
“If we do this,” James instructed Bella, “then you must follow my precise directions. Do not leave the main path of the gardens.”
“I promise,” Bella said.
Though together they strolled through the crowd, smiling as they passed couples on the dance floor as if they hadn’t a care in the world, Bella’s composure felt as fragile as an eggshell.
As they stepped outside onto the terrace, the cool night air felt wonderful on her overheated skin. Couples there nodded in greeting, and two men smoked cigars in the corner. Lit lanterns bobbed in the slight breeze, and the full moon hung overhead, a luminescent ball. The scent of roses from the garden filled the air with a heady perfume. It would have been perfectly romantic if not for her troublesome brother-in-law.
James leaned against the balustrade and made a show of laughing at one of the guest’s jokes. Bella knew he was trying to attract attention should Rupert be lingering in the gardens below.
James lowered his head, his breath brushing her ear. “Let’s go. Anthony and Brent should be in place by now.”
He whisked her down the terrace steps into the sculpted gardens below. Lanterns on the main stone path illuminated their way past white stone benches and graceful statues of Greek gods and goddesses situated along the path.
As they followed the walkway farther into the gardens, the bright light of the ballroom faded and the noise of the crowd became a far-off din. James guided Bella to one of the benches, and they sat down together.
Around them, the chirping of the insects blended with other night sounds. Some sixth sense told her Rupert was here, and the hair on her nape stood on end. James must have sensed it too for he tightened his hold on her hand.
With a rustle of shrubbery a dark figure emerged from the bushes. Bella started, then gasped as Rupert stepped onto the stone path and into the moonlight. He held a pistol in his right hand.
“Move and I’ll shoot her in the head,” Rupert said tersely.
James stood slowly, an ominous expression on his face. “Rupert Sinclair, I presume.”
Rupert sneered, turning the pistol on James. “That’s right. And you must be the Duke of Blackwood. We were never formally introduced in Wyndmoor Manor’s stables.”
James’s smile did not reach his eyes. “I assume you’ve come for the ledger. The contents are quite interesting, I assure you.”
Rupert waved the pistol in the direction of the mansion. “Go inside and get it. Bella stays with me.”
James held out a hand, his expression suddenly contrite. “All right. I’ll go. Just don’t hurt her.” He turned to leave, and Rupert lowered his pistol an inch. Just then James pivoted swiftly on his heel and lunged for Rupert. They hit the ground hard, the pistol flying out of Rupert’s hand. Both men scrambled for it.
“Stop!” Another male voice.
Bella whirled around to see Brent Stone rush from the bushes and kick the pistol out of reach. He held his own pistol to the back of Rupert’s head as Anthony Stevens came forth and snatched the discarded weapon from the ground. A tall man wearing a footman’s uniform stood beside Anthony.
Sweet Lord! Bella sagged in relief.
James’s gaze never left Rupert Sinclair’s face as he dragged the man to his feet. “Anthony and Miller, escort Bella back to the ball.”
Bella didn’t argue when Anthony and the footman moved to her side.
James was going to interrogate Rupert, and she wanted to put as much distance as possible between herself and the man who looked so much like her dead spouse.
James forced Rupert deep into the gardens, far from the ballroom terrace and the lit torches. “Pass the maze and head for the stream,” James told Brent.
An intricately designed maze wove through the center of the gardens. An acre past the maze, a stream ran through the remaining property and bordered a back road. The isolated stream was far from the ballroom, and would suit James’s needs precisely tonight. Guests with dainty ballroom slippers and finery would never venture out this far.
They came to the end of the maze, and James heard a trill of feminine laughter coming from deep within the shrubbery.
James pushed the muzzle of the pistol into Rupert’s neck. “Not a sound,” he growled.
Rupert stiffened, but remained silent.
They continued onward, past the maze, until the sound of running water echoed off the stone embankment of the stream.
James shoved Rupert forward, and he tripped and fell in the mud at the stream’s embankment.
“All I want is the ledger, and then I’ll go back to Somersetshire,” Rupert said.
James’s voice hardened ruthlessly. “You’ll never get it. You’re going to Newgate.”
Rupert stood and wiped his muddy hands on his pants. His mouth lifted in a menacing, sarcastic smile. “So you’ve been taken by her? Bella was my brother’s whore. Did you know he enjoyed beating her and kept her on a tight leash?”
James growled in rage. For the first time in his life, he felt he could kill another human being in cold blood. He kicked the blackguard in the gut, and Rupert doubled over. James pulled Rupert’s head back by his hair and punched him square in the nose. Blood splattered across James’s clothing. He raised his fist again, fully intending to beat Rupert to a bloody pulp, when Brent grasped James’s arm.
“Let me question him,” Brent said.
“No!”
Brent’s grip tightened. “Stop, James. Let me do it.”
Though the hostility and fury James felt for Rupert Sinclair cried out for revenge—thirsted for it—Brent was right. James would kill Rupert before he obtained the answers he needed. Brent, on the other hand, was level-headed and not in a murderous mood. James clenched and unclenched his fist and released a held-in breath before finally lowering his arm.
Brent stepped in front of Rupert. “Who else was involved in your exports to the French?” Brent asked.
Rupert remained silent.
“What other documents are there?”
Again silence.
“You truly are desperate to have hired the highwaymen.”
Rupert looked up at Brent. “Go to hell.”
Something flickered far back in Brent Stone’s eyes—an ominous glint like that of a predator certain of his prey’s doom.
Brent grasped Rupert’s hand. With a slight twist, there was a crack and Rupert dropped like a stone, howling in agony. Brent stood above him, a frightening look of utter detachment on his handsome face.
God’s teeth!
James thought. Who would have thought Brent had it in him?
James thought. Who would have thought Brent had it in him?
Brent looked and sounded as if he were on a stroll in Hyde Park, completely oblivious to the pain he was inflicting.
“Did you hire highwaymen to attack the duke and Bella?” Brent asked.
“No!” Rupert screamed.
Brent twisted his grip a fraction more, and Rupert was reduced to wailing and begging. “No! I swear it on my twin’s grave!”
Several seconds passed before Brent released Rupert’s hand. “He’s telling the truth,” Brent said, matter-of-factly.
Fear gripped James’s gut, tight as a vise. “The highwaymen were paid to kill. Then who hired them?”
“Who has the most to gain if you’re dead?” Brent asked.
Gregory.
His half brother’s name resounded in James’s head.
“Gregory’s highwaymen failed to kill me. He knows that Bella’s carrying the heir and we’re to wed the day after tomorrow by special license. He’d have to kill her, too.”
“Go to her,” Brent urged. “I already summoned the constable, and he’s waiting on the back road. I’ll deal with Rupert.”
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