Julia London (36 page)

“I had thought you would slither out from under your rock before now,” Michael said dryly.

“I know this news is upsetting to you, my lord, and I had thought to give you some time to collect your thoughts,” Carrey responded politely.

“Spare me your bloody platitudes. What do you want?”

Galen’s faint smirk almost went unnoticed. “For both our sakes, I shall be blunt. As unpleasant as this is, surely you can understand my desire to collect from you what is rightfully mine.”

“That’s bloody well blunt, I’ll give you that. But make no mistake, Carrey. I have
nothing
that belongs to you.”

Galen’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he shifted his weight onto one leg. “I beg to differ, my lord. The will I have shared
with you is quite plain. You have my inheritance, and I respectfully request you return it at once.”

God
, what a lying bastard he was, Michael thought angrily. “You wouldn’t be trying to extort a sizable sum from me, would you?”

“It is rather unfortunate that Captain Carrington chose to proceed as he did, but that hardly is of my doing. And you must not blame Abbey, either. She was quite unaware of the change.”

Michael smirked. Carrey was certainly quick to absolve Abbey. “Was she?” he asked sarcastically. “It would seem to me that if anyone was unaware of the change, it was Carrington. It must greatly surprise you to know that he made sure a small fortune would be paid to her aunt the moment she was put aboard a ship bound for England. It must also surprise you to know that his associates and creditors would not have been paid had she not come here and married me. And no doubt it must astonish you to know that there was never a mention of any distant cousin who would be heir to her fortune,” he said with a sneer.

One corner of Galen’s mouth turned up in a mocking smile. “I believe the papers I gave you clearly state those same things were to happen. The only change is the direction of his liquidated assets. In the will I brought you, there is mention of a cousin, sir.”

“How convenient. You miraculously appear
after
the captain’s estate has been settled by marriage,” Michael said.

Galen frowned at that. He paused to remove a small, white kerchief from his sleeve, and dabbed at the corners of his mouth before responding. “My timing has nothing to do with the rightful settlement of the captain’s estate. It has everything to do with a man’s change of heart on his deathbed, my lord, I can assure you.”

“Um-hmm.” Michael nodded. “I wonder what prompted Carrington’s change of heart? It wouldn’t have been a pistol to his head, would it?”

Galen folded his arms across his chest and glared at Michael.
“I take offense to that, sir! Men on their deathbeds change their minds all the time.”

Michael almost laughed. “I’ve never heard of one changing his mind so drastically on his deathbed, Carrey. And how odd; I was given to understand by Mr. Strait’s correspondence that as the end drew near, Carrington was rather adamant the estate be settled. Mr. Strait was quite clear that the goal was to have it done before he expired.”

Galen’s eyes flickered at the mention of Mr. Strait, and he shifted his weight unconsciously.

“How did you come across Carrington’s personal articles?”

Galen’s eyes slid to the mound of gowns. “They were delivered to me, with the second will.”

“Who delivered them?” Michael asked quickly.

“A courier,” Galen lied.

“And the doll?”

“The doll belonged to Abbey when she was a child. It was the captain’s hope she would give it to her children,” Galen patiently explained.

Michael slowly pushed himself to his feet. He walked to his desk and perched a hip on one corner, folded his arms across his chest, and brazenly considered Carrey. “Do you really expect me to believe that Carrington would have pressed this marriage if he intended to leave his estate to you? What possible motive would I have to marry his daughter without a dowry?”

Galen tossed his head indifferently. “Her dowry, my lord, was the elimination of your rather sizable debts. Did you think he would also
compensate
you?” He snorted sarcastically.

Michael bristled; a vein in his neck began to beat with the steady rise of his rage. “I’ll tell you what I think, Carrey,” he said in a dangerously low voice, “I think you and your
little one
concocted this scheme. I think the two of you determined you would have Carrington’s wealth for your own. I think the two of you—with the help of a fraud of a solicitor—forged a will designed to force my hand and banked on the assumption that once we were wed, I would not divorce her in the face of
scandal, and she would continue to live in the lap of luxury when you made your claim. Assuming, of course, you could not successfully kill me.”

A cloud of bewilderment glanced Galen’s features before he pressed his lips tightly together. “You may interpret it how you will, Darfield. But know that I will drag this through the courts if I must. Before you dismiss me out of hand, my suggestion is that you return what is mine. It is simpler for everyone and will invite far less talk for you and the marchioness than a lengthy court case!”

Michael laughed impertinently. “You sorely underestimate me, Carrey. I am not the least bit afraid of scandal, nor am I the least bit reluctant to divorce Carrington’s daughter. And I will bloody well keep the Carrington fortune for my time and trouble.”

Galen’s face turned crimson. “This can
ruin
you,” he hissed, slapping his gloves against his thigh for emphasis.

“I seriously doubt that,” Michael said in return. “And I would think twice before threatening me, sir. You are a charlatan who deserves to be hanged, and believe me, I will see it done.”

Galen paled. “Consider carefully what I am telling you, Darfield. The will has not been fully executed, and if I were to tie it up in the courts, Carrington’s creditors will not be paid, and
that
, my friend, will fall on
your
head,” he shot back.

“Get out of my house.” Michael growled.

“You are a fool, Darfield!” Galen turned abruptly on his heel, almost colliding with a chair. He stormed to the door and jerked it open, then paused to look over his shoulder. “Your name will be dragged through the mud.
Again
.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Michael said calmly. “I’m quite certain I’ll see you dead first.

Galen’s lips pursed; he looked as if he would say more, but on second thought, he stalked from the room. Michael walked calmly to the door, shut it, and turned back to the pile of gowns. He lifted a blue one to his face and inhaled her scent, then dropped it and walked to the sideboard and the dozen decanters there.

Galen cursed lightly under his breath as he strode down the hall. Routier was an absolute fool to think Darfield would roll over. That devil would not give into anyone’s demands, Galen was quite sure of it. As he walked swiftly toward the foyer, he was startled by the opening of the library door. Abbey stood at the threshold, staring blankly at him.

She looked like death. Dark circles shadowed her dull, lifeless eyes. Her intrinsic sparkle was gone, doused. Her hair hung limply down her back, fastened at the nape of her neck with a leather tie. She wore a shapeless, plain brown gown and hugged a leather-bound book to her chest.

“My God,” he breathed helplessly.

Abbey’s stoic expression did not change. “I am forbidden to see you,” she said flatly.

Glancing over his shoulder. Galen quickly stepped inside the library. Abbey made no effort to move, and he had to step around her to enter. The library was oppresively dark, and he went immediately to the windows and drew the drapes and blinds, then opened both windows. Abbey squinted painfully and turned away from the bright sunlight that poured into the room.

“Michael will be very angry if he finds you here,” she said quietly.

“Dear God, Abbey, look at you!” he exclaimed.

Abbey shrugged and moved slowly toward an overstuffed armchair as if she carried some enormous weight. She dropped her book carelessly onto a table, then fell listlessly into the chair like a rag doll.

Alarm rifling through him, Galen demanded, “What has he done to you?” Abbey did not look at him, nor did she move a fraction of an inch. Suddenly frantic, Galen crossed the room in two angry strides and grabbed her by the elbow, jerking her upright with a force that surprised him. Abbey made no sound; her eyes were blank as they turned to him.

“What has he done? Does he starve you?” he barked, appalled by her complete apathy.

Abbey’s gaze dropped to her lap. “What does it matter?”

Galen leaned over her. He gripped her chin and forced her drawn face upward so he could peer closely into her eyes. “
It matters
.”

Abbey’s lifeless violet eyes flickered briefly, then slid away. Touched and disturbed by the devastation he saw there, Galen straightened slowly and pushed a hand through his hair. Darfield was a monster to have broken her spirit this way. But worse, far worse, was the realization that her devastation was of his own doing. Guilt soared in him, guilt he would do anything to quash.

“Bloody hell, I don’t know what he’s done, but you cannot go on like this!” She did not respond, did not acknowledge him. Galen inhaled sharply. “I never thought you a coward, Abbey.”

Abbey’s dull gaze flicked to her lap. “I am not a coward.”

“You are acting like one,” he interrupted. With his hands on his hips, he looked disdainfully down the length of his nose. “He accuses you of unspeakable crimes you did not commit. And you respond like this?”

She grimaced and pushed herself off the chair, moving sluggishly toward the bank of windows. “Pray tell, how should I deport myself? Should I pretend that everything is the same as it was four days ago?” she asked with her back to him.

“You should act like the innocent you are, an innocent wronged,” he snapped.

Abbey’s spine stiffened. “What would you suggest? That I put on my finest and gad about town as if everything is quite ordinary?” she asked angrily.

“I suggest
precisely
that,” Galen said emphatically, his anger with Darfield spiraling out of control.

At the window, Abbey glanced skeptically over her shoulder. “You must be out of your mind.”

Her profile against the bright sunlight was a poignant as any work of art he had ever seen. Her pale skin, shadowed by the light, made her torment clearly visible, a torment borne of a broken heart. He winced at the deep, painful stab of guilt.

“Has he touched you?” he asked quietly, angrily.

Abbey choked on a bitter laugh. “
No
.”

“I will not allow this. I will not allow him to intimidate you like this!” Galen said hoarsely, moving to close the gap between them. She was fighting valiantly to keep the tears at bay, and her whole body quivered from the effort. He reached out and touched her shoulder.

Choking on a sob, Abbey lost her control. A torrent of tears burst from her, and she doubled over. Galen caught her and wrapped his arms around her. Cupping the back of her head, he eased her face into his chest as sobs racked her thin frame. Abbey clutched forlornly at the lapels of his coat and cried as if her heart would break. He held her protectively in his arms, swallowing bitter lumps of emotion until her tears at last began to subside and her grip on him began to ease.

“Abbey, little one,” he whispered, “I am so very sorry. I never meant to cause you any harm, you must believe me.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she swallowed hard. “You did not cause me harm, Galen, Papa did. But do not be sorry—I am glad I know what Michael is,” she muttered unconvincingly. “No more. I will not cry one more tear for him.” She hiccuped.

“Good,” Galen said soothingly.

“No, I mean it, Galen! He did not even
attempt
to believe me! He doesn’t even know you, yet he instantly assumed you are evil! And dear God, you would not believe the incredible speed with which he concluded that I had lied! I deserve
some
consideration, don’t I?” she demanded against his neckcloth.

“Indeed you do,” he readily agreed.

“I should be
insulted
! I have never given him
any
reason to doubt me!”

“I know you have not, little one,” Galen said, heartened by the spirit beginning to emerge.

Abbey suddenly pushed back from him and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Why should
I
stay holed up in this godforsaken house? I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“If you stay holed up like this, pining away, he will think you
do
have something to hide,” Galen encouraged her.

Abbey’s brows snapped together. “I have
nothing
to hide,” she said vehemently, but her angry frown quickly turned to helpless wonder. “But what am I to do?” she asked forlornly.

Galen guided her to a chair. “You did nothing wrong, regardless of what
he
believes. It would seem to me that you should carry on. Let
him
bear the burden of his faithlessness,” he suggested confidently.

“What do you mean?”

“You should go out into society as you have every right to do.”

Abbey’s brows knitted together as she considered that. “Go out?” she asked hesitantly. “But I cannot go out alone, can I?”

“I will escort you,” Galen said, lifting his chin.

Abbey looked frightened by the mere suggestion and hesitantly shook her head. “I do not think that’s a good idea … I mean, I am not allowed to see you.”

“Lord, Abbey, will you allow him to control you so completely? Will you allow him to forbid contact with your own kin? Does he tell you when you may eat and sleep? Are you a
prisoner
here?” Galen demanded.

Abbey’s eyes narrowed, flashing a brilliant shade of violet. “No, I am
not
his prisoner!” She leaned back against the cushions, considering the pattern on the arm very thoughtfully.

Galen looked nervously at the door. Darfield would kill him if he found him in there. He turned back to his cousin, going down on his haunches next to her chair. “Abbey, I must go before he discovers us. Harrison Green is having one of his infamous routs this evening,” he suggested impetuously. “Meet me at the park, eight o’clock. Will you meet me there?”