Lori Brighton - [The Seduction 02] (24 page)

When the surgeon finally arrived, he only confirmed what Gideon had suspected…it might be poison. Arsenic, most likely.
Completely untraceable, and most likely unprovable. They would have to wait it out to see if he recovered. And so the clock on the mantel ticked the minutes by and finally the dark night faded to light and still Henry breathed.

Gideon moved from the windows toward the bed and took the boy’s clammy hand in his. Lifeless, but his pulse still beat in his thin wrist, thank God. His gaze slid toward Elizabeth. She stood like a statue near the fireplace. She’d been standing there unmoving, practically unblinking for at least an hour.

The urge to protect her overwhelmed him. To pull her close and tell her that everything would be well. Damn it all, he wanted to save this family who had wormed their way into his measly heart, but how? How could he save anyone when he couldn’t even save himself?

“Will he recover?” Elizabeth’s voice came out husky with emotion.

It was a somber room and had grown more so throughout the night. Gideon and Elizabeth had taken turns at Henry’s bedside. He didn’t question his devotion and compassion, and neither did Elizabeth. It wasn’t the time to worry over his deepening feelings. He could curse his weak heart tomorrow.

The surgeon sighed, raking his hands through his bushy white hair. Instead of responding, he shuffled toward Henry and pressed his stethoscope to the lad’s chest. Gideon gave the man room and paced toward the windows. Daylight had arrived and with it the hope of a new day. The hope of recovery.

Gideon didn’t trust Elizabeth; he knew she was keeping secrets from him. Yet, at that moment none of it mattered. He only wanted to see her safe and sound. Only wanted the children well. And if they made it, if they survived, he would know that he had done something worthwhile with his wasteful life.

“We can pray,” the surgeon finally said. “With rest and God’s will, perhaps. Fortunately, it doesn’t seem as if he ingested much. That is…if it was what we believe.”

He was reluctant to confirm their fears, for it meant that someone, somewhere was guilty. Gideon turned away from the windows and studied Henry’s pale face. He looked so tiny, so helpless in Elizabeth’s large bed. He wanted to cradle the lad to his chest and promise him that he’d see the culprit suffer.

Mouse sniffled, drawing his attention to her. She sat curled in the chair, clutching her doll and watching Henry mournfully. He knew what it felt like to lose a sibling. He would not let that happen to Cally. Damn it all, he wouldn’t let Henry die.

“Mrs. Cooper is ready to give birth. I shall check back in a few hours.”

Gideon wanted to protest the man leaving, but Elizabeth merely nodded. “Thank you.”

“Send for me if he gets worse.” The surgeon left, closing the door softly behind him.

Frustrated, Gideon paced the room, from the fireplace to the windows to the bed. He felt trapped, helpless. Elizabeth remained still as a statue near the blazing hearth. And poor Cally rested on a wing back chair, attempting to understand something that was beyond her innocence. Yet, the birds still chirped. The sun still rose. The world still spun. And the dowager…the dowager still lived while Henry suffered. The restlessness within him itched fiercely.

“Call the magistrate.” He focused on his anger, preferring the emotion to the worry that was digging its icy claws into his body. “Something has to be done.”

Elizabeth shook her head, her lower lip quivering. “You think I have not been searching for proof? Mr. Smith—”

“Damn Mr. Smith to hell!”

Cally flinched, adding to his guilt. Blast it, he was tired of the man. Annoyed by the fact that Elizabeth seemed to take his word as God’s. But mostly he was angry that people like the dowager could get away with murder because of their station.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “How do you know you can trust him?”

Elizabeth was saved from answering by a soft knock. Gideon reached the door first.

“My lady.” Will stepped into the room, his young face full of worry and unease. The entire house pulsed with sorrow, as if already in mourning. “We found these under his bed.” He held out a plate of cookies. “There was a mouse next to the dish…dead.”

Elizabeth surged for the plate, only to drop the dish, the porcelain cracking in two and the cookies tumbling to the carpet. “Where did they come from?”

“We don’t know.” Will settled on his knees, nervously gathering the debris. “Cook swears she never gave them to Henry. No one knows.”

He saw the look of pure rage that crossed her face. They both knew who had given Henry the poisoned treats. Her hands curled like claws, her breath coming out in harsh gasps. But Gideon wouldn’t let her throw her life away on bitterness. No, if anyone was going to kill the bitch, he would. After all, he had nothing to lose.

“Mama,” Henry’s raspy voice called out. “I want water.”

Just like that the anger fell from her face and her body softened. Elizabeth rushed to the boy’s side, slipping her arm underneath his shoulders and lifting him enough to press a glass of water to his parched lips.

“A mere sip,” she whispered, her voice catching with emotion. “That’s a good boy.”

Mouse jumped from her chair and climbed onto the bed beside them. They were a family, the three, and he knew they could not survive without each other. Elizabeth settled Henry back onto the bed, and the poor lad closed his eyes as if merely taking a drink had exhausted him.

Somehow these people had imprinted upon his heart, his soul, whether he wanted them there or not. They had become the closest thing he had to a life. He couldn’t let the anger and need for revenge ruin Elizabeth as it had ruined him.

He knew in that moment what had to be done. Gideon spun around and moved across the room with determined strides. The dowager might hold some sort of power over this family, but she held nothing over him. He could so easily take care of the woman and dispose of the body without a second thought. He could save Elizabeth the heartache he’d endured. He tore open the door and made his way into the hall.

“She’s not in her bedchamber,” Will said, running after him. The boy’s jaw was clenched in an anger that Gideon could appreciate. “If I wasn’t afraid of getting Elizabeth in trouble, I’d see the witch hang meself.”

“Where is she?”

“The portrait gallery, of course.”

Gideon started down the hall, determination his guide. Below he could hear the soft clatter of maids starting fires, but the house held the stillness of a wake. The soft grayness of morning tiptoed through the windows like a thief, intent on stealing away their day.

“Try not to kill her,” Will said, keeping step with him. “Or you’ll end up hanging.”

At the moment he didn’t care. If he killed the woman, he would end up in prison, aye, but it was where he belonged and at least Elizabeth would be safe. Perhaps, just perhaps, the children could grow up to have long, happy lives.

Will’s hand rested on his shoulder. “Elizabeth needs you.”

Gideon shrugged off the boy’s hold and started toward the gallery, leaving the lad behind. Elizabeth didn’t need a whore; she needed freedom from the very woman who had been giving her nightmares for years. He found the dowager in the dimly lit gallery, looking over her son’s portrait, which was now hanging upon the wall, the landscape gone.

The gas lamps had been lit and glowed eerily, highlighting the soft roundness of her face, making her look even more matronly. With a sigh she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve
and dabbed at her eyes. As if the woman cared, as if she felt anything but bitterness and hatred. He knew better. Demons didn’t know compassion or love. She didn’t turn as he approached, although he knew she heard his footsteps, for he didn’t bother to quiet them.

“Should you not be lounging uselessly in bed? Perhaps eating my son’s food and wasting his money?” she said coldly.

Gideon paused next to her, his hands curling as he resisted the urge to reach out and wrap his hands around her pale neck. “Did you give Henry the cookies?”

She glanced distastefully at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“When Henry awakes, and he will”—Gideon stepped closer to her and found some satisfaction when she shrank back—“he will tell us where the cookies came from. If your name is mentioned, I will kill you myself.”

She straightened her spine, her shoulders thrown back. Aye, she feigned indifference, but he read the fear in her eyes. “How dare you, a man of no consequence, threaten me.”

A furious swell of emotion almost choked him. “I’ll do much, much more than that should anyone in this household ever be harmed again.”

She frowned, as if confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I refuse to stand here and listen to your threats.” She started past him, a look of disdain upon her wrinkled face.

Gideon stepped in front of her, blocking her exit. She knew this was the end of her reign, he saw the terror upon her pale face. For the first time someone was fighting back, someone bigger, someone stronger, someone more evil. “You, my lady, are leaving.”

She clutched her black skirts and stumbled back a step, her jowls quivering with nerves and indignation. “You can’t tell me to leave my own home!”

Gideon reached forward, grabbing the collar of her bodice and jerking her forward. Hatred thrummed through his body. “This is
Henry’s home. You will go to your room, pack your things, and you, your companion, and your son will leave. Now.”

Her face went deathly white. He doubted the woman had ever been threatened before. No, she did her dirty work through others. “How dare you…”

He tightened his hold on her collar, the material digging into her throat until she gasped for air. She was all bone and soft flesh. A weakling he could so easily break. The temptation was strong…so very strong. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, and unless you leave, you’ll soon find out.”

“Gideon,” Elizabeth called out. “Don’t.”

His jaw clenched. The dowager’s pleading gaze left him, focusing on Elizabeth. He didn’t want to release her. The demon within urged him to do the deed and be done with it. But he could feel Elizabeth behind him, her pure presence a balm to his dark soul. With a growl, he released his hold. The old woman stumbled back, gasping for air.

“I will leave because you have been completely and utterly offensive,” she breathed harshly, the fear still apparent in her faded gaze. “And I will not share my home with a man like you.”

She turned and scurried from the room like a rat that had been introduced to light. Gideon released a breath of air through clenched teeth and forced himself to unclench his hands. Although the witch was leaving, he didn’t feel any easier. No, he’d only feel better when she was in Newgate or buried deep underground.

“Gideon, they would have hanged you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said softly, his back still to her.

Elizabeth had hired him to protect her, and he would. It was the one thing he could do for the woman who had given him a brief taste of freedom. A life.

“It matters to me,” she whispered.

His heart clenched with painful longing. Slowly, Gideon turned. She leaned against a column, her lower lip quivering with
an emotion he didn’t understand but so badly wanted to. Was she angry that he’d overstepped his bounds? Afraid?

“I apologize,” he said, although he didn’t mean a word. He wanted to kill the dowager and probably would have. But he hadn’t meant to add to the burden that she already carried. “I know it’s not my place…”

Before he could properly brace himself, she raced forward and threw her arms around his neck. Instinctively, Gideon held her, resting his face against her silky hair and breathing deeply the scent of spring flowers. Warmth enveloped him, swirled through his body, and for a moment he knew only light.

“Thank you.” She pressed her lips to his, stunning him senseless.

It was a quick kiss, over almost as soon as it had begun, but it was the most poignant kiss he’d ever had, and he knew he would never forget her touch. A moment later she leaned back, appreciation gleaming in her green eyes. Gideon’s chest felt tight as his heart squeezed almost painfully. She had never, ever looked at Mr. Smith like she looked at him now.

“Thank you,” she whispered again.

The pride upon her face nearly did him in. Without another word, she spun around and fled, leaving him standing there bemused. He knew in that moment he was dangerously close to losing control when he’d sworn to never care for anyone again.

Bloody hell, it was time to leave.

Elizabeth thought the sun would do Henry good, but she didn’t dare go outside. After three days of sitting in bed, the boy needed light, and so she allowed them to play in the conservatory, where the hellions were rarely allowed to frolic. And after three days her worry had faded into a blinding haze of anger and determination to see the woman pay.

Henry had lost weight and his skin had grown pale, but he was finally starting to act like
Henry
. He’d made it through the worst, and now that he could rest and eat, now that Henry was well, she felt like she could actually breathe with some normalcy. Still, she couldn’t seem to look at him without feeling the sting of tears. First Cally had nearly died as a babe and now Henry? Would life ever be easy?

“Give it back!” Cally cried out.

Elizabeth sighed, lifting her teacup and sipping the tepid tea. Yes, Henry was definitely better, for he was already back to teasing
Cally. As much as their tormenting had annoyed her in the past, now she welcomed the noise. She would take them bickering over being ill.

The screech of the door had her dropping the teacup with a clank and slipping her hand into the hidden pocket of her skirt. She wrapped her fingers around the cold pistol and jerked her gaze toward the path that led through the indoor garden her husband had so loved.

“They’re gone,” Will said, appearing between two planted palms.

Elizabeth released the breath she held and pulled her hand from her pocket, forcing her fingers to relax and her pounding pulse to slow. “Good.”