Seduce Me (27 page)

Before he could search his conscience for the answer, Jensen spoke. “I can give you the men’s addresses.”

“No, I can find them myself,” Fielding said.

“It was an accident.” For the first time since they’d met, Jensen’s voice had an undercurrent of compassion. He sipped his
brandy again. “Going after those men will not bring your father back, nor will it answer all of your questions.”

The kindness didn’t soothe Fielding; instead it seemed to fuel his anger. “You don’t know anything about me,” he said.

“I know that you were but a boy when your father was killed, and suddenly you were the man of the family. In one swift moment
you had to learn to live without your father while taking on the duty of caring for your mother and sister,” Jensen said.
“ ’Tis a lot of responsibility for a boy of seventeen.”

Fielding glared at him. “No more than any other heir takes on.”

Jensen shrugged noncommittally but then added, “I understand there were some financial difficulties as well.”

“It was my father’s fault he couldn’t pay the bills.” It made Fielding uncomfortable to learn how much this man seemed to
know about his life. “I didn’t see anyone here discouraging him from continuing to spend money we didn’t have to chase that
bloody dream of his.”

“You’ll not find the answers you’re looking for here,” Jensen repeated.

“Far be it for the great and mighty Solomon’s to take any responsibility.”

“For that, I suggest you look closer to home,” Jensen said.

Fielding met the older man’s gaze. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“When was the last time you spoke with your mother?”

When Fielding didn’t respond, Jensen closed the book, in effect shutting the door on the conversation. “I’ve treated you fairly,
despite the fact that you’ve entered our facility unlawfully.” Gone was the brief flash of compassion, and back in its place
was cool indifference. “I will not alert the authorities, Mr. Grey, but I do suggest you depart immediately.”

F
ielding wasn’t accustomed to taking advice from others, but the very next morning he found himself in the entryway of his
mother’s home. He’d been unable to dismiss Jensen’s suggestion that his mother might have had something to do with their financial
ruin. Fielding knew his mother to be a lady of taste and discrimination, yet she lived modestly. There was no chance she’d
spent them into ruin.

“Lady Beatrice is in the dining room having her breakfast,” the housekeeper told him. “Follow me.”

Fielding followed the tall woman down the hall to the back of the house. He remembered from when he’d lived here that his
mother preferred to have her morning meal in the east corner of the small home. She enjoyed watching the sun rise.

He entered the room, and immediately his mother rose to her feet. “Fielding, what a surprise. I would not have guessed you’d
be up this early.”

He kissed her cheek. “You look well, Mother.”

She returned to her seat but motioned to the sideboard behind her. “Have some breakfast with me.”

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Mrs. Jarvis, please make some coffee for my son.” The housekeeper bobbed and withdrew herself through a back door.

“What could possibly bring you out to see me at this hour?” Beatrice asked. “As much as I’d prefer to believe you’ve come
simply to call on me, I know you better than that.” His mother was aging well. Her brown hair had grayed around her face and
lines mapped out the years of her life, but she was still very much a beautiful woman. “What has it been, Fielding, six months,
longer since we last saw each other?”

“I’ve been out of the country,” he said. Although he’d been back from Egypt for nearly three months, he’d been otherwise engaged
for most of that time.

She smiled. “Always.”

“Mother, I wanted to speak to you about something,” Fielding said.

His coffee was delivered by Mrs. Jarvis, and then they were alone again. Despite his reservations about his plan for revenge,
he knew someone needed to pay for the hardship his mother had endured. Losing her home and all her belongings had been humiliating.
She’d never been the same. Even after Fielding had earned the money and bought back their homes and all their belongings,
she’d stayed in this small house that her family had owned. Fielding had always thought she’d in a way been punishing herself.

“I know who was there.” Fielding sat beside her and took her hand. “Who was with my father when he was killed. We can finally
make them pay for what they did.”

Beatrice’s delicate features hardened in confusion. “Fielding, what are you talking about? Your father was killed in an accident.
It was a cave-in; no one was responsible.”

“No. They were there, and they encouraged him to go into that cave.”

“As he’d gone into many caves before then.” Beatrice looked down at her hands. Hands that had once been smooth and graceful
but now were lined and stiff. She shook her head in sadness. “Is this what you’ve been after this whole time, trying to find
someone to pay for your father’s death?”

He ignored her questions. She’d simply forgotten what their life had been like before they’d lost everything. “Yes, he’d gone
into other caves, had searched this entire bloody continent for a treasure that does not exist.” He leaned on the table, willing
her to understand. “Those men, the ones who pretended to be his friends, pushed him to do that. To spend every last pence
in our accounts.”

She was shaking her head. “No,” she said firmly. “That isn’t true.”

Fielding swallowed, his saliva seeming to harden in his mouth. He pulled back from her. “What is it that you’ve been hiding
from me, Mother? Jensen told me to look closer to home; what was he talking about?”

“Yes, yes, Jensen told me you’d accepted a job from them. It would appear the man talks too much.” She gave a weak laugh as
she reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “You’ve been so angry for so long, and I’ve allowed you to believe
what you wanted instead of telling you the truth.” Her expression softened. “If you need to be angry with someone, my love,
you should be so with me. All of this is my doing.” She pushed away from the table and stood.

She gathered her own plates and set them on a tray in the corner of the room. “Your father didn’t lose our fortune through
his travels and research. He lost the money because he was being blackmailed.”

“I don’t understand,” Fielding heard himself say.

“He was protecting you as well as me.” She worried the lace trim lining her neckline. “We should have simply told you the
truth.” She returned to her seat and took a steadying breath.

“My father never thought of anyone but himself.” Fielding stood, determined to leave. There was no need to listen to his mother
as she canonized his father. Fielding knew the truth; the man had been selfish.

With her jaw set and her eyes held firm, suddenly she was the mother who’d raised and sometimes chastised him. “You will sit
here and hear all I have to say; after that you may decide to leave and not return.” She tapped on the table defiantly.

Fielding sat, then drained his coffee and poured himself another cup. He did his best to fend off the restless waves that
rocked through his stomach.

“There was once a time when your old mother was thought to be a perfect bride. I was attractive, polite, and I had a sizable
dowry. My parents gave me much instruction on making a good match, and I thought I’d found the right one. At least my heart
told me so.

“We were passionate about each other, and he was from a good family. It stood to reason that my father would say yes when
he went to ask for my hand. I was such a foolish, foolish girl. I believed I was secure. I believed we would be married within
months. That–”

She broke off, pressing her hand against her mouth as if to hold in her emotions. “It seemed, though, that my father had already
promised me to another earlier that day.”

Fielding felt dread skitter along his nerves. It was the same feeling he’d had when he was excavating a tomb and a booby trap
was seconds from being triggered. The floor was about to give way.

“Two brothers had been wooing me, and they were both good men. But I was young and foolish, so I of course set my heart for
the younger, more dashing and adventurous of the two.” She’d gone to stand by the window and had pulled the wispy drapery
aside.

Her actions seemed casual. The kind of thing she no doubt did every morning, but her movements couldn’t disguise the faint
tremble in her hands or dull the importance of her words.

Two brothers
, she’d said. And she’d loved the
younger
one. Every cell in his body rebelled against the thought. How could his mother—his delicate and refined mother—have possibly
once loved the vile man now known as the Raven?

“Oh, the life we’d planned,” she said wistfully. “We’d talked about buying a ship and sailing from one end of the earth to
the other, stopping in every exotic port so he could buy me gems and perfumes from every corner of the world.”

Fielding listened the way a child would who dreaded the scary bits in an adventure novel, squeamish and unsettled. Part of
him wanted to yell at her to stop, but he could not. Fielding knew what was coming, but he had to hear it for himself.

“My parents preferred the more responsible, staid brother, so when he came and asked for my hand my father readily agreed.
The wedding plans began that afternoon. I’d tried their patience enough, rebelling in the small ways I could, so when they
set me down to inform me of my pending nuptials, I knew I had no choice. It was time I accepted my responsibility.” She laughed
softly, then turned to face Fielding.

“Besides, I knew your father would be a good husband; he was so kind and steadfast. I didn’t even have the courage to tell
David to his face; I sent him a note and hoped your father would smooth out the rest. But the day our engagement was announced,
David left England. And by the time you were born, I had grown to love my husband.” She returned to her seat and gathered
Fielding’s hands in her own. “Neither of us could ignore the timing, though; your father was smart enough to do the mathematics.”

“I am David’s son.”
The Raven’s son
. Everything inside Fielding seemed to stop moving. His breath stilled; his heart ceased beating; he was numb.

“Yes,” she whispered. “When David returned, he knew immediately. He came to the house and threatened your father. I could
hear them yelling downstairs and I tried”—she spoke through her tears—“to speak to him to make him understand, but the man
I’d loved, the man I’d known, was gone. In his place was an angry, bitter, and frightening man I no longer recognized. He
vowed to make your father pay, and he made good on that promise.

“Two days later the first blackmail letter came.” She swiped at her tears angrily. “That’s how we lost all the money. Your
father lost every cent trying to protect you and me from a scandal that would have robbed you of your birthright.”

“No,” he argued futilely. “He spent our fortune hunting for the Templar Treasure. That’s where the money went. He was obsessed.”

“Yes, and no. Your father was a scholar; he loved history and the legend of the Templar’s Treasure. Truthfully, I believe
he tried to become someone he wasn’t for my benefit, tried to make me fall in love with him by being more adventurous and
daring. I tried to convince him that I loved him as he was, but by the time the blackmail started and we needed the money,
he would not listen to reason. He was certain he’d find it and he would be able to pay off his brother, but, well, you know
how that ended. And then you went to work for David…”

“I didn’t know,” he said. “But in doing so I bought everything back; I purchased every last thing that we’d lost.”

“The only reason you were able to purchase those things was because I made David promise he’d allow you to.”

“I don’t understand,” Fielding said. “I paid the bank for those properties.”

“Yes, but David owned them,” his mother explained. “He’d bought up everything before your father died, planned to continue
to control us by that means once the blackmailing funds ran out. But I didn’t want you to know. I convinced David to sell
you everything through the bank. I thought I was doing the right thing,” she said softly.

Fielding flinched as if she’d struck him. He grabbed the table and felt the edge of the wood dig into his palm. All that time
he’d spent working for his uncle. When he’d come to Fielding’s school to get him after his father had died. Memories flashed
through his mind, curdling his stomach and flaming his anger.

“I know you’ve blamed your father for years for the financial problems, looked to Solomon’s for an explanation; but the truth
is, they were never involved. Those men were friends to your father. They even gave us money, bought this house that I live
in.” She squeezed his hand. “Do not go looking for revenge with any of those men.”

When he and his mother and sister had moved into this smaller house on the edge of Mayfield after they’d lost everything,
his mother had told him it had been her family’s. Another lie. Everything he’d been told, everything he’d ever believed—it
was all lies.