The Seduction of His Wife (22 page)

“You think you’re sending me off packing.” Waverly tittered. “Not so easy, never so easy.”

“I’ve known you for eight years. Six of those years you’ve been a useless appendage to our company and our reputation. I’ve no compunction in shooting you square between the eyes, you damn blackguard,” Dante said matter-of-factly.

“Spoken like a true gypsy heathen, you great brown bastard.”

Dante was on Waverly before Richard could react. The bigger man’s hands wrapped about Waverly’s neck, strangling the breath out of the lesser man. The sick man’s only reaction was to choke out more laughter, as though this were a great lot of fun.

“Let off, Dante.” Richard made no move to intervene. “He’s not worth the hassle he’ll cause in the end.”

“I’m more blue-blooded than this shitpot,” Dante spat.

“Now is not the time to prove that fact.” Richard watched as Dante’s white-knuckled grip slackened from his assailant’s neck. Waverly did not cease that maniacal laughter. The man truly was on edge, or over it as it were.

“See, you won’t kill me.” Waverly straightened his waistcoat, even though it couldn’t be made to look better. “Haven’t got it in you.”

“Shut that prattle-brained mouth of yours before I do what he can’t,” Richard shot back.

“Just like old times, I say. Never could agree on much ’cept wenching and turning a profit.”

“You lost the ability to turn a ha’penny into quid when you ceased to pull yourself out of the gutter,” Richard said.

“Always so prickly—” Waverly didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence. Richard had had enough. He brought his fist down on the other man’s temple. The momentum of the punch aided by Richard’s fury had Waverly slumping to the floor like a pile of dirty rags.

“That was for my wife, you prick.”

Dante said not a word as he hoisted Waverly up and over his shoulder.

“What do you want to do with him?” Dante wasn’t the slightest bit disturbed that Richard had knocked Waverly unconscious to get his mouth to stop running off.

“Put him in the carriage. We’ll send him to his estate.” Why he showed any restraint in dealing with Waverly was a mystery. “We’ve washed our hands of him.”

“Will the sisters be better off in London?” Dante asked suddenly.

“We might want to send Abby and Grace somewhere else.”

Richard watched Dante’s reaction closely. Whatever it was the man felt for the middle sister, he kept it under wraps because there was no betraying expression when he suggested removing the women to a different location. Waverly was now a threat. The women would be safer elsewhere.

Or maybe not, in light of this afternoon’s events.

“They should stay together,” Dante finally said.

Richard nodded. “London it is.”

“We can leave in a few days, then. Send letters ahead to arrange extra men for the town house.”

Dante meant to hire mercenaries. People who would strike down an assailant or enemy first, think about the consequences later. A safe move for the women. Probably for him and Dante, as well.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the manor. Dante climbed the carriage steps and flopped Waverly down on the leather seats. Richard sent two of his more burly servants to help clear out the trash when they arrived at Waverly’s estate.

Chapter 15

I’ve been longer without you than with you. There never was going to be more than this, was there?

There she was, sitting pretty in the parlor. Alone. Richard watched his wife from the open door, not quite ready to interrupt her solitude. She’d changed from the tattered pink dress to a soft buttercream yellow. Her hair was half up, half down.

What did it say about him that he enjoyed watching her when she was unaware? She fidgeted with her hair, plucked at the bows on the sleeves of her dress. She reached forward and centered the tea tray on the table for the third time. Endearing traits if one were inclined to romanticism. He shook his head. He was not the romantic type.

His wife was never supposed to mean anything to him. He wasn’t supposed to want anything other than her pregnant and unable to petition for a divorce. When had that goal changed? Hell, he didn’t know what his purpose in this marriage was anymore.

What was he going to say to her? How should he broach the subject of what had happened? There was no way that Waverly had ever been a lover of hers. It wasn’t possible. No, she’d never shared herself with Waverly. She’d refused the other man and it had been then that Waverly had turned on her.

He straightened his cuffs, pulled down his vest, and stepped into the room.

On hearing his entry, she stood. “I had Brown send up some treats and tea.” She paused. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.”

He sat on the sofa next to her. She took that as a cue to pour the tea. She handed him a dainty, vine-painted teacup on a matching saucer, which he promptly set in front of him on the oak table. He didn’t want tea. His wife loaded a dish full of sandwiches, a few sweetmeats, and passed it to him. She remained quiet as she served him. She didn’t meet his gaze, just kept her hands busy. Her mind focused on the task at hand.

He needed to assure her that he wouldn’t let that snake, Waverly, within ten feet of her. Maybe that would settle her nerves? Make her more at ease.

“What did you do with Waverly?” Her voice was cool, but he heard the tempered anger edging it. He could hardly blame her. Better for her to be angry than distraught, he supposed.

“Sent him home.” She didn’t actually care, did she? He snapped his mouth shut before he could make a caustic remark. He was edgy this afternoon. He had no right to bark at his wife.

Her chin rose up defiantly as though she was waiting for a scolding from him. That was not something he would do. Waverly’s actions hadn’t been her fault.

Chewing the cucumber sandwich, he thought carefully on his words. Emma picked at the edge of one of her sandwiches, uninterested. He looked at the mantel clock and checked the hour. He faced his wife again. Words escaped him.

Setting his dish of sandwiches next to his untouched tea, he stood and walked over to the window and looked down to the maze of flowers that filled the grounds. Grace was pruning the rosebushes. Yanking out long stems. Anger radiated off her.

He adjusted his necktie and found the courage to ask, “What is Waverly to you, Emma? Do you realize what he would have done?”

“He was overwrought. I would have eventually calmed him.”

Was she so naïve to think that? He smacked his hand against the frame around the window. There was no question in Richard’s mind that Waverly would have raped her. He wanted to shake some sense into her.

“Don’t fool yourself in that matter, Emma.”

The chink of her teacup on the saucer made the room feel deathly silent and uncomfortable. “What is your association to Waverly? He never mentioned knowing you.”

“He was once a business partner.”

“Business partner?”

Did he imagine it, or did
business partner
roll over his wife’s tongue as though the words tasted sour? He tried for patience, went so far as to close his eyes, stretch his neck, and crack his knuckles before facing his wife.

“Yes, a business partner. Do you want to know what type of man Waverly really is?”

No response.

“Or what I’ve done with my life since we married?”

Still no response.

“It’s not a discussion fit for delicate ears, so perhaps not.”

She stood from the settee. Her chest puffed out like a swan angered by his mere presence, and likely to nip at him if he didn’t calm her ruffled feathers quickly.

“I’m not some flower that will wilt at the first hint of rain.”

“No. You appear to be stronger than that. Why is it that you ask after Waverly as if he were a longtime friend? As if he didn’t attempt to rape you.”

“I didn’t know how to handle him! I wasn’t expecting him to be so forceful,” she shouted, then promptly clapped her hand over her mouth.

At least she was showing some sort of emotion over the whole ordeal. He didn’t like her holding everything in. If she was angry, she should shout at him. If she was upset, she should cry. Whatever it was she felt, she should express it.

She flopped back down on the sofa, the fight suddenly gone from her. “Are you really going to tell me what you’ve done for the past ten years? Where you’ve been?”

“No grand, noble adventure, I assure you. No, much worse, I’m afraid.”

“Your profession doesn’t bother me, Richard. I don’t care what’s bandied about with you dirtying your hands in trade. Had you been around at any point in our marriage, you would know that I take little stock in what people disapprove of.”

He stepped away from the window and loosened the buttons on his vest. He hated the fripperies men had to wear to fit into London society. “People like Waverly on the whole are worse than me, but you can judge me for yourself. Regardless, Waverly is not the kind of person you want for a friend. He can’t be trusted.”

She said nothing in reply, didn’t even nod in agreement. Though her eyes were wide, probably in wonderment at what he could possibly impart. If only she could understand what he’d done, really understand the depravity he’d sunk to in the name of profit.

“I’m a scoundrel of the worst sort,” he said. “My investments and my business in the opium empire have always been about exploiting weaknesses in human nature. Waverly and I set out to make a fortune off the backs of others. It was at the cost of others’ lives that we achieved that goal. We took advantage of those who couldn’t say no to an addiction that slowly destroyed their lives.”

Richard loosened his necktie and placed it on the side table. Divesting himself of the fripperies he’d always despised. He wasn’t really a gentleman, was he? Would a gentleman commit the crimes against humanity that he had committed?

“We were destroyers of men, women, and even children. I consciously knew that our actions weren’t morally just. I think Waverly knew that on some level. There is but one difference between Waverly and me.”

He stalled, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

“Waverly became reliant on the drug that we were selling. I watched him closely. Day after day his sane mind dissipated into madness. Maybe that makes me a stronger man for not succumbing to the vice we traded in. I don’t really know.” He sat heavily on the sofa. The opposite end of her in case she was disgusted by him. “The only thing I know with any certainty is that there is no turning back for Waverly. He’ll never be well. Might put on a good show, but he’s not safe.”

For so many years, he’d been foolish to believe the world was at his fingertips. It never had been. Try for godliness and the devil was waiting around the corner to smite you down. He shook his head. He felt the vein at his temple throbbing in unison with his heartbeat, and massaged at his head. What would she think of him now?

After today’s episode with Waverly, she must understand that the man was dangerous. To be avoided at all costs. He had to trust that she would do the right thing in this.

When she didn’t leave him there to stew in his own pity, Richard held his hand out to her. “Come here, Emma.”

He needed to be sensitive to her needs right now. She’d faced the devil that was Waverly and had barely escaped. She needed comfort. An assurance that Waverly would not get another chance to hurt her.

She looked at his proffered hand. The hesitation was evident in the way she curled her fingers around her locket and the way she fisted her other hand in her lap. He watched half stunned, half thankful when she slid closer to him on the daisy-patterned sofa. She set about smoothing out her skirts. It was the first time he realized that the action was a nervous habit of hers. It calmed him to understand such a small thing.

He was doomed to want more from his lady wife. Doomed to be there at her beck and call. Because, for the life of him, he doubted he could walk away from her now. All because she hadn’t left at his admission. Yes, she’d stayed when he’d told her how horrible a man he really was. Had been. No more, though.

“I’ve known Waverly for a year. I did count him among my friends.” She met his gaze, her eyes sad.

It was good to hear the truth coming from her. Made him feel worthy of her, somehow.

“Promise me you’ll avoid the man. His mind isn’t right.”

That bloody bastard,
Richard thought. He knew what the man was up to, why he had courted Emma in this dangerous game. All the puzzle pieces were starting to click together at an alarming rate. It was obvious that Waverly wanted the business back. Wanted his old life back, a life that could never bring peace of mind but only more misery. Seemed Waverly’s morals in harming innocent bystanders hadn’t changed one whit.

“He was always so cordial, so kind. It’s hard to believe what he did today.”

It wasn’t a hard truth for Richard to swallow. Emma, in Waverly’s mind, was a pawn to be tossed aside once an opportunity presented itself to further his goals. Richard would take special care to guard his wife. She’d not be used for that madman’s nefarious plans to stop the sale of the business.

“He wears the helmet of a chivalrous knight well. It would do you and your sisters good to remember that he is the proverbial wolf in sheep’s wool. Despite the armor he wears for polite society, he eventually lashes out. I don’t want it to be at you three.”

“None of us plans to speak to him again,” Emma assured him as she plucked at a loose stitch on her belled sleeve.

He placed his hand over hers to stop her fidgeting. “I tried to help him before he left the business. It ate at me to watch a good man squander a perfectly good life.”

Emma shook her head and traced the lines of his fingers since his hand was in her lap. “Waverly is a grown man, Richard. I know better than anyone that it’s impossible to sway a determined man from his chosen path.”

Richard leaned forward, elbows on knees, placing his head in his hands. It always came back to him leaving her. He doubted it was her intention to remind him of that major transgression in their marriage, but it would always be there, wedged as a bitter reminder that he had valued another kind of life more. One that hadn’t included a wife.