Unraveled By The Rebel (29 page)

“All I have to do is plant a few rumors.” Strathland rested his hand upon the fireplace mantel. “I can tell them of your shame and how I compromised you. Of how you bore the child in secret.”

“It’s not true,” she insisted.

“No man will ever have you, after I tell them of how you seduced me. My words alone could ruin not only your reputation
and your sisters’… but also the boy’s. They will question what they’ve heard. And when they dig for answers, how difficult do you think it will be to find the truth?”

Juliette struck him across the face, her hand leaving an imprint against his skin. The butler entered the room, and Strathland lowered his voice. “I hope you fight me like that again, when I next share your bed.” He sent her a sly smile. “Wed me, and I’ll leave the boy in peace. You can give me other sons.”

He took a step back. “The choice is yours.”

P
aul sensed that someone was following him. Ever since he’d left his residence, he’d glimpsed a black carriage with an insignia that seemed familiar somehow. Every time he glanced back, he saw it.

Was it Strathland’s? He couldn’t be certain, but when he hailed a hackney, he noticed that the carriage shadowed his path toward the Earl of Arnsbury’s town house. The question was whether they would stop when he reached Lord Arnsbury’s or continue on.

When he reached his destination, he paid the driver and looked behind him. The carriage slowed, and he caught a glimpse of an older man inside, before it drove past. Paul wasn’t certain what it was about, but before he could approach the Arnsbury residence, he saw Lord Strathland walking out.

There was a gleam of smug satisfaction on the man’s face, and Paul no longer cared that they were in public. The man had clearly gone to bother Juliette, and after learning what the earl had done to her, there was only the need for blood. A primal craving for vengeance roared through him, and he ran forward.

Only to be slammed against the stone façade of a nearby building.

“Don’t,” came the voice of Cain Sinclair.

Paul plowed his fist into Sinclair’s nose. “This isna your business, Cain.”

“Leave it be, Fraser. The last thing you’re needing is to be brought up on assault charges against an earl. They can hang you for that.”

He knew Sinclair was right. But logic wasn’t enough to dim the need for blood. “He’s the one who hurt her. He’s going to die, and I’ll be the one to send him to Hell.”

“If you do, you’ll go right along with him.” His friend restrained him against the wall, using his strength to keep Paul from acting upon impulse.

A dark rage blazed through him, destroying any trace of mercy. There was naught but the need to bring pain to the man who had destroyed so many through his ruthless greed. “Don’t be asking me to stand aside, Sinclair.”

Justice was what he needed right now. He wanted to tear Strathland apart with his bare hands until the earl’s blood ran in the streets. He had no intention of standing here, of watching the bastard walk away. With all his strength, he fought Sinclair, trying to wrench himself free.

“My lord Falsham!” a man’s voice shouted. Without knowing why, Paul turned.

It was a mistake, for Sinclair grabbed him again and held him fast. “Sorry, lad, but I won’t be letting you kill yourself.”

With that, Cain bashed Paul’s head against the wall behind him. Darkness dragged him under, and his last thought was that this wasn’t over.

Not by half.

My lord. Are you awake?” came the voice of a man.

Paul’s head felt as if someone had split it open with a dull axe. Against his cheek was a wooden floor, and he scented the stale ashes of a hearth.

“Best wake up, or I’ve another way of getting your attention, Fraser,” Cain Sinclair added. “A bucket of water poured over your thick head.”

“That’s hardly necessary, lad. The puir man’s been through enough without ye giving him more discomfort. Now go on, and fetch food and drink for His Lordship.”

“I’m not your damned servant,” Cain retorted. “Nor his. He can fetch his own whisky.”

“Where am I?” Paul managed. “And who are you?” His eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dim light, and the two figures blurred before him.

“I’ve been searching for you, these past few months,” the man explained. “I am Colin Kinlark, your uncle’s solicitor.”

“You were following me,” Paul said. “In the carriage a few hours ago.”

“I was, yes,” Mr. Kinlark agreed. “I regret that you were harmed, but under the circumstances, I believe Mr. Sinclair was trying to avoid further complications.” He offered his hand to help him up. “If he had not intervened, you might have been brought up on charges of a felony assault.”

Which would be accurate, since Paul
was
wanting to murder Strathland.

Mr. Kinlark bowed slightly. “I’ve brought ye to an inn, but dinna be fearing that ye’ll stay here long. It was only necessary while you were—”

“Fashed in the head,” Cain finished. “Lacking in brains.”

“Aye.” Mr. Kinlark shook his head. “Had ye fought Lord Strathland, ’twould have cost ye a great deal in bribes. Ye’d not want to lose coins due to… an excessive display of anger.”

It brought to mind his uncle’s insistence on cool-headed logic. Donald was a notorious pinchpenny. No doubt the man would be furious if Paul had given in to his instincts, thereby causing the need for excessive bribery.

“Don’t be worrying, Lord Falsham. I’ll be arranging for ye to stay in better quarters, now that they are aware of your rank.”

Rank? He had no idea what the man was talking about. “I’m a physician,” he muttered. “No’ yet a lord.”

“That was true several months back, to be sure. But since your uncle passed on, God rest him”—the elderly man bowed his head in respect—“ye’ve inherited his title.”

Paul sat up, and the room swayed. “What happened? And when? He wasna so very old.” He’d never dreamed of inheriting the title, not this soon. Donald Fraser was barely fifty and had seemed in perfect health.

“’Twas his heart, I fear. His servants found him dead at the breakfast table three months ago. Quite sudden.”

It hardly seemed real. One moment, he was a physician with only a few sparse funds to call his own. And now there was a title… and lands.

“I ne’er expected this,” he admitted.

“Certainly you were aware that you were next in line,” Mr. Kinlark said. “You are now the Viscount of Falsham, with all the estates and incomes that accompany that title.”

Paul stared at the man, still in disbelief of what he was hearing. “Exactly how much was my uncle worth?”

“He has three estates in Scotland. Edinburgh is where he holds the most property, though there’s a smaller bit of land in the west, not far from Glenfinnan. And then there’s the northern estate along the sea. There are no debts, for your uncle was quite frugal. He didna believe in owing money to any man. That’s a good piece of luck for ye.”

Paul looked over at Sinclair, whose expression was unreadable. “I don’t ken why my father turned his back on his family. He lived as a crofter and told none of us.”

None, save Bridget.

“He was disinherited when he chose to marry your mother. But since he was the younger son, it mattered not. Your uncle Donald inherited upon his father’s passing, and now the title falls to you, as the eldest heir.”

Paul drew up his knee, and his vision started to clear. “Why wasn’t I told about his death sooner?”

“There was some difficulty finding you, my lord. We traveled to Ballaloch first, and only then found that you’d gone to London. But the title has been yours since the end of February.”

That
was why no one in London had questioned it. Likely someone had investigated Paul’s claims and found them to be true. He could hardly fathom any of it. Never had he guessed that he would become the viscount so soon. In truth, the title had felt imaginary, as though it wouldn’t come to him at all.

Paul let out a slow breath, realizing what this meant. He had power of his own now. A means of providing for Juliette that her father would respect, even if he didn’t approve of their marriage.

Though he didn’t particularly want to live in Edinburgh, at least it was in Scotland. He knew his uncle’s house and the servants, after dwelling there for the past five years.

“Well, then, now that your bread’s baked, you might give some over.” Cain grinned. “As a high and mighty lordship, your coins’ll buy a wee dram of whisky.”

“I’ll buy you a drink,” Paul agreed. “Then I’ll be paying a call upon Miss Andrews. Before I kidnap her and force her to elope with me.”

The alarm upon Mr. Kinlark’s face suggested that he wasn’t entirely certain that Paul was teasing. “My lord, if I could but advise you—”

“She’s already agreed to wed me,” Paul told the man. “But I suppose I should be asking her uncle before I take her away. I am planning to borrow his coach, after all.”

“Lord Falsham, you already have a coach of your own. I’ve brought it here, in the hopes that you’ll return to Edinburgh.”

Paul wondered what Juliette would think if he brought her to a fine house. Would she be glad to live in such a place? He rather liked the idea of taking his bride to a house that would be her own.

“I’ll be taking Juliette with me in that coach, then.” To Mr. Kinlark, he added, “And you’ll find your own transportation back
to Scotland. I want you to leave tonight and prepare the house for our arrival. I will bring the new Lady Falsham with me.”

“But, my lord, would you not wish to have the wedding in Edinburgh? The bride’s parents could be there.”

“The bride’s father would put a bullet through my head, if he knew my intentions.” Paul shook his head and waved the man off. “No, we’ll wed when we cross into Scotland and visit Edinburgh afterward. We’ll stop at a few inns along the way, and if you make haste, you can prepare a proper welcome for us.”

“Aye, my lord. Very good, then.” He started to back away, but Cain caught Mr. Kinlark by the arm. To Paul, he said, “If tonight’s your last night as an unwed man, you’ll be needin’ to have that whisky. We’d best get started, and
he
can pay for it.”

Paul swayed to his feet, rubbing the back of his head from where Cain had knocked him senseless. “You’re right, Sinclair. We should raise a toast to the bride and to my last night as an unwed man.” Eyeing Mr. Kinlark, he added, “Well, you’re coming then, aren’t you?”

The elderly man muttered something that sounded like a prayer to Jesus for strength.

The next morning, Juliette ushered Paul into the parlor, where they could speak alone. Although her belongings were still packed upstairs, it felt as if all her plans had been uprooted.

“There’s been… a complication,” she told him. After she explained what Strathland had said, she ended with, “I can’t leave London now. Not when the earl is threatening to tell the world about Matthew.”

Strathland had tightened the chains around her in a way she could not escape. She saw the flash of displeasure on Paul’s face and realized that he didn’t understand. He didn’t have any children of his own and could not possibly know what it meant.

“That’s what he’s wanting from you, Juliette,” Paul told her quietly. “And that’s precisely why you canna stay.”

She started to argue with him, but he cut her off. “He’s only guessing about Matthew. If you leave, he has no proof of anything.”

“And if I walk away, he’ll destroy Matthew’s future by claiming he’s a bastard. I can’t let that happen.”

“It’s no’ your responsibility.”

“I’m his
mother,
” she insisted. Of course it was her responsibility. Though she’d given him into the care of her aunt and uncle, she would cut off her right arm to keep him safe.

“You don’t understand,” she said softly. His face was impassive, but in his blue eyes, she saw frustration. To him, Matthew was nothing but a child conceived between herself and another man. No doubt Paul would be glad if he never laid eyes upon the boy. And suddenly, it was important for her to show him why she had to protect him.

She rang for a footman and asked him to bring Matthew and his nurse. When the servant was gone, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I want you to see my son.” Although it still might not make a difference, she wanted him to look at the boy. Matthew was an innocent, and nothing would ever convince her to abandon him to the mercies of a man who wanted to destroy his future.