Wolfsgate (48 page)

“Perhaps Martin should have some more fun with you? I’ll join him for good measure while you take your time to consider your decision. I find I’m in the mood for blood this evening.”

Amanda let out a sob. “Brandon!”

“This deal also includes any retribution against Montclare,” Brandon said. “Frankly, you gave up that privilege the minute you and your wife set him on Justine.” Brandon leaned in closer to William’s gnarled face. “Do you hear? Otherwise I will let it be known that Amanda not only carries a great deal of debt and is unable to pay it off, but also has a long list of paramours. And we all know how that would play out, don’t we? Points for the mystery lovers, demerits for the husband, and as for the lady…”

William wrenched his body in Martin’s hold. “Goddamn you!”

“He already has, cousin. From getting on that ship to come home, my time imprisoned in that hospital, to my wife now lying in a stranger’s bed with broken bones and a hundred bruises. Luckily she regained consciousness before I came here, so I am in the giving vein. Now—” Brandon sat back against the desk. “Think again.”

“Was there a babe inside her?” William asked, his voice low.

“Bloody hell, man!” Charles exploded. Martin pulled tighter on the ropes.

Brandon sucked in air, his lungs burning. “Yes. And my child lives inside her despite your efforts. He survived and will be born.”

William stopped struggling against Martin. His strained gaze fell to the floor.

“Are we all agreed?” Brandon asked.

“Y-yes,” Amanda said.

“Agreed.” Charles nodded.

“Sir—”

“You heard me, Martin,” Brandon said.

Martin’s face tightened. “Agreed.”

“William?” Brandon pulled his cousin’s head up by his hair. William only grimaced. “Not a word to my wife ever. Not a look. Nothing.” Brandon shot Amanda a scowl. She nodded at him.

“Yes, all right,” William said. Amanda’s shoulders dropped, her hands trembled at her mouth.

“And Martin disappears,” Brandon said. “I leave with him here tonight, and you do not follow him, you do not look for him. Ever. He ceases to exist for you, is that understood?”

“Yes, goddammit,” William said. “Get your dog off me!”

Brandon lifted his chin at Martin, but the lad’s eyes narrowed in response.

“Martin,” Brandon said, his voice low. “Let him go and come away. We’re leaving Mr. and Mrs. Treharne to their eternal happiness.”

“Sir—”

“Do as I say, dammit.”

Martin’s face hardened, and he took in a deep breath holding it in. He cut the ropes binding William and slowly lowered the blood-covered knife in his hand. He shoved William forward, and he landed face down on the desk.

“See to your husband, Mrs. Treharne. Remember, not a word about this evening if you want your dark secrets to remain within our little circle.”

He motioned at Charles as he took hold of Martin’s arm. Shuffling movements and heavy, dull noises like metal striking metal rose behind them. Brandon spun around.

“William, no!” yelled Charles.

William held a pistol aimed straight at them. “You’re not going anywhere!” William’s voice was thick. “Do you really think you can threaten me? Force my hand?” He tilted his head and raised the pistol higher leveling at Brandon. The air was instantly sucked out of the room.

“What’s the party for, boy?” Richard’s thin voice quivered from the doorway.

“Fa-ther?” Geoffrey asked, his eyes round, his little hand in Richard’s, a finger in his tiny red mouth.

Amanda screamed. A cracking blast detonated in the room.

ACRID SMOKE CHOKED THE SMALL LIBRARY
. Brandon grabbed Martin and pulled him down to the floor with a thud. Charles and Amanda lunged at the boy. “No!” she screamed.

Brandon crawled over to his uncle’s crumpled body. He touched his neck to find his pulse, but it was no more. Richard’s old wig lay lopsided on his head, a frozen look etched over his wretched, paper-skinned face. Blood seeped quickly from his chest and stained his faded blue silk dressing gown. The smoldering pistol hung from William’s hand and thudded onto the desk.

“He’s dead,” Brandon said.

Charles shoved Geoffrey into his mother’s embrace. The boy buried his wet face in his mother’s neck. “Mummy!”

“Oh, my darling boy. Hush, hush now.” Amanda clutched her son and moved back towards a wall of books.

William sank to his knees before his father’s bleeding corpse, his eyes drowning in his face.

“Mummy! I want Grandfather!” Geoffrey’s tiny hand reached out towards Richard.

“Hush, my love.” Amanda kissed Geoffrey’s forehead, her hand sinking into his hair.

“Now there are more secrets to keep in the family, are there not?” Brandon asked. “William, do you agree?”

“Yes,” William said without looking up.

“And if you want my and Charles’s cooperation in keeping these secrets, keeping your family from scandal, you must comply.”

William raised his bleary eyes at Brandon.

“It is common knowledge that Richard had lost his senses. You will say he had a fit, was wandering the house. It was dark, you mistook him for an intruder. You were frightened for your family’s well-being. Martin, where did you get the knife?”

“The kitchen. Came in through there,” said Martin.

“Excellent. Give it to me.” Martin gave him the bloodied knife. Brandon placed it by Richard’s hand on the floor. “Let’s make this theatre really believable for the good doctor, eh? You were attacked with this kitchen knife, and you took defensive action.”

Geoffrey’s muffled crying filled the room.

“Say you sent for me and Charles. We will bear witness to your account,” Brandon said glancing at Amanda.

“Yes,” she said, nodding stiffly, her blue eyes clear.

“Where are Andrew and your father?” Brandon asked.

“In town.”

“All the better.”

William’s eyes remained on his father’s lifeless body.

“Do you agree with what I’ve said, William?” Brandon asked.

“Dear God!” William closed his eyes.

“Ah, it’s too late for you to turn to Providence now, there’s no time for that,” Brandon said, his voice louder. “Do you agree?”

“I do,” William muttered, his jaw sagging.

“For the sake of clarity, I shall repeat myself. I will forgive your attempts to kill my wife and me and Martin and Charles tonight. And I will do this one last thing. I will clear your debts in the village. The gambling debts are your concern.” Brandon turned to face Amanda. “Do you understand, Mrs. Treharne?”

“Yes, I understand,” she murmured, averting her gaze. “Thank you.”

“Our debts are paid now, William. Paid in full.” William’s watery gaze slid to Brandon. “Answer me, you devil,” Brandon said. “There is no longer any such thing as revenge or retaliation between us, do you understand?” William mutely looked up at him.

“You don’t deserve to live for what you did to Justine. If it was up to me alone I would kill you. But I’m not going to because it would make my wife unhappy, and I want to live a long and happy life with my family without your stain on my hands. I can’t bear the sight of you.”

William only stared at him.

“They saved our son from your pistol, do you hear?” Amanda said, her voice a shriek.

William’s weary, leaden eyes slid to his wife then back to Brandon. He exhaled. “Paid in full.”

“Have some more of the tea ma’am. Your medicine is in it, ‘twill do you a world of good for the pain.” Justine took the cup from Mrs. Shaw’s hands and drank more of the bitter, lukewarm fluid. “Very good.” Mrs. Shaw took back the cup and handed Justine a napkin.

“Do you know that I am with child?” Justine asked.

“Yes, milady.” The woman smiled down at Justine. “Isn’t it wonderful, Lady Graven? You’re to be a mother. Mother to the heir of Wolfsgate.” Mrs. Shaw’s soft face beamed at her. Justine swallowed, the bitterness of the medicine still coating her mouth. Her head sank back into the pillows.

Mother to Brandon’s baby? It was inevitable, but barely hoped for. In fact, she’d never let herself hope for it. It was too secret, too precious a desire that she kept locked in the deepest place inside herself. A baby would certainly cement her and Brandon’s marriage. He had even told her he loved her. Wasn’t that every girl’s dream to have a fine man declare his love to her, to claim her for his own, and for her to bear his child?

But everything between her and Brandon was blemished, scarred. William had once again resolved everything in his favor, and she would have to bear Brandon’s disappointment forever over William’s sour tale of a love affair between her and Martin. She could never tell Brandon the truth, for the truth was unspeakable and would spell disaster for all of them. She would never risk Brandon’s safety or that of their child’s upon the altar of William’s cruelty. Would their child be safe from William?

A heavy tear fell from her eye and slid down her cheek.

“Why do I not think that is a tear of joy, Lady Graven?” Mrs. Shaw’s voice poked at her chest.

She glanced up at her and wiped the tear away. “It’s too late now.”

“What do you mean by that?” Mrs. Shaw plucked the napkin from Justine’s fingers and tossed it onto the nearby tea tray.

“It’s a long and intricate story, complicated by someone else who won’t stop interfering, and, I fear, never will.”

“Be that as it may, you are married to a fine man who loves you,” Mrs. Shaw voice was firm. Justine’s head sank back against the pillow. Mrs. Shaw let out a high pitched laugh. “My lady, your husband adores you! It’s evident in the way he looks at you, the way he speaks to you, and the way he speaks of you.”

“Mrs. Shaw—”

“Lord Graven was destroyed when he brought you here, absolutely ravaged. Him watching over you, and you lying there like a broken doll beyond his help. I never seen the like before, and doubt I ever shall again.” Her brow furrowed and her shoulders stiffened. “It is a rare thing when a marriage includes such affection. You have that. Be grateful for it and don’t ever turn your back on it. And don’t ye tell me I know not what I speak of, ma’am. I know of menfolk. Had me fill.”

“His ardor will fade soon enough, and things will go back to the way they should be,” said Justine.

“And how should things be?” asked Mrs. Shaw, taking a seat in a chair by the bed, her lips pursed.

“They way they used to be. He and I as cousins, companions,” said Justine.

“Companion cousins? Gaw!” She shifted in her chair and shook her head. “Not the way he looks at you!”

A physical ache spiraled inside her at the memory of Brandon’s body pressing against hers, his touch over her flesh, the tang of his salty skin on her tongue, his unfettered groans of satisfaction as he moved inside her, filled her…

Her face heated.

“Hmm.” Mrs. Shaw chuckled. “I see you agree with me.”

“Still, he won’t want the baby.” Justine bit her lip.

“Why ever not? Excuse me for asking ma’am, but is the babe Lord Graven’s?”

“Of course it is.”

Mrs. Shaw’s eyes bulged at her. “So why wouldn’t he want his own child, I ask you?”

“Does he know?” Justine asked.

“Of course he knows! Doctor’s told him. He was very emotional. He sat with you until he had to leave late in the night.” Mrs. Shaw waved a finger at her. “You are making me quite cross, you are, milady. No, ma’am. You are wrong. He wants this child. Why wouldn’t he? A sensible man with a woman like you at his side and in his bed? Whoo!”

“It’s a matter of trust, Mrs. Shaw. I have reason to believe he mistrusts me,” Justine said.

“You are wrong. So very wrong. I refuse to hear another word about it.”

Justine curled her fingers into the bedlinen. “But you don’t—”

Mrs. Shaw raised her eyebrows and her hands high in the air. “Wrong!”