A soft rap on the door preceded Powell’s deep voice, muffled through the wood. “Are you all right, ma’am?”
She wanted to tell him to go away and leave her alone with her thoughts, but she knew Powell too well for that. The faithful servant wouldn’t go away until he was reassured.
“I’m fine,” she called out.
A short hesitation, and then, “Are you certain? Mr. Graham didn’t … I just want to know you aren’t hurt, or …”
The uncertainty in his voice made her chest constrict, her heart aching for the man who’d stood by for years with no choice but to keep his silence while Randolph treated her like a possession to be toyed with, broken, pieced back together, and shattered anew. He had shown her kindness whenever he could—offering cold compresses for her bruises, finding ways to distract Randolph when it could be managed so she could escape to her rooms, ensuring the other servants kept their silence about what went on within the walls of this house.
“He did his job and I am no worse for wear,” she said, trying to inject strength into her voice that she didn’t feel. Powell would never leave her be otherwise.
That seemed to satisfy him, because he merely bid her goodnight. As his heavy footsteps carried him away, Regina released a sigh of relief and resumed her fetal position in the center of the bed.
Sleep eluded her for near an hour, as each time she closed her eyes she saw David on top of her, arching and groaning, the thick column of his neck stretched taut, lips parting to reveal his clenched teeth. That sound echoed in her mind in a continuous refrain that left her both confused and intrigued.
The last thing she needed was to become intrigued by her courtesan. He was here for one reason only, and she would not lose sight of that. He was, after all, a man. From her father and brother, to the husband who had tormented her every day of their eight-year marriage, those she had trusted most had turned out to be cold creatures incapable of love. She would not let her courtesan’s air of politeness and veneer of gentleness fool her into trusting him. Randolph had been courtly and chivalrous, tricking her into falling in love with him—or rather, what Regina had thought to be love. Time had proven her wrong, and her infatuation with a man she’d barely known had been shattered mere hours after the wedding. She would never make such a mistake again.
All she wanted or needed of David Graham was his seed, and the sooner it took root the sooner she could put him out of her life, and her mind, for good.
Regina had just sat down to her breakfast the next morning, bleary-eyed and fatigued from a night of tossing and turning, when a footman announced a visitor. Spoon hovering over her teacup, she sucked in a sharp breath when she realized who had intruded upon her peace and solitude.
She exchanged glances with Powell, whose fists had clenched at his sides as he glared at the open door as if sensing the threat lingering beyond.
“Should I get rid of him?”
Staring longingly at her breakfast, Regina decided she wouldn’t be able to enjoy it until she confronted the intruder. “That will not be necessary, Powell. Though, I would be grateful if you’d accompany me.”
He fell in step behind her without a word, palpable tension radiating from him. Regina tilted her chin up and straightened her back, pasting a serene expression on her face before entering the morning room, where Tobias Hurst awaited her. He whirled away from the mantel, where he had been inspecting a collection of porcelain figures. The breath was knocked from Regina’s lungs as their gazes clashed, the cold, dead eyes of her late husband boring into hers.
No … not Randolph’s eyes. Randolph is dead.
Still, the resemblance was uncanny and it always unnerved her to stand in the presence of a man who could have passed for Randolph in his youth. Dark hair not yet kissed by silver at the temples, rigid features, a short yet broad-shouldered frame … her cousin-in-law should have been a handsome man. But, cruelty and malice were too apparent around his mouth and eyes, just as they had been in Randolph’s. A shudder of revulsion washed through her, and her stomach turned.
“Tobias,” she murmured, keeping her head held high and her tone cool. “How … surprising it is to see you this morning. I had not expected to see you again so soon.”
He sneered while reaching into his coat, coming out with a crumpled sheet of paper—a letter. She raised an eyebrow in silent question, though she could very well guess what had brought Tobias to her doorstep.
“Do you think to make me a laughingstock?” he demanded, the letter rustling as he waved it through the air.
Regina blinked, pretending to be confused by his outrage. “Why, Tobias, I don’t understand. We are family, even if only by marriage. Why would I ever want people to laugh at you?”
He advanced on her, but a low, warning snarl from Powell drew him up short. Tobias sputtered and reddened, glaring at her servant, though he was careful to maintain his distance.
“This must be some kind of joke. Surely you cannot think a man of my status should live on such a pittance each year. It’s preposterous.”
Regina ground her teeth, wishing Randolph had left her penniless. She might not have had anywhere to go or a penny to her name, but at least she wouldn’t be saddled with Tobias, whose funds she was now responsible for.
“Considering what your allowance was under Randolph’s management, I would think you might consider my offer a boon. It is more than you were getting before.”
And more than you deserve, you graceless blowhard.
As if he had plucked her unspoken words out of thin air, Tobias held up the letter from her solicitor and ripped it in two. “Don’t think for a moment I cannot see what has happened here. You inheriting everything he ever owned makes no sense, and we both know it.”
“I was his wife.”
Tobias snorted and rolled his eyes. “And how much did that mean to him if he couldn’t even bother to keep to your bed?”
Powell sucked in a swift breath, and Regina felt as if her molars would be ground to dust if she didn’t stop clenching them. It seemed the only way to keep from telling him just where he could shove that letter, as well as his opinions about her, her inheritance, and her miserable marriage.
“If you are unhappy with your yearly stipend, might I suggest finding employment?”
Tobias’s face went as red as an apple, the destroyed remnants of the paper falling from his hand. This time, Powell wasn’t quick enough to stop him before he took hold of Regina, one hand wrapped around her upper arm. A cry of alarm died in her throat as he hauled her toward him.
“You forged that will, or you twisted his mind while he lay dying,” he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth. “I don’t know how you did it, but I’ll expose you for the lying—”
His words broke off on a gurgle as Powell’s large arm appeared from over her shoulder like a striking snake, his palm slamming into Tobias’s throat. Regina shrank away from the pair as Powell backed the other man toward the door, nearly lifting him off his feet. Her blood had frozen to ice, and she was numb everywhere except for where Tobias had touched her. The scorching brand of his fingers seemed to have burned away the sleeve of her gown and the flesh of her arm straight to the bone. However, when she stared down at herself, everything was intact. He might have left a mark, but then her fair skin had always been easily bruised.
It took her half a minute to breathe through the darkness encroaching on her vision as a flood of memories overwhelmed her—of being grabbed that same way just before a palm cracked against her face, of being shoved against walls and over pieces of furniture. Another half a minute passed before she realized that if she didn’t find her voice and stop Powell, he was going to murder her cousin-in-law.
“Powell, that’s enough,” she managed, though she could not look at either man just now. Violence hung heavy in the air around them, and Regina wanted nothing more than to escape it. “I think Tobias understands now that his behavior was unpardonable. We should give him the opportunity to take his lea
ve while he still can.”
The gurgling sounds of Tobias being strangled died away and then came the rustle of clothing being adjusted. Regina kept her eyes fixed on the wallpaper, controlling her breathing and doing her utmost to keep from collapsing into a sobbing heap on the floor. She was stronger than that, could endure a raised voice and a hand gripping her arm. She had already lived through far worse; Tobias didn’t have the strength to break her.
“Both my solicitor and yours have agreed that the contents of Randolph’s will were sound and legal. There is nothing for you to contest, and you risk making yourself look even more the fool if you continue on this course. Might I suggest you be content with the generous stipend I have offered and move on with your life? Oh, and now that the matter is settled to my satisfaction, I must inform you that I’ll not receive you in the future. Should you need to communicate with me, a letter will suffice. Good day.”
Tobias’s protests fell on deaf ears as the sound of scuffling indicated that Powell had begun to see him out.
“You heard my mistress. Time to leave.”
Regina sank into the nearest chair once they were gone, releasing the breath she’d been holding. To keep from bursting into tears, she turned over the matter of Randolph’s will. Like Tobias and everyone else in the extended Hurst family, Regina had been shocked by the revelation that Randolph had left her everything—the house and estate, every penny of his money, and all his valuable possessions. The house had been passed down through generations of gentry farmers, and over the years had been filled with expensive furnishings, not to mention the safe in the study which held a collection of jewels previously owned by several Hurst women, including Randolph’s mother. In one fell swoop it had all become hers, and she could hardly fathom how or why.
Her husband suffered a slow and painful death after his horse had spooked and thrown him. The beast trampled Randolph before bolting, leaving him a pulpy heap of broken bones and purpled, bruised skin. He was carried back home by servants and tended by a surgeon who had not been optimistic regarding his chances of survival. Regina had stood at his bedside, stoic and silent as the physician explained the extent of his injuries. The man seemed to think she was in shock as she stood there staring at Randolph without truly seeing. Instructions for his care had been related to a maid, and the surgeon even left a tonic for her ‘delicate nerves.’ He had tried to shoo Regina from the sickroom, supposing that the sight of her husband’s broken body was surely more than a gently bred woman could bear.
What a ridiculous idea. But then, the doctor had not understood why she could only stare at Randolph in a silent stupor. The sight of her husband’s swollen and discolored face had hypnotized her, the devastating beauty of mangled limbs and a chest that struggled for every breath holding her in their thrall. She wondered then how he had ever been able to make her afraid of him. Randolph had seemed so large before, so terrifying—an indestructible force of nature hellbent on crushing her. But, as she’d listened to the wheezing of his breaths and studied the broken fingers and crooked nose, it had surprised her to find him pitiful.
Ordering everyone from the room except Powell, she had stared down at him for a long while without moving or speaking, taking stock of all his injuries, counting them in her mind. Interestingly, they didn’t even come close to matching the ones he had inflicted on her over the years. Yet, there he was, brought low and at the mercy of her and the servants who had witnessed his abuse, and often been on the other end of it themselves. There wasn’t a soul within this house who would care if Randolph died a slow, excruciating death.
Regina had edged closer to the bed where he lay, a pitiful heap beneath the coverlet. He stared up at her with wide, pleading eyes, chin trembling as if he might weep. He hadn’t uttered a word, but Regina clearly saw the truth in his stare. He had known his life rested in her hands—that she could press a pillow over his face right then and he wouldn’t have the strength to fight her off. The temptation had proved nearly irresistible. The intent must have radiated from her, because even Powell acted accordingly, closing and locking the door so no one would witness her sin.
But then, a sudden sense of calm had washed over her, and Regina could only laugh. She’d had the power to snuff out the sputtering flame of Randolph’s life, but it would never be enough to repay his abuse or change the past. If anything, it would riddle her with guilt for the rest of her life, and she had no desire to live with Randolph’s ghost after he was gone. She would be free of him, completely.
“I wouldn’t waste the energy it would cost me to end your pitiful existence,” she had whispered without breaking his gaze. “I think I would rather allow God to decide your fate. But you should know that whether you live or die … you will never lay a hand on me again.”
Those had been her last words to him, though Randolph survived for several days after. She had charged a collection of servants to see to his every need and send for the surgeon if necessary. Regina then went about her life as if Randolph did not exist—which was easy to do when he could not leave his bed and dog her every step. His solicitor had been called for suddenly, but the matters of the estate and money meant nothing to her. If she was to be granted a dower’s jointure and house, so be it. If not, she would find some other way to get by. One thing she had been determined to avoid was crawling back to her family, who had abandoned her to Randolph despite knowing the extent of his mistreatment.
A few days after Randolph’s demise, the news of her inheritance had been more shocking than learning that her husband had been trampled half to death by a horse. While another woman might have been elated to have such welcome security, Regina saw her fortune as the burden it was. Not that she minded caring for her tenants and lands. She had Randolph’s agent to take care of such matters on her behalf, and thus far she had no reason to doubt his competence. However, while Randolph had alleviated some of her worries, he’d created others—in the form of his family. Tobias had been the most persistent, unable to accept that the will was valid. As Randolph’s closest living male relative, he had expected to take everything and now felt as if he’d been cheated.
“He’s gone, ma’am,” Powell said, drawing her attention to where he loomed in the doorway. “I’m sorry he got close enough to touch you. It won’t happen again.”
She forced a smile for his benefit, but doubted Powell was fooled. “Think nothing of it.”
“Begging your pardon ma’am, but it’s all I can think about most days. You’ve been terrorized enough, with me impotent to stop it. No, not impotent … cowardly.”
Regina came to her feet and closed the distance between them. Taking Powell’s big, rough hands in her own, she stared up into his dark eyes.
“If you had acted against Randolph, he would have had you arrested and taken away from me. Who would have been here to help me stand when I was low, or make me feel safe? Where else would I have found the will to live when I wanted to curl up and die? No, Powell … you did what I needed you to do by remaining close, helping me where you could, and giving me a kind face to look upon every day. Randolph might have hated me and my neighbors never really knew me, but you were the only person in the world who cared for me, and I owe you everything.”
His throat undulated with a forceful swallow, and for a moment he looked as if he might actually shed a tear. Regina would have counted it a miracle if he had, because the man rarely showed his emotions. True to form, he pulled himself together and squeezed her hands.
“And I owe you the same. I suppose that means we are beholden to one another.”
This time, the smile she gave him was genuine—a rare expression, but one he brought about easier than anyone else. “At least, until you meet the future Mrs. Powell.”
The tips of his ears went red and he shook his head. “No ma’am. I’m happy here, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Then you should remain. But you must promise to inform me the moment that changes, no matter how you think it might make me fe
el.”
She could see the defiance in his eyes, but he merely nodded and released her hands. He then trailed her from the morning room back to her waiting breakfast. Another footman had refreshed her tea, and now set a new plate before her, steam rising from the coddled eggs.
Her appetite returned now that the unfortunate business with Tobias had been settled, so she laid her napkin in her lap and took her first bite with relish. The rest of the day would be better, Regina would make certain of it. The future was hers for the taking, and her plans were set. All there was left to do was hope she could finally have that final missing piece, the thing that would make her whole.
Buttering a third slice of toast, she decided it couldn’t hurt to begin eating for two right away.
Chapter 6
David stepped down from his carriage, having just arrived on the fringes of one of London’s worst slums. He had arrived a few days ago on the business of selling everything he owned that would fetch a price. His solicitor had been busy in his absence, finding a buyer for his townhouse. Taking rooms in a modest hotel, David had seen to the transfer of the deed into its new owner’s name. From there, he spent two days selling off his phaeton and pair, as well as every piece of jewelry he owned, and scraping together quite a tidy sum to help see his family through winter. He didn’t intend to remain in London long, as there were affairs back in Lancashire requiring his attention—not the least of which included Regina Hurst.
However, the note he received last night had urged him to make haste meeting Benedict in Seven Dials before dawn. Not wanting to drive his carriage into the center of one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in London, David opted to walk the rest of the way. Hands in his greatcoat pockets, head lowered and chin dipped into the warmth of his muffler, he traversed a veritable minefield of puddles—most of which weren’t composed entirely of rain. The stench of human and animal excrement and unwashed bodies made his throat simmer with nausea, but he choked it down and pressed on. Keeping his eyes forward, he did his best to pretend he did not hear the shuffle of feet, coughs, and groans of suffering from the shadows. He wasn’t certain if he was in danger of being set upon by pickpockets, beggars, or disorderly drunks, but David would rather not find out.
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