Oath

by K. J. Jackson

  { Chapter 18 }

  “You have us here, Reggard.” Lord Lockston’s hand on her back to guide her downward, Aunt Penelope sat on the settee in Lockston’s library with a grunt. She lifted her cane, pointing at Tieran as he turned from closing the door and walked toward them. “Tell me there is good reason for pulling me from my game of whist. Lady Newdale is my partner, and she is particularly canny—I always win with her, so this had best be of the utmost importance.”

  Tieran’s gait slowed as he walked across the library. When he had heard Aunt Penelope was to be at Lockston’s townhouse for a small dinner party, he had thought it the perfect opportunity to speak with both of them at the same time. But now that he had Aunt Penelope and Lockston sequestered, he was suddenly at a loss of how to start this particular conversation.

  The clunk of his boots on the floor came to a stop in front of Rachel’s relatives, and he looked down at them. Rachel’s brother had sat next to his aunt and had leaned back on the maroon damasked settee, his arm casual along the top carving of the furniture. Aunt Penelope sat as stiff as ever on the edge of the cushion, her hands curled over the gold pigeon topping her cane—prim even though time had taken much of the straightness from her back.

  Aunt Penelope’s cane pounded onto the floor. “Out with it. I can see your tongue has forgotten how to move.”

  Tieran looked to Lockston. He could only offer Tieran the slightest shrug.

  Kicking himself for even bringing the two of them together in privacy, Tieran took a deep breath. Best to just blurt it out at this point. “Lady Canton and I have become reacquainted in the past months.”

  “Reacquainted with Lady Canton? What does that mean, Reggard?” Lockston asked, his eyebrows slanting.

  Tieran’s head tilted slightly to the side. “We have spent an exceptional amount of time together.”

  “So she’s your mistress now?” Lockston’s eyes went to slits. “You know what she schemed to do to me—to Talia at Wellfork Castle.”

  Tieran nodded. “I do. I spoke with her about it. It was a mistake on her part.”

  “And all is forgiven?” Lockston snapped his fingers. “Just like that?”

  “No. I do not expect that of you.”

  “What do you expect?” Lockston asked. “For that matter, why exactly are you telling us?”

  “Hush, Fletcher.” Aunt Penelope’s head swiveled so fast to Lockston, her pink turban went askew and she had to tuck it back into place. “You of all people have made mistakes in your life.” She looked up at Tieran. “You are asking us for our blessing to move forward with Lady Canton?”

  Tieran held her gaze as his head bowed. “Possibly.”

  “You are afraid I’ll be upset?”

  “Yes.”

  Aunt Penelope nodded, her tongue clucking on the roof of her mouth. Her look jumped to Lockston next to her and then returned to Tieran. “Have you forgotten Rachel, Reggard?”

  “No.” Tieran’s answer was immediate, no thought needed.

  “I did not think so.” Her head shook. “I do not think you ever will. Rachel is a part of you. She always will be.”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes pinned him. “Yet that does not mean there is not room for another.”

  Tieran nodded. “I believe that is the case, yes.”

  Next to Aunt Penelope, Lockston gave an audible sigh, almost a groan.

  Aunt Penelope’s hand whipped up in front of Lockston’s nose, stopping the sound as she focused on Tieran. “Lady Canton does have a reputation, Reggard.”

  “Yes. That fact has not escaped me.”

  “Yet you wish to move forth.” She leaned forward slightly, her hands tightening around the top of her cane as her eyes went shrewd. “Or are you asking us so that someone will caution you against her?”

  The question took Tieran aback. Was he? He paused, his look drifting from Rachel’s aunt and brother to the window behind them as he considered the question.

  That couldn’t possibly be what he was doing—looking for a reason to break from Liv—was it? Yet…there were things in the past that he couldn’t deny—things he didn’t want to acknowledge.

  Liv had been the one thing that had sustained him during the war—he would have done anything for her—anything to keep her world safe. All of that. All of his sins. Only she had destroyed him when he had returned to English soil and learned she had married another.

  Broken, devastated, it had been a hell like no other.

  And now he was facing that very same thing again—if he allowed it of himself—for he knew he would do anything for Liv, no matter what it cost him.

  No matter that it could very well cost him his peace.

  The smack of the cane on the floor drew Tieran’s look downward.

  “You are pondering the thought—that is good,” Aunt Penelope said. “As well you should for the trail of destruction Lady Canton leaves. Caution is paramount.”

  The instant need to defend Liv bubbled into Tieran’s chest. “There is more to Lady Canton than you would know of, Aunt Penelope.”

  “Of course there is, Reggard.” Her hand flipped into the air. “I recognize that. She is an unusual choice, but I understand you have history with her, and I also recognize you are not an idiot. Or at least I never thought so.”

  A guffaw slipped out of Lockston.

  Aunt Penelope glared at Lockston out of the corner of her eye. “You, on the opposite, Fletcher, have been an idiot time and again, so you do not get to chortle upon it.”

  “Point taken, Aunt.” Lockston looked up at Tieran. “Why do you even feel the need to ask for our blessing, Reggard?”

  “You two were Rachel’s family—and now you are the only family I have.”

  Lockston nodded, his look going hard as his arm dropped from the back of the settee and he leaned forward. “And if you don’t get our blessing?”

  Tieran drew a breath, his lungs expanding as the undeniable answer filled his chest. “I choose Liv regardless.”

  “Then why ask for it?”

  Tieran’s tongue thrust into the side of his cheek as he gave a slight shake of his head. “Just because I don’t need it, doesn’t mean I don’t want it, Lockston.”

  Aunt Penelope’s cane flew up, thwacking Lockston’s shins. “Of course we give it, Reggard.”

  Lockston’s look flew to his aunt. “We do?”

  She thwapped him again with her cane. “Yes, we do.”

  His head shaking, Lockston leaned down, rubbing the front of his shin through his dark trousers.

  For a long moment, the room was silent until Lockston straightened, looking up at Tieran. “I was graced with a second life myself, Reggard.” He stopped, giving a slight sigh. “I do not see how I can hold you back from the same, if that is what you wish.”

  “It is. She is.”

  Lockston gave him one curt nod. “Then you have our blessing.”

  ~~~

  Liv stared at the latest stack of correspondence balancing high on the edge of her desk, chiding herself for her complete lack of enthusiasm for her work.

  The papers and the tasks had been building up for a week in her study, untouched, and happily so. Every thought had been consumed with Tieran during the past week, and she wouldn’t trade away a moment of it to deal with the drudgery that now sat before her.

  “You are positive he has not even one vice? Impossible. What are we paying you for, sir? I want results.” Viola’s voice had gone hard, pressing the Bow Street runner, Mr. Tillman, Liv had hired years ago for their work on the list.

  Having just ignored most of the conversation going on in front of her, Liv glanced up from her papers, giving Viola a sharp look. She was not in the mood to have to rein Viola in from her fits of impatience. Liv wanted this meeting done and over so she could make her way back to the Reggard dower house.

  It was amazing how quickly her own house no longer felt like home. It had only felt cold and lonely walking into it, knowing that her heart was wait
ing for her fourteen blocks away.

  “No, my lady. There be no vices,” Mr. Tillman said, hiding his exasperation over Viola’s tone as he looked to Liv across the desk. “And I have had three of my best working to uncover the slightest desire of Sir Bishman, but there is not a one. No drink, no gambling, no debts, no wife, no lover. Investments in only the safest trades. The only thing he even appears to care about is his daughter—dotes on her, even. They call her ‘the crystal doll’ in their circles. She is fifteen now. Beautiful and untouchable. And the man makes sure it remains that way. Scares off any suitor sniffin’ ‘bout her.”

  Viola shook her head, her finger tapping on the edge of the desk in front of Mr. Tillman. “Well, that is interesting, but not valuable. Keep looking at him, Mr. Tillman. He is one of the original names on the list, and deserves to be destroyed in the worst possible way.”

  Mr. Tillman nodded, his hands rubbing along the top of his dark trousers. “I will, my lady.”

  “And have you discovered anything more on Lord Lockston?” Viola asked.

  Liv’s ears perked up.

  She hadn’t confessed to Viola that she had mentally erased Lord Lockston from any intentions she had on vengeance. Yes, his name was on the list. But going after Lockston put her at direct odds with Tieran.

  And she wasn’t going to jeopardize their relationship over it.

  Besides, she could put off Lord Lockston for some time—there were plenty of other names to pursue on the list.

  “If you wanted to start again on Lord Lockston since his illness has had him resigned to his house, he reportedly is well enough to be at the Jacobson ball tonight. It is expected to be a crush, but as you know, the bigger the platform, the bigger the gossip.” Mr. Tillman looked to Liv.

  She could only offer a weak half-smile.

  “Excellent.” Viola clapped her hands together. “Thank you, Mr. Tillman. You will excuse us?”

  Mr. Tillman stood with a slight bow of his head. “Good eve, my ladies.”

  Viola watched him exit the room, her smile beaming as she turned back to Liv. “This is perfect. You are already here and can attend the ball tonight. We should go up and choose a gown right away. What color was it again that Lord Lockston was partial to?”

  “Blue.” Liv’s eyes fell down to the stack of papers.

  “You do have that blue gown Lord Canton gave you a month before he died. It is the prettiest blue and still fashionable enough. Plus, it looked exquisite on you the one time I saw it.”

  “You know I only wear black, Viola.”

  “Yes, but I thought with your new liaison with Lord Reggard, you would finally be willing to let color back into your wardrobe. It can only help our cause, Livia. The black does age you beyond your years.”

  Liv looked to her friend, dread building in the pit of her stomach. Viola was going to hate what Liv had to tell her.

  She took a bracing breath. “I believe I need to avoid Lord Lockston and focus my attentions on another one from the list, Viola.”

  Viola’s eyebrows shot up, her eyes going to slits. “Not Lord Lockston? Why in the blazes not?”

  Liv shook her head. “Please understand, Viola—I cannot approach the man. He is a dear friend of Tieran’s and I cannot do that to him. Is there not another on the list that we can concentrate on while we wait for news on Sir Bishman?”

  Viola jumped to her feet, her hands pounding down onto the desk. “Livia, tell me you are not choosing this…this…this fool that once discarded you over the list? Tell me the man doesn’t have you so besotted that you have lost all your wits.”

  The hairs on the back of Liv’s neck spiked, her own ire sparked. “I am choosing to be respectful of Tieran’s world. That is all. Beyond this one friend, I wish for no other modifications to the list. I adhere to all that we have planned.”

  “Do you?” Viola’s voice went low, dangerous. Her hands shoved off from the top of the rosewood desk and she stalked over to the settee before the fire. She picked up the leather portfolio on it that contained her notes.

  Flipping open the top flap, Viola rustled through the papers, her head shaking, her mouth drawing tight. Liv could feel the fury spinning in a tornado around her.

  Yanking a folded sheet of vellum from the bag, Viola straightened, stomping back over to the desk. “I also have something to share with you, Livia. Something you are not going to like—or even believe, I fear. But know before I even show you this, that it is true. It has been verified.”

  A shiver ran down Liv’s spine, her instantly wary look going up to Viola. “What are you talking about, Viola?”

  “I have an updated list.” She slammed the piece of paper down on the desk in front of Liv.

  Liv looked from the paper up to Viola. “And?”

  Viola’s lip snarled. “Your Lord Reggard is on it.”

  Liv sprang to her feet. “What? No. Impossible.” She ripped the paper from the desk, tearing it as she unfolded it.

  Flattening it on the desk, Liv leaned over it, scanning the names—names she had read a hundred times over. Three new ones were at the bottom, as they periodically appeared after Mr. Tillman delivered it.

  Lord Reggard.

  The second to last name, written in a scrawl with an ink splotch on the circle of the “d.”

  No.

  She flung the paper at Viola. “It is wrong. Wrong. There has been a mistake. A similar name mistaken for his. A misspelling. It is not Tieran.”

  “I did not believe it either, Livia.” Viola bent to pick up the paper from where it had fluttered to the floor. “That was my very first thought as well upon seeing it on the list. A mistake. Especially after what you just told me a week ago.” Viola paused, taking care in folding the vellum in half as her words went calm. “So I verified it. It is true. It is your Lord Reggard.”

  Liv rushed around the desk. “No. Absolutely not. You are a thousand times mistaken, Viola.”

  Viola’s hands went to her hips, a hard edge creeping into her voice. “I verified it, Livia. It is him. There is no mistake.”

  Liv grabbed her reticule from the hook by the door. “No. I refuse to believe you. I refuse to believe you verified it—how could you? It is not Tieran on that list.”

  “Where are you going, Livia?”

  Her hand on the doorknob, she looked at Viola over her shoulder. “To find Tieran—to ask him how his name could possibly end up on a list like that. This is just some horrible mistake and I mean to find out why.”

  Cat-like, Viola pounced across the room, catching Liv’s forearm before she could fully open the door. “Livia, no. You cannot go to him—not now.”

  Liv’s eyes narrowed at her friend. “Why not?”

  “He is there, Livia. There right now. Mr. Tillman told me before you arrived.”

  A gust of bitter cold snaked through Liv, turning every muscle in her body to jelly, the air in her lungs vanishing as though she had just been punched.

  Viola grabbed a wooden chair from the wall, slipping it behind Liv at the moment she would have fallen to the floor.

  Liv could barely comprehend her surroundings—unable to see anything in the room around her.

  Viola’s fingers dug into the muscles of Liv’s forearm. “He is there right now, Livia. That is how it is verified.”

  Liv’s head shook. Shook against the blasphemy her friend spoke. “No. No. He was going to a party tonight. That ball at Baron Jacobson’s townhouse…he…he asked me to go with. That is where he is right now.”

  “No, dove, no.” Viola set her hands on Liv’s shoulders, squeezing. “I am so saddened to have to make you face this. He is not at the Jacobson residence. He is there at the brothel, the Jolly Vassal.”

  “Shut your mouth, Viola. A lie.” Liv’s look whipped up to her friend. “I will never believe you on this.”

  Viola sighed, her voice softening. “I understand the resistance, Livia. But will you ride in the carriage with me? Please? I am your only friend that understands all of
you, and I would never want to hurt you with this. I hate to see you so distressed—yet I also do not want you to be duped. Above all, I do not want you to have to discover the truth alone.”

  Liv shook her head.

  “Please, Liv. Just a carriage ride. I pray that I will be proved wrong.” She squeezed Liv’s shoulders tight, almost to pinching. “Just a carriage ride. I will alert Mr. Niles.”

  Her muscles still jelly, Liv stood.

  Denial screamed in her head, yet she had to consider for one tiny moment that Viola could be correct.

  Her head shook again. No. Not Tieran. Not the one man that she knew was capable of nothing but honor and good and generosity and respect and benevolence to everyone he had ever met. He was a defender of the weak. Especially women.

  But…

  But he had admitted it to her himself.

  He had been a monster in the war.

  A true monster.

  And if he had monster in him, what else was he capable of doing?

  Her heart curdling with the tiniest possibility she was wrong about her belief in him, she gave one nod, relenting to Viola, her head betraying all that was in her heart—all she knew to be true. Not Tieran.

  Viola had to be wrong.

  ~~~

  Viola sat across from Liv in the carriage, a whirlwind of anxiety—picking at her skirts, her gloves, the rolled edging of the carriage cushions. Her foot tapped incessantly, only interrupted with the sound of her clearing her throat every thirty seconds.

  In contrast, Liv had sat perfectly still for the past hour, staring at nothing but the front door of the brothel she had once been sold in. She had no nervous habits to indulge in. Not a pinky twitch. Not a grind of her teeth. Not a jittery hum.

  Perfectly still. Her breath in. Her breath out. Still. Waiting.

  And then it happened.

  Out of the corner of her eye, to the left of the brothel, she noticed a tall, wide man dressed entirely in black—a long black overcoat, a black top hat obscuring his head—appear at the edge of the alley. She leaned forward, searching for a better angle to spy out the carriage window.

  The man in black paused at the edge of the sidewalk, looking up and down the street. His face turned towards Liv’s carriage.