Safe in the Earl's Arms

by Liz Tyner

  ‘I don’t want him to have two tainted parents. I hardly know him, Melina. My son. And I think of him above all else. But I let that whore be his mother. For that alone he should hate me.’

  ‘I dare say he’ll get older and find plenty of other reasons. I could probably name ten.’

  Warrington’s mouth opened. ‘Your honesty is not appealing.’

  ‘Stubborn. Forcing Broomer, a servant, to dishonesty. Bedding a woman and bumping her head into the wall, trying to—’

  ‘Bumping your head into the wall?’

  ‘On the ship. You near knocked me out.’

  ‘You should have told me.’

  ‘No…’ She waved a hand. ‘You were quite intense. And there was the whiskers…’

  He stared at her. ‘The circumstances were not the best. I told you I am not that bad of a lover.’

  Melina wobbled her head. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘You do not have enough experience to know. A woman’s first time is never quite what it should be.’

  She shrugged. ‘You say that to yourself.’

  He looked at her eyes. ‘You witch.’

  She blinked.

  ‘You insult me to take my mind from him.’

  She touched the back of her head, fingers probing. ‘It’s still tender—odyniros.’

  He pulled her into his arms. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. Not in any way. And I did not bump you into the wall.’

  She squeaked her disagreement. ‘You were consumed in the moment then. Just as you are mired in memories now. Don’t kill Ludgate. You don’t want to. You want to kill Cassandra. And you can’t.’

  He pulled her against his chest. She could feel the cloth of his waistcoat and the movements of his coarse breathing.

  ‘You are a witch.’ He whispered the words against her hair.

  ‘I don’t think you like nice people.’

  ‘Whose side are you on?’

  ‘The children’s. And I’ve never met them. But I know what it is like to have a father you do not respect. And to be without a mother. I’m old enough to understand it, but I don’t think they are.’

  Strong arms held her and he rocked her briefly, surrounding her in the scent of warm male.

  He stopped the rocking movement and leaned back, watching her face. ‘Melina—do you have any fond recollections of our time on the ship?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ She looked at him and the heat of her memories weakened her limbs.

  His eyes changed and he examined her with such intensity—the same way an artist would study a subject to be painted.

  He pulled her into his grasp, holding her tight, but before she could gather herself, his lips closed over hers, overwhelming her with a storm of feelings as strong as any winds or waves from the ship. The swirl of his tongue slipping into her mouth tumbled her thoughts so strongly, she could not have remained standing without his support.

  The next kiss to her lips was the merest brush. ‘Goodnight, Beauty.’ He backed away, staring at her, and she didn’t know who or what he really saw.

  *

  Warrington had stayed from the house in the daylight hours and returned through the servants’ entrance so he could find Broomer. Broomer said Melina hadn’t stirred, except to ask about the earl, and the servant hadn’t been able to tell her what he didn’t know. From the spark in Broomer’s eyes when given instructions, he still relished a challenge. Warrington gave him one.

  Now Warrington sat in the glow of only one candle on the small table by his side. The painting of Melina’s family showed murky in the dimness. Tonight, he would have preferred taunting eyes of black-hearted mermaids.

  The thumping steps outside the door alerted Warrington. Broomer had his own ways of getting a job done.

  War pulled the blade out, the movement releasing the leather scent from the scabbard, and he flicked the steel back and forth through the flame.

  Ludgate walked into the room, crutch under his arm. Broomer pulled the door shut behind them and leaned back.

  Ludgate paused, his eyes taking in the room. He turned and saw the exit blocked. His fingers tightened on the crutch and his free hand went across his body and clasped the wood as if he needed even more help to stand. ‘I knew you would find out.’

  Silence and the flickering of the candle filled the air between them.

  Ludgate spoke again, his words gruff. ‘I know you’re aware.’

  ‘Broomer. Leave us and lock the door with the key.’

  Without a word, the big man opened the door and left.

  Warrington looked to the flame. ‘Had I suspected you, I would not have been so slow to find out who bedded my wife. I held her responsible. No one else. But you betrayed me, as well.’

  ‘If you had cared for her, you would have searched sooner.’

  He held the blade tip in the flame and his fingers tightened on the handle. He kept his voice conversational. ‘I suggest we not get in a match over who cared more for my wife.’

  Ludgate spoke, each word measured. ‘She was a woman no man could help but desire.’

  Rage boiled in Warrington’s body, causing a twitch in the knife blade. ‘You should not mention your lust for her, either.’

  Ludgate stepped back. Someone outside rattled the doorknob. Warrington ignored the sound.

  Warrington didn’t speak and he could hear Ludgate’s breaths from across the room. ‘Don’t be in a hurry to leave.’ He used the blade to snuff out the candle.

  ‘I didn’t know she’d return to you. She told us you were dying.’ The words sounded through clenched teeth. ‘She said you were dying.’

  ‘Makes it all the better, doesn’t it? I’m breathing my last breaths on my deathbed. You’re ploughing my wife.’

  ‘Light a candle,’ Ludgate commanded.

  ‘I don’t like the sight of blood.’

  ‘Warrington. It’s over. She’s gone.’

  ‘Not entirely gone. Willa, you know. Little girl, about so high.’ He held out the hand with the knife in it to indicate Willa’s height. He was certain Ludgate couldn’t see the blade well, but that Ludgate’s heart was pounding every shadowed movement into his mind.

  He heard Ludgate bump back against the door.

  ‘You didn’t find any irony in the fact that she named her Willa Marie,’ Ludgate said. ‘Marie is Daphne’s middle name.’ His voice rose. ‘My wife’s middle name and my full name is Robert William Ludgate.’

  ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘Oh, I assure you, Cassandra knew. Daphne knew.’

  Warrington touched the blade tip to the extinguished wick, scenting the room with smoke, and pressed the string down into the melted wax. ‘Cassandra would find it humorous. Like a final dusting of face powder to get just as she wished. But I want to know why you set a man on me. A man to kill me—when Cass was dead. It makes no sense. You don’t want the child—’

  Again, the doorknob rattled hard. Warrington kept his eyes on Ludgate’s form. In seeing Ludgate’s slumped shadow, he knew the man wouldn’t challenge him.

  ‘Open the door,’ Melina called through the wood and she pounded against the door.

  ‘Leave us, Melina.’ He bit out the words.

  ‘No,’ she said, and he heard a push against the door and her words rushed. ‘Daphne is here.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Ludgate’s voice rang out. ‘I have an elderly aunt, as well. I hope you didn’t forget her invite.’

  Warrington kept his words soft. ‘Trust me, Ludgate. Still not as bad as watching your wife present you with another man’s child. I didn’t invite Daphne. I don’t know how she found out.’

  ‘She watches me like a gaoler when I am in my home. Sends servants and wastrels to follow me about. I can get no peace in my house and rarely visit it.’ Ludgate’s voice held the brittleness of an eggshell. ‘That’s why Cass had to return to you. Daphne was suspicious and her mind was wavering.’

  ‘Fancy that.’

  The door rattled again, then abruptly stopped.r />
  ‘She’s gone for the key, I suppose.’ Warrington stood, the cool knife hot against his fingers. ‘I cannot understand why your wife might be upset to have her husband sleeping with her sister. Perhaps Daphne is overly sensitive.’

  ‘I was insane for Cassandra.’ Ludgate grumbled out the words, and his crutch top slid to his chest and he held the oak in front of himself, in a protective stance. He whispered, ‘My senses left me.’

  ‘But Cass returned to me.’

  ‘I kissed the ground when she left,’ Ludgate said, lips snarling. ‘I realised—as soon as it was too late—that Cassandra was not quite what I expected. She put me on a string—in my own house. I had to dance at her whims or she threatened to tell Daphne. And Daphne found out anyway. I’m certain Cassandra couldn’t rest until Daphne knew.’

  ‘Cassandra had her own sense of enjoyment. I’ve had enough of games to last my lifetime.’

  ‘You’re ten years younger. You’ve a blade in your hand and I can hardly stand upright without support. I expected you to be more sporting than that.’

  ‘I was…’ Warrington paused. ‘Your daughter lives in my house.’

  ‘And if you’ve a wish to be rid of her, I’ll see she’s cared for. It doesn’t matter either way to me. I almost died when I discovered Cassandra was with child. Daphne cannot have children and…Daphne’s not what you think, either, Warrington. Daphne wanted me murdered and for you to get the noose for it—because you forgave Cassandra. I know I have no excuse for my behaviour, but even before I strayed, the two women showed a different side to you. Both of them did.’

  Instead of a rattling sound behind Ludgate, this time the door opened, knocking into Ludgate. He used the crutch to catch himself and remain upright.

  Melina rushed in, a key in one hand. Daphne followed, holding a lamp. Daphne’s lips were parted, but her jaw was locked in place.

  No one spoke and Warrington waited.

  Melina tossed the key on to a side table, grabbed the lamp from Daphne and then moved to the sconce on the wall, lifted the globe and lit the candle. He saw her hand quiver when she touched the flame to the wick. Then she moved to the next one and the branch of candles beside Warrington’s chair. The room glowed with light.

  ‘Much better.’ Melina sat the lamp base down with too much force. The sound bounced in the room. ‘You must see to kill each other.’

  ‘I can manage in darkness.’ Warrington met her gaze. She had the same despair in her eyes that he’d felt for years. He couldn’t move for the space of several heartbeats. Then he looked to Ludgate. The lamplight accentuated the wan colour of his face. The man looked twice his age.

  ‘We should be leaving.’ Ludgate grabbed Daphne’s arm. ‘I think Warrington and I have discussed enough for one evening.’

  ‘No,’ Warrington commanded. ‘We haven’t.’ He switched the knife to his other hand, holding it upright by the tip, in a pitching stance. ‘You had some ruffian cut me.’

  Ludgate’s eyes narrowed. ‘I did not. I felt shame for what I did to you. But I had no reason to kill you. And I would not send someone to murder you. A man your size. I would send two, and one with a pistol at least.’ Ludgate ran a hand through his hair. ‘I wanted no more to do with you. It would not be beneficial to me in any way and I have enough to live with. Your death would not make my life easier. An earl murdered—oh, that would not be noticed, questioned, discussed… You think I want to spend one more moment on the events of the past—no.’

  Daphne pulled her arm from Ludgate’s grasp while she turned her head to stare at him. ‘Warrington. He said he wanted you dead. He blamed you for Cassandra’s death.’

  Ludgate let out a strangled gasp and turned to Daphne. ‘I did no such thing.’

  She gave a twist of her head. ‘You boasted. You laughed about having your child under his roof.’

  ‘You are mad, Daphne.’ He turned back to Warrington and both his hands grasped the crutch. ‘I did not. If I would have killed anyone, it would have been that…’ his words stopped, eyes locked with Warrington’s ‘…woman.’ His voice lowered. ‘She didn’t care for me. I was a game she played.’ He looked at Warrington. ‘If it were possible for her to love anyone, she possibly cared for you. She did marry you and she returned to you. She didn’t have to. I would have given her funds to go anywhere she wished. I told her.’

  Warrington gave a twist of the knife, turning it point down, and jammed it into the tabletop. The sound of the blade vibrating caused Ludgate to jump. Daphne didn’t move.

  ‘Daphne—amazing, isn’t it—how much you truly favour Cassandra.’ Warrington put his hand on the handle. ‘Just now. When you spoke, I saw the image of her in your eyes, your face. And when you looked at Ludgate…’

  ‘Cass and I were sisters. We should look alike.’

  ‘And you and I were both wronged.’

  Her shoulders tensed and her chin quivered. She breathed through her teeth, then spoke without opening her mouth wider. ‘You had plenty of time to get used to Cassandra’s ways. You should have made her remain faithful, but when you didn’t… You should have gone after Ludgate.’ She indicated her husband with a quick nod. ‘He betrayed me. With my sister.’ Her hands were fisted and she stared at Warrington. ‘You should have kept her under control. But you didn’t force her back home the moment you recovered from the illness. And I cannot forgive you for that. I told the man who attacked you not to kill you. I told him to limp when he left and not let you see his face, and what words to say. The fool. Both of you. You’d not even searched for the child’s father before. I wanted you to get so angry you had to find out. And then discover Ludgate. I was going to tell you myself last night after I left Ludgate in the carriage, when I was positive he wouldn’t hear. But then you had her…’ she jerked her head towards Melina ‘…with you and I knew you wouldn’t leave her side long enough to do justice.’

  His ears heard, but he didn’t want them to. ‘Daphne—I treated you as my own family.’

  She gave a careless shrug. ‘I treated you as my own family.’ She gave a lift to her skirts to keep them from hampering her movements. ‘I truly did.’ Her lips turned up and her eyes glittered when she gave a regal toss of her head. ‘Truly.’

  ‘Did Cass poison my father? Me?’

  She shrugged, looked around the room and then levelled her eyes at Warrington. ‘How could I know for certain?’ She pressed a hand to her hair. ‘All I can say is that I didn’t do it. I would have been assured of the correct amount.’ She glanced into the distance. ‘It is not that hard to do, I assure you.’ She shook her head. ‘You can see her plan. Jacob would be the next earl. She didn’t like your father at all. Not at all. An illness sweeping the house. Who would think it poison?’ Daphne walked out of the room, moving as if she had not a care in the world.

  ‘I know I wronged you, Warrington.’ Ludgate stared at the open doorway. ‘I wronged Daphne, too.’ He stood silent. ‘She is not the same since I wounded her. She hides it in front of others, mostly.’ He turned to Warrington. ‘But you cannot live always in front of others.’

  Warrington shook his head. ‘It feels that I have.’

  ‘Daphne believes she was betrayed by all around her. Everyone. Me. Her sister. You.’

  ‘I did nothing to her.’

  ‘You took Cassandra back. Daphne received a post from her sister, telling her the joyous news that Daphne would be an aunt—for the third time.’ He stumbled over his words. ‘I no longer fear for her sanity. It’s buried under layers of hate. I fear for my own.’

  He touched his cravat and, when he raised his hand, his fingers jerked. ‘These things take time.’ Leaving the room, he mumbled, ‘But there will never be enough time for this to heal.’

  Warrington reached for the knife with his right hand, jerked it from the wood and tossed it into the fireplace. Melina touched his back. From behind, she slipped her arms around him. He covered her hand with his.

  ‘My wife’s love could be harsh in so ma
ny ways. It would have been better had she hated me.’

  Melina rested her head against his back. ‘Now you can let her go.’

  He took Melina’s hand, brushed a kiss against it and stepped back. He sat on the sofa and stretched his legs out and his stare focused on the candle. ‘I no longer feel anger at the trouble Cassandra caused me. I only feel anger that she caused so many others to suffer. Ludgate has his own troubles. You’re right. I’d prefer to strangle Cassandra and it would undo nothing.’

  He gave a long blink and looked at her. ‘When Cass came home, I raged. She had to agree to my terms and they were not easy ones. Cassandra was no innocent victim. I suppose it didn’t matter to me earlier who the father of the girl was because I already knew who the father wasn’t. It wasn’t me.’

  He leaned his head against the back of the chair, his face towards the ceiling. He shut his eyes. ‘And I can be thankful that Jacob and the girl will not have to grow up living with their mother’s penchant for finding trouble.’

  Warrington turned his head to the side and opened his eyes, watching Melina. ‘I wish you’d seen none of this, Melina. When Ben finishes his next repairs, I’ll see that you get passage home and I’ll make sure that whatever is needed for your retrieval of the artefacts to be taken care of.’

  Melina kept her irritation hid. He talked too calmly of sending her away. She didn’t ask that he throw himself on the knife blade, but he might look nicked.

  ‘I will be happy to see my sisters.’ She blew out one of the candles.

  He stood. ‘I believe Broomer needs my company. I’m sure he has a tale to tell me and maybe a song he heard at Drury Lane. He’s not fit for polite company sometimes, which makes him all the better for me.’

  At the doorway, he looked over his shoulder. ‘I’ll not trouble you tonight, Melina. I know you aren’t of the same cloth as Daph or Cass. I knew who Cass was, but until tonight, I believed Daphne someone else entirely. I thought her a sister.’ He shook his head. ‘Lies. Everything. Lies.’