If He’s Wicked

by Hannah Howell

  “Godparents?” both Wherlockes said the moment the door shut behind Anthony and Edgar.

  “Why not? You have certainly fulfilled the role for these past three years,” Julian said. “I might as well make it official.” He scowled at Chloe. “Of course, all this pretty hair nonsense must cease.”

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “He is just a little boy. Time enough to turn him into a manly man.” She looked toward the fireplace and mumbled, “A manly man with pretty hair.”

  “Does she practice how to be irritating?” Julian asked Leopold.

  “Nay,” replied Leopold. “It comes quite naturally, I fear.”

  Chloe gave both men a look of disgust and then asked, “Are we to plot our plots now?”

  “Ah, well, the foremost plot had already been set in motion,” said Leopold. “His lordship remains hidden, giving rise to the belief that he is dead. He needs to heal and regain his strength.”

  “A bit thin, but what about his coachman?”

  “He was unconscious, if you recall, and too far away to see the attack. We found the carriage, and put it and the coachman out on the heath. My men stood watch to make sure no harm came to the man until he was discovered. We scattered enough blood in the carriage to cause the ones who found it to cry murder.”

  “A cry Beatrice and Arthur took up?” Julian asked even though he already knew the answer.

  “I fear so, and quite loudly as well,” replied Leopold. “The first cast of the die has been made. Now you must do your best to heal and get strong.”

  “I am not really capable of doing much else right now, am I.”

  “Do not sound so disgusted with yourself. It was but three days ago that you were attacked and stabbed—twice. You are capable of thinking, however, m’lord. After another day or two of rest, I will put your mind to work on all the information I have gathered.”

  “Information but no proof?”

  “Proof has been a little difficult to grasp. I have not been able to get too close or to search any of your properties.” Leo made himself comfortable at the foot of the bed just as Edgar returned. “Your servants provide only a rumor or two. The most telling thing is that it is not loyalty that stills their tongues concerning Lady Beatrice and Sir Arthur. It is abject fear.”

  “And I have offered them no hope of freedom from that, have I. First because I was so besotted and bewitched and then because I was so caught up in my own misery.” Julian felt utterly disgusted with himself. “Melvin worked in the stables at Colinsmoor,” he added softly. “I was told that he quit, went to find his fortune in the Colonies.”

  “I believe it is called America now,” Leopold said and smiled briefly before growing serious again. “Melvin is undoubtedly dead. He probably found out something and they knew he would warn you. Unfortunately, we cannot find this pit Chloe heard of or anyone to speak of it. They do not speak openly of Melvin, either.”

  “The midwife also disappeared after the babies were exchanged,” said Chloe.

  “Are any of the rest of my family in danger?” asked Julian.

  “Your mother and sisters are safe enough,” Leopold replied. “They are not a threat to what your wife and uncle want. Your younger brother Nigel is being protected. Not so difficult as he is with our army in Canada. I sent word to a relative there once this deadly game began, and your brother is constantly guarded. However, I recently got word that he tires of the military and foreign climes. He is considering selling out and coming back home, something he will do when and if he gets news of your death. That makes it even more imperative that we cease this waiting and act.”

  “You seem sure your relative can protect Nigel, yet, if my uncle believes I am dead—”

  “Do not worry. My relative can still protect him and will continue to do so even if your brother decides to sell out and journey home. Once he is here, we can watch out for him if my relative decides to return to Canada. This particular Vaughn, a cousin, has a true skill for sensing who is a threat.” Leopold shrugged when Julian looked skeptical. “’Tis the truth. Trust me. Even someone who is simply in a foul humor will have difficulty approaching your brother.”

  Julian did not argue but was not fully reassured, either. Within a few moments he was too weary to participate in the conversation even though it concerned keeping him alive. Soon the Wherlockes politely withdrew but Edgar lingered at his bedside. Julian gave his old friend a tired smile.

  “You can trust them, you know,” Edgar said.

  “I would be a low churl if I did not,” Julian said. “Not only do I owe them for the life of my child as well as my own, but they have watched o’er my family whilst I wallowed in drink and whores.”

  Edgar patted Julian on his uninjured shoulder. “Do not flay yourself with guilt. Such betrayal as you have suffered can make a man crazed.”

  “It made me a useless, self-pitying fool. S’blood, but I am done with that. As Leopold said, ’tis time to end this game.”

  “Yes, for that child’s sake if naught else. A bright lad.” Edgar rubbed a hand over his slightly prominent chin. “Anthony might call Miss Wherlocke Cohee, but, well, it will be difficult to part them, I fear.”

  “I know.” Julian barely smothered a yawn. “It will also be difficult to explain how it is I suddenly have an heir.”

  “Not when we defeat your enemies and the truth comes out. It will, you know. For the boy’s sake, it must.”

  “True. The scandal will sorely hurt my mother and sisters. And now, they will grieve for me, believing I am dead.”

  “Better that than you, Nigel, and that child dying. Rest. You will need all of your strength for the fight that lies ahead. Soon Leopold and I will present you with all the man and I have discovered about Beatrice and your uncle.”

  “God help me, how could I have been such an idiot, such a blind fool?”

  “Beatrice’s allure is the sort that utterly bewitches a man, blinding him to the evil in her heart. Even I felt it. And no, I do not believe your uncle is so blinded. In truth, I believe he and Beatrice are a mating of like souls.” Edgar winked, his blue eyes bright with amusement as he stood up and headed out the door. “Soon they will get what they so richly deserve—swallowed by the Pitahell Monster.”

  Julian was surprised to find himself smiling as he carefully shifted his body into a more comfortable position. He realized he had not really lied to his son when he had told the boy he had been lost. In many ways it was the cold, ugly truth. Grief, bruised pride, and a deep sense of humiliation had taken him to a very dark place, but he was free of that now. He bore scars, wounds he feared would never heal, but he was ready to face his troubles now. He had a son to protect, a child to raise, and that gave him a sense of purpose he had not felt in a long, long time. As sleep dragged him into its folds, he wondered why the image of an impudent woman with inky blue eyes lingered in his thoughts.

  Chapter 3

  “Damn them,” Julian muttered as he let the last of the papers Leopold had given him fall into his lap and slumped against the pillows. After a full night of sleep he had thought himself strong enough to face even more hard, ugly truths, but he was not so sure of that now. “Do you think it was all planned from the very beginning? That I was naught but a pawn from the start?”

  “That is a possibility,” replied Leo as he straightened up a little in the chair he had set next to Julian’s bed. “I am sorry to get so personal, but was your wife a virgin?”

  “I think not.” Julian felt himself blush faintly. “I was not vastly experienced when I married and had never bedded down with a virgin. Would probably never have done so even if the opportunity had been there. I saw no glory in dishonoring some foolish, naïve innocent. As for Beatrice, things I have learned since make me believe she feigned all of her innocence. A woman at one particular brothel entertained me with the tale of how she made quite an impressive amount of money by pretending to be a virgin until she was past an age where it was believable. The tale of how she enacted that l
ie again and again reminded me very strongly of Beatrice on our wedding night. I was sorely tempted to ask the woman if she had ever taught her tricks to a lady, to my wife, but I could not. S’blood, but I really did not wish to hear her answer,” he added softly.

  “Of course you did not. Eminently understandable.”

  “Oh? Eminently cowardly might be more accurate.”

  “Perhaps, but a cowardice most men would share. Betrayal had already sent you crawling through brothels. You did not need to hear of yet another one. In your place, I would not have wished to hear the answer, either. However, that does make me think my suspicions are correct, that your uncle chose Beatrice, that he wanted an ally as close to you as possible. Who better than a lover or a wife?”

  “Who better indeed? These papers show that they also seek to put me in debtor’s prison.”

  “Which neatly answers the question of why, does it not?” Leo said as he stood up and stretched before idly pacing the length of the room.

  “I suspect it does.”

  “From what I have seen and learned through careful investigation and observation, most of your lands and investments are intact and are carefully tended. It appears the pair does realize that they need to do at least that much to keep their purses full of your money. Other lands you own are not faring quite so well.” Leo shrugged. “They have no interest in them and so they bleed them dry and invest nothing in them. Since the rumor that you are dead is spreading fast and wide now, there have already been whispers seeping about saying that certain unentailed properties will soon enter the market.”

  Leo waited patiently as Julian indulged in a hearty, creative bout of cursing, then said, “There is no proof that you are dead, Julian, so it will be very difficult to dispense with your property too quickly.”

  “And Nigel is my heir, not my uncle. I also changed my will, leaving my wife a very small annuity. I thought of leaving her nothing at all but decided that would raise too many questions, the answers to which would be embarrassing for my family.”

  “But before that, she had a healthy widow’s portion, I suspect.”

  “She did and it included some property, but that property could not be sold without the new earl’s full approval.”

  “Who is in Canada. So, if your uncle could show that you gave him the right to act in your stead or made him the executor of your will…”

  “I never did such a thing, never gave him any rights or power at all. Of course, that does not mean that he could not produce some claim that he had them.” Julian grimaced. “What would a little forgery matter to such a man?”

  “True. He could also dispute your will as it was made in the heat of anger or any other excuse he can think of. So we must conjure up some way to put a spoke in his wheel.”

  “Such as what?” Julian was beginning to think that Leopold Wherlocke had a very devious mind.

  “Such as debts accrued during the year you were, well, not quite yourself.”

  “You mean whilst I acted the drunken debauchee,” Julian drawled, still feeling the pinch of shame and embarrassment over his behavior of the last year. “Unfortunately, I do not believe I have any outstanding debts, certainly not of the sort that could be used to grab fistfuls of any property I own.”

  Leo sat on the end of the bed and leaned against the thick bedpost. “Nay, you do not, but that does not mean we cannot produce a few. Do you think your uncle and your wife know of every little thing you have done over the past year?”

  Julian thought about that possibility for a few moments and then shook his head. “No, I think not. They have obviously kept a watch on what I was doing, and where, or hired someone else to do it so that they could plan their attempts to kill me, but I can think of several times when they would have had a good chance of succeeding yet nothing happened. And I did gamble and there were some losses, but nothing too severe.”

  “Then I believe it might be wise to conjure up a few sizeable debts, ones that could be produced quickly if the sale of certain properties looked imminent. Think of which properties you would truly regret losing and write a chit deeding it or its profits over to me or Edgar or both of us.”

  “You have an astonishingly devious mind,” Julian said, unable to hold the thought back any longer.

  “Thank you.”

  “I will give some hard thought to which properties I truly do not wish to lose and then see to it that you and Edgar have the proper papers to hold up any attempt to sell them for a very long time.”

  “Let us pray that we will not need a very long time to clean up this treacherous mess. Now, what about that will?”

  “As I said, I made a new one when I realized Beatrice had betrayed me, but I cannot be certain if it still exists. About six months ago, during one of my more sober days, I had a meeting with my solicitor and I got the strongest feeling that he had been corrupted. I told myself Beatrice’s betrayal was just making me too suspicious.”

  Leo nodded. “Possibly, but probably not true in this matter. A copy?”

  “There is one at Kenwood House, but if my solicitor does not stand behind it, it may not be worth very much. In it I left much of what was not entailed to Edgar, my sister, or my mother.” Julian grimaced. “Even if the copy has been found, Arthur could try to do as you have suggested—declare me incompetent at the time it was written.”

  “It could still serve to slow down any sales or gross thievery. It would tie their hands with all sorts of convoluted legalities. In truth, it could tie their hands in ways they have never been tied before.”

  “Of course. I have heard a few men bemoan such legal tangles from time to time. Yet, I would have thought my uncle clever enough to foresee all that. And Beatrice cannot believe she will be my uncle’s countess now that I am dead. Nigel is my heir, and Arthur and Beatrice cannot marry anyway. Even if my uncle was not married already, he is too close a relative to me to marry my widow, is he not?”

  Leo shrugged. “So he proves your marriage is not valid. Most women would shy away from the scandal that would cause but not, I think, your wife.”

  “Sadly true, and neither she nor my uncle would care that such a thing would mark my son as a bastard.”

  “Seeing as they were willing to let the child die—nay. And, remember, they think the boy is long dead.”

  Julian tensed. “If Arthur plans to marry Beatrice, then my aunt Mildred may be in danger.”

  “Quite possibly,” agreed Leo, “but not to worry. I have someone watching over her and your little cousins.”

  Staring at Leo in growing wonder, Julian asked, “Someone similar to the relative you have watching over my brother in Canada?”

  “In some ways, but better and far more suitable. A mature woman who now acts as a companion to your aunt and a governess to the girls.”

  “How much protection can a mature woman be?”

  “A lot, and her two hulking sons are always close at hand.” Leo smiled. “Your aunt needed some new footmen, you see.”

  “And they all have, er, gifts?”

  Leo smiled faintly. “I know you find it all very difficult to believe, but, aye, they all have gifts, ones that will make it nearly impossible for your uncle to hurt your aunt.”

  “I do not mean to insult you by doubting your word,” Julian said and then grimaced, knowing his doubt was indeed an insult, for it implied that Leo was a liar.

  “Doubt causes me no injuries. If I had not grown up with such gifts, if they did not infect my entire family like some strange plague, I am not sure I would easily believe in such things, either.”

  “Are you given to having visions, too?”

  “Not as Chloe does. I am not even sure you could call what I have the sight.” Leo shrugged again. “I simply, and often abruptly, just know things. Sad to say, I usually just know dark things, dangerous things. What I am very good at is knowing that someone is lying—by word, deed, or appearance.”

  “By damn, but that must be helpful.” Julian puzzled ov
er the sadness that briefly swept over Leo’s face.

  “It is, but it is also a curse in its own way. We all lie, do we not? I have come to accept that; can even see that it is necessary at times. Due to the work I do for our government, king and country, I have also become very proficient in the art of lying. As a small, sickly, homely child, however—”

  “You, sir, were never a homely child.”

  Leo nodded in silent thanks for the compliment, but continued, “I was, if only because I was so sickly, and we all know that what one looks like as a child does not always carry through to an adult. Add to that a mother who found such gifts increasingly alarming and, let us just say, it was difficult. On the other hand, I can know when a woman’s beauty is more false than true, more artifice than nature,” Leo drawled and smiled.

  “That is a gift many men would like to have.” Julian sighed, thinking of all the grief such a gift might have saved him.

  “Unless, of course, it tells you that the woman who is telling you what a great lover you are is lying through her pretty teeth.”

  “God forbid. Did that—no, forget I asked.”

  “I will. Back to the matter at hand. I believe your aunt and cousins need not worry us. If it is your uncle’s plan to rid himself of his wife once he is the earl, then she is safe unless you and Nigel die. The title and estates would not go to the sons of your sisters?”

  Julian slowly shook his head. “No, it follows only through the males. Since my father is dead, if Nigel and I die without issue, that leaves no male in my father’s line, so it jumps over to my uncle and his line. After that there are only cousins, some quite distant. Arthur is the first Kenwood in written memory who has not bred a son, only daughters.”

  “Which might mean the man would then look for a new wife.”