Cecilia’s face shifted into something vicious. “If you are my friend, you will never say those words again. Harry is mine. I fed him from my breast. I took care of him. I love him. He is mine.”
Irene said nothing. The look in Cecilia’s eyes was frightening. There would be no convincing her friend of the truth.
And Irene wasn’t sure it would help Harry at all to know the truth. He was ten now. Cecilia was his mother, for all he knew. What would happen if he was told differently?
“Swear you’ll never say a word,” Cecilia said as she reached out and held Irene’s hand. “Swear it, Irene.”
“I… I’m sorry, Cecilia, but I cannot. I cannot promise to let the matter go. A child was stolen.”
“The lady had others,” Cecilia said. “She had sons. Two. She won’t miss Harry.”
Irene gave her a hard look. “If someone stole Winifred from you, would it matter? You already have two more daughters after all.”
Cecilia looked away. “That’s different. Winnie is not a baby. None of my children are.”
“And if you had another baby and that one was stolen— “
“I can’t have any more.” Cecilia glared at her. “Are you not listening to me? I’ve been barren for years. Harry and I tried. I will never be with child again.” She moved closer to where Irene sat. “Swear it to me, Irene.” She choked on her next words. “Do not take another person from me this night. Do not take someone else that I love away from me.”
Irene blinked and then closed her eyes. “I wish you hadn’t told me.”
“Harry told me I couldn’t trust you.”
Irene’s eyes flashed open. Her chest felt crowded with pain, but she could not dispute Harry’s claim.
“Irene the Saint commits no sin,” Cecilia said cruelly.
“That’s not true,” Irene countered. “I sin just like everyone else.”
Cecilia looked Irene over and shook her head with disgust. “Even my husband liked you more than me. He told me once that if I died, he’d try and marry you.”
“I doubt that.”
“You never saw your own beauty. Does Clive call you beautiful? I see how he looks at you.”
Irene stood. The hour was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. “Cecilia, I came to comfort you. If that is not what you want— “
“I want you to be my friend! You are the only friend I have in the world, Irene. I want to trust you. I need to trust someone. I want you to keep my secret!”
“Fine. All right! I won’t tell anyone.” Irene’s gut turned. “Young Harry is yours.”
Cecilia pulled in a series of rapid breaths before she stood. “I must go to Eton to inform Harry about his father’s death.”
“I will come with you.”
“No.” Cecilia kept her back to Irene as she spoke. “The girls are staying with my mother. I will go alone. I need time to think on what I will say to Harry.” Finally, she turned to Irene. “You should go home to your husband. Forget what I told you tonight. Hold him. You never know when you’ll never get the chance again.”
∫ ∫ ∫
4 8
* * *
Irene felt numb as Clive took her from Cecilia’s home that night. She’d begged Cecilia to not make the journey alone. She’d begged to go with her, but Cecilia had refused, and, in the end, Irene had been forced to respect that wish.
But the secret of young Harry bothered her. She’d never heard of an action so cruel. She’d never known Cecilia had it in her to do such a thing. Cecilia claimed Irene didn’t understand, because she had no children, yet she did. All those children in the orphanage were hers. That her father and Mr. Crow had plotted to sell them troubled her.
But Cecilia would never hurt Harry. She loved him. She’d hated when Harry Sr. sent him to Eton. She’d have preferred him to be tutored at home. Perhaps he would be now that his father was gone.
Cecilia had stolen a baby. Irene wasn’t sure how she felt about her now, and so she tried not to feel anything at all. Cold was better.
Yet she began to warm as Clive wrapped his arms around her in the carriage and stroked a comforting hand down her back. Slowly, she began to breathe easier.
“Do you think she’ll be all right by herself?” Clive asked in the dark.
Irene shook her head. “I don’t know. She sent the girls to her mother’s house and plans to travel to Eton tomorrow and deliver the news about young Harry’s... father.” She sighed. Now she was keeping secrets from her husband. Was she any better than her father? To know this and do nothing seemed wrong. She put it aside once more. “I can’t imagine how she feels right now. I can’t believe Harry would leave his family as he did.”
“Sins have a way of haunting people.”
Harry had died for their sin. Perhaps, the sacrifice was enough for the whole family.
She turned to look at him and even though his face was mostly in shadows, she could see that his eyes were on her. “Did you find the throne?”
“Crow has it but not the book.”
“Then I have no clue where it could be.”
“Perhaps, it’s gone. Perhaps, he burned it before he died,” Clive said.
“No, I think he wanted the title to mean power even after he was gone.”
“We burned a few of his paintings tonight,” Clive said suddenly. “But not the one of you and your father. Garrick and Kent paid well for the portraits we did destroy. I hope you don’t mind.”
She leaned farther away from Clive and touched his arm. “After what my father did to you, I still can’t believe we are here right now. Together.”
“Happy with one another,” he added.
She smiled. “Yes. I am very happy to be your wife.” She could no longer think of a life that didn’t include him in it. Could he?
He cupped her cheek. “One has nothing to do with the other. You are not him. You are Irene, and you have always been the most vibrant part of my life.”
They searched out each other’s mouths in the dark. She felt vibrant in his arms. She burned for him. The combination of soft lips and abrasive touches made Irene hot, but she pulled back. “Do you love me, Clive?”
His breathing had become hard with desire, but she noticed the slight change in it after she’d asked her question. “I… You are… someone I care deeply for. You’re the most important person in my life.”
“But you don’t trust me.” Cecilia hadn’t trusted her until tonight. “Is it because of my father?” The way Cecilia had sent her away was bothering her. Cecilia knew it was Irene’s father’s book that had driven Harry to jump off the balcony. Irene couldn’t help but feel her father, even after death, was still ruining her relationships.
Clive stroked her cheek. “No, darling. This has nothing to do with your father. It’s me. Deep emotions make me…”
“Angry?”
“Slightly.” He cleared his throat. “But more so, anxious. Wary.”
She moved closer. “You don’t have to be anxious with me.”
“I’m… learning that.” He took her mouth again, and Irene tried to pour her soul into it. They didn’t break away until the carriage stopped.
The first thing Irene noted was the noise, the shouts from outside and the abruptness with which the carriage came to a halt.
“What is going on?” Irene asked as she turned to the window. Her eyes widened as she stared at the flames that flowed through the open windows of a townhouse a few residences away. In her mind, she knew it was the one she shared with Clive, yet at the same time, she prayed it wasn’t true. She prayed that the townhouse that would be reduced to ashes in the morning did not belong to her.
Then she saw Clive. He was out and speaking to one of the men who were trying to fight the flames.
Crow.
A terrible thought gripped her, and she ran out to speak to her husband. She had to move through the crowd that watched in wonder. A few men tried to keep her back, but they released her once she told them who she was.
Clive came to her on the street. “The staff are safe. It was their day off. None of them were home. I’m sorry, but it looks as though we’ve lost everything, including your portraits.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “What of your friends? Do you think he only attacked us?”
Clive cursed. “Let’s go see.” They returned to their carriage and it took longer than they wished to get around the crowd that continued to gather.
Irene noticed Clive’s nervousness and wished there was something she could do to help him. “This is my fault.”
“It’s not,” he said.
She covered her face. “I’m ruining your life.”
His voice was hard. “You are not.”
She couldn’t agree. She wouldn’t. “Crow wouldn’t have attacked you if we weren’t married. You’ve protected me. You barely sleep, because of me. You’ve been protecting me for months, and I didn’t know until today. You’ve helped me with the shipyard, you fought Harry, accompanied me to Bath when you didn’t wish to, and now you just lost your home.”
He turned on the lamp in the carriage and then looked at her. His blue eyes were the frighteningly intense. “Irene, I’ve had many things over the years. Some of it I worked for and some I did not, but they are simply things in the end.” He gripped her shoulders and looked her over before he met her eyes again. “Am I upset about the fire? Yes. Am I upset at you? Not at all. Not even a little. I could have lost you tonight.” His grip tightened. His fingers bit into her arms, causing pain, but she said nothing.
He looked wild. “I have tried for years to protect my mother, my sisters, and my brother. I have failed over and over again. I will not fail you.”
Pain made her heart heavy. “I hate this. I hate that I have put you in a position where you must protect me from such situations. I wish my father had been a normal man. Then none of this would have happened. He’s ruined everything.”
Clive frowned and seemed to struggle with his next words. “He has not ruined everything. He gave you life, and you are beyond anything I could have ever imagined.”
She gripped his thigh as her chest grew tight with anguish. “You just lost your home.”
His eyes softened and finally his grip on her loosened. “My home? I’m looking at her. You are my home.”
Irene thought that if Clive never said he loved her again, the words he’d just said would forever be enough. She was his home. He’d just lost everything, yet there was no anger in him, only gratitude that she was still alive.
That was love even if he didn’t know it. She said the words in her head over and over again and accepted them as his confession of love.
Clive cupped her cheeks and wiped away the tears that had begun to fall. “You are my everything and if I hadn’t taken you to Cecilia’s this evening… You’d have been home, and you’d be gone, Irene.”
She hadn’t thought of that but supposed he was right. She swallowed as that reality filled her thoughts. “I could be dead.”
“But you’re not,” he said. “I’ll never let anything happen to you. We’ll have to take extra measures to ensure your safety.”
She groaned with displeasure and thought of all the nights he’d patrolled their house. He’d hired watchmen, but they were never good enough. “Clive, you already do enough. Please…”
“I… lo… need you.”
She froze and pulled in a breath yet found it impossible to release it. Her mind felt heavy, as though it would fall from her shoulders. She couldn’t think. She’d heard the words, but the truth had been right there with it. He’d almost said it. But perhaps they were of her own imagining. She didn’t trust herself. She was distraught and anxious. Surely, he hadn’t said it.
“Do you hear me?” he asked. “I need you, Irene.”
“You need me?” she whispered.
He lowered his head to hers. “I do. I need you in my life.” He groaned. “I haven’t said those words to anyone in a very long time. You have no idea what such words cost me.”
She noted that he didn’t look entirely happy about it. It was as close to a confession of love she’d received since the wedding, yet the emotion looked rather burdensome than pleasurable.
He hated being vulnerable. He hated anyone having any control over him, but Irene didn’t want to control him. She simply wanted to be with him.
But it was enough. That he could finally speak the words had to be enough. For now.
She released a breath of relief when they arrived at Kent’s house and found it intact. Instead, there were a few trunks by the door. Kent met them in the foyer. His expression was grim. “I just heard what happened. I’m terribly sorry for you both.”
“It’s all right.” Clive’s arm went around Irene’s shoulders. “We’re alive. That’s what matters.”
“How did you know?” Irene asked she leaned into her husband.
Kent led them into his drawing room. “I was attacked, but the criminal was caught in time. I sent a footman to find out if it was only me and Marley’s home.”
Clive asked, “Marley’s home was attacked? Weren’t your wives and children there? Is everyone all right?”
Kent expression shifted and then became so blank that it left Irene feeling cold. “Everyone is fine. When the rest of us arrived at Marley’s residence to collect our families, there was the distinct smell of fish in the air.”
“Fish?” Irene asked.
Kent nodded. “Whale oil.” It was used to burn lamps. “We did a search and found some boys who were ready to torch the mansion and kill everyone inside.”
Irene gasped and covered her mouth.
“We caught the lads in time,” Kent said. “And fortunately, one of my footmen caught another young boy here in time to stop him. I don’t know about James’ or Garrick’s residences. I’m waiting to hear word from my staff. Currently, Marley has men cleaning the area around his house. I’m packing to stay there. So are James and Kim. You should do the same. We’ve decided to stay close until this matter is done and Crow is drawn out of hiding.”
“I’m so sorry, Kent,” Irene whispered around the guilt that weighed heavy in her heart.
Kent turned to her. “You had nothing to do with this. Mr. Crow is a grown man. He makes his own decisions. He will suffer for those decisions.”
“You have something in mind?” Clive asked.
“We do,” Kent said, his eyes unwavering.
We? Did he mean he and the other Lost Lords?
Irene had a feeling it was something terrible. Clive’s heavy sigh confirmed it.
The sounds of riders had Kent heading toward the foyer again. “If it’s one of the men I sent out, tell him to come through the front,” Kent said to the butler.
A young footman came in a moment later. “Lord Denhallow’s home still stands.”
Kent nodded and then turned to Clive. “I sent another rider for Garrick’s home.”
That rider came right before the other and confirmed that Garrick’s home had been set to flames. A quarter of the house had been destroyed, but most of the townhouse still stood. Only Clive and Irene’s had been destroyed and for that, she was thankful.
∫ ∫ ∫
4 9
* * *
Clive watched as Irene walked into the room they’d shared at Marley’s previously. She said nothing as she began to undress. Clive moved to assist her. Her expression was drawn.
Something had happened at Cecilia’s place. He could sense it. This was more than grief. Something wasn’t right, yet Clive wasn’t sure if it was his place to ask. He understood that women had their secrets. He wondered if Cecilia had told her something dreadful, like the reason Harry had jumped.
Irene had only spoken once since they’d left Kent’s home and Clive knew that any reassurances of her innocence wouldn’t return her to her usual self.
Upon their arrival at Marley’s some, she’d offered Nora the money it would take to repair her and Garrick’s home, but Nora
refused it and Irene had given in without much of a fight. As the two women had spoken, Garrick had been aware of the way Irene had struggled to meet Nora’s eyes and was reminded that Irene now knew what her brother had done to Nora.
She blamed herself for that. She blamed herself for everything, and there was nothing Clive could do about it.
As she dressed into her night rail he said, “I must go meet with the others.”
“Would you keep a secret from me if a friend asked you to?” Her eyes held deep concern.
Clive straightened and placed his hands behind his back. “It would depend on the secret.”
“Under what circumstances would you tell me another person’s secret?” she asked.
“If it concerned you and your safety or my safety, I would tell you.”
She stood in front of an oval mirror and began to remove her pins. Their eyes caught in her reflection. “But what if the secret hurt others?”
“Did Cecilia tell you the reason Harry jumped?” Clive asked.
“Yes.”
“Will someone be hurt if the secret is kept?”
She swallowed as her curls fell. Then she turned to him. “I don’t know. Perhaps speaking about it will only make the situation worse.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I take it Harry did something terrible.”
She nodded. “Cecilia as well.” She walked over to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “I don’t know what to do, Clive. I never thought either could do what they did. I don’t know if I can look at Cecilia the same.”
She said Cecilia, but Clive heard his own name. She still didn’t know about the hairpin. She’d never look at him the same if she did. Once again, he was reminded of how cruel it was to allow her to love him when she still had no clue who he was.
“I can’t help you with that, Irene,” he said as he took a step away from her. “You’ll have to solve that on your own.”
She looked down and pulled in a breath. “You’re right. It is something I have to figure out on my own… unless I share her secret with you.” She looked at him. “And I don’t think I can.”
He closed in the space between them and lifted her chin. “Unless that secret has the power to hurt us, don’t tell me.”
Pain of The Marquess: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book) Page 24