To Love and Protect

by Tammy Jo Burns

  “No.” Both men were quiet. Justin sipped his brandy, relishing the fiery burn. “London is a big town,” Justin said.

  “Too big at times.”

  “He could be hiding anywhere.”

  “True.”

  “Perhaps I should take her to Gertie’s.”

  “Who?”

  “Gertrude. Her aunt, my godmother. Remember, I mentioned that Clare had gone to her for assistance after the attack in the park.”

  “Ah, yes,” Gabe nodded, finally understanding the connection. “Trouble will follow,” he sounded like the voice of experience.

  “I could set up more protection.”

  “You have plenty here. Kala is truly concerned about her health. I heard it in her voice. Don’t move her unless necessary.”

  “She doesn’t travel well.”

  “You need a plan.”

  “Any suggestions?”

  “Perhaps.” The two men spent the time until the meal discussing possible scenarios and ways to run Franklin to ground without having Clarissa harmed.

  ***

  The four ate their meal accompanied by soft chatter and laughter. When they first all sat down, there was some awkwardness, but Mikala quickly broke it. Justin observed Clarissa carefully, and saw that even though she had slept most of the afternoon, dark smudges were located beneath her eyes, making them look bruised. Her face appeared sunken and angular from the loss of weight. And she looked fragile, as she never had before. Why didn’t I notice before? Because you have not been a very good husband. You’ve been too wrapped up in your feelings and what you thought had been done wrong to you to care about your wife, he chastised himself.

  After finishing dessert, Gabe announced that they should be leaving. Clarissa and Justin walked the other couple to the door.

  “Do you think this means that our husbands are now friends?” Mikala whispered in Clarissa’s ear, laughter lurking in her voice.

  “At least they’re not brawling,” Clarissa replied, a smile playing on her lips. “And since we’re friends, it would be nice if they were as well.”

  Gabe walked over and laced the fingers of one hand with Mikala’s. “What are you ladies discussing?” he asked as he brought her knuckles to his lips for a kiss and then gently drew it to rest on his arm never letting her go.

  “Just how glad we are you two can be gentlemen about the past,” Clarissa said, somewhat shyly. She could put on a façade for people she didn’t care to impress, but these people meant a great deal to her. She found herself unsure as to exactly how to proceed.

  “In fact, I should probably thank you, Justin, for that visit you paid before leaving so abruptly,” Mikala announced to one and all. “If it weren’t for that, I still might be fighting Gabriel.”

  “Oh, we still fight, just not about the important things,” Hawkescliffe added.

  Everyone but Clarissa laughed. A spear of jealousy shot through her. When he told her he had some business to attend in London before they left, he had stopped to see Mikala? She should not be mad. At that point, he had only agreed to help her find her father. Mikala gave her a quick hug, giving her an odd look before she released her.

  “You need to get out of this house.”

  “I can’t.” Clarissa pulled away, hugging herself.

  “Justin, how many guards do you have?” Mikala queried.

  “We have four stationed within the house.”

  “Four is perfect to take shopping with us.”

  “Mikala,” Gabe warned.

  While at the same time, Justin said, “Absolutely not.” Clarissa was shocked at the firmness in Justin’s tone towards Mikala.

  “Why not?” Mikala continued determinedly.

  “No, and leave it at that.”

  “Southerby, she will be protected just as well as she would be here. Clarissa is wasting away here. Her mind needs to be taken off what is happening, if only for an afternoon of shopping.”

  “Mikala, drop it,” Gabe said.

  The couples exchanged goodbyes, and Justin locked the door as the carriage rolled off into the night. “Let’s have it. What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clarissa said as she turned and walked towards the stairs. She felt a steely hand clasp her upper arm, turning her back to face her husband’s dour face. Clarissa took a moment to study him. His hair was tousled, the auburn streaks shining brightly in the flickering lamplight. New lines etched his face, and where laughter had once lurked in his eyes, something else resided there. He had aged since knowing her, and she hated knowing that she had done that to him. She watched as if from far off as Justin bent down and scooped her up into his arms. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you to bed.”

  “Justin, I—“

  “No,” he cut off her words. “Sweetheart, I care about you. I’m worried about you.”

  Clarissa felt tears clogging the back of her throat, and she blinked hard to keep her eyes clear of them. How she had come to hate that word. He cared about her. Like how most men care about their horses? Making certain that they were groomed and looked pretty. Making sure that when they were taken out, they would be commented on for their looks and bloodlines. Clarissa bit down on her lower lip as it began to tremble. She wrapped her arms around Justin’s neck, burying her face in his shoulder, so he would not realize how difficult a time she had keeping her composure.

  They entered their bedroom, and Justin set her on her feet before turning her around to tackle her buttons. He went around lighting every candle in the waning evening light and stoked the fire in the hearth until it blazed. Clarissa had slipped on a nightgown and stood looking bereft. Justin walked over and helped her into bed before walking around, stripping, and crawling into bed himself. He pulled her into his arms and could feel the hesitancy in her body.

  “Sleep,” he ordered.

  “I’ve slept all afternoon,” she said yawning.

  “And you could sleep many more. Sleep,” he said once more before brushing a kiss on her brow. Justin held her tightly as she began drifting off to sleep. As she drifted off, she thought she heard him whisper “I love you, Clare,” but decided she must be dreaming. Blessedly, she slept, and there were no nightmares.

  ***

  Several days passed since the evening they spent with the Duke and Duchess of Hawkescliffe. Clarissa appeared more rested and ate more than she had been. The shadows were leaving her eyes, but the fear remained. Justin decided not to tell her about Lorraine just yet. He would wait until Franklin had been dealt with.

  Clarissa came downstairs dressed in a sprigged muslin walking dress. She followed the smell of strong coffee to find her husband in his study. Papers were scattered all over his desk. He held one up reading it, a worried expression across his face.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.

  “Nothing,” he shuffled the papers into a stack, his expression shuttered. She knew he kept something from her, and it irritated her.

  “Why are you here?”

  “This is my home.”

  “Yes, but shouldn’t you be at the office?”

  “Actually, no. The office is only open officially during the week, unless there is an emergency.”

  “My word. How long have you kept me sequestered in our room?”

  “Several days, and it was worth it. You look much improved.”

  “I feel much improved. Now are you going to tell me what put that scowl on your face a moment ago?”

  “No.”

  “I think I will take Mikala up on that offer of a shopping expedition.” She watched his eyes flicker with worry.

  “I cannot allow that.”

  “I’m going crazy in this house.”

  “I didn’t know you were so displeased with it.”

  “Do not put words in my mouth,” Clarissa’s hands were fisted at her side. “I’m feeling much better with all the rest that has been forced upon me, but I refuse to be a prisoner.”
>
  “You are not a prisoner.”

  “I am. I have not committed a crime, but I am a prisoner just the same. I welcome you sending the guards with us, but I need to escape if only for a while.”

  “I will contact Gabriel and see what we can come up with.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Clarissa. I just don’t want anything to happen to you. I…”

  “Yes, I know,” she broke in. “You care about me. I’m going to see about some food.” She turned and left the room. Justin hit the top of his desk with his fisted hand. He had been going to tell Clarissa he loved her, but she had cut him off. Why was nothing going right? Franklin had disappeared, and he and Clarissa seemed off. They did not even fight anymore. It seemed their marriage was doomed before it ever began. What would this kind of life do to their children? To them? Would it tear them apart in the end?

  Justin stood and pushed his chair back. He called out to Higgins and informed him he would be leaving for a while and where he could be located should he be needed. Then he left the house.

  ***

  Clarissa stood in the breakfast room when she heard the sounds of Justin’s boots echoing in the hall followed by the slam of the front door. She paused, sagging against the wall. She refused to beg him to love her. Stiffening her shoulders, she pushed away from the wall and walked into the kitchen since there had been no food set out in the breakfast room.

  The hearth blazed cheerily and in front of it lay Cook. Clarissa rushed to the man’s side and tried to shake him to revive him. He did not respond, and a thin trail of blood snaked down his temple.

  She heard shuffling behind her, followed by a sickly sweet, feminine voice. “Hello, daughter, dear.” Clarissa gasped and tried to stand, but before she could move, something crashed down on the back of her head. Pain wrapped itself around her head before blackness claimed her.

  ***

  “Gertie, I don’t know what to do.” Justin had reached the end of his rope with his wife. He didn’t know what else to do or how else to approach her. It felt wrong somehow to ask Mikala for help; so he had decided to turn to Gertrude. Now he was uncertain about the wisdom of that decision. She looked at him as if she were silently taking his measure, determining how suitable he was for her niece. I should have gone to Gentleman Jackson’s instead, he thought, aching to plow his fist into something or someone. “I’m leaving,” he stood and walked purposefully to the door of the sitting room.

  “Come back here.” The tone of her voice brooked no argument. Justin slunk back as if he were a child caught snitching sweets. She patted the cushion next to her so that he would know where to sit. He did and she patted his leg. “Justin, I hate to say this, but both of you are acting like children.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Have either of you voiced your concerns? Talked to one another?”

  “She told me she was tired of being kept a prisoner.”

  “Well, that’s a start, at least. How about you? Have you shared any feelings with her?”

  “I told her I care about her. I’m only doing what is in her best interest.”

  “Justin, that’s all well and good, but how do you feel about her?”

  “I just told you.”

  “No. You told me what, as a man, you should feel to protect your wife from harm. How do you, as a man, feel about Clarissa, as a woman?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let me see if I can explain this. A man cares for his possessions, correct?” Gertie asked.

  “Yes.”

  “He wants to see them well cared for and kept in good condition.”

  “Of course,” he said. Then his eyes widened in understanding. “I haven’t been treating her like a wife, have I?”

  “Now, you have it. So let me ask you once more. How do you feel about your wife?”

  “I love her and can’t imagine my life without her. She came into it like a whirlwind, and it has been the best damn thing to happen to me. She is smart, courageous, and keeps me on my toes more often than not. She is going to be the mother of my child, and I could not care less about the stipulations her father set forth in some stupid will.”

  “And have you told her any of that?”

  “Not while she was awake.”

  “How did you expect her to find out?”

  “My actions speak it in a hundred different ways.”

  “Intimacy does not count to a woman, young man. She has to hear the words.”

  “Gertie,” Justin blushed madly.

  “Have you told her fully conscious so she can hear you and respond in kind if she feels that way?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think she can just read your mind and know what you feel?” Silence. “Justin, you have been raised in a house where love is openly expressed. Why can’t you tell your wife how you feel?” More oppressive silence. “Justin?”

  “I’m afraid,” he said so softly that Gertie asked him to repeat it. He cleared his throat and spoke clearer. “I’m afraid.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “I’ve never felt this way before. I hate that things are not in my control.”

  “Love can be that way. But that is where trust comes in to play. Do you trust Clarissa?”

  “What do you mean? You mean, do I think she would seek out someone else?”

  “Men,” Gertie muttered, frustrated. “I mean, do you trust her enough to tell her how you feel? Trust has to go hand in hand with love. If you never feel like you can trust her, then you two will never have an enduring relationship.”

  “So, I must tell her?”

  “You must.”

  “What if she doesn’t return my feelings? Or worse, what if she laughs at my feelings?”

  “Do you really think Clarissa would be that heartless?”

  “No.”

  “Go home then.” After a quick hug, Justin left his godmother’s house, but did not go directly home. Not ready to lay his heart out quite yet, he made his way to the Foreign Office. A few scattered lights glowed from various offices, but for the most part the building remained dark. One thing that had been holding Justin back with his wife was his involvement in the affairs of the country. Times were becoming more dangerous, and he knew that she would worry about his welfare. And he would worry about someone using her as a pawn.

  A night watchman let him into the building and had him sign in. Then he trudged up the stairs to his office in the back corner. Shortly, a lamp burned brightly, casting its light around the small room. He still wanted to be involved, but he did not want to endanger his family. There had to be an answer.

  He sat down in his chair and rifled through the papers scattered all over the top of his desk. He picked up a report and began to read. A portion stood out:

  The agent in question was easily ferretted out due to his lack of skills. We need more men and women that are able to fit in with various aspects of society, from the lowest low to the highest of the high. Until that happens, we will continue to lose footing for every toehold gained in the battles we fight. We need brave men and women that are willing to pay the ultimate sacrifice to do what is right for God and country. These men and women need to be single with as little attachment to the world as possible. We also need people to teach these agents the knowledge they need to be successful.

  “A training facility,” he stated to the room as if it cared about his thoughts. Even when this war was over, there would always be another, and the author of the broadsheet was correct. Untrained agents equaled dead agents. Recruits needed to be trained in, not only the art of espionage, but also languages, diplomacy, and many other things. Excitement coursed through him. He would go home and write up a proposal for the director. All of a sudden he needed to be home with Clare. They would talk tonight—about everything.

  A paper had fallen beside his desk and he bent to retrieve it, pausing as something odd flashed and caught his eye. Red hair. He read the report again. “Bloody hell,” he roared and stoo
d so quickly his chair crashed to the floor. Justin practically jumped down the stairs in his haste to leave the building. The night watchman barely opened the door in time to keep it from getting knocked down.

  Justin ran to his horse and almost knocked down a man shuffling along. Justin grabbed the man’s shoulders to keep him from falling. A familiar bruised and bloody face looked back at him. “Liam,” Justin asked in shock.

  “You’re supposed to be in Scotland,” Liam’s eyes darted furtively around.

  “Well, I’m not and you…”

  “Tell Meg, I love her. I always have, always will. Tell her I’m sorry.”

  “You tell her, you sorry bastard! She needs you right now, more than you know,” Justin tried to tug him along, but Liam broke free. He darted in and out of some traffic before several coaches passed one another. The next time Justin looked, Liam had disappeared. He started to give chase when he remembered what he had read and the implications it had on his life and his future.

  Justin mounted his horse and fought the evening traffic to get home. Clare’s fine, he kept repeating over and over to himself. He continued to go over the facts of the situation. There were four armed guards to protect her, plus the rest of the staff. He had nothing to worry about.

  When he approached their house, lights were ablaze in every room. He could make out people milling about in front of the windows. In front of the house stood two horses. Justin raced up the stairs after leaving his horse tied with the other ones. The door flew open revealing a very distraught Higgins.

  “Thank goodness you’re back, my lord. Where have you been?”

  The tone of his voice made something inside Justin wither and die. He grabbed the man by the shoulders, “What’s happened? Where’s Clare?”

  “Gone.”

  “What?” Justin croaked.

  “She’s been kidnapped,” a voice seconded from the doorway into the study.

  Chapter 20

  “Hawkescliffe?” Justin turned around.

  “I didn’t know who else to send for, my lord. And they were just here supping. And Her Grace has been such a faithful friend to Lady Southerby.”