“Perhaps it was. Their good fortune was not a reason for you to know what they were doing.”
“So I have told myself. But I knew. Within their joy at all that money to spend, there was also fear and guilt. I could smell it. I was concerned, because I had put in a good word for them. My name obtained the contract, not theirs. And then, the earliest reports drifted back about that massacre—long before the war ended, long before the first word in the papers, the army knew something had gone very wrong on that hill for those men. And I learned of it, the way powerful peers often do.”
He looked away and shook his head. The hold on her hand gripped tighter. She almost told him not to speak of it because his distress was so plain. Having started, however, he seemed determined to finish.
“I told Kenny and Symes that there had been this horrible mishap with some powder, and asked them how it could happen with all the quality checks. I sought their expertise. After all, they owned a mill that made the stuff. Not possible, they swore. And yet it had happened.” He looked at her, with eyes as intense as his brother’s could be. “And I knew. I just knew it was their powder, from their mill. It was on their faces and in their voices, as they feigned ignorance. They are neither one sly by nature, nor good at lying. I had convinced the army to buy ordnance from two fools who had done something that got good men killed. And I also knew that I would never forgive myself.”
And so he had accepted the imprisonment of infirmity when it came, as a justice. She imagined him waiting for the truth to come out these last years, hoping his brother learned everything but also dreading that day at the same time.
What had Sebastian said? I do it for him. And he did, but in ways he had never guessed.
“Tell Sebastian what I have just said, when you know he has decided to go forward,” he said. “I do not want him to ask me about it. He deserves better than having to interrogate his own brother about such a thing. Nor could I bear to face him that way. I might as well end this in moral cowardice, as I began it, I suppose.”
“You were not a coward. This was not your crime. You were duped by two good friends.”
“I should have guessed they were up to no good. Kenny and Symes invest in a mill? My brother would have been duly skeptical, as I should have been. I should have demanded to meet and know the man who proposed this to them. I should have told Sebastian where to look when he began his search, rather than fear that what little I had left of my dignity would be taken away by disgrace.”
“And yet you did not stop him. You encouraged him. He would never have pursued it otherwise.”
“I expect that murderers half hope that they will be caught too, so the fear of capture will end. Such are the contradictions of the soul. I have come to know mine too well.” He raised her hand, kissed it. “I am sorry that your father’s name was pulled into this, Audrianna. When it was, I asked them if they knew him to be a man who could be bought. They both said no, and I am sure that they spoke the truth.”
“My father gave the final approval before powder was distributed. If reports of bad powder came from an arsenal, he would have seen them. I would like to believe that you can be so sure of your friends’ opinion of his honor, but suspicion fell on my father for a reason.”
He vaguely shook his head. “Whoever was their man at the offices of the Board of Ordnance, it was not him. That was perhaps the worst part—to see another good man suffer and die because of my weakness. I never thought he would kill himself. Kenny and Symes probably did not either. Thus did three idiots and cowards hurt your family.”
She dared not believe him. He lied to make some good of this for someone; that was all. He had nothing to lose now. Yet her heart filled with hope, and affection that he had said it, even if it were not true.
He released her hand. He found his handkerchief and wiped his face. “The papists say confession is good for the soul. Perhaps they are right.”
He called for Dr. Fenwood, and told him to bring out the footmen.
That night she gave Sebastian as much love as she could along with pleasure. She let her care burn in each kiss she gave his body, and his scent and touch burn her soul. She finally took him into herself, absorbing him deeply, holding him tightly, and moved in the hard rhythm that would allow them the ultimate escape together.
She collapsed on him, with her heart bursting with the emotions that she had brought to this bed. A memory came to her, from not long ago at all, of wanting to make him admit he was wrong about her father. Of blaming him for her pain. Then another memory, of his sweet care when she realized he had not been wrong at all.
She remained in the embrace that held her to his body. She turned her face so her mouth was beside his ear.
“I have been thinking about your dilemma. I think that it would be best to allow this investigation to die.”
His embrace tightened. He rolled, so that she was on her back and he could see her face.
“You think that I should walk away, now that it touches on my family?”
She wished he would not view it that way, even if that is exactly what she meant.
“Whatever your brother did, he has more than paid, has he not?”
“They are two separate things. His condition is tragic and he has suffered, that is true. But it was not in payment for his negligence.”
He thinks it was. The marquess had given permission for her to convey his confession, but she would rather not. If Sebastian knew for certain of his brother’s involvement, he might believe he could not let this die at all.
“If you ask him about this, accuse him of this—you will create a chasm, no matter how honest you have been, and no matter what he says.”
“Damnation, do you think I do not know that?” He rolled again, without her. Away from her. He lay on his back with his tight profile limned by the glow of the lamp on the far table.
“Would it not be better, then, to just not know?”
“I thought you wanted to know everything. To have the truth. There is no chance of exonerating your father, if he was innocent, if I end this now.”
“Frans said—”
“Frans found a name in a newspaper,” he interrupted. “Now that I know the truth of this scheme, the planning and the dangers—I am not convinced your father had a role. Quite the opposite.”
So this also preyed on his mind, as he weighed and balanced duty against the brother he loved. And yet, his opinion only pained her because it put her at the center of the grief that might come to this family.
“They would go to someone they knew and trusted, not approach a stranger. That would be much too risky,” he said. “We may have indeed hounded an innocent man to the grave, as you always thought. There can be no compensation for that, certainly not to him but even not to you, but at least his name can be cleared. My brother’s embarrassment would be a small price to pay for justice.”
The sore could still hurt if poked, even if it no longer bled. A good deal of guilt had plagued her as she decided what to do, especially since the marquess had said that her father would indeed be exonerated. But her old quest seemed very small when she saw the anguish that this decision gave Sebastian.
“I will remember my father as he was. I do not need another victim to take his place. Whatever decision you make, please do not make it because of me.”
His head turned so it faced hers. He looked over at her for a long time. The mood between them became drenched with the kind of intimacy that normally existed right after passion’s soul-baring ecstasy.
His hand sought hers between their bodies. “You humble me sometimes. You offer gifts of yourself in ways that—”
He moved on top of her, so his skin touched hers from torso to legs. He gazed at her so thoughtfully, so intensely, that she feared what he perceived.
“Why would you try to give me this when the truth was so important to you?”
Her throat burned. Her heart filled with the best ache. “Because you are more important now.”
The invitation was unexpected, and harder to accept than she thought. “Yes. It is a gift of love, Sebastian.”
Still thoughtful. Still intense. But that smile now, that could still dazzle her silly. “Then I accept it with love, Audrianna. More love than you will know. So much that it staggers me.”
Her ache transformed to joy at his words. Blissful, resplendent joy such as she had never known. It spilled through her and out of her and made her laugh with delight. He laughed too, at her surprise and at his own, and they shared the sweetest kiss.
He moved just enough. She spread her legs to accept him. He entered her so their bodies mimicked their hearts.
He became thoughtful again. “I am deciding if it feels differently, now that I know you love me. I think maybe it does. Interesting.”
“How so? How is it different?
He pondered it. “Unbearable desire still, that is certain. Only also . . . perfect contentment.” He shifted a little and she giggled. “And also unexpected happiness within the desire. Also . . .” He closed his eyes, savoring and naming. “Also the smug satisfaction of being totally sure of complete possession of all of you.”
“That last does not sound very romantic.”
He arched so his mouth could reach down to her breast.
“I may be besotted by love, but I am still a man, Audrianna.”
His tongue circled in its torturous paths on her nipples. It did not take long until he had her close to raving. She let her love cry out along with her pleasure. She held back nothing, so he would know and indeed be totally sure of that possession he craved.
Soon all that mattered was how he filled her. The joy centered there, in the beautiful sensations while he moved. Long, deep strokes stretched her, completed her, and made the pleasure intensify slowly until untold tiny thrills pulsed out to the rest of her body.
She never escaped into abandon. She remained alert to him through it all, feeling him, loving him. Even at the end, when those thrills collected and tightened and screamed, she remained aware.
He was with her too, in that clear acknowledgment that it must be that way, that they must never forget this loving, or any moment of it. Still amazed by the pure beauty of their unlikely, mutual love, they gazed into each other’s eyes through the perfect cresting of their passion, and the breaking bliss in which they were totally as one.
“Did you tell him? He has not said a word to me. He sits at breakfast as if he is ignorant.” The marquess quizzed her several days later. He had even summoned her just for this purpose.
“I did not tell him,” she said truthfully. “It appears he has decided to handle it another way.”
The marquess frowned at that. She wondered if the complexities in his soul regretted being left alone with his private guilt. Perhaps he truly wanted public disgrace.
“Whatever he decided, he will not accept your sacrifice.” She pointed to his chair. “He will fight with you about it, because he believes you can one day walk again.”
“If I ever do, it will diminish him.”
“No other man can diminish him. He does not want your life, either as a gift, or due to your infirmity. He will gladly return whatever is yours when you are ready to take it back.”
He did not appear convinced. “Did he tell you this?”
“He did not have to. I know.”
He smiled skeptically.
“I know,” she repeated firmly, with some annoyance.
That took him aback. He ended the subject by fishing out his pocket watch. “Kennington and Symes-Wilvert will be here soon. Call Dr. Fenwood so I can sit by the window for some time before they come. Do not leave. Come back in when he is done.”
She went to the anteroom and sent Dr. Fenwood in. When he returned, she went back to the marquess. He sat near the open window.
“The world is so beautiful,” he muttered. She stood beside him and looked out the window, down into the garden with its bursts of color amid the green plants and trees and gray stone paths.
While they admired it, a head moved into view. Then two others. Three men walked into the garden and down a path. They stopped and chatted.
The marquess’s eyes narrowed on them. “What is he doing? Why would he pull Kenny and Symes out there with him?”
She did not know. Sebastian was doing most of the talking, even if they could not hear what he said. The other two men only listened. Soberly.
“It appears you were wrong,” the marquess said. “It looks like my brother will demand that justice have its pound of flesh after all.”
Kennington and Symes-Wilvert had nothing to say. They did not even try to defend or excuse themselves. They just looked at the ground in dismay.
“We did not think . . .” Kennington began. Whatever he intended to say must have sounded poor to his own mind, so he stopped.
“I am sure that you never imagined that there might be soldiers in battle left with only that adulterated powder,” Sebastian said.
“Exactly,” Kennington said. “Those kegs all get mixed together in transport, we were told. There would always be good powder when one of these was found to be bad.”
“Who told you this? I do not believe this scheme was of your making.” It was not their character that he trusted. Sebastian just did not believe for a minute that these two men were smart enough to concoct and execute such an elaborate deception.
Symes-Wilvert looked at Kennington with some fear.
Kennington chewed his lower lip. “A fellow broached the idea of a powder mill with us. He had it all planned. I had that bit of land near the river in Kent, and it would be perfect, he said. Symes here invested some money as his share. Borrowed it from his brother.”
“We thought at first it would just be a normal mill,” Symes said desperately.
“Except it wasn’t,” Sebastian said.
They both stared at their boots, miserable.
“Who was this man? This third partner?” he pressed.
Kennington cleared his throat. “Name was Patterson. He had worked at the Waltham Abbey Works so he knew how it was done. That was his contribution in it.”
“We haven’t seen him in over a year,” Symes muttered. “We heard a rumor he took his profits and went to America.”
So there it was. Two fools lured into deep water by someone much smarter than they were. This Patterson had chosen his partners well. Perhaps he picked them because their best friend was a marquess with connections at the War Department and Board of Ordnance.
“There was an advertisement some time ago, about a meeting at the Temple of the Muses. My wife thought it was for her. I think now that it was an attempt by the two of you to locate the man who shot me in Brighton.”
Kennington turned very red. “I was shocked to see her there. I thought the notice was very cleverly worded and only he would—”
“You only knew about that episode in Brighton, and why I was there, because of my brother. He described it, and you sought to find the Domino before I did, in order to buy his silence on whatever he might know.”
“Wittonbury may have mentioned something,” Symes-Wilvert said. “But as soon as that scandal broke, and we saw it was you and Kelmsleigh’s daughter involved, we thought it would be wise to know what you knew.” He cleared his throat. “As it were.”
“You used my brother most ignobly. I trust that your visits have been out of friendship, and not only to keep aware of what he learned and did not about your crime, or out of guilt that you had so badly betrayed his friendship.”
“There has been guilt enough, but I’ll not hear insinuations that our friendship is not honest,” Symes-Wilvert said with some umbrage.
Sebastian contemplated the two men. They had confessed fast enough. They had probably been waiting to do so for years. And the instigator, this Patterson, was probably living in luxury in America.
“I think that it will not serve the country, or the
army, to have all this—” A commotion interrupted him. A very small one, but it could not be ignored.
Four footmen came out on the terrace, carrying a chair in which Morgan sat like a king in a royal litter. Dr. Fenwood and Audrianna walked behind them.
Kennington and Symes-Wilvert were distracted by the spectacle. Morgan gestured to the garden and spoke to the footmen. The chair descended the terrace steps. The entourage moved down the stone path to where Sebastian stood. The footmen set the chair down.
Kennington smiled with delight at his friend’s emergence from his prison.
Morgan did not smile back. “My brother has been telling you what he has discovered about your gunpowder, I think. I have decided that it is time to stop pretending that it did not happen, and that I did not know about it.”
No one moved. Kennington’s expression shattered. “You have known? Oh, dear God.”
“Yes, you fool, I have known. And I have regretted allowing friendship to sway me to do something that good judgment said I should not, and then swaying me more to keep silent when I should have spoken.” He shooed away the footmen. “Audrianna, come here, please. I require your help, if you will give it.”
She glanced in question at Sebastian, but approached the chair.
“Closer, dear sister.”
She stepped closer.
Morgan eyed his friends. Then his concentration turned inward. He shifted in the chair, braced his hands against its arms, and slowly, painfully, rose.
His legs almost buckled when they took his weight. He grasped Audrianna’s shoulder to steady himself. Face taut, eyes blazing, he stood on his own legs and faced his astonished friends.
“You were both looking relieved when I came out of the house. Was my brother offering us absolution? How generous of him. Regrettably, it is not his to give.”
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