by Jaycee Clark
That made no sense.
“Upset?”
“Yes, when I told him that he might inquire of your husband as to your whereabouts. It was very strange. I wonder why he’d be upset that you have a husband, for that was what it did seem like.”
The room chilled even further. Emily licked her lips. “He said his name was Smith? Where was he from?”
“Yes, and he said America. Sounded like a Colonial.”
Who could it be? “Perhaps it was one of Theodore’s cousins as he claimed, though I never met any of them.” Though for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why one of either would seek her out. “I thought he had no family,” she muttered to herself. An idea twisted inside. No.
“What did he look like, Grandmama?” Her nerves tensed, waiting.
“Let me see. He was about my height. Not exactly tall, but nowhere near as short as Cranely or even Pierson. Graying hair that was tied back, very old-fashioned. Men crop their hair now, even your grandfather and he used to be so handsome with his queue.” She sighed, a soft smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “But anyway, um, he was slight of build, narrow-faced, with very prominent cheek bones. Wiry almost. Looked half starved. And he wore black.”
She’d known one man that had worn his hair back in a queue. No. Who wore black. No. It couldn’t be. Couldn’t. He was dead. Dead men did not arise from the grave.
Her stomach twisted, a fire burning inside. She saw her hands shook and fisted them. Emily took a deep breath, praying her grandmother didn’t see how upset she was quickly becoming. “A queue. And black you say?” she asked carefully.
“Yes, but it was his eyes.” She rubbed her hand across her throat. “His eyes were a flat sort of green color, but they bothered me.”
Green eyes. Oh, God. No. Chills prickled her skin.
She swallowed and fisted her hand. “Did he…” Emily cleared her throat, “Did he say anything else?”
Her grandmother shook her head. “Why no, I don’t think so. Very odd.”
Oh, God. Please, no.
At the sound of Joy’s giggle, Emily turned, wondering what to do.
She couldn’t breathe, the vise around her chest so tight, the twisting in her stomach unmerciful. With half an ear she listened to her grandmother and Joy chatting, giggling and whispering. If she answered questions, she didn’t remember.
The crumpet tasted like paste in her mouth and she was afraid she’d be ill if she ate anymore.
“My dear, you’re without color. Are you all right? What is it?” Her grandmother laid her hand on Emily’s.
It could not be him. He was dead. Dead.
I don’t know what to do. I’m scared because of the man you told me about. She didn’t say any of those things. “I’m just feeling a bit off today, Grandmama. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
Could it be his cousin? Would there be a family resemblance? He’d never mentioned a cousin. Never. But she’d rather believe a long-lost relative than…
What if Theodore wasn’t dead? They’d never found a body. No one had brought his body home for burial. The war department told her he died in the Indian raid on the fort where he was ministering to the frontiersmen.
No body.
What if he wasn’t dead?
Oh dear, God.
He’d find her…
He had found her.
Jason… She wanted Jason. Her heart tripped. Jason.
She wouldn’t be married to Jason. She wouldn’t be married to… Emily gasped.
“Emily?” her grandmother asked.
“Mama?” Joy stepped up and put her little hand on Emily’s knee.
If Theodore were alive, she wasn’t married to Jason. She was still Theodore’s wife.
Oh God.
Her hands shook and she felt ill. “Grandmama, I think… I think I should…should go home. I’m really not feeling at all well.”
Victoria studied her until Emily looked away. Cold sweat beaded across her forehead and chilled across her back.
“Perhaps you should go up and rest. I’ll send the carriage back for Jason.” She started to stand, but Emily laid her hand on Victoria’s knee.
“No.” She rubbed her forehead and realized her grandmother was talking again. The buzz in her ears wouldn’t stop. She tightened her hold.
In a moment, the woozy feeling left and she focused on the carpet beneath the hem of her gown. The smell of roses seemed to sit heavy on the air today. She swallowed.
“No, Grandmama. I just want to go home.”
“I think I should send for Dr. Pendlegrass.”
Emily shook her head. “Please. I just want to go home.”
Home. Home. What if it was Theodore? Bile rose hot in her throat, but she swallowed again, and wished for some cooler air. It was so hot in here.
Her grandmother patted her hand and rose, the swish of her skirts seemed unnaturally loud. Emily vaguely heard Grandmama talking to someone.
Joy stood by her side, her fingers fluttering through the material of Emily’s gown. Emily smiled down into her little face. “I’m fine. I just want to go home.”
“To Papa?”
She nodded.
The sound of Cranely’s voice mixed with her grandmother’s and Furgus’, the guard.
She started to stand, but closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“My dear, you really shouldn’t have come if you feel so poorly.” Victoria was by her side.
“Lady Joy, shall we get you settled in the carriage?” Cranely’s voice sounded as if he was talking through water.
Emily shook her head.
“Furgus, carry Emily. She really shouldn’t be walking.”
She turned and stared at her grandmother. “I’m perfectly capable of walking to the carriage, Grandmama.” Was that her light, weak voice?
They stared at each other. It might have been humorous, but Emily could only think of one thing.
Theodore might be alive.
Victoria finally conceded. “Then Furgus will take your arm and help you to the carriage. I never should have mentioned that dreadful visit I had earlier. It upset you.” She leaned closer, whispering, “And I don’t think you should be upset in your condition.”
Though her mind was in terror, Emily still grinned. “You knew?”
Victoria smiled. “Of course, dear. There’s just something about you. I had wondered considering the time you’ve been wed. And when you went all pale and wouldn’t eat…” She trailed off and patted Emily’s hand again. “I remember the signs and symptoms. You go home and rest. I sent word already to your grandfather. We’ll come by later to make certain you’re doing all right. Or at least send a missive.” She leveled a no-nonsense stare at Emily. “And I better learn that a physician was called or I’ll have your husband’s head.”
“Grandmama, I’m sure that’s not necessary.”
“Don’t argue. I mean it. Either Jason sends for one this afternoon or I’ll have him send for one when we get there.”
Her grandmother had kept her voice lowered. Emily saw Furgus stood by the door and Joy and Cranely were not present. Keeping her voice at a whisper, Emily confessed, “I haven’t told him yet.”
“My gracious, child, why on earth not?” Victoria pulled back, frowned.
Emily shrugged. “I was pregnant before and lost the babes. I’m worried that—”
“Then Jason will be worried right along with you. It’s time you learn to share burdens, dear.” She shook her head. “Young people. Furgus,” she said with a raise of her voice, “come help her ladyship to the carriage and make certain you help her into the house when you get home.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Though Emily thought it pointless, by the time she got to the carriage, she was thankful for Furgus’ arm beneath her hand, and the one around her waist.
Once in the carriage, he asked, “My lady, are you all right? Do you need anything?”
She smiled. “No thank you, Furgus. Thank you
for your concern. Can we just go home please?”
Joy scooted over to lean against her side. “S’awwight, Mama. S’awwight. Papa will make it better.”
Emily only nodded and patted Joy’s curls. Leaning back she closed her eyes and willed the weakness away.
It was just her nerves. There was a reasonable explanation.
But if there wasn’t…
The voice slithered through her thoughts, dark and malevolent.
I will save your harlot’s soul.
If it wasn’t, her life now was no more than a dream and it was almost at an end.
She didn’t want to wake up.
Theodore Smith was dead. He had to be. Please, God, let him be.
But what if he wasn’t, her conscience hissed.
Panic trembled through her.
He would be so incredibly angry.
And what if she was expecting?
The child was Jason’s. She would never, never allow herself to be in a situation that put his child at risk.
Nausea hot and thick swirled in her gut.
But what did she tell him? How did she tell him that she might be no more than his lover?
A hysterical laugh threatened to bubble up.
For years she’d prayed to God. Not Theodore’s God of wrath and hatefulness, but the one she saw when she read the Bible, the one of forgiveness and love.
Then again, part of her wondered if they were one and the same. The God of the Old Testament was wrathful, perhaps Theodore was right.
The burning in her stomach roared to life and she prayed she wouldn’t be sick and she’d know what to do when she got home.
* * * * *
Theodore stood in the shadows of the garden of the massive palatial structure. Greed built this foundation. Sin flowed from the walls.
He saw three men in a study. All were dark-headed, all strong-featured men, all seemed tall.
But that meant nothing. Goliath fell to David because David was in the right. David had God Almighty on his side.
He would slay the enemies that he needed to, in order to obtain what was rightfully his.
The day, thankfully, was dark with fog and heavy with rain. God had been merciful to him, knowing what obstacles would lay ahead.
For long minutes he stood in the cover of the shrubs and watched the men laugh, then grow serious with whatever they were discussing. Probably more ways to make more money. To covet more power.
Sinners. The lot of them did the devil’s work.
He’d asked, and found out from street urchins where The Marquess of Ravensworth resided. Ravensworth. A bird of death.
Theodore was a man of light. A man of God. God had delivered him from the heathens, forgave him for his fall from grace, and blessed him with the knowledge to find his errant wife.
Rebeckah had much to answer for.
The marquis must be the man behind the desk. It would make sense. Theodore had never let another man sit behind his desk.
He studied the man longer, wondered what to do.
Then inspiration struck. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out the charcoal and foolscap he always carried.
Carefully he penned a note.
Slinking back through the shadows, he found another boy to deliver the message.
Theodore smiled as he made his way back to his hiding place. It would be interesting to see how the high and mighty Lord Ravensworth reacted.
* * * * *
Jason shook his head. “That will never work, Nick. You know it. That mission is best left alone for now.”
Nick stared at him. “Marriage has changed you, my friend. You’ve become soft. It’s a good thing you’re doing more desk work these months than action.”
Jason only raised a single brow. Yes, marriage had changed him. His wife was unaware of this other side he still dabbled in, but then as Nick pointed out, these days he simply looked over information and analyzed the best course of action.
Nick, on the other hand—and to a large extent Rayne as well—was still cloaked in secrecy up to his cravat.
Nick shook his head and continued, “A meeting is set up in about a month’s time from now across the Channel in the same tavern we always used.”
With whispers of Napoleon already scheming to escape Elba, and before he’d even arrived, the Ministry had asked them and others to look into the matter. There were still supporters of the Emperor not only abroad, but here at home also. The meeting Nick referred to would give a list of government officials who, for whatever reasons, wanted Napoleon restored. Personally, Jason saw them as warmongers. Men who didn’t know what to do unless there was a conflict to become involved in. He had no qualms against war if war was needed, but needing it for the simple sake of fighting was not a valid reason to kill thousands of young boys, in his opinion.
Since they had all sold their commissions, they still managed to help the crown by gathering information and passing it on to those who needed it, but then that was what they were supposed to do. What they’d all but been ordered to do by Taber himself.
Shaking off the thoughts, Jason looked at Nick. “You know, I’m not in the mood to be baited.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “What would you have me do? Back out now?” He leaned forward. “We may finally nail that bastard De Fleur and neither you nor anyone else will deny me this.”
Jason took a deep breath. “This is where I’m to tell you not to allow this to become personal.”
Nick’s eyes iced.
“But I won’t, because I would be lying,” Jason said. “And if I had the chance at him for shooting Emily, I’d take it.”
Rayne stood. “We know your feelings, Nick, on that particular Frenchman.” He strode to the sideboard.
Nick glared from one to the other. “Sir Taber believes this is a sound plan. And he’s already discussed it with the Minister of War. Besides the fact, I know De Fleur is in France as we speak.”
Jason thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I still think it’s a setup. Though the list of names is needed, we should attempt to obtain them another way. De Fleur could be waiting for you.”
He might have had to sit out several missions since he’d become scarred, but there were still things he could do, still ways he could ferret out information and be useful. Besides, he knew Sir Taber was still recruiting others for shadow work. In the scheme of things, it was no more than a game.
A game Jason had enjoyed. Almost like a different version of the childhood game of hide-and-seek. The stakes now were much higher. The loser often wound up rather dead.
“I’m with Nick on this one, Jase,” Rayne said. “We need these names and by obtaining the list, we could easily crush De Fleur and their movement.”
Well the vote had been cast. Majority always ruled. “Fine, just remember—”
“My lord?” Summerton stood in the doorway, a piece of paper on the silver tray.
“Summerton, we’re not to be disturbed.”
“I realize that, my lord. However, at this instance, I thought it prudent to bring the missive to your attention as it was delivered in such an intriguing way,” his butler said.
Jason sighed. “What? Did it arrive via a burning torch?”
Summerton was even stiffer than Grims. He only set the salver on Jason’s desk and walked back through the door, shutting it softly behind him.
Jason ripped it open and stared at the missive.
She is mine. God gave her to me. She’s no more than your whore.
What the bloody hell?
He flipped the missive over. No signature. “Summerton!”
The butler reappeared. He was probably just standing on the other side of the door.
“Where did you get this?”
“A male child, my lord.”
“What male child?”
“A beggar one.”
Jason took a deep breath. “Is this beggar male child still here?”
“No, my lord. He is not. Gave me the note and dashed in
to the soup.”
He waved Summerton away and watched as the man paused in the doorway, looking toward the front of the house.
“Trouble?” Nick asked.
“Problem?” Rayne wondered at the same time.
He heard the front door shut.
“Papa. Papa.”
Joy? What they doing back already? He threw the paper down, the words glaring up at him.
He heard Summerton’s, “My lady!” And watched as the man ran out the doorway.
Jason was around the desk and in the hall before Nick stood up.
His wife lay crumpled in the foyer.
Chapter Seventeen
Jason’s heart slammed against his chest. He ran down the hallway to Emily.
“Emmy? Emmy?” Gently, he picked her up, calling over his shoulder, “Send for the physician. What the hell happened?” He carried her into the drawing room, Rayne right on his heels.
“Is she all right?” Rayne asked. Jason eased her down on the settee. She was pale, her veins blue under her translucent skin.
“Emmy? Emily. Wake up.” Jason patted the side of her face.
“Here,” Nick said, handing him some smelling salts.
Jason jerked them from his friend’s hand and waved them under her nose. He glanced around. “Where is Joy?”
Summerton said, “Franny took her upstairs, my lord. I’ve sent for Dr. Blaine.”
He watched as her eyelashes fluttered.
“No,” she whimpered. “No.”
“Emmy.”
She pulled away from his hand on her cheek. Her eyes shot open and in that moment stark terror flashed in her eyes.
He kept his hand on her chest. “You’re fine. You’re at home.”
“Jason?” She started to tremble and all but wrapped herself around him.
He gathered her in his arms. “Shh. You’re all right.”
Glaring at Summerton, he ordered, “Find out what the hell happened.”
“My lord, it’s Furgus.” Summerton moved to the side to let the coach guard in. The man was huge, burly and nothing got past him. It was one of the reasons Jason hired him.