The Dream

by Jaycee Clark

  One last glance and he left.

  Summerton stood on the other side of the door, Jason barely contained his startlement.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he whispered.

  “Hardlow and Drake are here, my lord. I’ve shown them into your study.”

  He nodded. “Very good. Summerton, check with Franny and see if she left the balcony doors to the nursery open and if not, wake the other maids and have them search the house. I think someone used those doors to get in.”

  His butler’s eyes widened. “My lord?”

  “Just do it.” An idea formed. “Send someone for that Bow Street Runner I used back in the fall to locate Mrs. Smith will you? And check every room in this house.”

  “Now, my lord?”

  “No, Summerton, next week. Yes now.”

  Jason looked down the hallway then muttering under his breath, headed to his meeting.

  * * * * *

  Theodore eased the door open. No one was in the room. He’d hidden in a guest room out on the window ledge, worried that the marquis would decide to search the entire house. But he knew that was going on as well. He could hear the footsteps above. He slipped into the master suite.

  Hurry…

  Theodore would have to hurry. The man would not be long in returning once he found the other missive Theodore had left for him.

  Hurrying over to the bed, he laid the coiled, braided leather on the pillow beside Rebeckah, the note in the middle.

  For a moment, he watched her. So peaceful, so innocent-looking.

  But it was a lie. All a damn lie!

  His hand darted out and he almost touched her. Almost.

  He stopped, his hand over her head, curling his fingers back into a fist.

  Damn the whore. She was asleep in her lover’s bed. He should end it now. Just end it.

  But he wanted her to know, wanted her to wait, wanted her to fear.

  With a force of will he battled his control and walked to the window. Flicking the lock open, he pushed the pane up and slid over the ledge. It wasn’t far to the ground and he’d learned how to land. Besides, the gutter pipe ran a few feet over. Carefully, he inched along the ledge, down the pipe and hurried away into the night.

  He’d love to stay and see how the man tried to protect them, but he’d wait.

  The fun was just beginning.

  * * * * *

  Cold air blew over her face. Emily shivered and pulled the blanket up and still it whispered over her hair.

  With a sigh, she sat up and looked around. The fire burned in the grate and the sheers danced in the breeze coming in through the window. Maybe Jason was hot.

  She turned to ask him and stopped.

  He wasn’t there.

  She blinked.

  On Jason’s pillow lay a coiled, braided strip of leather.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs.

  She knew that piece of leather all too well.

  How many lashes, Rebeckah? She could all but hear it whistle through the air before it stung against her.

  Oh, no.

  She scrambled back. Away.

  The note screamed out at her to pick it up.

  She didn’t touch it. A whimper slid up her throat. Fear crawled and grew until sickness greased her stomach.

  Oh no, please no.

  Quickly she darted out of bed, put her back to the wall and looked around the room. Nothing moved. No one was in here.

  No one.

  She was dreaming.

  Closing her eyes, she fought to calm her heart and breathing.

  Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

  She opened her eyes.

  The leather still sat, a snake ready to strike. The note still stared at her, her name scrawled across the front.

  He’d been here.

  Oh dear God, he’d been here. In their home.

  She slid down the wall, tears filling her eyes. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

  Please, no.

  Emily had no idea how long she sat there, praying, hoping, wishing.

  Finally, the cold iced through her nightgown and she stood, rubbing her arms.

  Taking a deep breath she looked at the leather. It was just leather, like her gloves, like her shoes. It couldn’t hurt her. It couldn’t.

  She wouldn’t let it.

  No longer was she weak and cowardly Rebeckah. She’d become more. She was Emily.

  Emily who was strong.

  Like a sword…

  Jason’s words echoed in her mind.

  Jason…

  Licking her lips she walked to the bed. It was just paper and inside they were just words. Angry words, hateful words, but just words. They couldn’t leap off the page and hurt her, any more than the leather strip would rise off the pillow and strike her.

  Emily put one hand to her stomach and wished the nausea would go away. On a determined huff, she ripped it open.

  To my dearest Rebeckah,

  Are you pleased to receive another missive? You should be. I know you are a smart girl. You always tried to hide that fact, but I could see the intelligence, the impertinence in your eyes.

  Do you fear our meeting? You should, you harlot of Babylon. You adulterating slut! You have much to answer for, Rebeckah. Your punishment will remind you of your place. Your place beside your husband. A woman can only have one husband, you know.

  Tell me, my dear cheating wife, are you going to inform the marquis that you are no more than his mistress? And that you won’t bear him an heir? Are you wondering when I’ll come for you? I will let you wonder.

  Anticipation heightens the experience and I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. While you wait, consider how you are going to tell that man about the scandal you will create for his good family name.

  And don’t forget to think about me. A word of warning. I am angry with you my dear. Selling the lands, giving my child to another man, but then again, I wonder if she is even mine, or another one of your by-blows.

  Do NOT make me look for you again. You can run, but you will never be able to hide from me, and no one, no one, will be able to save you from my wrath. The Boyles found that out. It seems there was a terrible fire, which, of course, claimed both their lives. It was for the best. Their time came, as will yours. Perhaps your lover’s time is short, or your grandparents’. Our daughter should not be in such sinful places. You should have taught her right, brought her up as she should be. If she strays, it is your fault and if I have to punish her as well, it will be your fault because you’ve let her grow with wickedness surrounding her. You have so much to answer for. Your time of reckoning is near.

  Your ever faithful husband,

  Theodore.

  Emily’s hand shook.

  His daughter? Their daughter? Joy? Oh God.

  She dropped the paper and rushed from the room, all but running up to the nursery.

  At the door she met Summerton.

  “My lady?” he asked.

  She huffed, tried to catch her breath.

  “My lady? What are you doing up? I thought you retired for the evening.”

  She brushed past him and opened the door. The sweet smell of child floated on the air and she could see Joy slept soundly in her bed.

  Relief, sharp and hot rushed through her.

  Licking her lips, she walked across the room, her legs shaking. Oh, thank God.

  Joy’s hair was as soft as down under her fingers. Emily sighed and kissed her daughter’s cheek.

  With one last look, she turned. Franny stood just inside the adjoining room’s door.

  The nursery was set up as adjoining rooms, just like the master and mistress suites. The balcony ran down both rooms.

  “I’m so sorry, my lady,” Franny whispered.

  “For?” she motioned to the other room so as not to awaken Joy.

  “I never heard a thing. I swear.”

  “Never heard what?”

  Franny looked from her to the balcony doors. “Well,
that is…”

  Summerton’s voice interrupted. “Her ladyship should be in bed.”

  Emily normally smiled at their collective protectiveness. Now was not one of those times.

  “Her ladyship would like an answer.” She turned back to Franny and ignored Summerton.

  “Well, my lady, that is…” The girl twisted her hands.

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I never heard him come in. It weren’t me who opened the doors. I swear it. I know the rules and it’s too dangerous for little Joy, it is. I check them every night and morning to make certain like. And they was locked.” Her eyes narrowed, her forehead crinkled on her frown.

  Chills danced up and down Emily’s spine. “The doors? The balcony doors?”

  Franny nodded. “Lady Joy awoke and went and found his Lordship because she was scared. Thought she saw a man.”

  A man.

  Blood hummed through her ears and heat prickled her arms.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A man. A man in her daughter’s room.

  “My lady?” Summerton asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. Did anyone else see him?” she asked the butler, who always knew everything.

  “No.”

  Emily fisted her hands within the folds of her gown to keep them from trembling, and realized she was without a wrapper.

  Stupid. So stupid. She should have said something long before now to Jason. And why hadn’t she?

  Because she was selfish and didn’t want to make it real that what they shared was an illusion.

  Looking back over her shoulder into Joy’s room, she realized she’d put her daughter in danger.

  Not again. Never, never again.

  Straightening her spine, she nodded a goodnight to Franny and walked out the room.

  Summerton was beside her.

  “Where is my…” she almost said “husband”. No he’s not. “Where is his lordship?”

  “Lord Hardlow and Lord Drake are in the study with him.”

  Emily nodded and went into their room, shutting the door behind her. She picked up the paper she’d dropped. The window she left open to show Jason and the leather she left where it was. The very sight of it made her ill.

  In her sitting room, she removed the other notes and sat in her chair.

  It was time to tell Jason. She’d thought long and hard for days on what was to be done. And there was only one thing.

  She couldn’t go back, she could never go back. But the scandal…

  Before going downstairs she pulled on her robe and belted it. The mirror reflected her pale face, the worried, gaunt expression. There was nothing she could do about it.

  It was time to lean. She just hoped Jason would support her in this.

  * * * * *

  For the last half-hour, Jason and his partners sat in front of the fire in his study plotting, planning and running through scenarios. Everything had to be planned perfect. No screwups or lives could be lost.

  Yet through it all, his mind kept wondering.

  The man will get me…

  What man? Strange callers. Notes to his wife she didn’t talk about. The jimmied lock. De Fleur? Had he threatened Emily? Scared her into silence? That made no sense. She would have told him of De Fleur. So then what? And Sir Taber had told them just that morning that the bastard was still in France.

  Things were not right. He thrummed his fingers on the arm of the chair.

  “What do you think?” Rayne asked.

  Jason shook his head. “What?”

  “I told you he wasn’t listening,” Nick replied. “Has something else on his mind.”

  “Damn it, Jase, this is important.”

  Jason stood and raked a hand through his hair. When he’d come down earlier, he joined his friends by the fire, listened with half an ear and shared some of his best brandy.

  Now he paced down the length of his study and back.

  “What is it?” Nick asked.

  “I don’t know. I think someone was in the house tonight,” he admitted.

  “What?” Rayne snapped.

  Jason looked up. “Joy mentioned a man in her room. A mean man. I went up, the lock was scratched, marked from the outside. The nanny, though she won’t be one for long, was sound asleep and didn’t hear or see anything.”

  “You checked the place out?” Nick asked, leaning against the mantle.

  Jason nodded and tapped his fingers on his thigh. He was missing something. He knew it, could feel it.

  With a curse he turned, intent on sitting at his desk, and stopped.

  There atop his papers was a missive.

  Had it been there before?

  He walked to it, snatched it up? Turning to the other two, he asked, flicking it up between his fingers, “What is this?”

  Both shrugged. “Not from me.”

  “Did Summerton bring this in?”

  “No,” Rayne answered, “it was here when we arrived.”

  Well, it sure as hell hadn’t been there when he’d left the room with Joy earlier.

  Ripping paper tore through the air.

  My Dear Deluded Marquis,

  I give you the benefit of the doubt, as I know the woman whom you call wife. She’s no more than a vessel of wickedness. All females are vile Jezebels. Yet, watching you with her, with the child, I find my reason fleeing and wonder what part you might play. Perhaps I should follow Leviticus 20:10. Perhaps you are no more blameless than she.

  I could have taken them both tonight and you never would have known. Never would have heard me until you found their empty beds… Or maybe their bodies.

  Jason crumpled the note in his hand, rage and fear rushing through him.

  “Bastard.” He tossed the paper aside and hurried to the door.

  He all but plowed his wife down.

  “Umph.”

  Jason grabbed her shoulders, and let out the breath he’d been holding as his heart slowed.

  “Jason?” she asked, looking up at him.

  “Emmy? Are you all right?”

  She swallowed.

  Jason turned and led her into the study, she was pale and strain showed around her eyes, and the corners of her mouth.

  “I’ll be right back, darling. I want to check on Joy.” He guided her to the chair and waited until she sat.

  “I’ve just checked her, Summerton was there, and Franny is still up. Joy is fine. She’s safe.” Her tongue darted out to lick her lips again and her hands fisted, the knuckles white. “She’s safe,” she repeated.

  Safe. The same thing he was worried about, wondering about. Was it coincidence she’d said the same word?

  Jason rubbed his jaw and stood, leaning back against the desk. The other two had stood when Emily entered, now both walked to them.

  “Honey, what are you doing up?” Rayne asked.

  She opened her mouth, then shut it, looking at her lap. Her shoulders rose on a deep breath.

  “Emily?” Jason asked, knowing something was wrong.

  She didn’t answer.

  “Emily?”

  Finally, she looked at him. “How difficult is it to obtain a divorce?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I beg your bloody pardon?” he asked, straightening. Jason had not heard his wife just use the word divorce.

  A log popped in the grate, silence strangled the room.

  Her shoulders rose on a deep inhale and she opened her mouth.

  “I think we’ll see…” Rayne trailed off.

  “Some things… Summerton,” Nick mumbled. The two hurried across the room.

  Emily’s voice stopped them. “You should stay, it does concern you as my family and Nick as our friend.”

  They stopped and looked at him, but he returned his gaze to his wife. She still stared at her lap.

  Expectant women often had strange bouts of ideas, so he had heard. And though he knew they should not be excited, the need to yell at her closed his throat.

  When
her eyes rose to his, all he saw in them was fear. No, he corrected, terror and anger.

  Jason ground his teeth, fisted his hands beneath his crossed arms and said, as softly as he could, “Do you care to repeat what you now just asked me?”

  Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. “I asked how difficult it is to obtain a divorce.”

  Those dark, sinfully dark eyes of hers never wavered from his.

  She was serious. A fist slammed into his heart and stopped it for just a moment.

  Jason could only stare at her. What the hell did he… What was he supposed to… His wife wanted a…

  “You would dare ask me such a question?” he bit out stalking away to the windows before he strangled her. No way in hell was he granting her one.

  For a long time, she didn’t say a word. Maybe she was sleepwalking, he turned back around and saw she sat holding something in her hand.

  “We really should be going,” Rayne said.

  Emily answered, “Rayne, this concerns you and our family as well.”

  Jason flexed his fingers. “I don’t see how our marriage concerns him.”

  “The lack of one will.” Her jaw came up a notch.

  Jason wanted to shake her. Very calmly, very deliberately, he walked to her, watched as her eyes widened as he put his hands on her shoulders. “There is not now, nor will there ever be a lack of marriage between us, madam.”

  Her eyes softened, and her hand came up to rest on his cheek.

  His hands tightened. “I want an explanation. Now.”

  “I’m trying to give you one.” She sighed. “One cannot have two husbands, can one?”

  That wasn’t what he expected her to say. He dropped his hands. “What?”

  Her eyes locked with his, filled, her bottom lip trembled. “We’re not married, Jason.” Her cheeks drained of color at her words.

  Trying to get around what she was saying, he leaned back against the desk.

  “Emily, I don’t know what the hell is going on. Are you feeling just the thing? Should I send for the physician?”

  She pulled her trembling lip between her teeth. “I’m trying to explain.”

  “You need to try harder, wife.” He purposefully stressed the last word and glared at her.

  “You’re not listening.” She all but bounded out of the chair and paced to the fireplace and back. The papers in her hands crinkling.