Best of Both Rogues

by Samantha Grace

“Yes, sir.” Mr. Cullip stayed long enough to see if Ben’s shaky legs would hold him, then bustled away, disappearing into the crowd.

  Ben led the man carrying Eve to the carriage and climbed inside so he could reach down for her. Once they were settled on the bench with Eve on his lap, the man closed the door and his driver pulled away from the docks.

  Eve rested her head on his shoulder. “Are you hurt?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Am I hurt? Good God, Evie. You weren’t breathing.” The sob he’d held inside burst from him like the howl of a wounded animal. A horrid shaking overtook his body, and all he could see was Eve’s lifeless body in his arms, her lips blue. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He clawed at the wet cravat around his neck.

  Eve sat up. “I will get it.”

  He unintentionally slapped at her hands in his desperation to loosen the knot. His fingers fumbled as panic welled in the back of his throat. A loud pounding filled his head, resounding in his ears.

  “Ben, let me.” She reached for him, but he was already choking.

  Black dots shrouded his vision, and a pressure intense enough to crack his ribs pressed on his chest. “Oh, God!” He hadn’t seen this coming and now he couldn’t stop it. Bucking against the weight holding him down—smothering him—he braced for the onslaught.

  * * *

  Eve landed on the carriage floor, stunned by the jarring impact. Ben stiffened on the bench, his arms jammed against the sides of the carriage. His breath left him in rapid, shallow huffs. Deep in his throat, there was a low moan. A hazy memory filtered into her awareness.

  A strange noise came from Papa’s study; his door stood ajar. Hugging her doll, she inched toward the crack, hoping she wouldn’t find her brother inside. No one was allowed inside Papa’s study except Papa, and she hated when Papa made her stand at attention while Sebastian received raps on his knuckles or lashes against his backside. She would rather be the one punished.

  Sitting by helplessly while someone she loved suffered was the worst sort of pain. “Ben.” She shifted to her knees to pull herself back onto the seat beside him—to offer him comfort.

  “Stay!” The whip-crack command made her jump.

  Sinking back to the floor, tears filled Eve’s eyes. She rested her hands on her knees, desperate to touch her husband while he fought against whatever had him in its grip. But she wouldn’t. She had learned to keep her distance that day in her father’s study.

  Papa was sitting on the floor slumped against his desk, his face buried in his hands. Muffled sobs came from him.

  “Oh, Papa.” She dropped her doll and went to throw her arms around his shoulders. He bellowed and swung out, his face frightening. His blow sent her flying into a pedestal, and a vase came crashing down on her. Her cheek bore the brunt of the hit. Eve didn’t mean to do it, but she wailed.

  “Evie!” Her mother’s panicked voice and running footsteps sounded in the corridor. Mama burst into the study. Eve pushed to a seated position and cried harder. Mama dropped to her knees to gather her to her bosom. Eve sagged against her, feeling safe again. And then the worst happened.

  “You hurt your daughter.” Mama shook in her rage. “What is wrong with you?”

  The horrified look on Papa’s face caused Eve’s heart to stop.

  That was the day he had exiled himself to his chambers. She would never forget that look. Ben wore the same tortured expression now.

  He scrubbed a hand down his face. Defeat latched on to him and made his body slump forward. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Eve, what did I do to you?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.” Her throat had grown tight, and she feared crying in front of him. They were on shaky ground. One misstep, and she might drive him away.

  Reaching for her, he drew her up on the seat beside him, then backed into the corner of the carriage as if he didn’t trust himself with her. “D-Did I hurt you?”

  “No!” She scooted toward him, ignoring the wariness in his eyes, and threw her arms around his neck. “You saved my life.” She felt his arms tighten around her, and she melted against him, absorbing the slight tremors still traveling through his body.

  “I want to hear what Dr. Portier thinks after he examines you,” he said.

  Eve didn’t feel a doctor visit was necessary, but she wouldn’t argue. If he needed reassurance from Dr. Portier, he would get it. She would agree to anything to keep him from withdrawing from her.

  The carriage rolled to a slow stop in front of their home. Ben helped her inside, calling out orders as they moved toward the stairs. “My wife needs a hot bath, and have Mrs. Beardmore prepare a pot of tea.”

  “There’s no need to put anyone out,” she said, but Dobbins was already headed for the kitchen.

  She caught a whiff of the river on her hair and thought perhaps a bath might be wise after all, especially when Dr. Portier was expected.

  Upstairs in her chambers, Ben rang for her maid. When Alice appeared, he ordered her to strip Eve of her wet clothes and retrieve a wrapper.

  “Yes, sir.” Alice hurried forward to work loose the fastenings of Eve’s gown while Ben stood there as if he had to oversee Alice’s duties.

  His damp clothes clung to his still-quivering muscles. The shaking had slowed considerably, but the aftereffects of his attack were still evident.

  The terror in his voice when he had realized she was falling still echoed in Eve’s ears. Knowing she had caused him pain like he’d experienced with Charlotte tore her heart in two. Eve bit her trembling bottom lip and willed herself not to cry. When tears welled in her eyes anyway, she turned her back to him. She needed a moment alone to collect herself.

  “You should change too,” she said quietly. “I don’t want you to catch a chill.”

  He hesitated but eventually spun on his heel and entered his chambers through the adjoining door.

  When the lock tumbled, she burst into tears.

  * * *

  Ben was composing a letter in his study while he waited for the doctor. He couldn’t bear to look into Eve’s fearful eyes again. The sound of her sobbing in her chambers had shaken him.

  Self-loathing was a bitter taste coating his tongue. He’d knocked her to the floor of the carriage during his attack. What type of ghastly fiend raised a hand against a lady? He’d been horrified when he’d injured his brother at the church, but this… How was he to live with the knowledge he had so little control over himself that he could hurt the one he loved most?

  Her intense scrutiny in her room had revealed everything. She was afraid of him. He had made her afraid.

  He pushed away from the desk, too on edge to sit still. What the devil had come over him? When he should have been comforting her in the carriage, he had lost his wits. He never should have taken her to the bloody docks. Accidents happened all the time, and yet he had allowed his pride to overrule good sense.

  She needed to be sent somewhere she felt safe, at least until he could make sense of what was happening to him and gain control over himself. Ben returned to his desk to seal the letter. He wished he could claim confidence in his decision, but the thought of living apart from his wife—even temporarily—caused a sharp pang in his gut.

  A knock sounded at his door. “Enter.”

  It was Dobbins. “Dr. Portier has arrived, sir.”

  Ben rose from his seat, snatching the letter from his desk. He handed it to his butler as he passed. “I will show the doctor to my wife’s chambers. See this is delivered to Thorne Place immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  If Ben could count on Sebastian Thorne to do anything, it was to protect Eve, especially from him.

  Thirty

  Dr. Portier held the wooden tube he used for listening to patients’ insides against Eve’s back. “Take a deep breath.”

  Eve did as he instructed, trying to be a go
od patient for her husband’s sake as much as the doctor’s. Dr. Portier had been her family’s physician for as long as she could recall, and he was much sought after among members of Polite Society. He had studied under her grandfather, who had been a successful doctor in his own right. Eve barely remembered Papa’s father since he died when she was young, but she’d been told he attended hers and Sebastian’s births.

  Ben stood at a distance with his arms crossed over his chest. A grimace was fixed upon his handsome face as if he were a marble statue. She couldn’t help but see him every time she glanced up since he had positioned himself directly in front of her. The aloofness in his blue eyes added to her dismay, and she wondered if the doctor noticed the labored beating of her heart.

  Dr. Portier was discreet enough to make no comment if he did. Sitting on the side of her bed, he moved the tube to different places on her back and had her repeatedly take deep breaths.

  “Very good, madam.” Dr. Portier smiled at her just as he had when she was a child, then turned to speak with Ben. “Her lungs are clear, Mr. Hillary. There is no cause for concern. It is highly unlikely she will develop a fever, but you should send for me at once if she does.”

  Dr. Portier’s pronouncement didn’t alter her husband’s dire expression. “Are you certain? Perhaps you should listen again.”

  The doctor stood and returned his equipment to the black bag sitting on her bedside table. “I can assure you Mrs. Hillary is no worse for the experience. She will be fine.”

  Apparently, Dr. Portier was accustomed to handling nervous husbands, because his authoritative tone brooked no argument.

  Ben conceded with a nod. “Thank you, Doctor. You have put my mind at ease.”

  “As it should be,” Dr. Portier said with a satisfied smile. “Your wife is in good health.” The doctor bid her farewell. Ben hesitated a moment, then followed him from her chambers without a word or backward glance. Her heart sank.

  He truly was pulling away from her, and she didn’t have the first clue how to bring him back. Worse, she couldn’t even talk to anyone about him. Considering Ben’s efforts to keep the wounds he carried deep inside hidden from her, she couldn’t imagine he would appreciate her confiding in others. He couldn’t view it as anything but a betrayal. After the horrible rumors of madness that had circulated about her father, she could understand Ben’s fear of someone finding out about his spells.

  When her door eased open, she swung toward it with an eager smile, but it was only Alice. “May I come in, ma’am?”

  Eve’s shoulders drooped and she motioned her maid inside.

  Alice closed the door behind her and leaned against it. The fine lines bracketing her mouth and at the corners of her eyes appeared more pronounced. “Did everything go well with the doctor?”

  “Dr. Portier proclaimed me to be in good health. I thought a positive report would reassure Mr. Hillary, but he seems as worried as he was before the doctor arrived.”

  “Your husband loves you a great deal. It is natural for him to be concerned for your welfare.”

  Eve sighed. “I know he does.” Perhaps if he loved her less he wouldn’t be so burdened by the day’s events. He was not to blame for any of them—certainly not her fall into the river or the moment in the carriage.

  Alice clasped her hands at her waist as if in prayer. “Others are concerned about your welfare too.”

  “Others? Surely word of my accident hasn’t traveled to Mayfair already.”

  “I cannot say, ma’am, but Lord and Lady Thorne are below stairs requesting an audience. Mr. Dobbins settled them in the drawing room and sent me to retrieve you.”

  Eve pushed wearily from the bed. All this fuss over her was becoming embarrassing. “I suppose I should go reassure them all is well.”

  “Are you, madam? Well?”

  Alice’s concern was genuine. She had been with Eve through the hardest times in her life.

  For a fleeting moment, Eve considered telling her the truth, but chose not to burden her maid. “Yes, Alice. Thank you.”

  When Eve joined her brother and sister-in-law in the drawing room, Helena looked up from her spot on the settee. “Eve, is everything all right?”

  Her brother, who had been pacing in front of the unlit fireplace, halted midstride. “What has Hillary done? Why are you returning to Thorne Place?”

  Sebastian’s preposterous questions left her with her jaw hanging open.

  He pulled a folded sheet of foolscap from his jacket pocket and came forward, holding it out. “I received this from your husband about an hour ago. From the look on your face, I would venture you know nothing about it.”

  “About what, exactly?” She accepted the letter with a baffled frown.

  Sebastian guided her toward the settee. “Perhaps you should sit before you read it.”

  Her gaze shot toward the doorway. The last time she’d had to sit down for news, she’d learned Ben was on his way to India. “Is he g—” The words stuck in her throat as her heart thrashed against her ribs.

  Her brother rubbed his hands up and down her arms as if trying to warm her. “He is in his study.”

  “Oh, thank heavens.” She lowered to the settee before her weakened legs failed her. Helena scooted closer as Eve unfolded the sheet with shaky fingers. She read the letter aloud. “Dear Lord Thorne, I must ask for your assistance in a matter concerning your sister. Her welfare is of the utmost importance to both of us, so I know you can be entrusted with her care. I do not wish to go into details, but I believe Eve would feel more at peace under your roof until I am able to offer her safe haven.”

  Sebastian perched on the armrest and leaned down to tap his finger against the foolscap. “What is that line supposed to mean? If he has hurt you, he will answer to me.”

  “He has not hurt me.” At least not in the sense Sebastian was implying, but sending her away was the worst thing her husband could do to her. And she wouldn’t allow her brother to drag her back to Thorne Place either. She rushed through the rest of the letter, reading silently as nausea turned her stomach.

  You need not worry about providing for her physical needs. My man of business will arrange to honor any debts incurred while she is in your care, but I will forever be personally indebted to you. Your servant, Benjamin Hillary.

  The words blurred on the page, and Eve dropped the letter in her lap. “I cannot believe he wants to send me away. I never expected—” Her voice cracked as a sob escaped.

  “Oh, Eve.” Helena draped an arm around her shoulders. “There must be some misunderstanding.”

  “Absolutely. Hillary is mad about you, poppet.” Sebastian embraced her from the other side, creating a comforting cocoon around her. “It sounds as if he doesn’t want to send you away, but for some reason he thinks he should. Tell us what happened and perhaps we can figure this out together.”

  She glanced up at her big brother with a watery smile, her faith in him restored. Sebastian wasn’t here to take her away from Ben. He was here to ensure she stayed with the man she loved, and she needed any help available.

  Setting aside any misgivings and trusting her family to support her, she retold the story of Charlotte, Ben’s nightmares, and her fall into the river—minus the part about Sir Jonathan and the man who had followed them.

  Finally, she told them about her husband’s heroic rescue of her, followed by his breakdown in the carriage. “Watching him suffer was excruciating. I’ve never felt so helpless.”

  Helena’s blue-green eyes held nothing but compassion as she took Eve’s hand. “How horrible for both of you. Is there anything we can do to help?”

  If anyone else posed the question, Eve would assume they were just being polite, but Helena was the type of person to swim an ocean for those she loved.

  Eve pressed her friend’s hand between hers. “I cannot think of anything, but your offer warms my
heart.”

  “How long do you think he has been having these attacks?” Sebastian asked in the most matter-of-fact manner, as if it were every day he encountered a similar dilemma.

  She should have realized Sebastian would never stand in judgment of Ben. Her brother had grown up in the same household, trying to make sense of Papa’s odd behaviors and changeable moods, just as she had.

  He handed her a handkerchief, and she shrugged as she dabbed at her tears. “I suspect he has been trying to hide them since our wedding night, but I believe they began two years ago. The day he fled the church, he described a similar episode.”

  “Blast,” Sebastian muttered and wearily scrubbed his hands over his face. “When I met him on the street, he appeared pale and shaken. Now it makes sense—his unexpected departure, coming back for you, his disheveled state. Devil take it! I thought—” Sebastian shook his head, his face screwed up with disgust.

  Her stomach pitched. “You thought he was with another woman.”

  “I’m sorry, Eve. I should have allowed him to explain. I was a jackass and let my temper control me.”

  Helena reached across Eve to pat his knee. “The past cannot be undone, my love. No amount of guilt makes it so.”

  He covered his wife’s hand and offered a grateful—albeit sad—smile. “But if I could, I would change everything.”

  “Helena is right. The present is all that matters.” Heaping blame on her brother would accomplish nothing. “I love my husband. I don’t want to leave him. And I am not afraid of him, but it is clear he believes otherwise.”

  Sebastian pressed his lips together as if debating whether he should speak up. Apparently, speaking his mind won out. “I’ve often wondered how our lives might have been different if our mother hadn’t accepted our father’s decision to retreat into himself. I know she tried to reach him, but how could she not feel defeated after a while? I cannot fault her for giving up, but I still wonder what might have happened if she hadn’t.”

  “I cannot stomach the thought of accepting this,” Eve said. “Ben doesn’t want to send me away. He loves me. I know he does.”