by Rose Gordon
He sighed, banged the brass knocker, then stood motionless and waited for the butler to show him in. Marcus wanted to talk about a dowry and he wanted to talk to Marcus about something, too. He had little doubt this conversation would prove to be more entertaining and enlightening than his last.
Chapman came to the door and led him down the hall to Marcus’ study. Along the way, he couldn’t help wanting to ask how Marcus felt sitting in the same chair his father used to sit in. He shook off the thought. That was another conversation for another day. Today they needed to take care of business. Besides, waiting to talk to him about filling his father’s position gave him a reason to come back another day to see his friend.
“Alex,” Marcus said, standing up. “I feared you’d not come and then I’d have a real mess on my hands.”
Alex smiled. “I came.”
“I see that,” he remarked, sitting back down. “I know you have a lot demanding your attention what with your recent loss and Caroline and all, but this needs to be taken care of, and now that I’m no longer her legal guardian...” He shrugged.
Alex reached his hand out. “All right, just give it to me.”
“Here.” Marcus handed him an unusually tall stack of paper.
Alex frowned. The last time he’d just been handed a stack of papers with no explanation, he’d just been informed he was betrothed to Lady Olivia. “What’s this?”
“The first sheet is the bank account information for the London bank where her money is,” he said easily, giving Alex time to read over the page.
Alex blinked at the page. “Your father was mighty generous,” he mused, scanning the numbers on the page.
Marcus snorted. “Not hardly. It was commonly thought Caroline wouldn’t require a dowry so my father never saw fit to give her one. I, on the other hand, disagreed with that notion and took care of Caroline’s dowry, to a point.”
“To a point?”
“When I started the account for her four years ago my intent was just to raise enough money to give her a Season. My father couldn’t afford to give her one. Not for lack of money, of course.” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “He was more afraid of her being torn to shreds by the social piranhas due to some old family gossip about her mother and father. But I thought she deserved one anyway and I asked a friend of mine, the late Lady Drakely, to bring her out if I’d pay. She agreed, but I hadn’t enough funds at the times. Since my father was still earl, and I wouldn’t be able to touch the trust I inherited from my mother until his death or my thirtieth year, I had to find another way to scrape up the money. That’s why I started the account. But she’s the reason it kept growing, therefore, I can only take partial credit.” He flashed a rare smile at Alex.
Alex stared at him. Despite everything Caroline had been through, she’d always had at least one person who’d loved her and would do anything for her. “Thank you, Marcus.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said, twisting a quill between his fingers. “She did all the work.”
“I’m not talking about that,” Alex said softly. “I was thanking you for taking such good care of her. For loving her.”
Marcus’ gaze was unblinking. “I accept your thanks, and my hope is that you’ll treat her the same.”
Alex lowered his eyes. He surely hadn’t been very caring or loving this morning. He’d treated her nastier than he’d ever treated anyone. Shame washed over him. The look on her face this morning flashed in his mind. Even for as socially inept as he was, he knew hurt and pain when he saw it. And he’d definitely seen it. And caused it. He swallowed.
“Look through the rest.” Marcus propped his feet up on the desk and brought his hand up to rest against his left cheek. “You’ve kept me waiting for five weeks. I can wait no longer.”
Alex picked up the first page and pulled it away to look at the second. It was a sales slip of some sort. He scanned the lines, confused. Had she paid money to someone or had they paid her? Her name was nowhere on the page.
“Flip the page again,” Marcus murmured. “That might help you make sense of it.”
Alex glanced at Marcus, then pulled back the next page and caught his breath. “Marcus, tell me what I’m looking at.”
Marcus chuckled. “Why don’t you tell me what you think it is?”
“That’s what I’m not sure of,” he began, turning his eyes up to Marcus. “I recognize the handwriting as yours. However, the name at the top reads E. S. Wilson, which, not only have you told me you are not him, but I also remember you having a severe lack of knowledge concerning biology.”
“Just so. And now, Lord Logical, what can you deduce from those previously stated—and a few unmentioned, but not unknown—facts?” Marcus drawled, clearly enjoying the situation.
“Caroline is E. S. Wilson,” Alex said, dumbfounded.
“Brilliant, Alex! You truly were the smartest boy at Eton.”
Alex leafed through the stack. Every single article that had anonymously appeared by E. S. Wilson in Popular Plants from the past four years was right here in his lap. He’d read them all before. He’d even duplicated almost all of the experiments. But knowing Caroline had written them made them more than just interesting articles that had inspired him to search for another great mind to converse with. They were invaluable.
She was truly brilliant and sadly, he’d demeaned her all along. They’d sat in the room right across the hall not two months ago and he’d belittled her understanding of biology. He’d even gone so far as to suggest she read her own articles. And he’d done it again just this morning by quickly dismissing her claim to be carrying his child.
His heart clenched. His child. His child with Caroline. Their child. After the things he’d said to her this morning, this would likely be their only child. Would it be a little bespectacled boy who wore his clothes haphazardly and followed his papa around holding a magnifying glass in one hand and notebook in the other? Or would it be a beautiful, dark-haired, blue-eyed girl who was always getting into trouble for dragging the hem of her skirt through the mud while she dug around in the flowerbeds? He smiled at mental image. Most men wished for a boy, but he’d gladly take a little girl who was just like Caroline.
“Alex,” Marcus said loudly, unmistakable pride shining in his face. “I know you’re in awe over this revelation, and probably can’t wait to go home and kiss the person you had no idea was secretly your hero, but we need to discuss business.”
Alex blinked at Marcus and his astonishing level of excitement. He doubted his friend had ever been this excited in the past twelve years, and he wasn’t going to ruin it by telling him Caroline would deny his request for a kiss because she was angry with him and had every reason to be. “What business?” he asked quietly, placing the stack of papers on the edge of Marcus’ desk.
Marcus scratched his jaw. “Well, there is one little, tiny snag.”
Alex rolled his eyes. Of course there was. “What do I not know?”
“Actually, you know everything. It’s Caroline who doesn’t. When I put the first two hundred pounds in the account and sold her first article, I’d planned everything to be a surprise. But right before I had enough money, Lady Drakley passed, and with her my plans for Caroline’s Season. By then, I’d heard my father casually mention something about the success of the article—he never knew what I’d done. So I continued to send her experiments in and planned to either give her the money when she reached her majority in a few months or use it as a dowry if she married.
“The problem is, all the experiments I’d sent were old ones I’d found in a little box she kept in her room. I’d just sneak in while she was out, copy down a handful of experiments, then send them off before she could find me with them and ask why I had them.” He shuddered and curled up as much of his top lip as his scarred skin would allow. “Anyway, I’ve run out. Not that I find that to be a problem for which I am to find a solution. You are.”
Alex stared at his friend and raked his fingers through
his hair. “Let me get this right. You’ve taken it upon yourself to copy Caroline’s scientific observations and sell them to a widely circulated publication for the past four years, garnering her all sorts of acclaim for being one of the brightest minds in the field of biological science, and she doesn’t even know it?”
Marcus nodded.
“You do know she has a right to know her work has been published, don’t you?”
Marcus nodded again.
“And you also know before the sun sets tonight, she’ll know.”
“I’d be disappointed if she didn’t,” Marcus said with a shrug. “She deserves to know. I only kept it from her at first because I didn’t want to crush her feelings if the editor didn’t accept her work. After that I didn’t tell her because I didn’t know how she’d feel about what I’d done.”
“Wait, you just said you did it to make money for her to have a Season,” Alex countered.
“I did. But if this hadn’t worked out, I had other ways to make the money. It would have taken longer, but I would have done anything to scrape up the funds.” He sighed. “The truth is she’d worked hard on all that. And while I personally may not care to read about it, others do. And you know as well as I do she would have never had the opportunity to get published or take the credit under her own name like she deserved. So I did what I could.”
“You were afraid she’d be angry you for doing this?”
“Yes. Wouldn’t you be?”
Alex nodded. He’d have been furious. But Marcus had a point. If he hadn’t done it anonymously, her work would have been dismissed as soon as the editor got to the by-line, no matter how good the content. “All right. Enough on that. I’ll tell her and let her decide if she wants to continue to publish her work or not.”
“Good,” Marcus said. “As much as I love my cousin, copying her notes was pure torture.”
Alex grinned for the first time all day. “I bet for you it was.”
“Almost as torturous as it would have been for you to live with my sister, I imagine,” Marcus parried.
“I doubt that.” Things may not be going well for him and Caroline just now, but fighting with her was better than just being in the room with Lady Olivia. He glanced at Marcus and met the man’s steely, grey gaze. “Marcus, I’ve wanted to talk to you about something for a while.”
Marcus nodded. “I have a feeling I know what you’re going to ask.” His voice was serious, and all the excitement that had earlier lit his face vanished.
“The nitrous oxide party,” Alex said flatly. “I remember most of the details, but there’s one thing that’s been bothering me.”
“Which is?”
“Do you know what happened to her?”
Marcus blinked at him. “I suppose you’re talking about the little girl we were caught sneaking out?”
Alex nodded. His throat was too tight with emotion to speak.
Marcus’ eyes turned to look out the window. “I don’t know what happened to her that night,” he admitted softly. Slowly, he met Alex’s gaze again. “But I know what happened to her later.”
Alex just stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t trust his voice to speak the words, to ask the questions he feared he didn’t want to know the answers to. That little girl had haunted his dreams for nearly the past fourteen years. She’d been merely six or seven living alone with a man so addicted to nitrous oxide he’d have sold his own daughter into prostitution to feed his habit.
“She married,” Marcus said a minute later. “Happily, I believe. One of those, what’s the term I’m looking for—” he waved his hand in the air— “love match. That’s it. She had a love match.”
Alex nodded. “Good for her,” he said at last, hoping his friend wouldn’t comment on the roughness of his voice or the relief he was sure covered his face.
“Good for him, too.” Marcus turned back to his work. “I trust you can find your way out.”
Alex gathered the stack of papers from Marcus’ desk and left the room. The ride home was much slower, almost leisurely even. He had no reason to rush home. His wife wouldn’t be waiting with open arms to greet him. They’d both said and done hurtful things, but the cruelest of it all was he still wanted her. He might have tried to convince both her and himself to the contrary only hours ago, but with the cloud of anger gone, he could see the truth; and that truth was he still burned for her, but would likely never have her again. There was no reason for her to take him back. He’d let his emotions get the better of him this morning and he’d as good as lost her because of it. There’d be no more bright smiles to greet him or scientific banter in the conservatory. She’d not tease him about his clothes being in disarray when he came to their room at night. They wouldn’t even share a room at night. All in one fit of hurt and anger, he’d somehow managed to lose it all.
Sadness in his heart and papers in his hand, he mounted the front steps to his house. Grabbing hold of the doorknob, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the one voice in the world he never wanted to hear again floated to his ears.
Chapter 25
“What the blazes is going on in here?” Alex roared, bursting through the entryway of the front parlor where Caroline, Mother, and Rupert Griffin were engaged in a rather heated discussion.
Caroline wiped tears away with the back of her hand. “Nothing that concerns you.”
He pushed further into the room. “Like hell it doesn’t. This is my house and anything that goes on in here concerns me.” He crossed his arms and turned to Griffin. “What are you doing here bothering my wife and mother? If you wish to speak to me, that can be arranged. But leave them out of it.”
“I did make arrangements,” Griffin spat, scowling. “It seems your wife was a little late to deliver the message.”
Alex stared at the man’s haggard and coarse face. In the past fourteen years he’d only seen the older man one other time, the same day he’d first met Caroline at the Society meeting. Even between then and now, there was a drastic difference. Time and addiction had been cruel to him. But not nearly as cruel as the man himself had been.
“Seems she has the good sense to know I’d not have allowed filth like you past the front door,” Alex responded coldly.
Griffin snorted. “You always were a bit conceited, young Alex. Oh, excuse me, Lord Watson. How unfortunate that beating you received didn’t humble your gentlemanly pride any.”
“No, I suppose it wasn’t nearly as effective as locking a little girl into a dark closet,” he said bitterly, ignoring the sounds of distress coming from across the room.
“It’s none of your business how I chose to deal with her,” Griffin blustered.
“You no good, filthy bastard.” Alex grabbed Griffin by the lapels and slammed him into the wall with such strong force the breath was knocked out of him and he crumpled to the floor. Alex bent down, grabbed hold of the front of Griffin’s shirt, and yanked him back to standing position before moving his hand to hold Griffin about the throat.
“Unhand me,” Griffin rasped against Alex’s strong hold.
“Not on your life. What are you doing here?”
“I explained it in my note,” Griffin replied, grabbing Alex’s wrists.
Alex tightened his grip. “What the devil are you talking about? You never sent me a note. Believe me, if you had, I’d remember it.”
“I didn’t send it to you, I sent it to my daughter.” Griffin tried to pry Alex’s fingers off his throat.
“You sent it to your daughter?” Alex bellowed, applying more pressure with his fingertips. “What good does that do me?”
The disgusting smile that pulled on Griffin’s lips made Alex hope Marcus had been right, and that poor girl had grown up and married a man who truly loved her. She deserved it after growing up with this man for a father. “A whole lot of good, I should think. You seem to have formed quite an attachment to her.”
“Right, because I saw her once for less than an hour when I
was sixteen, and since I’m thirty now, that makes a lot of sense,” Alex said sarcastically. “Don’t worry, I know you struggle with any kind of math that’s not directly connected with measuring out the perfect amount of nitrous oxide for your nightly habit, so I’ll tell you that means it’s been nearly fourteen years since I’ve seen her last.”
“I believe for once my math is better than yours, young Alex. You saw her less than fourteen minutes ago. Less than two even.” Griffin cackled. “Caroline, dear, won’t you be a good girl now and tell your husband to get his hands off your papa?”
“Caroline?” Alex repeated hollowly, turning his head to look at his pale, unsteady wife. He blinked at her and suddenly everything fell into place. Caroline hated total darkness. She’d become nearly sick and positively withdrawn the day he’d mentioned Griffin’s name when Father had pressed him as to why he’d tossed Lady Olivia and Caroline out of the Society. Even that made sense now. Lord Sinclair hadn’t been trying to protect Lady Olivia from Griffin by having them thrown out of the Society; he’d been trying to protect Caroline.
Trying to protect her in a way two sixteen-year-old boys couldn’t.
For that moment, the world stood still for Alex and he was once again transported back in time to when he was sixteen and Marcus approached him for a favor. One so enormous he claimed he’d never ask for a favor again. Alex had agreed instantly. With a promise of never asking for anything again, Alex knew this was important.
An hour later, Marcus took him to a nitrous oxide party in London hosted by Rupert Griffin. They’d paid their admittance fees and mingled for a few hours. At midnight most of the guests were intoxicated too much to notice—or care—what was going on around them. “Let’s go,” Marcus said, pushing Alex through the doorway of the drawing room.
Alex nodded and followed Marcus through a maze of darkened staircases and hallways until they reached a dead end with a door. Very slowly, Marcus eased the door open to reveal a little girl in a tattered nightshirt balled up in the corner. She sat trembling with her knees drawn up to her chest, her forehead resting against her knees.