Harlowe heaved in a deep breath, squeezed his shaking hands into fists. “The fact that Jervis took Penny and Maeve—”
“Tells me the situation is precarious, and we need to act with a clear head.”
Thirty-Eight
M
aeve held Penny tightly to her side, doing her best not to succumb to the suffocation threatening to overwhelm her by taking slow, shallow breaths. The room they were in didn’t have a single window, and black was edging her vision. Penny’s life was worth nothing if she fainted.
Mr. Jervis paced the sparse room. There was no grate for a fire, and the air was chilled. A faded settee and a wood table with three chairs and a couple of aged trunks stacked in a corner were all that graced the tiny chamber. No artwork on the drab bricked walls. All in all, the situation did not bode well for her or Penny.
It was kill or be killed. They would have to pry Penny from her dead hands. Sadly, that possibility was shifting to real probability.
The door crashed back, and a large man entered, wearing a mask that covered the top half of his face. “What goes on here?” he growled. His lips were flattened but Maeve was vaguely aware of her recognition of him. His feral gaze scanned the room. It landed on her, and he froze, clearly shocked.
Another man strolled in behind him, also bemasked, and bumped into the first man. “Dammit, Shuff—” He peered around the man, and his eyes widened behind his thinly veiled disguise.
Maeve drew on her inner Lady Ingleby. “Good afternoon. Lord Shufflebottom and Lord Welton, I presume?”
Shufflebottom tore off his mask and stalked over to Mr. Jervis, grabbed him by his dirty cravat, pulling the man to the tips of his toes. “What is she doing here?”
“She took off after the gel. I-I couldn’t shake her off, m’lord. Wot are we t’ do with her?”
“We can’t very well shoot her,” Shufflebottom said. “Too loud.”
“Aw, Shuff, we can’t off Lady Harlowe,” Welton said.
Shufflebottom ignored Welton. “Where’s the ring, Lady Harlowe?”
“Ring, my lord?” Maeve’s nerve endings tingled; it was a wonder she didn’t collapse from the effort of remaining cool.
“The ruby. Lady Harlowe—apologies—your predecessor pretended she had no notion of its location.”
Dear heavens. She looked him in the eye as the horror of her situation took a turn for the worst. “You killed Corinne.”
Shufflebottom inclined his head. “I fear I lost my temper with her. She was a pathetic little creature.”
Welton winced. “Ah, Shuff. That wasn’t very sporting of you. Maudsley had promised her to me, ya know?”
“Shut up, Welton,” he said. “As you can see, we have more pressing issues.”
“But, Shuff—”
Shufflebottom’s arm shot out, knocking Welton back against the unforgiving bricks, and he collapsed in a heap.
“Ye can’t very well move ’em during the day. There ain’t a speck o’ fog,” Jervis said.
“Not easily,” Shufflebottom agreed.
Maeve hugged Penny closer, dearly hoping the girl didn’t grasp what they were saying.
Another figure had entered the room Maeve hadn’t noticed.
A woman dressed in all black. Her dainty hat with its black lace veil hid her face. But Maeve could tell from the cut and fit of her elaborate and expensive gown she was looking at the widow Chancé.
“We don’t wish to hurt you or the”—her pause indicated her eyes had settled on Penny from behind her veil—“child. We just want the ring.”
“It were stolen. I checked the safe meself when Hollerfield left town,” Jervis said. “Whore pro’bly sold it.”
The widow’s attention moved to Jervis.
Jervis stared at Maeve as if she were a bug under a scope. “I’ll toss her in the Thames. Won’t no one likely t’ see ’er fer weeks.”
Penny’s tiny fists tightened on Maeve’s behalf. “No!” Her cry was frantic.
Jervis started in Penny’s direction, and Maeve yanked her into her body.
The widow stripped off her hat, revealing eyes an odd shade of blue. “I abhor children,” she said. “If we drop one, we may as well drop both.”
“The child’s too valuable, my dear,” Shufflebottom said without an ounce of inflection.
“Ye can’t drown Lady Maeve. She be scared of water. She almost drowned when she were little. She lost-ed her sister.” Her little voice was a screech against the walls.
Jervis jerked Penny’s arm and shook her hard. Maeve heard her arm crack from the pressure.
Penny’s shrill, pained cry reverberated through the room. Maeve shoved him away, grabbed Penny to her chest. “You bastard.”
Shufflebottom was there in an instant. “Didn’t you just hear me say she was too valuable, you idiot?” He jerked the gun from Jervis’s hand and hit him on the head with it.
The widow was gripping the back of the closest wooden chair, her breaths coming in sharp rapid takes. “Is that true, Lady Harlowe? Did you… lose your… sister in the river?”
Confused at the widow’s sudden pallor, Maeve swallowed and answered slowly. “It’s true. Her name was Caroline.”
“Dear God. Maevie,” she said and slid to the floor in a dead faint.
“Caro!” Shufflebottom barked.
“Caro. Caroline?” Maeve whispered.
A shadow filled the door. Harlowe. “Give it up, Shufflebottom.”
Relief slammed into Maeve.
Shufflebottom still held Jervis’s gun. He raised his arm.
Maeve screamed. “Brandon! The gun.”
The deafening blast rang in Maeve’s ears along with Penny’s screams. Smoke clouded the air.
“Lady Harlowe?” Dorset’s voice penetrated the ringing.
The smoke cleared and Maeve saw his concern. “Sebastian? It’s Penny, I think that blackguard broke her arm.” She handed Penny’s whimpering form off to him. Brandon. Maeve glanced around and saw Brandon next to Welton, checking him for a pulse, and the widow lying on her back. Maeve rushed to her side. “Caroline. You’re not dead.”
All blood had drained from her face and seemed to be coming from her chest. “Not yet,” she choked out. “Oh, Maevie. I have so many regrets.”
“No, darling. We shall save you. Mother will be beside herself…”
She gripped Maeve’s hand. It was a death’s grip. “No. You-you mustn’t tell her. She would never survive the scandal.”
“What happened? Why did you never come home?”
“I was fished out of the river by Jervis’s father. From that moment on, my life was never my own again. You mustn’t fret. This is for the best. I never meant for you to learn what I’d become.”
“Please, Caroline. You can’t die. Not like this.” Maeve’s tears flowed freely now.
“This is for the best, Maevie. I’m the one they’re looking for. I’m the one who created the Athenaeum Order. It was all mine for a very hefty fee.” But her sister’s hand slackened, and her eyes closed. “I’m sorry, Maevie. It’s time. I love you.”
“No. No. No, Caroline, it’s not too late.”
But it was. She was dead.
Thirty-Nine
H
arlowe let himself in at Cavendish Square. He’d been gone for two days, recounting everything he could remember to the prime minister with Dorset at his side.
“Brandon?” Maeve stood at the top of the stairs.
He tossed his greatcoat on the entryway table, knocking the silver salvor askew and dashed all the way to the top. He swept his wife in his arms and kissed her long and deep. In an instant he was intoxicated by the priceless elixir known as Maeve Radcliff, Lady Harlowe. His wife.
“Tell me everything,” she said in a breathless rush.
“First things first,” he rasped out, taking her mouth once more.
He knew at once he’d never get enough of her. He swept her
off her feet and took her to his chamber. Less likelihood of being interrupted. Just to be safe, he turned the lock and carried her to the bed. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?”
“Because I might run into some servant I don’t know,” she returned. “I’ve missed you.”
“Stop talking.” He had no patience for her dress. “How attached are you to this frock?”
“It’s one of my favorites.”
“Do we still have a stack of banknotes in the safe?”
“Of course.”
“Then you can buy another.” He ripped it open from the bodice down. He fought with the corset, and in the end, it turned out to be as useless as her dress. The chemise floated across the room like a cloud. He took one nipple in his mouth and groaned. He worked his way down her belly to the apex of her thighs and breathed in a drug more powerful than laudanum. This was the addiction he craved. One he’d never be cured of. Grasping her legs to hold her in place, he licked, and suckled, and drove his tongue deep until she exploded in a keeling scream that was sure to send the household running. He tore the placket of his trousers open and slid into her fiery wet heat.
“I love you, Maeve. I’m sorry I trapped you into marrying me. But I didn’t dare give Dorset the slightest edge. The man is tenacious, and you belong to me.”
“You forget the most important argument, my love. I had the deciding vote. I was never going to choose Dorset over you. I realized long ago that you belonged to me as well.” She rolled on top of him; feathered kisses over his neck and chest. “Now, tell me everything.”
“It was Griston who hit me over the head. He likely thought he’d killed me, but Holks found me in a ditch beside the road and brought me to his home in Goldhanger.” He ran his fingers through her brilliant red locks, sending pins flying. “But he is in bedlam and the man is so far gone, he might as well be dead.”
“What of Shufflebottom?”
“He’s a marquis. He’s laid all blame at Chancé’s feet. I’m sorry, darling. Jervis admitted to his father finding her, as he’d intimated. His father kept her for himself.”
“But she was only a child,” she whispered.
“Yes. She was a prisoner in their home until the old man cocked up his toes. She was smart though. With Jervis’s help, she was able to insinuate herself deeply within the network. Jervis will be transported, of course.”
“It appears the widow learned of the Athenaeum Order and manipulated Shufflebottom into something astronomically profitable and irresistible. The man will likely skate. It’s detestable.”
“What of Welton?”
“He’ll have a headache. I can certainly empathize with him.”
She was quiet for a time, then said, “Caroline was only nine and twenty.”
“Your sister was quite resourceful. It’s a shame she hadn’t been able to use her brains for something more—” he groaned. “I’m sorry, my dear.”
“No. You are quite correct. As children, our mother indulged her horribly. In some ways, those skills served her well in how Caroline had been able to survive what her life had become. But in others—well, there is nothing more to be said. She is gone now.”
“Will you tell your mother?”
“What good would it do? No. I shall do as Caroline asked and her identity shall be buried with her.” Maeve sat up slowly. “With all the excitement behind us, I thought perhaps my worries would subside. But still, every day I feel ill thinking of how Mr. Jervis broke Penny’s arm. And how he was after the other children—what will happen to the other children?”
“Lord Lexum and his wife Felicity, Oxford’s daughter, were contacted. She has taken up the cause for Founding and Orphan’s Charity Home.”
“Excellent.”
“I have some news for you, my darling.”
She turned a beatific smile on him. One full of love and trust that twisted his heart in his chest. “Yes?”
“Er, did you know my sister was with child?”
“No! That’s wonderful news!”
“Yes. And I suspect that you likely are as well.”
“Of course, I’m not—” She stopped, looked at him, then down to her stomach and back up. A slow grin curved her luscious lips. “Oh. Oh, my.”
“I think it’s time we moved the household to the country for a time,” he said.
Epilogue
May, Spixworth Hall
H
arlowe slapped some cyan on the canvas and blended it with white and the slightest touch of gray, giving the Atlantic waves a foamy quality. He then slashed the canvas with a brilliant splash of orange to lighten the darkened skies he’d already painted, his thoughts careening in all directions.
Maeve had done a splendid job on the crumbling, tumbling house that was his entailment. Since coming to Spixworth, she had been consumed with righting the household and caring for the children they’d taken in. It was only fair, he’d told her, today, that he would look after them so she could have a minute to herself.
Only to have Lady Ingleby show up on their doorstep. The woman was not what one would consider soothing to the nerves. To the older woman’s credit, she did not seem to take exception to the children in his and Maeve’s care. It had been a stunning revelation. The more Harlowe observed, the more he realized all the woman desired was grandchildren. She loved her daughter and truly wanted her taken care of.
“Good heavens, what is wrong with you?” Maeve’s furious voice cut through his irritation, jarring him to his surroundings. The muted sun, the soft breeze off the North Sea that whipped his unfashionably long hair into his eyes, the uneasy silence hovering amid the usual children’s screams and laughter.
A faint sound hit his ears. “Papa.”
The flash of cobalt dashed by, heading straight for Spixworth’s one large pond.
He heard it again. “Papa.”
The skirts—rather, the wearer of the skirts, the very pregnant wearer of the skirts—disappeared from sight.
“What the hell?” Harlowe dropped his pallet and brush and took off after her. The stretch along the open field was uneven at best. The last thing he wanted was his wife falling and injuring herself.
In the five months since they’d arrived, Harlowe had built a low wall around the pond at Maeve’s insistence since she absolutely refused to allow him to teach the children how to swim. Her fear of deep waters was too ingrained.
Harlowe didn’t believe the children would go down to the water alone. All but one of them knew of her fear and adored her too much to disregard her wishes. Only one child would dare go against her explicit instructions.
The one opening to the pond was closed by a small gate he’d constructed and was too far away to reach in a timely manner. Harlowe jumped over and found Penny standing off some ways to one side. She held a metal pail.
Trepidation crawled over his skin like painful welts.
The pier he’d built stretched halfway out to the center of the large pond. Two small boats and a raft were tied to the moorings. They were there by design. For safety, should the need arise. And currently, were empty.
He reached the water’s edge in time to see eighteen-month-old Nathan crawling along the shore.
“You are in big trouble,” he shot to Penny. “Where’s your mother?” The question was rhetorical—he already knew the answer.
Harlowe pointed to Nathaniel and shouted in her direction. “Watch him.” He dashed out on the pier, searching the dark depths. Her blasted skirts would sink her to the bottom. There, kelp or hair? With no time to discern the difference, he jumped.
A minute later he dragged his wife to the surface and to the shore, his heart pounding furiously.
The cold seeped far beneath Maeve’s skin. It reached her bones, reminding her how much she hated ponds, lakes, oceans. They were nothing like the hot springs one could find in Bath or Bristol. Or the warm tub she could order at will, and did so on a daily basis. The May water had bee
n freezing.
Brandon hadn’t said one word to her or Penny the whole distance back to the house. “Get a blanket,” he barked to Agnes. “And assemble the household. Everyone. Servants included.”
He carried her in through the library’s terrace doors. Her mother was sitting near the fire with a book in her hand. “What on earth is going on—Maeve, you looked like a drowned rat. What on earth possessed you to jump in the lake this time of year?” She dropped her book and came to her feet.
Maeve would have told her swimming hadn’t been in her plans for the day but her teeth were chattering too violently. It wasn’t as if she had intended to jump in. By the time she’d seen Nathan, it had been too late, being midair as it were.
“It’s much too cold. Harlowe, how dare you allow this. And in her condition.”
Her unborn child. A blanket fell around her shoulders. Her fingers were too stiff to grip it sufficiently, and tears pooled in her eyes.
“Take Nathaniel,” Brandon said to her mother. His words were as glacial as her wet, shivering skin.
He stalked over and poured out a tumbler of brandy and came over to her. “Drink this.”
“But—”
“Do it.”
She didn’t dare argue and sipped. It burned going down. She handed the still half full glass back to him. “Enough.”
Her husband set the glass on the table and secured the blanket tightly around her. “What have I told you about jumping in the water?” he railed at her.
“I thought Nathan had fallen in. I only saw him when I was in the air.”
“I cannot worry every second you are out of my sight. You little fool.” He gave her a gentle shake. “You will drive me to Bedlam.”
“Quit yelling at me. Is that any way to talk to the love of your life? Who almost drowned, incidentally?” Maeve glanced around as the servants shuffled in. McCaskle, his wife, his son, two daughters, Cook, and another young man she didn’t recognize.
Maeve pointed to him. “Who are you?”
“Davie, m’lady.”
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