Lords of Honor

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Lords of Honor Page 15

by K. R. Richards


  They waited on the chaise for the tub to be filled in the dressing room. Micah dismissed Martha, telling her she should come back in an hour to tend to her mistresses gown and hair.

  Micah divested himself and his lovely wife of their already scant clothing and got them both into the very large tub, facing one another. They washed one another, played and loved some more.

  Chapter Nine

  Libby stood in only her stockings and chemise when a knock sounded at Micah’s door.

  “Micah, I need to talk to you.” It was Harry.

  Micah, in his trousers and shirt, opened the door a crack.

  “I am sorry to bother you, but wondered if you could come down soon? We’ve some new developments this afternoon.”

  “We are dressing. Have Rowena send up Libby’s maid for her. I’m nearly finished. I’ll be down in a moment.”

  “I wonder what is happening.” Libby commented as she sat on the edge of her bed drying her hair with a towel as Micah came back into her room.

  “Harry did not say.” Micah knew Harry wouldn’t have bothered them for something trivial. He fastened his green silk waistcoat, and shrugged into his coat. He went into his bedchamber and came back with his cravat simply tied and carrying a shiny pair of boots. He sat next to his wife on the bed and put them on.

  He stood up and began looking around.

  “What are you searching for?” Libby asked him.

  “My spectacles. I took them off when I came into this room yesterday and haven’t seen them since.”

  Libby looked around. “Ah, there they are, Micah, on the table where the pitcher and bowl are.”

  He retrieved them, put them on, took his wife’s hands and pulled her up from the bed. He kissed her then smiled down at her. “I’ll make certain your maid comes up. See you in what, a half hour? Find me when you come down, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, as soon as my hair is dry.” Libby assured him. She watched her very handsome husband leave the room. She smiled, humming to herself while she combed her hair and waited for her maid.

  Micah could hear the rumble of male voices coming from the library. He entered to find all their party, including Rowena seated at the long table. He took an empty chair at one of the tables between Harry and Owen. “What are the new developments?”

  “Horethorne Hall is currently surrounded by Brown Coats. We’ve counted about fifteen that we can see. There are probably more. I have your servants on watch while we meet. We received a letter from Trevan in Cornwall, about an hour ago. Menadue was attacked yesterday, but there were about thirty of his relatives in residence, so the Brown Coats retreated within fifteen minutes. Cleve and Lachlan are on their way to Templecombe. They are bringing Lyon, and Miss Sophia Hart, who is now Lady Amesbury, with them for their situation is precarious as well. Trevan dispatched his brother Tristan, his cousin Julyan and ten men to Eveleigh Park in Devon to guard my family and Lyon’s family there. As far as I know, Eveleigh Park is safe thus far.”

  “What of Abbey Grange and Stonedown?” Micah asked with concern.

  “According to Woollard’s letter I received at noon, there has been no sign of anyone out of the ordinary on either of the premises.”

  Micah nodded. “This cannot be Davitt or Mr. Crow alone orchestrating all of this. Three weeks ago Davitt was in Newcastle and barely able to sit up according to the witnesses Jack and I interviewed. I suspect this is the work of an organization. One who wants our finds for themselves, or feels they are protecting the holy secrets. Or, they do not want them exposed to the known world, including us. Whether this Mr. Crow or someone else is the leader, they are part of a larger group. We have to find out who they are and what their purpose is in wanting to take the scrolls from us. Who are these Brown Coats? And why do they want what we have?”

  “We’ve been talking about that. What groups do you suspect it could be?” Harry asked.

  “I have no idea. I can think of groups which are similar to ours, but not any who would be against the knowledge we’ve found revealed or studied. The Truth, shall we say. If such a group existed, one who doesn’t want the information we’ve found revealed, my guess is it might be a religious group or order who does not want it to be known that Jesus married, fathered children or that he studied in the Druidic colleges, for we do have a scroll written by Jesus the younger, and another that proves Jesus studied in the Druidic colleges. That knowledge would change the views of Jesus in many existing religions. The Holy See in Rome? Doubtful for they have no jurisdiction in this country; however, the knowledge is pertinent and could change people’s views regarding their doctrine and beliefs.”

  He continued, “A secret agency of the British government? I don’t think so. Nothing we found would harm England. The knowledge would only make England’s history more holy and relevant; raise her up as a New Jerusalem even.”

  Micah drummed his fingers on the table while he thought for a moment. “Since the Unlawful Societies Act of 1799, any potentially dangerous or sinister group cannot legally exist in Britain. If there is a group of such a nature in existence in England they would be completely underground. If you remember, gentlemen, the only reason the Avalon Society is legal is because we are listed as an historical society. Only the most trusted senior members of our society are aware of our auxiliary activities and additional pursuits. Those members are here today, at Menadue in Cornwall and en route to one or the other of our locations right now. They were in Glastonbury. The other hundred or so members believe we are purely an historical society.”

  “A rival group then? Surely not the Royal Society of Antiquaries.” Harry shook his head.

  “If it is a rival group, I would assume they want our find for the money or prestige it would bring to them. That is not the Royal Society’s style; they need neither the money nor the prestige. Nor would a rival group wish to hide away what has been found.”

  “It would help if we knew who we were dealing with,” Charlie mumbled in frustration.

  “The only thing we do know is that they wear brown coats and hats, steal women, enable addicts and shoot at us all.” Newt rose and stopped before the window. His green eyes flashed with anger. He ran a hand through his rich brown hair that was lightened with streaks of gold. “They’re out there right now, they’ve got a plan, and we don’t know what it is. If any of us leave, we’ll no doubt be killed, at the very least shot at.”

  They talked about possibilities of who the Brown Coats were and what they could be planning for the next twenty five minutes.

  Micah frowned. He removed his watch and noted the time. “I must go check on Libby. She should have come downstairs by now.”

  Owen rose. “I’ll go get her.”

  Rowena rose as well, “I’ll join you, Owen. Perhaps she needs assistance.”

  Micah nodded and returned his attention to the conversation. “What sort of attack did Menadue suffer?”

  “About twenty five Brown Coats stormed the place. Kicked doors down, broke some windows and jumped through a couple,” Harry offered grimly. He asked, “Have you been able to interpret more of the scrolls?”

  “I spent time on them the week in between my return from Glastonbury and leaving with Jack to hunt for Davitt. I was away for three weeks. Since that time I have been otherwise occupied.”

  Harry grinned. “Did you enjoy your brief matrimonial sojourn, Micah?”

  “Very much, thank you,” Micah said with crisp politeness.

  “Since Owen is gone, I shall put a question to you; for I believe you might have forgotten a very important fact. Are you aware that your rooms are directly above the library?” Harry struggled to keep from laughing.

  “Oh.” Micah frowned. He shook his head. “I was aware but I did not realize...so you are saying you could hear, um, things while in the library?”

  By the snickers erupting around the table, Micah didn’t need an answer. “My apologies,” Micah said quickly.

  “None needed. Owen suggested we remove
to the Great Hall. We just returned to the library this afternoon when we knew you would be dressing to come down. So we will not ask if you enjoyed yourself, for we all know the answer to that particular question,” Harry grinned broadly at Micah.

  “How much could you hear?” Micah demanded, aghast.

  “Don’t worry Micah, we could not hear too much of your voices, with the exception of one or two loud, um, exclamations shall we say. Mostly the, ah, thumping of furniture against the floor, bed creaking, and that sort of thing,” Charlie provided in an amused tone. “From what I heard Trevan tell while in

  Glastonbury, we did not hear nearly as much as you did of Harry and his wife at Stonedown!”

  “I guess we’re even,” Micah raised a brow toward Harry.

  Harry nodded. “Yes. And now you know, when there are people downstairs in the library, you might want to keep your trysts with your wife less, shall we say, athletic.”

  Micah nodded. “Not a word to Libby. She would be mortified.”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Owen! Rowena.” Libby smiled happily as she opened her door. “I was just on my way downstairs. My hair did not want to dry. It’s so heavy when it’s wet, poor Martha had a time with it.”

  “You look lovely, pet!” Owen didn’t mean to peer into her chamber but he did. He saw the rumpled bed through the open door leading from the sitting room to the bedchamber beyond. There were pieces of clothing strewn about here and there in the sitting room behind her. He found it hard to believe his baby sister wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a woman, now his friend’s wife. It would take some getting used to. Owen forced his attention back to his sister.

  “Thank you, Owen. Micah said there are some new developments.” Libby took her brother’s arm. Rowena walked along beside her.

  Owen’s tone turned serious, “Yes, Libby we seem to be surrounded by Brown Coats, and the Chynoweths at Menadue are as well. They were attacked yesterday. Thankfully, enough of Trevan’s relatives were gathered by that time to fight them off.”

  “And, Lyon, and Lord Templeton and Lord Gryfe, along with Miss Sophia Hart, who is now Lady Amesbury, are en route to Horethorne Hall for they were being plagued by Brown Coats at Alloway House in London as well,” Rowena added in a solemn tone.

  “We are outnumbered?” Libby asked.

  “Counting the servants here, probably not. But without their number, then yes we are outnumbered.”

  “Oh.” Libby frowned.

  “You and Lady Rowena shall remain safe. I want neither of you worrying.” Owen nodded to each of them. Both the ladies’ expressions were grim.

  “You must realize, Owen, Rowena and I worry for all of you as well,” Libby offered.

  “We shall get through this,” Owen stated confidently.

  Rowena and Libby exchanged concerned glances.

  Lyon Ravenscroft, Earl of Amesbury, studied his wife of one day who sat next to him in the carriage. She slept. Sophia was a beauty, of that there was no question. And tiny. In truth, when he gazed upon her he was reminded of a pixie, or fairy. Small, slender and petite, Sophia was endowed with the curves of a woman. Lyon could fit both hands about her waist and his fingers almost touch. He did do just that and often, weeks ago. Her hair resembled the color of copper, fiery and warm. Her eyes were cat-like, an intriguing combination of green and gold. Mostly they were vivid green with anger, perhaps even hatred, when she looked at him. They were strangers to one another. If he were to guess, he would say she detested him. Why would she not? He was a monster, after all.

  He remembered being in the opium den for days on end in his drug induced haze. When the laudanum and alcohol hadn’t abated the pain in his injured leg, he turned to opium. He was swindled by a man known as Crow, a man who used him, took advantage of his addiction, fed it and extracted information from Lyon that now endangered his colleagues in the Avalon Society, and their families. And his wife.

  He remembered hearing of Lady Elizabeth, Owen Darrington, the Earl of Fitzlewis’ younger sister, being kidnapped. Micah Wychcombe, Viscount Wincanton, recognized her and intervened, but because of the consequences, had to offer for and marry Lady Elizabeth.

  And Sophia Hart, now his own wife, Lady Amesbury, was forced to accept his hand due to his weakness and his own degraded and perverse actions. Both incidents were his fault. He made a mess not only of his life, but so many others.

  Crow told him he arranged a surprise for him that night, a superior woman waiting upstairs for him at Madame Rosier’s establishment. When Lyon entered the room the fae-like beauty lay upon a bed of red satin, wearing only a black transparent nightgown.

  Filled with shame, Lyon remembered what transpired.

  “She is highly skilled, Amesbury. Notice her legs are already spread for you. Take her. She is yours for the entire evening. I will come for you in the morning. Use her as you will.”

  Lyon did not realize at the time that the reason he was hard before he entered the room was because he also, on top of the opium, was given a drug that enhanced one’s sexual desire.

  After weeks of being flaccid and unable to perform sexually due to his drugged and drunken state, he merely considered himself fortunate that he would sate his desires that night. Unknown to him, the slight woman on the bed lay fevered from a harsh drug that filled her with sexual desire, something she never before experienced. She was also given a dose of laudanum to render her weak, scarcely able to speak. It left her unable to escape the rutting goat Mr. Crow brought to the room.

  Lyon realized immediately when he thrust into her and felt the barrier tear away, she was an innocent. He knew immediately her tears were because of that. As they were both were under the influence of drugs to increase sexual desire, their need became overpowering.

  But, as the effects of his drug began to weaken for him after many sex-filled hours, Lyon managed to gain a small amount of trust from the young lady, enough to get her name and address. As he broke through his haze, he cradled her in his arms and whispered soothing words to her. He tried to comfort her as they fornicated throughout the night. There was no other word for it. It was an act not done for pleasure, not done for attraction or love. It was fornication, to appease the need the drug demanded of them. For her need was as great as his. Her hips moved with it, gyrated beneath him. Her fevered body writhed under him. Even when he was not inside her, she burned with the fever, gyrating and bucking against him.

  She wept in his arms, even told him of the men’s plans she overheard in her laudanum induced stupor. They beat her, would kill her, and accuse Lyon of doing it. In the hours before dawn, Lyon managed to get her into his shirt for the only clothing remaining in the room was the gown of the whore her captors dressed her in. Clinging to one another, helping each other walk, they slipped out a back entrance. He hailed a hackney and got her to his house.

  Once Sophia was ensconced in the safety of his London house, he sent word to her grandmother telling her Sophia was safe but unable to travel. As she was still under the effects of the sex drug, he dismissed the servants for the next twenty four hours and tended to Miss Hart himself. He bathed her, fed her and held her close. He even made gentle love to her when the fever of the sex drug overcame her again and again.

  When the next day dawned, and with it the effects of the philtre amoureaux much decreased; Miss Sophia Hart began to put up her wall. Lyon could see she loathed him. She cringed when he touched her. The copper-haired beauty refused to look at him directly most of the time. She begged him to let her leave.

  Sophia broke the mirror in the room Lyon put her in. She could not even look upon her reflection. Lyon feared letting her go back to her home at that point. He stayed with her for two entire days and nights, though she did not want his company. He feared she might harm herself, so he could not leave her alone. The only time he opened the door was to take trays of food from the housekeeper.

  Finally, two days later, after hearing what a horrible man he was and how much she loathe
d him; Lyon being strung out and feeling the need for opium, laudanum, alcohol, any or all of it; allowed her to return to her home. He continued to fear for her safety after she left. He knew she was still in danger. Yet she hated him, and would not listen to him or to reason.

  Lyon’s worry for Sophia increased. He realized, almost immediately, he should never have let her leave. She was in danger from her self-hatred and from the men who kidnapped her initially. He would wake at night wondering if Sophia was safe; if she lived. He knew he couldn’t go to her, he doubted she would see him. He started out to see her one night, but after stopping in Madame Rosier’s for a bit of liquid courage, he never made it. Newt came across him there hours later and deposited him in his bed at his London home.

  He returned to Limehouse the next morning, his self-hatred so great, almost unbearable. He wished to see Sophia and make certain she was well. She hated him. Knowing what he did to her, what he took from her, he knew she would refuse to see him. He could not blame her. He not only ruined Sophia’s reputation, but her life, as well. She didn’t answer the letters he sent her inquiring about her well-being. Once again, Newt pulled Lyon out of Mr. Crow’s den and this time locked him up inside Alloway House.

  Lyon realized he could no longer bear worrying about Sophia. He wanted to make certain she was safe and well. Finding himself locked up in Newt’s home, he told Newt of his abominable actions toward Miss Hart. It was Newt who let a house where Sophia and her Grandmother would be safe and Newt who settled them in. It was he who also left the money Lyon provided for them. Newt explained to Sophia and her Grandmother how very dangerous the men were who kidnapped her.

  Lyon told Sophia before he let her leave his London house he would marry her, he could do no less. Especially when she visited London for the express purpose of finding a husband to keep a roof over the two ladies heads. He told her he was ill, that he was recently wounded and took to drink, laudanum and opium to ease his pain. He admitted to her he must, and would, overcome his addiction. In several weeks, he would come to her and they would marry.

 

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