Deliciously wicked

by Robyn DeHart

  “Yes, we did. But it was something we really needed to do,” Meg said defiantly.

  “In any case, we found no evidence of him stealing the boxes. But we did find an anonymous note and we found ledger sheets. Sheets removed from your ledger book. Munden was pilfering funds and then removing the evidence. Apparently Sanders must have discovered this and used it as leverage. I’m still not certain why he wanted to put the crimes off on me though.”

  Piddington nodded. “I knew about those funds. I didn’t know who was taking them. I assumed it was Sanders himself. I thought he might have gotten himself into some trouble since he has a fondness for expensive clothes and didn’t want to ask for extra money. I gave him a raise, but the money still disappeared.”

  “You knew and you didn’t say anything?” Meg asked.

  He released a large breath. “Yes, clearly an error on my part. But I never imagined Henry would go to such lengths.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It is rather fortunate that I had a new will drawn up this morning with my solicitor. Henry would likely have destroyed my confectionery once it became a public company, but this morning I changed that and gave it to the two of you.”

  They were all seated in her father’s study when Colin arrived.

  “I do apologize for my tardiness. I waited at Mr. Sanders’s residence for several hours to no avail. I’m afraid he’s left town,” Colin said.

  “Thank you, Colin, for everything,” Meg said.

  “Should we expect to hear from him?” Piddington asked.

  “It’s hard to say for certain. If he’s afraid, then he’s probably left town or is hiding until this situation disappears. If he’s angry, though, then you might very well hear from him. For the next few days, I would advise that you stay home and call the authorities should you suspect anything. That includes you, Meg,” he added.

  She nodded.

  “I have posted a man outside the house, for protection. More than likely he’s left town. Cowards generally do that sort of thing. I apologize I couldn’t be more helpful. Meg knows how to get in touch with me if you need anything else.” Colin stood to leave. “I’ll check back at Mr. Sanders’s residence in the morning and let you know if I discover anything new.

  “I can’t believe the factory is to be ours,” Meg said as she snuggled into the sheets.

  Gareth fell into the bed beside her. “It is a strange turn of events,” he said. He still couldn’t believe that the entirety of Piddington Confectionery would be his. It didn’t seem right. It seemed right that it belong to Meg, she wanted it, but him, he had barely worked there for four months.

  “Now you must stop working on the factory floor. That would simply be unheard of,” she said.

  He bent his arms and laid his head in his hands. “I’m not going to do that. It’s your money. Your father’s money.”

  “You are my husband. This would have happened had I been born a boy. No one would have questioned that. This is no different. I am an heiress and that makes you an equal heir. Would you not share your wealth with me?”

  “I don’t have any wealth, Meg.”

  “But you would share with me what you have,” she said.

  “Yes, I would.”

  She sat up and faced him. “You’re not your father, you know.”

  He looked at her, but said nothing. How did she know he was worried about that? He’d never said anything to indicate he wondered how long until he had the same drives that his father had. He already knew that once the money came to them, he’d have to have a solicitor set up accounts and give them allowances. He didn’t want to be in charge of it. Didn’t want to risk having all that money at his fingertips.

  “I know you worry about that,” she continued. “Worry that if you don’t labor your days away that you’ll end up as he did. But it won’t happen.”

  He licked his lips. “You don’t know that.”

  “Of course I do. I know enough about you to know that you don’t have it in you—”

  “To do what? Be selfish? Wasteful? We all have that in us, Meg. We only need the right circumstances to bring it out. I’m not willing to take that risk. I might take one of those management positions at the factory, but until that time, I’m going to continue working.”

  “But you’re a viscount,” she said.

  “And you’re a woman, but you want to work. The title means nothing to me. Being born with a certain name or amount of money doesn’t mean that I’m above laboring like the rest of the citizens in this city.”

  He rolled over on his side. “Look at men like Henry and my father. They probably didn’t start out wanting what they hadn’t earned, but at some point they began to believe that they deserved more than was justified, and it led them to make destructive decisions. I don’t ever want to assume I deserve something when I don’t.”

  Most of all, he didn’t ever want to assume that he deserved her. He was a selfish bastard, he knew that, but he wanted so much for her to love him. He wanted to know what it was like to be loved by Meg.

  But he’d never ask her to make such a sacrifice as to give him her heart. After all, what had he ever done to deserve it? He’d deceived her. Put her in the unenviable position of the wife of an impoverished viscount. He’d brought her nothing but trouble. As much as it would destroy him, he wouldn’t blame her if she walked out. For the first time in his life he understood why his mother had left. Love simply wasn’t enough, and he and Meg didn’t even have that.

  Chapter 23

  The following morning they received word that Colin had still been unable to locate Henry. It was Sunday and Henry should have been home since work was not required that day.

  “Where could he have gone?” Meg asked.

  “Perhaps he is staying out of sight until he feels it is safe to make a new life for himself,” her father said. “I still have a hard time believing he could kill someone. He was so mild mannered.”

  Gareth took a bite of his egg, and added nothing to the conversation.

  “It is driving me mad. He deserves to be punished, but more than anything I wish to know why he locked us in that storeroom. I still can’t put those pieces together,” Meg said.

  A footman entered the room and handed her father an envelope. “This just came for your, sir.”

  “Thank you.” He cracked open the wax seal and read the note aloud. “‘If I am not to have it, then no one will.’”

  “What does that mean?” Meg asked.

  But Gareth was already on his feet and heading out the door.

  Meg stood. “What is it?”

  “The factory,” her father said numbly.

  “He’s going to do something to it,” Gareth said, then left the room.

  Meg followed. “Why would he send a note?”

  “To get attention,” he yelled. Then he sprinted down the front steps of Piddington Hall and down the driveway toward the factory.

  Meg picked up her skirts and chased after him. It didn’t take long before she felt a pinch in her left side, but she ignored it and kept running. Every step, she felt twigs and pebbles press against the tender soles of her feet. It didn’t seem as if she’d ever make it there. Down the hill and then to the main factory door. Gareth already stood inside.

  “What do you suppose he’s going to do?” Meg asked. Her breath was labored and her heart was beating so quickly, she had to put her hand to her chest to hold it in.

  “I don’t know.”

  There was no sign of Henry anywhere on the factory floor. Meg ran to the storeroom—no sign of him there either. Then they ran into the downstairs office, the room where she and Gareth had spent so much time working on the chocolate boxes.

  They found Henry there pouring lamp oil all over the table and the floor. The slippery liquid lent an eerie sheen to the wood planks.

  Meg became sharply aware that they had nothing with them to restrain him, no weapon of any sort to negotiate with him.

  Gareth held his arm up behind him. “Meg
,” he said evenly. “Get out of here. Go call for the fire brigade.”

  “You’re too late!” Henry yelled. “This oil”—he held up the bottle—“it’s all over everything. Upstairs, all over your father’s office. All over the storeroom, the machines, the floor, the supplies. Everything. One little flame and all of this”—he motioned around him—“will be gone.”

  Meg knew what they needed to do was stall him. Distract him until they could think of something else. Perhaps her papa would have enough foresight to call for the authorities.

  “You won,” she said.

  “Meg, leave now,” Gareth said.

  She took a step to stand in front of Gareth. Her husband instinctively put his arm around her waist and pulled her against him.

  He leaned down by her ear. “Please, Meg,” he said. “I don’t think I can save you from this.”

  She closed her eyes briefly, but said nothing to Gareth. “You won, Henry,” she said. Her voice was shakier than she would have liked. She gave a false laugh. “You are far more clever than all of us. We didn’t even realize you were the one until yesterday when we found Munden’s body.”

  Henry laughed. “I am clever. More than you could even pretend to be. You were lucky.” He pointed a match at them. “Both of you. I’ll admit, you frustrated my efforts on more than one occasion. But I figured out a way to win nonetheless.”

  “One thing I’m still unclear about though,” Meg said. She squeezed Gareth’s hand.

  “What is that?”

  “Why? Why did you do all of this. Why compromise us and then try to set Gareth up as a thief?”

  Henry snarled. “That was not supposed to happen. It was supposed to be us.” He pointed at her. “You and I. We were supposed to be the ones locked in the storeroom. I knew your father had sent you to the factory to retrieve his ledger book. I paid someone to lock us in there so that we would have to marry. That way I knew I would get the factory.” He looked around him. “And all of this would be mine. Rightfully so since I built this place.”

  Meg bit her tongue. He’d done nothing more than organize paperwork as far as she was concerned. This factory was a product of her father’s hard work. His ingenuity.

  “But you weren’t here,” she said. “That night in the storeroom, you were never here.”

  “No. The bloody carriage broke a wheel on my way here and I was stalled. But that fool that I hired saw you go in the room and slammed the door. So that foiled my plans. That’s when I came up with the idea of stealing the chocolate boxes. If I could make Gareth out to be a criminal, then when you were compromised with him, you would be forced to see another way out to save your reputation. I knew the lowly Irishman wouldn’t do the honorable thing. So I would be able to sweep in and gallantly offer to do so.”

  “But that didn’t work out either, did it?” Gareth asked. “By the time you were able to do that, she turned you down.”

  Henry glared at him.

  “Do you want to know something ironic, Sanders?” Gareth asked. “Up until yesterday, upon Piddington’s death, this factory would have been yours to administer.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Sanders asked.

  “Piddington’s will,” Gareth said. “The business was to become a company with you in charge. The factory would have been yours.”

  Henry looked from Gareth’s face to Meg’s face, searching for confirmation. Then without warning, he dropped the candle, and flames engulfed his body. He screamed and ran toward them.

  “Move!” Gareth yelled at Meg.

  They ran out of the office and Gareth pulled the door closed in an attempt to block the flames from the rest of the area.

  She ran toward the main door, then stopped and headed for the stairs to her father’s office.

  “What are you doing?” Gareth asked.

  “My mother’s photograph. It’s the only one we have of her.”

  “I’ll get it. You go. Outside. Gather as much water as you can. Find a way to call for the fire brigade. With any luck we’ll be able to save the rest of the factory, but I think we’ll lose this building.” Before he let her go, he pulled her tightly to him and kissed her. “Go. I’ll meet you outside.”

  Wood cracked and fire began to climb up the walls surrounding the downstairs office.

  Gareth headed for the stairs. Tears sprang to her eyes as she ran toward the front door. She had sent her husband up a flight of stairs while the room below him was engulfed in flames. He’d climbed the stairs as quickly as he could, while holding his shirt up to cover his nose and mouth.

  Once outside the full impact of her foolishness hit her. The picture didn’t matter. She loved her mother, but nothing was worth as much as Gareth’s life. He could be killed. Her heart beat rapidly. She didn’t know what she’d do without him. She wasn’t ready to lose him. She wasn’t finished yet. Wasn’t finished learning things about him. Wasn’t finished loving him.

  And now she’d sent him off to his death. The sun beat down brightly and all around her seemed like any other day. She turned back to face the building, so certain she’d never see him again.

  “Meggie, what has happened?” her father’s voice asked from behind her.

  She turned and fled into his arms. “A fire. Gareth is still in there. I sent him for Mama’s picture, Papa. I sent him in there.” She buried her face in her hands.

  “Gareth is a strong man, do not fret. He’ll be safe. Stay out here. I’ve already sent for the police and the fire brigade.” He headed for the factory door.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “To retrieve your husband. All will be well, Meggie. Be strong, my child.”

  She stood on the grass for what seemed hours. No tears, no words, merely utter certainty that both men in her life would never return. Both men that she loved. The realization hit her so quickly, she nearly cried out. Her hand flew to her mouth.

  Smoke was billowing out of the windows of the factory in angry puffs. And embers were flying out of the right side of the building. She wiped her hands on her dress for what must have been the hundredth time. Wondering what she should do, what she could have done differently. One silly decision and she’d lost everything she held dear.

  She almost didn’t notice the factory door opening and her father coming out with Gareth’s limp body slung over his shoulder. Not an easy feat no matter the size of her father.

  “Is he…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

  Her father laid her husband on the ground and she sat down and pulled Gareth to her so that his head nestled in her lap.

  Her tears slid down her cheeks and landed on his forehead. She felt his neck and wrists and found a pulse, but it was faint. He was breathing, barely, but he would not wake up. She shook him, screaming his name, but no response.

  Then she pounded on his chest, pleading with him to wake up, but no response. She leaned over him and cradled his face.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  Her father stepped up to her and handed her a shirt drenched in water. “Pour some in his mouth and wipe his face with this,” he said. He coughed violently. “I’ll be all right,” he assured her.

  She squeezed the shirt over his mouth and a few drops slid in, but mostly they poured down his chin. She did that a few more times before wiping the cool, wet fabric across his smudged skin.

  It was so unfair that the moment she realized she loved him he’d be taken away from her. The very thing she’d been most afraid of, and here it was, in her lap. She’d fallen in love with him, and now she was going to lose him. The pain threatened to tear her heart in half. And that wasn’t even the worst part, she realized, no, the worst was that she’d never gotten to tell him. Tell him all the wonderful things about him that made her love him. And now she never would. He’d die in her arms before she could tell him anything.

  “I love you,” she whispered into his hair. She smoothed kisses on his head and wiped the blackness off his face. �
��I love you,” she said again. “Oh, Gareth, don’t leave me. Not now. I’m not finished with you!” she screamed.

  Then he sputtered and coughed and she leaned him up. She squeezed more water onto his lips. “I’m not finished with you yet either,” he said, his voice hoarse and dry.

  She laughed and hugged him closely to her breast. “I’m so sorry I sent you in there. That was so selfish. So foolish. That picture, it’s not worth losing you. I held on to my mama so long, so afraid to ever hurt the way I did when I lost her. And in doing so, I nearly killed you. I nearly took the life of the man I love. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Do you really?” she asked.

  “Oh yes. I’ve known for quite some time now.” He coughed. “I didn’t want to ask you to love me in return. I had already taken too much of you.”

  Laughter and tears came together then and she held his head close to her, kissing him all over his face. “I was so afraid I’d lost you. So afraid I’d never be able to tell you how I feel. I can’t believe I only realized it today. But it has been there. I don’t know for how long, but it’s been there awhile. Loving you, and I didn’t even realize.” She shook her head. “I won’t waste one single day.”

  He sat himself up and reached into his pocket. Then he pulled out the photograph of her mother. The frame was bent and black fogged the glass, but he wiped it on his pants leg and handed it to her. “I can deny you nothing,” he said.

  “Then I shall be careful in what I ask of you.” She vaguely noticed that the authorities had arrived and already the fire brigade had begun spraying water at the building. “My papa,” she said, then turned to find him.

  He stood speaking to one policeman. He wore no shirt and his face was smudged, but aside from that he seemed stable.

  “He saved me,” Gareth said.

  “Yes, he did. Carried you out on his shoulders. I’ve never seen anything like it. I always knew he was strong, but you’re nearly as tall as he. And his leg is not fully healed.”

  “Help me up,” Gareth said.