“And what happens if I do?”
“I’ll find a doctor to certify you insane and have you committed to an asylum which would make your stay in Scotland seem like a vacation on the beach.”
She purses her lips, folds her hands across her middle. “Very well.”
I’m not fooled for a moment by her seeming acquiescence. Deep in that devious mind of hers, she has something planned. I just need to make sure she doesn’t execute it, whatever it is. “This is how it will go. The service will be held in the chapel tomorrow. Only a handful of close family members and friends are expected. I will stand at the head of the receiving line to welcome the mourners. You will stand next to me. Royce will be on your left. Jake will be directly behind you. So will a nurse. Should you act out of line, she will immediately administer a sedative, and we will take you away. Permanently.”
“And where will your little whore be, dear?” A smirk flits across her lips.
By now I should be immune to her barbs about Elizabeth, but I’m not. It hurts to have my wife called by such an ugly name. “If you call Elizabeth by that name one more time, I will retaliate.”
“Very well. I will refrain.” She nods, like she’s granting me a boon. “For now.”
She’s seeking to get a reaction out of me, but I’ll be damned if I give it to her. “When a mourner approaches, you will acknowledge him or her by name, you will thank them for coming. If they ask how you’re holding up, you will say ‘as well as can be expected.’ If they ask another question or make another comment, you will give a suitable reply. Do you understand?”
“Yes. And if I do exactly what you want, what do I get out of it?”
She had never been one to do something and not expect something in return. So I will give her what she wants, with limits, of course. “You get to live with a retinue of servants waiting on you as befits your status.”
“No more exile in the frozen hinterlands of Scotland?”
“You may remain here, if you wish. Under guard, of course. You will not be allowed any telecommunication devices, including phones. You will have a full library at your disposal. You may continue your horticultural pursuits. Any plantings or seeds will be vetted before you’re allowed to work on them.”
“Visitors?”
“None.”
“I require the services of a hairdresser. My hair’s a wreck.”
Still pulled into her usual chignon, her hair has gone white at the roots. That will play very well at the funeral service. She’s been so upset about my father’s illness, she hasn’t gone to a hair salon. “I’ll find one and have him or her attend to you.”
“And I’ll need Tilly.”
A stab of sadness knives inside of me. “I’m afraid that’s an impossibility,” I say in a much softer voice.
“Wherever you have her hidden away, fetch her. She should be here. I need her.”
“She can’t be fetched, mother. She’s dead.”
“Dead?” she screeches. “What do you mean dead?”
“She retired to an island in the Caribbean. There was a break-in while she was inside the house, a junkie looking for money to buy drugs. She fought him off and he killed her.”
Her shoulders stiffen and her mouth prunes up. Is she affected by Tilly’s death? “That’s too bad. She was the only who knew how to handle my garments.”
I should have known better than to expect her to mourn the woman who had served her faithfully for over forty years. All my mother cares about are her clothes. And her hair. “I’ll find somebody else for you.”
“No one else will do.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with whatever I provide, Mother.” And that is the final word on that.
She scrutinizes me closely. After a few seconds, her mouth tightens and her gaze narrows. She’s at her most dangerous when she wears that expression. “You’re too good to me, Ainsley.”
I don’t correct her on the title. Why bother? I escort her to the door of the study, hand her to one of her guards. She will remain at Winterleagh for three days, long enough to bury my father and have her present when his last will and testament is read. After that she will be taken to her new abode. She thinks she will remain at Winterleagh, but I have other plans for her.
Chapter 42
______________
Elizabeth
HIS FACE IS LINED with exhaustion. No wonder. Having to deal with his bitch of a mother, the funeral, the mourners.
We’re gathered in the drawing room, the same room where we gathered for cocktails before that dinner in July a lifetime ago, waiting for luncheon to be announced.
Shunned by her children, the Countess sits alone on the sofa, watched carefully by two of her guards. The rest of the family’s gathered at the other end of the room. Brianna, sitting next to Royce on a blue sofa. Neither of them has said two words to Gabriel since they arrived. Can’t blame them. He made a decision to hide their mother without telling them. His highhanded ways are finally coming home to roost.
I don’t know what to do. This life in a gilded cage is not working for me. I may have more freedom to move about now, but not what I wish to do which is work. He doesn’t understand. I don’t think he ever will.
“Milady?” Nanny, holding Andrew in her arms.
“Yes.”
“He won’t take the bottle. I think he misses his mother.” We’ve been alternating between breast milk and formula, but it’s clear he’s picked up on all the tension of this place. Who can blame him? I can hardly bear it myself. Only one more day until the reading of the will and then we can leave.
I take him from her, cradle him against me. “My sweet, sweet boy.” I fed him right before the service, but it’s been more than three hours, so he’s got to be starving by now. “Excuse me.” I say to no one in particular. I’ll need to find a quiet room to feed him. But I find my way blocked—by the Countess.
“Bottle? You’re not breastfeeding him?” she asks.
When did she leave her perch on the couch? “Yes, I am, but we alternate with the bottle.”
“Give him to me. I know how to get him to calm down.”
Hell, no. “No.”
“Mother.” Gabriel stands by my side, ready to intercede. “Allow Elizabeth to leave so she can feed our son.”
The Countess’s lip curls in derision. “Give him to me.” Her hands reach out for him, but Gabriel blocks her. “No.”
“How dare you deny me. I’m the Countess of Winterleagh.”
I’ve had enough of her highhandedness. “Lady, I don’t care who the hell you are. You’re not putting your hands on my son.”
Everyone freezes. Guess no one’s ever confronted the bitch in public.
“How dare you? I’ll have you thrown out, dismissed. You’re nothing but a—”
“I would think very carefully before you say the next word.” Don’t know how the harridan could miss Gabriel’s angry tone.
“How you could have married this creature is beyond me, Ainsley. She’s nothing but a common guttersnipe.”
I reel from the insult, but before I can say anything, Gabriel shouts. “Shut the bloody hell up.”
“How dare you insult me, Ainsley? I’m the Countess. I deserve your respect.”
“You’re wrong, mother. You’re no longer the Countess of Winterleagh. Elizabeth is.”
“No, she’s not, she’s not,” the witch screams, pulling at her hair.
“I am the Earl and Elizabeth is my wife. Ergo, she’s the Countess of Winterleagh. You’re not the countess any more.” There’s a wicked delight in his speech, even though he’s spitting out the words through his teeth.
His mother screeches. Claws out, she comes for me. But before she can reach me, Gabriel wrestles her arms down. In a deadly tone, he turns to her guards. “Take her away. I believe she’s not feeling well.”
His mother breathes hard for a second or two. And then in a normal tone of voice, she says, “I haven’t had my lunch.”
> “I’ll have a tray sent to you room where you will stay until you’re transported to your new abode.”
“What new abode? Am I not staying here?”
“No. You will not. You’ll be taken to the Dowager House. I renovated it specially for you. Bars on all the windows. You wil be allowed a walk in the inner courtyard, once a day for twenty minutes. Other than that, you will not see the light of day ever again.”
“You bastard.”
“Wish I were. Because then I wouldn’t have you for a mother.”
Talons out she comes for me again. This time Jake holds her back before she can get to me while Gabriel throws himself in front of me and our child.
“Stop this. All of you.” Brianna screams. ‘We’re here to bury father, not behave like animals at a zoo.”
“Always such a lady, Brianna,” her mother says, calm again. The woman truly belongs in an insane asylum. “You think you’re better than me. You’re not. Ainsley might not be a bastard but you most surely are.”
Brianna stomps up to her mother, her usual graceful walk gone. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re your father’s get born from his mistress. When he found out, she was pregnant, he forced himself on me. He was ecstatic when he discovered I was pregnant, but that baby never grew right. Lost him at the hospital. Another boy. Like I needed another one. That’s when he foisted you on me. I came from the hospital not with the brat he planted in me but you, his darling princess.”
Brianna’s eyes widen and her breathing’s grown erratic. “You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not. You don’t believe me? Do one of those tests. My blood doesn’t run through you.”
“So you’re not my mother?”
“No.”
Brianna steps up to the dowager to stand toe to toe with her. “I hate you. I’ve always hated you. The things you did to your children, to Gabe. I hope he buries you in that dower house and throws away the key.”
She goes for Brianna but Jake holds her back before she can harm her.
The butler walks into this insanity, his face chalk white. Good lord, what now?
Andrew’s screaming at the top of his lungs, but I can’t get out. The butler’s blocking my way.
“Your lordship. There’s someone here.”
“Not now.”
“I believe you’ll want to see him, milord.”
Behind him a stranger walks into the room. No, not a stranger, Someone who looks just like the Countess, the ex-countess, whatever the held she is. Except he’s a man. Tall, dark-haired, dark eyes. A scar marks his left cheek. Except for Andrew and me, everyone freezes.
“Edward!”
Edward? Gabriel’s brother, come back from the dead.
Chapter 43
______________
Gabriel
“EDWARD.” Words fail me. All I can say is his name.
“Hello, Gabe.” Thinner than I remember, tanned. A scar mars his left cheek, one that wasn’t there before. But other than that he doesn’t appear to be injured.
“Where in the bloody blazes have you been?” I demand.
“Mexico.”
“For five years?” That’s how long he’s been gone. Since he was shot and killed. No, not killed. Obviously.
“Edward, my son.” Our mother falls upon him sobbing. “You’re not dead.” She plants her hands on his shoulders. paws at his face, falls weeping across his chest.
His lips curl in distaste. “No, mother. I’m very much alive.”
“How can that be? I saw you die,” I say. “I brought your body back here. We fucking buried you.” I’d lived with the reality of his death for so long, I’m having trouble believing he’s alive, even though he’s standing in front of me.
“I didn’t die. The doctors at the Honduras hospital patched me up and I managed to pull through. You, on the other hand, were hanging on by a thread.” He brushes a hand across his brow. “We didn’t know for a couple of days whether you would survive the assassination attempt.”
“Why didn’t you come back to us?”
“Because if I did she would just try to kill you again.”
“What are you talking about? That was a guerilla attack.”
“No. It wasn’t. It was a hit, ordered by our mother.” He pulls her hands from around his neck. “Isn’t that right?”
She glances up, a wily look on his face. “You knew?”
“Of course, I knew. Why do you think I always accompanied you on those out of town trips. Because I knew you’d find some way to kill Gabe. I hoped that somehow by spending time with you it would prevent you trying to harm him. But after that hit and miss on Piccadilly, that hope was dashed.”
Six years ago. I’d almost been run over by a cab on Piccadilly Circus.
“That’s when I knew what you were trying to do. It wasn’t enough fo you to torture him growing up. No you had to try and kill him. All for what?”
“I did it for you. So you’d inherit the title.”
My mind reels with her confession. “You tried to have me killed?”
“Yes. I meant you to die. I even told you when you returned, don’t you remember?”
You should have been the one to die. Her words echo in my head. I thought it’d been her grief talking. But she’d meant it, literally.
“But you didn’t die and Edward did. Except, he didn’t. He didn’t. And he’ll stop you from exiling me to that dowager house. Because he loves me. He’s the only one of my children who does.” She paws at his face.
But Edward clamps down on her hands and pulls them down. “You think I love you? I despise you. The only reason I went on those outings with you was because if you were out of the castle you couldn’t hurt Gabe. So I put up with you, played your little games, to keep you from hurting him.”
Mother shakes her head and her hair comes down in clumps. She’s aged a decade in the last few minutes. “You don’t mean that, Edward. I did it for you. So you would inherit the title. I did it for you.”
“I never wanted the title, mother. That was your dream, not mine. You are an evil, wicked woman. The thought you did all those things to Gabe because of me sickens me. For the last five years, I paid the price for what you did. I want nothing to do with you ever again.”
“No.” She collapses on the floor, sobbing out of control. “You love me. My son loves me.”
“No, mother. I never loved you. I despised you.”
Leaving her sobbing on the rug like she’s unwanted refuse, he skirts her and goes for the drink cart and pours himself a glass of scotch.
“Take her away.” I order.
One of the guards helps her to feet. The sound of her sobbing fades as they make their way out of the room, down the Great Hall. They’ll deliver her to her room. One of the smaller ones, far removed from the family suites.
“Where’s Elizabeth?” I ask of no one in particular.
“She left with the baby.” Jake answers.
Brianna and royce have converged on Edward, hugging him, carrying on a soft conversation. After the high drama of the last few minutes the soft voices are a welcome hush.
“He couldn’t have done this alone. He had to have help.” And I know who aided him. My head of security.
“I assisted him. Regardless of what he said, he was critically injured, and he almost died, same as you. When he regained consciousness, he shared his misgivings about the attack. I investigated. Those guerillas were not from the region. They were hired mercenaries hired to kill you. After I told Edward his hunch was right, we agreed he should fake his death. Your father refused to deal with your mother’s actions, weak man that he was. So Edward remained in South America until he died, and you claimed your rightful heritage.”
No, my father wouldn’t have done anything about my mother, because she held the threat of disclosure of my tutor’s murder over his head. But with my father’s death, Edward could return and take his rightful place in his family.
“You shoul
d have told me. You should have fucking told me.”
“It was not my secret to share, Storm. And Edward didn’t want you to know.”
“You work for me. Not him.”
“I work for Storm Industries, for your family. I know what your mother held over your head, Storm. I know what she would have revealed.”
“What?” Brianna asks. “What did she do?”
“Our father killed my tutor in a drunken rage.”
“He didn’t. He didn’t. My father was not a murderer.”
I wave my hand, dismissing her argument. “Tilly saw him, Bri. That’s why I sent her away.”
“No. No. You’re lying.”
Royce wraps his arms around her. “Bloody hell, Gabe, couldn’t you allow her her memory of him?”
“Why? He was a murderer.” And a sot and a philanderer, and oh so many other things.
“Because she loved him. Is there so little softness in you, you can’t afford some kindness toward your own sister?”
“You hated him because he never stood up to her,” Bri says through her tears.
I knock back my drink. “He traded me for you, Bri. He knew I was strong enough to take the punishment. So he told her if she left you alone, she could do what he wished with me. So yes, I have good reason to hate him.”
“Take it easy on her. Gabe” This from Edward.
“Stay the fuck out of this, Edward. I didn’t notice you volunteering to take a beating for me.”
“It wasn’t me she hated. It was you.”
Edward crushes the glass in his hand, cutting it. Everyone converges on him. Bri with a napkin. Royce calls out for a first aid kit.
While they deal with Edward’s injury, I fix my sight on Jake. “You’re fired.”
“You don’t mean that, Storm.”
“Yes, I do. I can’t trust you. First the incident with Sarah. Obviously your judgment was faulty. And now this. You kept this secret from me for five years. What else have you hiding from me?”
Storm Ravaged (Storm Damages 2) (Storm Legacy) Page 22