He didn’t move or open his eyes at her words.
“I read the coroner’s inquest findings. Aulton paid him to write Lena had been drinking and fell down the steps. He’s threatened Mary and her mother, who just happens to be his housekeeper, by promising to accuse them of stealing if they say a word.”
With every passing second, her anger increased. The lack of response was disrespectful to her, but more importantly, to Lena. Silent, he appeared frozen, but when his hand wrapped around the arm of the chair, the knuckles were as white as ocean spray.
“Jonathan, did you hear what I’ve said?” she whispered.
“Every word.” He pushed away from the back of the chair. “Why are you telling me this?”
Infuriated, she bit the inside of her mouth to keep from blistering him with a wealth of words. She imagined grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking until his teeth rattled. At least it’d be some response.
“You have to bring charges against Aulton. You’re the only one who has the ability and the authority. This is the best way to see him punished for his crime.” She softened her voice. “With your military service, your title, but most importantly, the fact you’re Lena’s brother, the House of Lords will act, and he’ll go to trial. People will listen to you. You can seek justice and make Aulton pay for what he’s done.”
“I can’t go against him. I’ve read the coroner’s findings, and it disputes everything you’re saying.” He picked up the empty glass and examined it as he twisted it in his hand. He held the glass to her again. “No one gives a fuck.”
“What is wrong with you?” she asked incredulously. If he hoped to find answers or comfort in the brandy, then the war had damaged his judgment as much as his leg. “I care. Will cares.”
“Pardon me, Lady Somerton, if I’ve offended your tender ears.” He waved his hand in the air as a smirk tilted one side of his mouth. “Don’t you have some ball or luncheon to attend?”
It was simply easier to ignore the insult than accept the bait. His bloodshot eyes made him appear weary, but his focus seemed to have improved.
“You must pursue the charge of murder. With your influence and my husband and family behind you, we’ll see he’s punished.” Her fists ached from clenching them so long in response to his behavior. “I’ve done everything I can. I’m married and want to give my full attention to my husband. Please do this for Lena.”
“I can’t. Do you understand?” Jonathan stood so quickly that he teetered before catching his balance.
With his cane, he limped to the side table and refilled the glass himself. He apparently didn’t care for her miserly servings, which, in her opinion, was just as well. The next time, she would have thrown it in his face.
“This is Lena we’re talking about.” He’d completely changed. The old Jonathan would have already challenged the Earl of Aulton to a duel. Known for his excellent shot, he’d have had Aulton either dead or escaping from England in the dead of night.
“Don’t you understand?” he growled.
“No. I wish I did,” she offered.
“Must I spell it out for you?” He slammed the glass on the table, tipping one of the decanters.
It twirled for a moment, giving all appearances it would settle upright. Slowly, as if it lost the will to fight, just like Jonathan, it tipped to the floor. The leaded glass smashed against the marble of the fireplace hearth. Pieces of crystal and drops of spirits scattered like a flock of birds flushed from their nests. The strong smoky scent made the room smell like a distillery.
He viewed the mess and shook his head. “I’m about as capable as that decanter. Or what used to be that decanter.” He turned and, with an arrogant tip of his chin, stared at her with an air of challenge. “Have you taken a good look at me?”
“What are you saying?” She bit out, not bothering to temper her anger. “My God, you’re her brother.”
“I’m not the man I once was, Emma. If you haven’t noticed, I can barely walk. Stairs are a nightmare.”
His flat intonation made her finally see him for what he was—a ghost, one completely consumed by his own self-loathing.
“It’s over. Nothing I can say or do will bring her back. Leave it and me alone.” He grimaced, but it didn’t hide the breathtaking vulnerability in his eyes. He was hurting over more than Lena’s death.
Once he’d realized she’d seen his pain, he schooled his features.
“Jonathan,” she whispered. She took a step to take his hand and offer comfort. Together they could grieve, or she’d just listen. She’d help him with whatever he needed—except more brandy.
“You need to leave.” He turned his back on her. “I have a busy day ahead of me.”
“I see.” She bit her tongue. She was certain the only things on his agenda were more drinking and self-loathing. She sorely doubted if Jonathan was capable of accepting anything from anyone at this point.
“Thank you for your time and your stewardship of my sister’s letters.” His formal tone clearly indicated she was dismissed.
“Jonathan, I know you’re hurting. But taking action on her behalf will help—”
“Good day, Lady Somerton. I apologize, but as you can see I’m quite busy.”
She picked up her reticle and, by some miracle, made it to the door without crying. No matter how horrid his behavior, she truly cared. She turned once more to engage him in hopes she’d break through the façade he’d erected to protect himself. “Lord Somerton and I would be pleased if you’d come and join us for dinner. I’ll send an invitation soon. I’ll ask Will and McCalpin to join us.”
He didn’t even acknowledge her.
Emma fought her tears until she was safely ensconced in her carriage bound for her bank. What she’d found at Jonathan’s made her heartsick. She had no earthly idea how to help him. Married to a bottle, he’d be dead in a year, if not sooner.
The war had destroyed Lena’s champion, the man her friend had looked up to without reservation. Without Jonathan’s involvement, Aulton would go free. Lena’s final chance for justice would be extinguished.
He hadn’t even spared a glance at the packet of papers. His interest was completely consumed by the brandy.
She leaned her head back against the squab and stared at the ceiling of the coach. Everyone ignored her conviction that Lena’s murderer had to meet justice. If she shouted it from the rooftop, it seemed no one would listen.
The indifference around her meant her own chance of redemption was greatly diminished. Still, she could do little else but follow her own path. What other options did she have?
* * *
The gems in the earrings were the size of Emma’s thumb. When the light hit the sapphires, they seemed to dance. “Miss Lawson, I have a safe where they’ll be locked up tight. The man who owns the building has it guarded twenty-four hours a day. His business and residence are located just above our floor.”
“Thank you, Lady Somerton. The earrings were a present from my father to my mother. They were left to me when she passed.” Miss Lawson’s cheeks grew redder as she placed the earrings in a pouch. Without a word, she put it in front of Emma and clasped her hands. “Soon, I’ll have access to my trust fund. I hope to repay you sooner, but if wool prices decline, I’ll have to wait until I receive my money to repay the loan.”
“That’s perfectly acceptable, Miss Lawson.” The woman’s discomfort was apparent. Something deep within Emma buckled to see another woman, one so similar to herself, be in such need she had to use family heirlooms as collateral. She placed her hand over Miss Lawson’s and squeezed. “Please call me Emma.”
“Only if you call me March.” She took a deep breath. “If you hadn’t sent a note about your bank, I’m not certain what I’d have done. Mr. Garrard would only offer five pounds, and that was to buy them outright.”
Mr. Garrard may be the favorite jeweler of the Prince Regent, but Emma would ensure her entire family knew how the man conducted business, taking advantage of
women like March.
“I approached the roofer about making payments for my overdue bill, but I understand it was already paid by you. I’ll reimburse you—”
“No, I did it because I wanted to,” Emma interrupted. To have the responsibility for raising her two sisters and brother while managing an estate boggled the mind. She admired March and wanted to lighten the young woman’s burdens in whatever way she could.
March tapped her index finger on the counter and pursed her lips. “May I ask a question?” She released a breath.
Emma nodded.
“The family trustee has failed to acknowledge or answer any of my requests for funds. I’d be grateful if you could recommend a solicitor I could engage.” She tilted her head and regarded Emma with a look of pure determination.
“My husband employs Mr. Odell. I’ll have him contact you as soon as possible,” Emma offered.
“Thank you for everything.” March held her gaze and nodded. She gathered the thirty-five pounds from the counter and slipped them inside her reticule. “I must go. My brother needs his Latin lesson before the afternoon escapes.”
“If you need more, come see me.” Emma escorted March to the door.
After they exchanged good-byes, she watched the young woman get into a cart with an older man about her father’s age. Even with the money, the woman’s stress was high if her pinched mouth and wary eyes were any indication. What made the exchange more poignant was that she and March shared the same age.
“Lady Em—Lady Somerton, I think you made a new admirer today.” John Small, the footman, stood sentry over the door. His name was a misnomer, as he was one of the tallest footmen in her father’s employment.
“She found a new admirer, too. Miss Lawson’s strength will insure she succeeds in helping her family.” Emma put the earrings in the safe, and a sense of satisfaction rooted her earlier sadness out the way. This was always what she’d envisioned her bank would provide—a sense of security for woman.
The bell over the door rang, announcing another customer. “Good morning, Lady Somerton.”
A well-dressed man entered, followed by an equally well-dressed woman.
The man performed a hurried bow. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Lord St. John Howell. I wonder if my sister and I might have a moment of your time as we find we’re in desperate need of your assistance.”
Chapter Twenty-three
After spending the last several weeks litigating the frivolous claims of Aulton, managing his day-to-day business, and overseeing the refitting of his new acquisition, Her Splendor, to his exact specifications, Nick’s schedule hadn’t allowed much interaction with Emma during the days. Unless he had evening appointments, they spent their nights together.
Aulton’s suits were being destroyed little by little. The criminal conversation and the tortious interference with a contract were readily dismissed as there was no basis for either of the suits. The slander and stealing charges remaining had more of a bite to them.
At every opportunity, Aulton’s barristers and solicitors waved the coroner’s inquest findings in front of Nick’s solicitor, Mr. Odell, and the barristers he’d hired. Confident, Odell had stated the slander charge against Emma wouldn’t stand. The stealing charge against Mary and Emma had yet to be considered.
“Whaley, where is the countess?” While walking down the stairs, he put on the black wool morning coat over his gray silk waistcoat. He was never one to follow his valet’s suggestions that he be properly dressed before leaving his dressing room. Things were more efficient Nick’s way.
Whaley stood at the bottom of the steps with Hamm next to him. “My lord, where she is every Wednesday, E. Cavensham Commerce,” drawled the valet, who relished his saintly duty of keeping his master abreast of the household while alluding Nick was an ignorant fool.
Emma’s maid whirled around the corner with a basket of laundry. Nick ignored Whaley for the maid. “Arial, would you enlighten me about the countess’s schedule?”
“Certainly, my lord. On Mondays, Lady Somerton attends the Royal Archeological Society meetings. This month the lectures are covering the ancient Mayan ruins of the Americas. Tuesdays, she attends the Historical Guild of Greater London. I’m not really certain her agenda—”
“Thank you.” Nick presented his most enchanting smile so Arial wouldn’t take offense. “But I was wondering if you could give me an approximate time when she’ll return home today?”
Arial shook her head. “That’s difficult to predict. The Duke and Duchess of Langham have arrived in town. After Lady Somerton finishes her duties at the bank, she plans to return to Langham Hall for a visit. Sometimes, the duke and duchess host small card parties or intimate gatherings with friends followed by music. If it’s one of those nights, she may stay for several hours, but only if you’re not home,” she added with a sweet smile.
Christ, she’d practically left him by the sound of things. She must have grown weary of him. Already, she had found other amusements to while away her hours. The shock had to be visible on his face.
“My lord, it’s all perfectly safe. His Grace insures that one of his coaches brings her home. Her favorite footman always escorts her inside.”
Perfectly safe, his arse. “Hamm, direct the coach readied.”
“Yes, my lord,” the butler answered.
It didn’t escape Nick’s notice that Hamm raised his eyebrows and grinned at Arial and Whaley.
The front door opened, and Emma entered with a Langham footman acting as a sentinel.
“My lord, may I have a moment of your time?” With sharp, efficient movements, Emma removed her pelisse and hat, then tore off her gloves. “There’s something of extreme urgency we need to discuss.”
Nick nodded and held out his arm. With Emma’s hand linked around it, he escorted her into his study. He perused the never-ending piles of paper that begged for attention. Another letter from Renton stood front and center on his desk. The man must have wasted a fortune on the amount of paper he’d sent over the last five years.
Emma gingerly ran her palms down her skirt. She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze. Immediately, his earlier tension dissolved as if the tether stretching his entire body finally relaxed.
“Please, sit down. I was coming to see you after having my fill of reviewing the refitting proposals for Her Splendor.”
She sat on the edge of one of the navy brocade oversize chairs in front of his desk. He stood until she was seated and followed suit by taking the winged leather chair behind his desk.
“It’s fortunate I saved you a trip. Something happened at the bank … and we should discuss it.” She stopped and blinked slowly. Her mouth quivered, but she took a deep breath and regained control. The movements warned that the tumultuous control she held over her emotions was weak, and a storm was about to be unleashed.
His earlier sense of contentment vanished.
“Tell me.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand. If Aulton’s minions were hounding his wife, he’d hire five hundred solicitors and the same amount of barristers to keep the bastards occupied for years. He’d hire an army to stand guard outside her bank. All morning he’d kept his anger at bay over the earl’s outrageous actions, but he was more than ready to let it loose.
“A gentleman stopped by today with his sister. You’re acquainted with him. He told me you were at Eton together.” Her voice trailed to a whisper while she twisted her fingers together. Immediately, every hair on his body lifted in alert as if electricity had infused the air.
“Who was it?” He leaned his elbows on the desk and kept his voice even, but little else. A restless fury took root, whipping his musings into an orderly chaos that was a familiar companion. What he wouldn’t give to have a sparring partner ready at Gentleman Jackson’s for an intense workout. He needed something to calm the aggravation that threatened to combust into flames of anger. If anyone from that miserable school had deemed to harass or bother her, he’d break every bone in
their body. There was a reason he kept fit. Never again would he tolerate a mocking word or jab said against him, and that vow now included his wife.
“Howell, Lord St. John Howell, and his sister, Miss Blythe Howell,” she said.
At the mention of Howell’s name, his mind reeled in protest. He’d never mentioned Howell’s cruelty on that fateful day. That the miscreant dared enter Emma’s bank proved he either was a fool or had a death wish.
He’d made life miserable by gleefully relishing Nick’s humiliation by his father’s hand at every opportunity. If Howell had spent as much time studying as he did making Nick’s life a living hell, the blighter would have made top marks.
But Nick attained his revenge. At the end of the term, he had found Howell and beat him to a bloody pulp. Howell’s incredulous expression when he’d raised his hand to his face and discovered his nose rearranged had made Nick’s wait well worth it. Their paths had never crossed since, and Nick planned to keep it that way.
Emma started to pace, clearly agitated. “He and his sister, Miss Howell, came to ask for a loan. The amount is greater than my reserves. Do you think we could—?”
“No.” He grabbed the first thing he could and crushed it. He chanced a glance. The crunch and crackle of the clutched paper was his father’s missive. He’d pulverized the wax seal bearing the Renton coat of arms to dust.
Fitting coincidence that his father and Howell were at his mercy.
“Under no circumstances will I help that bastard.” Nick was mildly surprised at his matter-of-fact tone. He could have been commenting on the weather. Inside he was seething that Howell had set foot in his wife’s bank.
He forced himself to breathe evenly as he leaned back in the chair. He could still hear Howell’s laughter peal like a jackal before a kill. The blockades he’d carefully constructed for his own survival would hold against any assault, even if came from his wife. His well-honed resistance would withstand her disapproval and condemnation if need be.
Emma glided to the desk and stood before him with her hands braced against the edge. Her rose scent drifted toward him, encouraging him to lean closer. With Howell in the forefront of his thoughts, he couldn’t succumb to her allure or her persuasive powers. Not with this turn of events.
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