“Bloody hell, that was wicked,” he whispered in her ear.
Cathryn nodded wordlessly as she recovered, and a torrent of emotions washed over her. That had been incredibly wanton, listening to another couple making love, as she did the same with a man who was not yet her husband. How was she going to face Violet—or Rune? And whatever had Rune been doing to Violet that she thought improper, when she later encouraged further intimacy?
* * * * *
Julian and Darbonne left the ladies at nearly one in the morning, and the two men shared a tired grin as they settled across from one another in the earl’s coach.
“Quite a night, Ahlquist. I’ll always be in your debt. Violet is remarkable.”
Julian’s chest filled with pride. Cathryn had proven herself a worthy mate. He had chosen well, and a new life, full of passion and meaning, beckoned him. “Agreed. The ladies were all we could ask for and more.” He glanced out the window as the carriage began moving, and his thoughts turned to the next step in securing Cathryn. “What are your plans for the rest of the night?”
Darbonne’s grin increased. “Take to my bed to play the night’s events over in my head, unless you have something on your mind.”
He inhaled deeply, and steeled himself for the inevitable. “Yes, I do. I think I should like to call in your credit. Have you been to Oxford?”
“Not yet, but I’m keen to see the place.”
Julian smiled at his enthusiasm, and welcomed the good humor. “We’ll go tonight unless you have commitments in the morning. I expect to be back in London midday.”
“I take it you need to speak with Hedges.”
Hearing the man’s name said aloud had a surprisingly strong visceral effect on him, and it was several seconds before he responded. “He laid hands on Cathryn.”
Darbonne scoffed in disgust. “He caused her tender shoulder?”
“Yes.” A fury surfaced that was unlike any he had ever experienced. Thinking of Cathryn being mistreated in any way caused his blood to heat and his chest to constrict.
“Damn the man.”
His next breath came painfully, and his fury burst from deep within, but he kept his voice low. “That is my intention.” Such men deserved no mercy. “Hell has a special place for those who abuse women and children.” He stared out at the passing houses and wondered if perhaps he should bring swords or pistols to call the baron out, but decided against such an escalation of hostilities.
Darbonne asked gravely, “Will there be weapons involved?”
He glanced at the man’s Hessians. “You have a dagger?”
“Of course.” Carrying a boot knife was a requirement of membership in Fiona’s studio.
“That will suffice for today.” He would love to send Hedges to an early grave, but self-control was at the core of honor. Unfortunately, the law was the virtuous choice. He needed to convince Hedges to annul his marriage contract with Cathryn. “Today we fight with our wits. I only need stop by my house to gather a book from my library.” Perhaps later he would seek more appropriate retribution for hurting her and so many others.
“A book?”
“Digenis Acritis. Do you know it?”
“Only small bits, and that was long ago.”
Julian’s stomach dropped. It had been fifteen years since he’d studied the Acritic songs. “Do you read Byzantine Greek?”
“No, sorry. Only some ancient Greek and a little Latin.”
He was glad for his large collection of dictionaries. “Well, I’ll have to renew my knowledge before daybreak.”
The coach slowed as they entered Oxford’s center, and Julian closed his notebooks and steeled himself for the confrontation. A glance at his watch told him it was time for the morning meal, and he woke Darbonne before he directed his driver. When they reached the Senior Common Room at Lincoln College, they found Hedges seated at the high table of the hall with the other dons, hovering over a laden breakfast plate.
The Hall hushed as Julian and Darbonne made their way swiftly to Hedge’s side, with only murmurs of Ahlquist’s name punctuating the quiet. The don’s eyes were narrow and his lips pinched as they approached. The other fellows edged away.
Julian could not fully keep the anger from his voice. “A word outside, Sir Percival.”
“You’re not welcome here, Ahlquist.” Hedges pointed towards the door with his knife.
“Would you rather we discussed Lady Sibley in front of your colleagues?”
“My wife is none of your concern.”
Julian’s hand itched to reach for his dagger, but instead he said, “You sent her to me. I only meant to thank you.”
Hedges glanced at his evening attire. “I see you’ve come from the fruitless whore’s bed.”
Julian grabbed him by the back of his stiff collar and hauled him out of his chair, throwing him off the dais and onto the wooden floor below. The clamor of students rushing to catch the action masked the choking sound Hedges made as he hit the ground. Julian pounced on his chest and pinned him with a knee and a growl. “If you ever lay hands on her again, I will cut off your tiny ballocks and stuff them up your loose arse.”
“She’s my bloody wife,” he sputtered. “I’ll touch her whenever I bloody well please.”
The dagger was in Julian’s hand and at Hedges’ throat in under a second. “You sent her to me. I claim her now.” He nicked the man’s jaw with the razor tip and drew a drop of blood. “Do you understand?”
“I made a settlement on her.”
The blade pressed harder and Julian heard Darbonne clear his throat behind him.
It was not enough to stem the rising tide of his fury. “She’s not a bloody slave, you weasel-faced sack of shit.”
“She sold herself to me.”
Another nick of the bony jaw and Darbonne touched his shoulder. “Wits, my lord.”
Julian glanced up from his victim’s crimson face to behold a white-capped sea of pale witnesses. He reluctantly removed his knee from Hedges’ chest and secured his dagger as he stood. Reaching into his waistcoat pocket, he withdrew six hundred-pound notes and tossed them at the scholar.
“I’ve just bought her freedom back, with interest.” He dragged his hands through his hair and wished he could kill the man. “You’re to have no further contact with her.”
“She must be a great shag for you to want her so badly,” Hedges taunted as he started to sit up and count the money. “You’ll be done with her in a month—”
Two daggers were at his throat before he finished his sentence.
Julian spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “I thought you preferred boys.”“
A hush fell over the room, and the baron’s malevolent eyes darted between Julian and Darbonne as he spoke through clenched teeth. “Get out of my hall.”
“No further contact with her,” Julian hissed. “Ever.” He wanted to rid the world of this vermin, but the schoolboys did not deserve to see such a grim spectacle.
Darbonne added a disgusted grunt before he backed away and sheathed his dagger. He straightened his dinner jacket and offered a hand to Julian.
Instead of taking it, Julian leaned in and whispered in Hedges’ ear.
The don’s eyes widened as he listened, and a wild look came over his face as he grabbed for Julian’s collar in spite of the dagger pressed to his neck. “No!” He jerked, and the knife carved a long slit before Julian could withdraw it. The ugly gash oozed red, and Hedges covered the wound with one hand as he screamed, “It’s not possible!”
Julian shook free and wiped the blood from the dagger on his glove before replacing the weapon in his boot. With a nod to Darbonne, he started for the door. The sea of agitated bodies parted for them to pass, and Julian rode the wave of adulation out of the room.
“What did you say to him?” Darbonne wore a cocky grin as they pushed open the heavy outer doors to leave the ancient hall.
“The last line of the Digenis Acritis,” Julian said as he gulped in the cool mor
ning air. God, he hated being inside institutions, no matter how exalted. “It appears I retained some of my Byzantine Greek.”
“Well done.” The tall American clapped him on the back. “Did you notice that no one came to his defense, and that you appeared the hero in the room?”
He grinned. “I was the hero in that room. It felt bloody great.” He punched Darbonne’s arm. “And you as well. Thank you. Consider your debt paid in full.”
“No, Ahlquist, I’m afraid I’m more in your debt than ever. I would have paid well to see such entertainment.” They reached the waiting coach and climbed aboard. “I would like to see this adventure through with you, if you ever need an ally.”
* * * * *
Percival Hedges clutched his throbbing neck as he slammed the outer door of his suite and hurried to his washbasin. The morning’s water from his shaving was still there, and he dumped the murky slop into the chamber pot. “Damn housekeeper,” he muttered as he refreshed the water from a pitcher. “Why do I pay her so—”
His monstrous reflection in the small mirror caught his eye. “Bloody hell.” He was scarcely able to believe that the fine fellow who had left here half an hour past with his favorite student had been brought so low, so quickly. His starched white cravat had been transformed into a grotesque crimson bandage, his sleek hair stuck out at odd angles around his head, and he had two marks on his jaw visible for all the world to see, as if he’d been bitten by a wild beast. He could hide the gash but not the fang marks.
Percival gingerly released the pressure on his neck and peeled away the cravat. He inhaled sharply at the sting of air on the nasty slash, and knew he’d been lucky Ahlquist hadn’t slit his throat. At least the bleeding had stopped. He wet a washcloth and dabbed the wound, wincing at the pain.
Ahlquist’s accusations had shredded his very soul. He was a peer of the realm, a scholarly man of natural inclinations, admittedly a misogynist and a strict master, but a noble man. His reputation had taken a mighty blow this day, and he vowed to avenge himself.
His mind scrambled to determine whether he could speed up the end of the translation. If he worked day and night with Lawrence and Jon, he could be done by Christmas. If the earl had completed a translation of the Digenis, Hedges would be drummed out of Oxford, and the past three years work would be meaningless. Worse, the Duke of Clarendon would be furious. He had funded most of the students who worked on the project with Hedges, and he naturally expected recognition when the translation was published. No one wanted the powerful duke as an enemy. The man barely masked a perverse temperament.
Without the translation, Hedges was just another poorly funded baron. There would be no entry into the lofty homes of noble scholars, no admission into esteemed organizations such as the Philological Society. Being second to reach publication by a few months would make him a laughingstock, unless his translation was clearly superior.
Hedges knew Ahlquist’s brother-in-law, Wallace Garretson, was looking at all the Acritic songs, but there had been no indication of any real progress from his connections at Cambridge, or rumors of the earl’s involvement. The whole situation was damned odd. Ahlquist had to be bluffing with the last line, and the Sibley woman was undoubtedly involved somehow. He should have known she’d go running to the earl. She’d proved once again that she was a whore. First, the lusty doctor while Geoffrey laid dying, and now the vain peacock Ahlquist. If not for the Sapphos, she’d be completely worthless. Selling them would ease his financial concerns for a decade. Her audacity in claiming to be the translator would be dealt with once she was his wife, and he could discipline her properly.
The door opened behind him and he heard Lawrence ask, “Are you injured, Master Hedges?”
He winced at the pity in his beloved student’s voice. Pity followed disappointment, and implied shame. Ahlquist had done it again, calling him out in public. After nearly twenty years, few people knew the story of their altercations at Eton. Hedges hadn’t been reminded of the humiliating episodes for over a decade.
“I’m fine, Lawrence, it’s only a scratch.” He pressed a towel against the wound, which had begun to weep.
“Who was that man?”
“Julian Ahlquist, Earl of Trenchford.” In the mirror, he saw the blank look on the young man’s face and sneered. “He claims to be working on the Digenis.”
Shock filled the handsome face. “Is that why he attacked you—to slow down your progress?”
“Perhaps.” Percival turned and faced him. “We’ll need to work very hard.”
“It’s mid-term, Master Hedges. I’ll do the best I can, but I have five essays due next week.”
Hedges grabbed a clean cravat and wound it round his neck. “Let’s work a few hours now. Bring me the latest pages.”
“You should have a surgeon look at your neck, Master Hedges.” He still stood in the doorway.
Hedges waved him in. “Later, when I have time and you have tutorials to attend, I shall visit my physician in town. I’ve washed the scratches for the time being. Now come in and help me.”
“I’ll go get Jon.” Lawrence left with a quiet click, and Hedges stared at the back of the door.
Lawrence had never minded being alone with him before. He must have heard the taunt in the breakfast hall. I thought you preferred boys. Ahlquist had fairly shouted all his ravings.
Damn the man to hell and back.
If the trust between Lawrence and himself was destroyed, it would be an unbearable loss.
Lawrence Clarke elevated him with his pure mind and noble thoughts. He was the most intelligent, sensitive, devoted student that Hedges had tutored in nearly two decades, the best in a long line of able young men. To think there was something sexual between them was preposterous. Hedges used a whore in a nearby village for carnal sport, although it had been some years.
Lawrence was untainted by the common world. Ahlquist could not know the joy of such a fine bond as could exist between high-minded men of superlative character. Hedges welcomed such superior young men into the cultural elite of the greatest empire on earth, and he basked in their presence while they were under his wing.
He glanced around his sparse quarters with fond regard. This was the only place he felt truly content, but he would have to give it up in six weeks to keep his word to his cousin and do his duty to the damned title he didn’t covet. Even gaining possession of Geoffrey’s noteworthy translations, which he planned to revise and publish, was meager recompense for the sacrifice he would be making.
Married faculty lived off campus, even if their wives resided elsewhere. The thought of marriage and Sibley’s large udder-like breasts made him shudder, and his neck throbbed anew. He preferred thin women who lay still beneath him. He had postponed the inevitable consummation, but now that Ahlquist wanted her, he finally had a reason to claim her for himself.
First, he needed to stay focused on the task at hand.
Finish the damned translation. Only thirty pages remained of the eight hundred he had begun three years before. The introduction was nearly complete, and the duke’s preface could be rushed along.
Percival searched for notepaper to send His Grace word of Ahlquist’s involvement and already dreaded the visit he knew would follow.
Damn it, his neck stung as much as his pride. Ahlquist was going to pay for both wounds.
Chapter Ten
Cathryn entered the breakfast room at nine and was relieved to see the table set and serving trays on the side table. Edna must have come back. When she lifted a domed cover, she saw only a few runny eggs and some over-dark bacon. Not Edna’s cooking.
Victor poked his head in the doorway. “Morning, my lady. I’ll have your toast in a jiffy.” The door closed behind the young man, and Cathryn settled into her seat. Her stomach was still full from last night’s feast, and her head throbbed from too much wine. Toast and tea were all she wanted.
Opposite emotions tore at her as she waited. Vauxhall seemed a delightful dream, but her aching b
ody attested to the reality of what she had done. Joy and shame warred over how to frame the decadent events. She had made love in the woods, and in a public supper box where a handful of witnesses could hear her cries of completion. Her face burned and her lower body pulsed at the erotic memories. She had been shameless, a thoughtless creature who cared only for pleasure without regard as to consequences.
Humiliation and anger tugged at what remained of her heart as she considered facing her staff. Geoffrey had betrayed her badly, and Percival was a horror. She hated both men at the moment, but she loved everything about Julian.
Staring out the small window at the townhouse across the street, she could not keep joy from ruling the day, even as she dreaded facing Edna and Nathan.
She was falling in love with Julian. The thought warmed her heart and made all the others fade. Perhaps her intense emotion was only infatuation, but she had never felt this way previously, and she intended to explore the sensation to the ultimate. He seemed to return her affections, which continued to amaze her. Julian Ahlquist had asked her to be his bride, and she planned to enjoy the experience. Her life had been transformed, and she need only settle the past to move boldly into her glittering future.
The creaking door alerted her to the presence of her footman and she put on a brave smile. “Good morning, Victor.”
“Good morning, my lady.” He set the toast down beside her.
“Just toast and tea today, thank you.” He brought the teapot over and poured her customary half a cup. “Has your father returned?
“No, milady.” He set the cream down beside her and made to leave.
“Victor, wait, please.” She gestured to a chair. “Please sit for a few minutes. I have some questions I need answered.”
She added her cream while he sat beside her. She’d helped raise this thin boy of nineteen, and he looked more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen him. Her heart ached for him and his family. “How’s your mother faring?”
“My mum says she’s not coming back, milady. She sent Molly to do the cooking today, but she says you should find new staff.” Cathryn saw his jaw stiffen as if expecting the next blow.
SoundsofLove Page 13