The 12th Kiss

by Laura Hogg

  "Could you be more specific as to where in Asia?"

  "No! Leafy and her entourage were there for a couple of years. I could fight to begin with. I also had older brothers to teach me pugilism, but I learned an ancient self-defense art while in Asia."

  "Fascinating.” The Viscount sat up, placed his foot on the wide stage top, and rested his forearm on his bent knee.

  "I knew that I would be around to protect Leafy for the rest of her life."

  "And you have no designs on her?” The Viscount curled his fingers into a fist, jealous.

  "No."

  Lord Cheltham relaxed, and his friend walked to the center of the stage. He found him to be quite entertaining, theatrical and showy as he watched Raphael drop his arms, approach him, and plop down by his side.

  "Why in heaven's name not, lad?"

  Raphael looked into his face. “I will just give you this: I promise you, on my honor, that I am not the man for Leafy. I care deeply for her, but it is quite impossible for me to be her man. I will not disclose more on this. Just accept my words because it's what she would want."

  "It's all right, for now."

  Lord Cheltham glanced up and around, considering the four tiers of the large theatre, the boxes for his type, nobility, and the pit and gallery. He stood and exited the stage door at the side, and Raphael followed suit. While walking out, the Viscount turned his head to glance at the seat he had seen Miss Moore sitting in one night. Raphael grinned and patted his shoulder.

  They found themselves riding in the carriage once again. The Viscount reached behind them and brought forth a flask. He opened it, took a drink and handed it to Raphael.

  Raphael hesitantly accepted it and tasted the drink. He winced. “This is strong, Cheltham."

  Lord Cheltham acknowledged this with a nod. They continued to drink as they rode, passing the flask back and forth.

  "I have done all of the talking, Cheltham. What about you?"

  "What do you want to know?"

  "Surprise me."

  "Well you know my sister Joan.” He thought of her fondly.

  "Yes."

  "I have no other siblings.” He glanced to the side as they passed dark buildings.

  "Please, continue."

  "Are you screening me Raphael, for the sake of Miss Moore?” He took another sip, turned, and then handed the drink over.

  "Perhaps."

  "I was born twenty years ago. How old is Miss Moore?"

  "Nineteen."

  The hypnotic rhythm of the carriage and the alcohol had a freeing effect on the Viscount's wits as they rode in silence for a few minutes. His whole being filled with need as sensuous thoughts of Miss Moore flooded his mind and carried him into deeper intention as far as she was concerned. He didn't want to tell Raphael about his thoughts. They were ... intensely intimate. He pictured the lovely Relief smiling, just for him. "Call me Leafy, Benjamin ... “ Her voice echoed in his thoughts. He shook out of it and turned to his new best friend.

  "I enjoy athletic activities, Raphael, things that make my heart race. I enjoy the exhilaration, the feeling of being fit. Fighting. Yes, pugilism is most enjoyable."

  "And so is keeping a physique that will draw the fine wenches to you."

  "Rum doxies by the carriage-load, my friend.” Where did that come from? The old him slipped out, the man he was before meeting her.

  "That disgusts me, imagining you rutting with a strumpet in the kitchens or relishing a woman of pleasure in the—"

  "I have never required the services of a prostitute!” The Viscount snapped.

  "Oh, right, sorry. Please forgive me."

  He narrowed his eyes. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn he had just heard the bitter sound of jealousy in Raphael's voice. Lord Cheltham shook his head to clear it.

  "You are a man. Would you not also like to be admired by the ladies?"

  A strange twinge sparked in his chest. What if his friend didn't like ladies, what if he liked-oh well, no matter to him.

  The Viscount had often dodged his elders for hours at a time when he was younger, and in his torment over an incident with his sister, found himself alone, in the forest, pondering life. He had made a friend while out alone one day, a friend who showed no interest in females.

  At first when he noticed this, Lord Cheltham derided him, and then began to avoid him. Then he received news that his friend had died in a carriage accident, and he felt the sting of regret. He remembered how he had felt totally at ease with that friend and had dropped him for no good reason.

  Now he looked at Raphael. If it were true ... fear for his friend squeezed his gut ... the law was very harsh in this matter. But no, he didn't really believe it.

  "I am looking for one special person to be with."

  "I see. You are looking for a monogamous relationship."

  "As is Leafy. Tell me, Cheltham, if you are so concerned about having women chase you, then why have you stated that you are going to marry Leafy?"

  "All of those other women satisfy my pride. Miss Moore would fulfill much more."

  "Yes, your lust.” He touched his chest and rolled his eyes.

  "I do not deny it. I feel my breath leave my body every time I look at her.” He made fists then released them with a forced exhalation.

  "Your desire is obviously grand."

  Lord Cheltham laughed. “So?"

  "Tell me something profound."

  "What?” He chuckled.

  "Everyone has something weighty that they carry around from their past."

  "Some more weighty than others, Raphael.” How funny that the lad would change the subject so abruptly.

  "Well, Cheltham?"

  "I will tell you some other time, perhaps.” He rubbed his chin.

  "Do you gamble much?” Raphael tilted his wrist and flung his hand.

  "I play cards every week. I gamble a little."

  Raphael apparently accepted his words. He gave a slow nod of approval.

  "Cheltham, I sense something about you. You made a promise once, didn't you?"

  Lord Cheltham sat back. “What do you refer to? Who told you? How did you find out?” He squeezed his hands, angry.

  "You just told me."

  "Damn it!” He turned his head sharply and looked out the window, not really seeing the passing landscape outside. He turned back to Raphael.

  "I could sense something, Cheltham. I knew it. Leafy taught me how to read people."

  He squinted. “Are you a gypsy? How the devil did you do that?"

  Raphael looked out of his window. His voice sounded reflective. Lord Cheltham saw trees now from Raphael's window as they passed along.

  "We stayed in a gypsies’ camp for some time once. I have a talent. What did you promise, and to whom did you do so?” He turned back to face the Viscount.

  Lord Cheltham sighed. “If you will tell me more about Miss Moore, if you will trust me and allow me to know her better, I will trust you in return."

  "Agreed. Tell me about your promise first."

  The Viscount rubbed his hands over his face. “When I was just a lad, my parents had some unusual house visitors."

  "And?"

  "Raphael, if I didn't want Miss Moore so much, I would not have mentioned a single word about this. My friends don't know."

  "I swear I won't say a word. I am your friend, sir, your closest friend, if we are in agreement."

  He regarded him sternly. “We are. My parents ... they well, when I was only a small boy, I had a baby sister."

  "Had? But Joan—"

  "A different baby sister.” He tapped his fingers on his thigh.

  "Oh."

  "About my parents’ visitors—I overhead a conversation one evening, and it disturbed me profoundly."

  "What did you hear?"

  A painful knot of remembrance tightened the Viscount's chest. He considered Raphael, greatly hesitant.

  "I'll tell Miss Moore that you are a true gentleman, worthy of knowing,” Raphael
assured him.

  At this moment, time froze for the Viscount. The thought of the past still had a traumatic effect, but he pictured Miss Moore in a wedding dress.

  "My sister died."

  "What?” Raphael said, with the sound of great compassion.

  "This couple staying with us, they ... after my sister had died as an infant, my parents went overseas. They made a deal. They came home, and I had a new baby sister the same age as my first. No one outside of my family knows this, Raphael."

  "Your sister was ... replaced ... for a pretty coin, I'd wager. Don't worry,” he said softly, with a touch of sadness in his voice. “I will take that secret to the grave."

  "I believe you. The couple returned later, wanting their daughter back.” He dropped his hands into his lap and gazed at them with pensive eyes.

  "After years?"

  "Yes. They were told that the baby they had given up was a chosen child."

  "Chosen for what?” Raphael leaned forward, and the Viscount looked up.

  He raked his fingers through his hair, stressed, and again regarded Raphael.

  "The father of this child had an eccentric aunt. She told him one day that it was a shame that they didn't have a daughter. The couple asked her to elaborate. She told them that she had no children and had wanted to leave her entire fortune to her nearest female relative, which would have been their daughter, had they had one."

  "And this money was far more than the ‘donation’ your parents had given them."

  "Yes. Raphael, you'd better tell Miss Moore wonderful things about me.” Sadness made his throat close a touch.

  "I will."

  The Viscount continued. “I must be crazy for telling you this."

  "No, you know in your heart you can trust me."

  "Like a brother."

  "Yes, Cheltham.” Raphael bent a knee and placed an ankle on the other knee. He draped his arm over his leg and let it hang.

  The Viscount continued. “This couple told my parents that there would be a curse on the child until she returned home, but my parents wouldn't give her back. It was a matter of some love, but mostly pride. They wouldn't be able to explain her disappearance, and they wanted to keep her out of attachment."

  "Cheltham—” Raphael touched his own cheek. The gesture reeked of female delicacy.

  Lord Cheltham shivered. There was something strange about Raphael, but in a pleasant way.

  He continued. “They hired the strictest security that day to watch over my sister because they were often away. When she was older, they left her care to me. But the evening that I had heard the original conversation, I turned around, and to my horror, my sister was standing right behind me. She heard everything. She should have been asleep."

  "What happened?"

  "She cried in my arms that night, believing she was cursed. She begged me, pleaded with me that I should return her to her country and her true family. She had always wondered why she looked different, and sensed that she was different."

  "Go on."

  "I promised her that on her wedding day, I would help her escape. Her nuptials, as young as she is now, fifteen, are scheduled soon. Her real family is set to meet her and dash off with her."

  "This could be a problem.” Raphael grasped his chin in what looked like a deliberately masculine maneuver.

  "Yes.” Lord Cheltham tapped his fingers over his thigh.

  "What happened?"

  "My parents arranged the marriage, and her fiancé is a lord. I have to play this off just right. Raphael, I know she is a twit, but I do not want her to go. She is my sister, and I am greatly hesitant to hand her over to strangers. I am deeply troubled about what I might do."

  "There's more to your story. Your eyes betray you."

  The Viscount hesitated.

  "Tell me."

  "That night, five years ago,” Lord Cheltham sighed.

  "Go on."

  He rubbed his eyes. “Can this not wait?” He picked up the flask and turned it upside down, shaking it. Nothing came out.

  Raphael frowned.

  "I was just fifteen at the time, my sister ten. She came into my room and pulled me out of my bed. We quietly made our way outside and into the forest behind our home. ‘I have to tell you a secret, Benjamin.’ ‘What are we doing here, Joan?’ She picked up a stick and walked over to a large tree. She brushed aside some underbrush and used the stick to unearth a box."

  "And?” Raphael leaned closer, hanging off his words.

  "She opened the box and withdrew a knife.” He stopped.

  "For the love of God, Cheltham, you must stop pausing and tell your deuced story!"

  Lord Cheltham bore severity into his young friend's eyes.

  "What I tell you, Raphael—"

  "If you do not want to tell me—"

  "I've carried this burden for a long time. But tell me something first."

  Raphael looked up and to the side, thinking, then back down at the Viscount.

  "This is very private information, Cheltham. People don't know this—I can't marry Relief because we are related. She and I are as close as family can be, and she trusts my judgment without question. If you do not believe me, you can ask her yourself sometime,” Raphael said seriously.

  "I believe you. Mrs. Miller—"

  "She doesn't know. She's never met me. I always wait for the girls outside of their home to protect them ... from a distance. I meet with Leafy in person after Mrs. Miller has retired each evening. We discuss many things."

  "I will not tell her."

  "Thank you."

  He nodded. “The box that Joan pulled out was jeweled, very exotic. She picked it up, and the moonlight flickered upon it. ‘What are you going to do with that, Joan?’ ‘My real family sent an envoy. It seems I am important back home. My real parents don't want me back for the sake of money. They weren't even my true parents. They finally told the truth.’ Raphael, her tender voice broke my heart. ‘What?’ I asked Joan, greatly perplexed. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘They stole me from the palace.’ I felt sick when I heard that. ‘The palace?’ She smiled at me wickedly. ‘I am a princess. The people who claimed to be my parents worked for my mother, a queen. They needed me back, or they faced execution. They didn't dare tell the king the truth that they had sold me. They said I was kidnapped while under their care. The king demanded they find me or die.’”

  Raphael blinked in astonishment. “My God, Cheltham."

  "Joan was told by this envoy that the couple who sold her to my parents, whom I'll refer to as Mr. and Mrs. Smith, were followed to London by an agent. Mr. and Mrs. Smith's hired envoy had been their friend, and he approached Joan, telling her that he found them dead, killed by an agent of her home palace. He was angry to say the least. He demanded vengeance against my parents, Raphael, my parents here in London, the Earl and Countess, in the name of honor. They were the root of all this trouble. The Smiths would still be alive had they not gone baby-hunting in the first place. Mother could not have children after the second."

  "What happened next?” His hushed voice gave the Viscount chills. The alcohol had worn off. Raphael clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on his knees.

  "Joan looked me in the face and said that I was to be the one who would satisfy this sense of vengeance, a child for a child. Her eyes had wildness in them, as if someone had given her something. She came at me with the knife."

  "What did you do?"

  He paused a moment and fisted his hands.

  "I nearly killed her. Why did I react that way? The one moment, the moment the blade pierced her, haunts my mind in slow-motion. She almost died because I tore the weapon from her hand and plunged it into her. It was just a reaction, and I can't explain it! As she bled on me, she looked up into my face and said, ‘I love you brother,’ then she fell insensible.

  "I approached my parents, numbly carrying her limp, bloody body. I insisted on nursing her back to health. She hated me at first. My parents still do. They sent me away
for a few years to America.

  "Joan and I finally reconciled after great effort on my part, so many heartfelt letters. When I came back to England, I promised to return her to her original family. I had to. I will never forget what it felt like to take that knife from her and thrust it into her gut. It happened so fast I couldn't think, only react, but still, I will never forget.” He looked over at Raphael whose eyes were now closed.

  Raphael's eyes came open. “That would explain your desire to be so deuced protective, as annoying as that is. What happened with the envoy?"

  Lord Cheltham frowned. “There was no real envoy! He was a paid actor. Mr. and Mrs. Smith and the actor lied to Joan. They made the whole thing up! There was no agent, no killing. The Smiths were desperate to have her back, and my parents would not release her, so they wanted to make them understand the loss of a child. And if I died by Joan's hand, then surely in their disgust, the Earl and Countess would return Joan to her nearest relative, Mr. Smith's aunt, and the Smiths would get their money."

  Raphael leaned forward and reached to touch him but retracted his hand and grasped it within his other. He blinked as if checking himself.

  Lord Cheltham continued. “When Joan was hurt though, bleeding in that forest, they made an appearance, under the moonlight, as I held her, crying over her. They told her the truth, kissed her and begged forgiveness. They assumed she was dying and apparently left the country.

  "We did not hear from them until Joan became older and found how to contact them from our father's private records. She sent a servant to deliver the message. So, I am to help her go to her real parents and claim her private fortune from her great aunt and a family that doesn't love her but only used her. Only she won't accept that last part. She wants to know who she really is. I almost killed her over a lie, a little girl. Raphael, I deeply regret what I did. I can't forgive myself."

  Raphael gave him a long look. “You are not a bad man. This is why you flaunt an exuberant nature, isn't it? To hide the torment that eats you alive. You are not to blame, Cheltham. And to prove it, I will tell Leafy that I recommend you. I am deeply touched by all you have told me. I will speak to her on your behalf."

  He looked at Raphael, his mind filled with hope. “You would do that for me?"