“Yes?”
“From now on, she will be addressed as Lady Blackburn or the Countess of Blackburn,” and with that he quietly shut the door.
Chapter 5
Derek walked outside to be greeted by a fine mist. Nights like this could chill a man to the bone. Derek subconsciously noted that the turn of weather seemed to reflect the somersault his life had taken. He took the reigns of Goliath from the soldier who had brought his mount around.
He nodded absently to the man and clumsily swung up into the saddle. Derek had too many things on his mind to face four walls the rest of the night and instead turned the large buckskin towards Hyde Park. The streets teemed with people moving from event to event, gay and laughing, not knowing that one of their own’s life had just been turned upside down. In that moment he very much disliked the ton. A twist of fate had turned him into one of their numbers. His mother had refused to leave the country to attend functions with Kala, arguing that she had given up that life many years before and refused to return to it. His father remained busy with his duties as headmaster.
If he had a shilling for every time someone asked him if he realized how very lucky he had been to inherit, he could single-handedly support the Crown’s lavish spending. He did not feel as if he had luck on his side this evening.
Upon entering Hyde Park, he pointed Goliath toward the running area. He would not be surprised if the night watch kicked him out, but he needed to expend some energy. Goliath must have felt Derek’s restlessness because he pulled at the reins. They left the Serpentine and Derek gave Goliath his head their eyes having adjusted to the dimness.
He blocked out all thoughts and concentrated on where he sent Goliath over the turf. He headed back for the fifth time when he saw two men in night guard uniform at the end of the run. He pulled up on Goliath’s bridle so that he went from a hard gallop to a cantor. About ten yards before the men, he pulled him up into a walk.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” The mist had stopped, but Derek’s hair lay plastered to his head. He just realized he only wore shirtsleeves having forgotten his coat, waistcoat, and cravat at the safe house. His shirt clung to his chest and back, dampened from the mist and sweat, outlining his muscled form.
“Park’s closed for the night, guv’nor” the huskier of the two informed Derek.
“Of course. Thank you for the use of the track.” Derek turned Goliath toward the Serpentine. Upon crossing through the front gate, he emerged onto Park Lane and turned Goliath right. Surely there would be a pub open somewhere, not in the best location, but it would do the trick. Derek rode on neither knowing nor caring that someone followed him.
Derek finally found a pub along the Thames. The stench from the river assailed him. The air turned thick, and a heavy fog rolled in from the river, replacing the mist. A boy who looked to be no more than ten-years-old slept against the wall of the Salty Dog Pub. He must have heard Goliath’s snort because he lifted heavy-lidded eyes to Derek, stretched his arms above his head and yawned widely before pushing himself up off the cold, wet ground.
“He’s a beaut, sir.”
“Thank you. Would you like to watch him?”
“Yes, sir,” the boy nodded enthusiastically from the thought of both making money and being in charge of such fine horse flesh. Derek handed him the reins and the boy held the horse steady while Derek eased himself from Goliath’s back and tossed the boy a shilling.
“What’s your name, son?”
“Lucas, sir.”
“Well, Lucas, there will be another if you take good care of Goliath.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy perked up as he began petting the horse. Derek smiled before entering the building. Smoke and the smell of unwashed bodies assaulted him, this bar being one that catered to a rough group of men, mostly dock workers. Derek limped over to a darkened corner and a tavern wench cozied up to him.
“Wha’d’ya like, love?”
“Ale.”
“Sure I can’t get ye nothin’ else love?” she asked as she ran a work-roughened hand over his cheek, excited to see a much cleaner clientele than normal.
“Just ale.” She left with a disappointed look and brought him back what he had asked for. Derek had money on the table and pushed it to her. “Keep it full.”
“Aye, love.” He watched her sashay to one of the other patrons. Raucous laughter rolled around Derek while he drank the first ale quickly. A second mug waited on the table for his consumption. He finally allowed his thoughts to tumble loose from the dam he had erected. His wife lived. The same wife he believed to be dead and who could very possibly be a traitor.
He rested his elbows on the table and cradled his head in his hands spearing his fingers through his hair making it stand on end. He had to prove her innocence or guilt. How? And if she were guilty, what would he do? The second tankard of ale sat there untouched. A shadow fell over him.
“There’s a little urchin out there making a killing off us.”
“Aye.”
The chair across from him scraped across the floor as Gabe pulled it out and dropped heavily onto the seat. A loud thud indicated another tankard had been placed on the table. Derek did not bother to raise his head. The men sat in silence for several long minutes.
“You know there’s better drink to be had at Brooks or White’s.”
“Better class of people here,” Derek muttered.
Gabe raised a single eyebrow in response. “What are you going to do?”
“That’s a very good question.” Derek finally lifted his head and looked at Gabriel. “As much as I hate to admit it, you could very well be right.”
“About?”
“Her being a traitor.”
“I could be wrong.”
“Taking her side?”
“No, just trying to help my best friend.”
“Thanks,” Derek nodded in his direction and finally looked at him. Gabe nodded back.
“How did the meeting with the Castlereagh go before I interrupted?”
“He sees nothing wrong with Director McKenzie’s performance and told me I should not allow my personal feelings to interfere with government business.”
“Sorry about that.” This time Gabe did not answer or show any emotion and they stayed until the pub closed, drinking bad ale.
* * *
Derek reached his house in the wee hours of the morning. The fog had turned oppressive as they slowly traveled to their respective homes. Ramsey, the family butler for more than thirty years stood with the door open as if he knew Derek would be arriving at that exact hour when in actuality he should have still been abed. Derek inherited the old butler along with everything else from Percival, and remained unaccustomed with the way Ramsey operated, almost using a sixth sense to perform his job.
“Ramsey, I have told you not to bother waiting up for me.”
“Yes, my lord,” he intoned dryly. “Will you be needing anything further?” he questioned.
“No, that will be all.”
“Very well, my lord,” and with that response he retreated to carry out whatever duties he felt needed to be finished. Derek made his way to his bedroom, gray and pink streaks etched the horizon. No wonder Ramsey greeted him at the door, he had more than likely been up for at least an hour. No doubt the entire household staff had already risen to begin seeing to their respective duties. How long had he and Gabe stayed at that filthy pub?
Aching from the ride and wetness, Derek went for something stronger than ale. He pulled the stopper from a bottle of Scotch whisky and sprawled into one of the wingback chairs in the sitting area of his room, resting his sore leg on the ottoman in front of it. A fire blazed in the hearth, he welcomed the warmth but despised the cheerfulness. His immediate goal involved eradicating the pain in his leg and the fact that his wife lived and never bothered to contact him. It took the entire bottle to accomplish the task, but within the hour he snored like the well and truly drunk. The empty bottle lay on its side next to the chair and
his hands hung limply over the side of the arm rests.
* * *
He had not twitched one muscle when Kala found him early that afternoon. She found herself still angry with Gabe when she went searching for her brother. Derek normally rose early and should be in his study or gone for the day. She planned to tell him she would be returning to their parents. She had secretly hoped he would be gone. He would ask too many pointed questions, and it would be easier to simply leave him a note. Her hand rested on the door knob to his study when Ramsey halted her entrance.
“He is not in there, miss.”
“Oh? Where can I find him?
“He is still in his rooms, but I would not go in there if I were you,” he warned as she turned back up the stairs.
Concerned now and forgetting her reason for finding Derek in the first place, she pushed the door open to the suite with a bang. A moan sounded from the chair in front of the fireplace. She slowly approached, taking in the empty bottle lying on its side on the floor.
Peeking around the chair she found herself shocked at the sight that greeted her. What had happened to her well-ordered brother? The man in the chair had disheveled hair and over a day’s growth of beard. His cravat, waistcoat, and jacket were missing and nowhere in this room. His shirt lay undone for four or five buttons and looked a sight, wrinkled and dirty. Dark circles bruised his lower lids.
“Derek,” Kala whispered shaking his shoulder. “Derek, wake up.”
“Tessa, where’ve you been? Thought you were dead. So sorry...”
Kala drew back, a frown furrowing her brow. She walked out into the hall and summoned Ramsey who stood not too terribly far away from the suite and gave instructions to be given to Derek’s valet. Her next set of instructions were to have cook make up a headache tisane and finally to send a footman to the Duke of Hawkescliffe right away requesting his immediate presence. She hated the last order, but other than the servants, she had no one else to turn to.
“Men,” she huffed under her breath.
“What did we do this time, Pest?”
Kala nearly jumped out of her skin, “Do not sneak up on me like that again.”
“Yes,” Gabe bowed deeply, yet mockingly at Kala. “I had a feeling you could use some assistance this morning. Where is he, Pest?”
“Stop calling me that,” she growled at the childish nickname he and her brother called her so often. “And it is afternoon if you had not noticed. He is in here,” she led the way into the sitting area of the master suite. “What did you do to him last night? He went through an entire bottle of whisky.”
“After the ale? He is going to need more than a headache cure.”
“I know you and he are into secrets up to your eyebrows, but has this not gone far enough when it drives one of you to drink yourselves into oblivion?” Kala questioned him. “Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to tell me what the hell happened last night?”
“Such foul words coming from one so young and innocent,” he shook his head sadly.
“Oh, do not start with me. Most of these foul words I learned from you and Derek, and I paid the price with a combination of soap and spankings.”
“Too bad neither worked.”
“Yes, isn’t it? Now, get in here and tell me what happened to him.”
“Would you two please shut up and let a man die in peace?” a raspy voice floated from the chair. The tattoo of Mikala’s heels on the parquet floor felt like a hammer drilling nails into the backs of his eyes. “Oh,” he moaned softly and put his hands up to his head to try to relieve some pressure. Kala must have noticed the pain she unwittingly inflicted because he could still hear skirts rustling, but blessedly no clicking heels.
The threesome sat quietly awaiting the headache concoction. A young maid carried it in, keeping her head bowed low in the presence of a duke.
“Here ‘tis my lady. There is strong, black coffee and laudanum. Cook says to put just a drop of laudanum in the cup to take the edge off of the ache without putting him out. She has already steeped it with additional herbs to help.”
“Thank you. That will be all for now,” Kala finished by pouring a cup of coffee and following Cook’s directions. The little maid scurried out and shut the door soundlessly behind her. “Here brother, drink this. Slowly, it’s very hot.”
Derek managed to drink down the first cup of coffee with very little fuss. He cradled the second cup in his hands and sipped.
“How do you feel now?” Gabe asked quietly.
“On the outer rims of Purgatory instead of the deep bowels of Hell. A slight improvement I would say, but could someone pull the drapes shut? The light is killing me.”
Kala stood, pulling the drapes closed, unaware of the look being directed at her from the cold duke. His face became shuttered as she moved back across the room. She stopped in front of him, and motioned to her brother. “Well?” she demanded quietly.
“This is his story to tell, not mine. But it is quite a story, Pest,” Gabe said in a lowered voice, his mouth quirking just a bit.
“I told you not to call me...”
“Oh bloody hell, my wife is back from the dead. There, it is out, and you may explain all the details. Now would you two kindly go to another room and let me die in peace?” Derek rasped out quickly. His head drooped against one of the wings of the chair as if all the energy had been drained from him. Gabe almost burst out laughing at the comical expression on Mikala’s face. Her eyes were huge and her mouth had fallen open in disbelief. Stray wisps of her sable hair framed the caricature she presented of herself.
“Wife?” she whispered staring between Gabe and Derek. “Is this like the pranks you two used to pull on me to get me to not tag along? Because if it is, it lacks serious humor.” Before Gabe could address her question, a rap sounded at the door. Kala walked over and answered it. After she and Watkins whispered back and forth, she pulled the door open and walked back over to Derek and Gabe. “Derek, your bath is ready and Watkins is waiting. Gabe and I will be downstairs.”
Two burly lads walked in and grasped either side of Derek as he stood unsteadily. His bad leg went out from under him, and he would have gone down if not for the support of these two men. Hurting too badly to be embarrassed, he allowed the men to assist him to the bathing room and a hot bath that called to him as the Sirens did to the sailors.
“Well, is this a joke?” Kala rounded on Gabe after they had gone down to the study. A footman carried in a tray with tea, coffee, and scones. Before answering, he went to the door and firmly closed it behind the servant.
“Please pour me a coffee, black.”
Kala did as he bid and poured herself one as well, adding cream and sugar. She had never been fond of tea, and when her brother and Gabe began drinking coffee she decided she would as well. She did not drink it because she loved the taste, but because it had become a habit, and she could do whatever they did. Well, almost everything.
“Trust me, Pest, this is no joke.”
He sat in a chair in front of the fireplace and she sat on the settee, her stocking feet curled under her. She made a mental note to retrieve her shoes from Derek’s suite.
“Well, Your Grace?” Kala decided two could play at the social politeness game. “I am waiting for some sort of explanation.”
“Evidently your brother married while fighting on the continent. The ink had barely dried on the marriage certificate when they were attacked.”
“Who attacked?”
“Junot and his troops.”
“Derek received his injury then, correct?”
“Yes. Then by some miracle, or trick of fate, we found out last night that his wife survived, unbeknownst to him. She showed up after almost a year of being believed dead.”
“Why is he not with her now?”
“He stayed with her for quite a while. She is being held.”
“Held?”
“It is better you not know.”
“She is the reason yo
u pulled him away from the soiree last night,” Kala guessed.
“Correct. She has no memory of herself or Derek.”
“Oh my. Is she a thief?” No response. “A murderer?” Nothing. “A spy?”
“Kala, stop your childish fantasies and do try to reign in your imagination,” Gabe admonished her in a superior fashion.
“Childish fantasies? Allow me to remind you, I am twenty-four-years-old, and I am well aware that you and Derek have your secrets. You probably work for the government in some capacity trying to apprehend Napoleon, you’re just not in the midst of the battle anymore.”
“I truly do not know what you are talking about. We are simply members of the ton attempting to make England a safer place to live.”
“What a bunch of rubbish. I would just like to know why you two are always going to the War Office.”
“How do you know that?”
“I have my ways as well.”
“Now see here...”
“Don’t bother. You’re not going to admit to anything, and I will not believe otherwise. I guess that is how we are meant to spend our lives, lying to one another. Perhaps I do have it backwards though, and you are the spy,” Kala baited. She watched an angry tick in Gabe’s jaw and wondered if perhaps what she said had more truth than she realized.
“It doesn’t really matter,” she went on flippantly. “I am leaving for the country soon. I miss Mama and Papa. And I will be an aunt fairly soon.” He simply nodded in agreement. “And who knows, perhaps I will find some country squire to make me happy.” She watched the lack of emotion on his face, but felt triumph upon seeing his hand fist. “Besides it sounds as if Derek has his hands full right now. He certainly does not need me under foot. What else can you tell me about my new sister?”
“Tessa, that is her name, came to us through mysterious circumstances, and she had a bit of an accident. She cannot remember anything about herself, except her name. Or so she wants us all to believe.”
“You sound skeptical.” Gabe gave her his steely-eyed stare. “You know, one of these days you will not be able to protect me, and you will be sorry for pushing me away all this time. But do not worry over much, Your Grace. Perhaps the man who will take care of me will be some old man with one foot in the grave, and once I have done my duty and given him his precious heir, I will be free to live my life as I see fit.”
A Traitorous Heart Page 4