She knew better.
Edward ignored the vitriol and kept his hand on her arm, gently stroking, as if soothing a wild animal.
“So tell me, did you rape Miss Raven’s mother before or after you decided to marry mine?” he asked Hawthorne.
Hawthorne’s temper tantrum cut off abruptly. “What does it matter?” His eyes glittered in the firelight. “What does the timing matter?”
“It doesn’t, I suppose,” Edward agreed easily. “The fact that it was done, rather than the timing, is more important.”
“Important to what?” Hawthorne snapped out, half bravado, half contempt.
Edward did not answer that, and Charlotte wondered what was racing through his mind. He had let her go, his arms dropped to his sides, and his hands fisted.
“What is the purpose of this?” Hawthorne said, slowly lifting his foot back onto its footstool, his attention on it, his body turned away from them, a dismissive, disrespectful movement.
For a moment, anger spiked through her deliberate calm, making her want to knock his leg off its stool again, or strike out at him, and she forced herself still—wrestled with herself. The whole reason she’d come here tonight was to find out about her mother, speak to Hawthorne about her, but she realized how foolish that had been. She would get nothing from him. He never knew her mother, anyway. He’d just used her.
Edward gave her a quick look, and she turned away a little, so he would not see her battle for control.
She needed to find Charlie the sweep, or Miss Raven, the be-gloved wallflower, not the Charlotte that had been close to abandoning herself to a man’s kiss not twenty minutes ago.
“The purpose is for you to understand it is all over. You will tell me who else is involved with you in smuggling guineas out of the country; you will tell me who you sent to kill Frethers, and Geoffrey, too,” Edward said, and his voice was thick. Harsh.
Hawthorne looked at him over his shoulder. “Geoffrey? Geoffrey was an idiot. I can only assume he killed himself, because his death has been most inconvenient to me. When I got a letter from him, telling me what Frethers had proposed to him in order to clear his debts, I was furious. But it was too late. You came the next day to say he was dead. I realized how Frethers had maneuvered him, making him think debtors’ prison was in his future, that he had no choice but to hand over his children, when all along we’d planned to pay his debts for him. We wanted to keep him on edge and then make him very grateful to us for saving him, keep the use of his estate for the smuggling. I was very angry that day. Frethers couldn’t be allowed to continue. Not when his appetites were exceeding his sense. He should have left Geoffrey and his family alone. You never foul your own nest.” Hawthorne chopped a hand sharply downward. “But as for names? I won’t tell you anything.” He was breathing heavily. “I’m in control here, Edward, not you. You think I haven’t been crafting evidence against you from the beginning? I bribed someone to appoint you to investigate this mess, and since then, I haven’t heard a word mentioned about your involvement from anyone in my circle. They’re keeping it quiet, which shows just how little confidence they have in you.
“If you try to move against me, or any of my group, you will be in disgrace. You may eventually work your way free, but there will always be whispers attached to your name, and because of the indiscretions Geoffrey committed, your nephews and your sister will be dogged by his mistakes for the rest of their lives.” He glanced at Charlotte, and his lip curled. “As for her”—he tossed his head—“she will be exposed for the gutter scum she is. Tell me, my dear, how have you managed to survive all these years?”
She was at last Charlie Raven again. Nothing could touch her. “My own wits, and Luke Bracken.”
She saw surprise flash in his eyes. He tilted his head back a little to see her better. “So Bracken did actually use some of the money he extorted from me to keep you, eh? Although you’d have been on the streets for some time before the blackmailing little bastard came to me.”
She was quite simply dumbstruck. She opened her mouth to speak, and then stood, jaw agape, with no sound coming out. Perhaps the veneer of Charlie Raven was becoming a little thin.
“Bracken extorted money from you?” Edward asked, his voice cool.
“Didn’t tell you that, eh? While he was telling all manner of other things he shouldn’t have been.” Hawthorne slid a sly look her way. “Took me for as much as he could get. Said he’d expose me, at a time when that would have been … inconvenient. Kept popping up again, like a bad smell for the last twelve years, just hovering in the shadows, making sure I knew he was there. Thought I might finally put him to some use with this scheme.”
“Twelve years ago.” Edward sat suddenly on the arm of a chair. Perched there like a hawk readying itself to swoop. “That’s when my mother fell so ill. When she begged me to look after you financially when I was able to, when I had full control of my own money and you were no longer in charge of my trust. If either of us had known about Charlotte, about what you’d done to Charlotte, I’d have cut you off without a cent.”
Hawthorne shrugged in agreement. “It would have been difficult for me to explain. And Bracken had some proof I had forgotten about. If it had come to light, it would have been cause for some unpleasant questions.” He steepled his fingers. “Funny to think I did end up supporting you, in the end.”
“You misunderstand.” Charlotte at last found her voice, although it was rusty, as if it had been unused for days. “Luke Bracken took care of me and helped me for no reason other than genuine affection when I was very young. He kept me safe and unharmed for no money at all. The sum he extorted from you was done at a time when I was financially secure already, and had no need of your money.”
“He used it to rise up,” Edward said, quiet and sure. “He thought if he grew powerful and wealthy enough, he could win you back.”
She looked across at him. “Yes.” She was glad Luke had gotten money from Hawthorne, glad it was him running Tothill Road and not some other thug. But he’d never told her. Even though he must know she would have approved.
Edward laughed, and the sound was tinged with despair. “You don’t blame him, do you? I can see it in your face. The only problem you have with what he did was that he kept it from you.”
She didn’t answer. This was not the place or time for this conversation.
“You’ve already forgiven him.” Edward spun away, and then seemed to take himself back under control.
He turned to Hawthorne. “Whatever evidence you think you’ve engineered against me, my accusations will be just as difficult for you. At the very least, it will be the end of your treachery.”
“I don’t think you’ll out me.” Hawthorne chuckled as he shot a look at Edward. “You’re too proud. The thought of the men you respect thinking you a traitor on my word will prevent you from acting against me. You won’t be welcome at your club, or anywhere else.” He massaged his raised leg, a half smile on his face. “Just like when you were younger, Edward, you’re my puppet, now.”
34
Edward laughed. He realized as the sound burst out of him and filled the room that he didn’t laugh nearly enough.
Then he caught sight of Hawthorne, and the laughter died.
“I am not your puppet, and while you’ve been scheming and profiteering, I’ve been working for the Crown. Have done so since I took my seat in the House of Lords.” The surprise on Hawthorne’s face was worth a hundred of the lashes he’d been given as a child. “I was involved in other, equally important work, and my superiors moved me across reluctantly, and only because Dervish pushed for it, because you were blackmailing him. As for your not hearing about it, my role has always been kept quiet. I’ve been involved behind the scenes for ten years, and I not only have friends, Hawthorne, I have powerful friends. Men who know me well. Who work with me every day and respect me. I’ve proved my loyalty, my dedication, a thousand times over. They won’t believe a word you say.”
&nb
sp; He walked to the fireplace, lifted one of the exquisite Chinese figures on the mantel. “I’ve paid for your lifestyle since my mother died, but I won’t do it anymore. You will move out of this house tomorrow. And I’m sure with some digging, we can find where you’ve stashed away the profits you’ve made from your betrayal.” He set the jade carving down. “As for Miss Raven. One word from you to besmirch her reputation, and you’ll find an interesting assortment of men lining up to teach you your manners. I’d think long and hard before taking a step like that, if I were you.”
Hawthorne looked like a frog, mouth agape. “I think you overestimate yourself, Durnham. You always have. You used to look at me with that same supercilious expression when you were young. The little lord of the manor.”
Edward ignored him and turned to Charlotte. “I have some things I must still see to this evening, and you don’t need to stand here and listen to my stepfather spew his venom. I would send you home in my carriage, if that suits?” Edward held out his arm to her, and she took it with a nod.
He didn’t want her here when things got ugly. And they would.
He walked her out of the room; behind him he heard Hawthorne slam his stick down on the wooden floorboards in fury. “Come back here, Durnham, damn you.”
Clavers stepped out of Hawthorne’s study, and Edward gave him a nod as they passed. He disappeared back into the room.
“What was that about?” Charlotte asked as Edward opened the front door for them.
“I’ve got Clavers boxing up every document and piece of paper to be found in Hawthorne’s study. When my carriage comes back from dropping you off, I’ll transport them back to my house. It should make interesting reading.”
She smiled. And then she laughed. “Something so simple. And yet, I don’t think he would have thought you’d do that.”
“Well, it’s not gentlemanly to go through another man’s papers.” Edward grinned back. His coach was still waiting outside the door, and he handed her in, gave the driver instructions to return.
He stepped down onto the pavement to close the door, and she reached out a hand and gripped his sleeve.
“About Luke.” She looked down to her lap, then up to his face again. “I don’t understand why you were so angry in the library. Of course I would forgive him for taking money from Hawthorne. After everything he did for me when I lived on the street? He probably got less than he deserved.”
Edward stepped back up onto the running board and braced his hands in the doorway. “I don’t care how much Bracken got from my stepfather. I hope Hawthorne paid through his nose. What sparked my temper was your immediate forgiveness. You’re always on his side. You always will be, won’t you?”
She stared at him, her eyes wide, and he would have given everything he had to know what she was thinking. “I will always love him. He is my family and we saved each other.”
He couldn’t endure any more of this. He started to push back, but she cried out and lunged forward, grabbing him by the lapels of his coat. “Wait! I love him, but I’m not in love with him. I’ve just told you, he’s my family. My brother. Yes, I was his lover, but that was at his insistence at a time I felt too indebted to him to refuse. But since then, when he was taken to the Hulks, I have never felt any wish to lie with another man. Not once. I thought I was too cold inside. Dead there, because I was too young before and while I pretended I was happy to sleep with him, it felt wrong to me. And I dreaded it. I dreaded it so much that for a time I was relieved when he went to the Hulks. Relieved! While he was suffering unspeakable agony, I was happy I didn’t have to pretend to enjoy what he did to me.”
Her eyes were focused on his, as if all that was keeping her upright was what she saw in his face.
“And you’ve lived with the guilt ever since.” He spoke quietly, afraid to make any movement that would end this.
“I lived with the guilt, but I didn’t put him in the Hulks—that would have happened no matter how I felt about our sleeping arrangements, and I got him out. I’ve forgiven myself for my feelings of relief. As much as anyone can.” She kept her eyes on his still, and he could not look away now, even if he wanted to. “It wasn’t that, it was how he was when he came out—what was wrong with him after the Hulks—that’s stopped my thinking about anyone else.”
“His injuries?” Edward frowned. “Because his hips were crushed?”
“That injury didn’t just make it hard for him to walk without pain.” Charlotte’s words were so soft, he could barely hear them. “It left him unable to …” At last she looked away, and there was more pain and sorrow in her eyes than he thought a person could hold. “He can’t lie with a woman anymore.”
“He’s impotent?” Edward breathed just as quietly.
She nodded. “And while he could not, and wanted me so much, and accused me of not coming back because of that, because we could no longer live together as lovers, I could not give myself to anyone else.” She drew in a shaking breath. “No matter how often I told him I did not love him that way, that the reason I didn’t return was because of Catherine, and the life I would live with him, not his abilities as a lover, he never believed me. Or chose not to.”
“And you’ve cut yourself off from every man who’s ever shown any interest in you because of it.” Edward’s grip on the doorway tightened.
“Yes.” She released her hold on his coat and settled herself onto her bench. “Until now.”
The air seemed to leave his lungs, and his legs lost some of their strength. Edward stepped back, staggering a little as he landed on the cobbles. The coachman must have thought him ready, because he flicked the reins, and Edward was just able to slam the door before the coach rolled off.
He stood, dazed, and watched it rumble away.
“My lord?” Clavers spoke behind him. “Lord Hawthorne is trying to summon me. Shall I go to him?”
Edward forced himself into the present. Shook his head. “No. How is the packing going?”
“Very quickly, my lord. I have six boxes ready, and in another three, I should be done.”
“Good. Then carry on. I’ll deal with Hawthorne.” He looked down the street one last time. “When my carriage returns from taking Miss Raven home, please get the footmen to start loading the boxes in it.”
Clavers nodded and withdrew into the house. From the library, Edward heard the sound of a bell being rung as if by a messenger with news of war. He was sure he didn’t imagine the satisfied smirk on Clavers’s face as he deliberately ignored it.
Edward stepped back into the house again and steeled himself for another round with Hawthorne. His chances of getting a confession were almost none; he realized that now.
Hawthorne had been lying and dissembling for so long, he would not break. He’d keep up his lies until the bitter end. Go to the hangman’s noose still claiming his innocence.
The ringing bell was quite maddeningly irritating.
“Even though you must have amassed a fortune with your smuggling, you’ve been happy for me to foot your bills. And that’s working against you, now. Clavers works for me. And I have told him to ignore your summons. So keep ringing that bell if you wish, but you’re wasting your time.” Edward propped himself up with a shoulder and stood in the doorway, looking into the library.
Hawthorne had managed to turn his chair and his footrest so that it faced the door more, and he was panting with exertion, wiping his forehead with a kerchief with one hand while ringing the bell with the other.
“You would deny me my own servant? And all for a piece of fluff, a light-skirt from the gutter, and a little private enterprise on the side?” Hawthorne lowered the infernal bell, and Edward realized his shoulders had tensed with the incessant ringing, and he forced them to relax.
“Charlotte Raven is worth ten of you, Hawthorne. And I know all about Gravelines, and the official welcome your guinea smugglers get there from the French government. Please don’t insult Miss Raven again, or my intelligence, or I’m afraid I won�
�t be as reasonable as I am now.”
He saw Hawthorne absorb that, saw him droop a little.
“My lord?” Clavers’s call was soft, and Edward looked over his shoulder, saw Clavers standing with two footmen and a pile of boxes in the entrance hall.
Edward pushed away from the door, leaving Hawthorne without another word, and went into the study. It was empty of papers, but if Edward knew Hawthorne at all, there would be at least one hiding place. “Clavers? Go and see his lordship. Tell me what he wants you to bring him so urgently.”
Clavers nodded, and Edward could see the gleam of understanding in his eyes. He came back two minutes later. “He wanted to know where you were, and I said outside with your carriage. Then he asked me to bring him a box of French brandy from a shelf in here.”
Edward did a slow sweep of the room and saw the wooden box sitting on a shelf. It was a beautifully made thing, two different woods grafted together, with a small lock with no key in it. He picked it up, and it felt heavy enough to contain a full bottle of French brandy.
“I’ll take it to his lordship. You supervise the loading of my carriage.” Edward hefted the box, but there was no movement inside. No clue as to what was within.
Clavers allowed himself the luxury of a small smile. “Certainly, sir.”
Edward walked back down the passage, and he could hear Hawthorne slamming down his cane over and over on the floor. “Clavers! Clavers!”
“Clavers has a little job to do for me. Is this what you were looking for?” Edward stepped into the room and held the box up with one hand.
One look at Hawthorne’s face, and he knew this would contain something to damn his stepfather.
“Give it to me.”
“I’m sorry, I’m taking it with me. That and all the papers from your study I had Clavers pack up for me. He’s helping the footmen load them now in my carriage.”
Hawthorne’s face twisted, and Edward took a step back at the sight of the hate in his eyes. He wondered if Hawthorne could live much longer. He was sure to give himself an apoplexy.
The Emperor's Conspiracy Page 20