With a resigned sigh he turned and looked around the cluttered study. Every available surface was covered by papers, some arranged neatly into stacks but most simply spread out into messy piles. He had a hell of a lot of business to attend to—important business—but it was damn difficult to think straight in such a cluttered space. He’d have to see that a maid was sent in to restore some semblance of order or he’d really go mad.
He walked over to the desk, picked up one small stack of papers and rifled through it briefly without much purpose. Slowly, as if in the haze of sleep, he sat down behind the desk. He needed to concentrate but just couldn’t focus on the task at hand. He couldn’t stop thinking about Kate.
His wife.
She’d been his wife for over a week, in fact. The date had been set while he was lying in a semiconscious heap on the floor of his father’s hall. There apparently had been some discussion over whether it was advisable to have a leisurely engagement, and thus try to dispel any rumors of a forced marriage, or to wed quickly and hope to put the whole wretched scandal in the past as soon as possible. Ben was glad the latter option had been decided upon. They’d been married a mere three days later—he hadn’t even realized it was possible to wed with such short notice outside of Scotland. Money, however, could buy just about anything, including special permits for precipitous weddings. Their ceremony had immediately followed Robert and Charlotte’s more celebratory event. It was a private affair with only Ben’s father and sisters and Charlotte and Robert in attendance; the latter had glowered darkly the whole way through. They’d even borrowed the priest, who’d been extremely nonplussed by the peculiar events but was too tactful to voice any objection.
Their wedding night was similarly unconventional. Indeed, they hadn’t actually had one. Within a few hours of the ceremony Kate had packed what items she’d brought to Peshley and had returned to London to collect the remainder of her belongings. From there she planned to travel on to Little Brookings, where she would stay indefinitely. Ben had learned this information from Charlotte, since Kate hadn’t bothered to discuss her plans with him. She hadn’t even bothered to bid him farewell. She’d just left. When he saw her again—and it would be sooner than she’d either want or expect—he’d certainly have something to say about it. He never would have permitted it, and her actions infuriated him. It wasn’t that long ago that Andrew Hilton had set his hired thugs on her, and he might not yet know of her changed status. She still wasn’t safe on her own, even if she seemed to be oblivious of that fact. Ben had always admired her intelligence, but at the moment it was not in evidence.
Of course, his behavior had been far from exemplary, and she was perfectly justified in not wanting to speak to him. Announcing to her brother that she could be with child, for one, was pretty unforgivable. He also could have followed her to London as a peace offering; there was no way their sudden marriage would go unobserved by the ton, and her return to London was undoubtedly a difficult and embarrassing ordeal complete with whispers and cold shoulders. She wouldn’t have expected to see him there since he’d informed her—as they were walking down the aisle, no less—that he’d be staying at his father’s for a while and would then sail to the West Indies when the weather was favorable. He’d wanted to give her the impression that he didn’t care one whit about being with her. He wanted her to believe that he cared as little about her as she, apparently, did about him.
It must have worked.
The fact was, though, he’d never planned on remaining with his father. In the first place his entire family was furious with him and it would just be too uncomfortable to remain at Sudley, especially to do so without his new bride. He’d been in plenty of scrapes in the course of his life, but his recent behavior surpassed everything that had come before. His father did nothing but sigh at him in disgust. His sisters, on the other hand, just kept asking too many annoying and highly personal questions that he felt, as younger sisters, they really had no right to ask.
He could handle his family, however. His main reason for not wanting to stay at his father’s was much more pressing: business. Specifically, business which required his presence elsewhere. He’d been too distracted to face it all morning, but he knew he could avoid it no longer. Determined to focus, he returned his attention to the papers in his hand.
Within a minute, his lips tightened to a thin line. Where the hell should he begin? If his bloody wife were there with him, at least she’d be able to answer that question for him.
His dark expression must have looked unusually foreboding, because at that moment a rather timid voice interrupted his dark musings. “Lord Sinclair?”
It was Tilly, the plump and red-cheeked housekeeper, hovering in the doorway. Ben softened his expression guiltily. Frankly, he was relieved by the disruption. “Yes, Tilly?”
She relaxed visibly. “Shall I serve your tea in here, my lord? Lord Gordon used to dine in here when he was busy, may God rest his soul. Miss Sutcliff…that is, Lady Sinclair, used to as well. It faces west, so you’ll get the afternoon sun.”
“Yes, thank you, Tilly. That will be all.”
No, Ben mused as she left the room, staying at Sudley had been out of the question given the circumstances. He’d gone straight to Little Brookings, of course. Kate’s staff had welcomed him with open arms, and why not? He was her husband.
She would probably be arriving within the next few days. He reckoned she’d be less pleased by his presence.
That thought almost made him smile. Much as he might dislike her at the moment, he couldn’t wait to see her reaction. Buoyed by that thought, he looked once more at the papers in his lap.
Right. Pay attention. Andrew Hilton was still out there and he had to find him.
The papers Ben had spent so long poring over had been compiled by Josiah Thatcher, a man his secretary had located in London’s East End the day after Robert had hit him in the face. Josiah was an ex-soldier who now made his living performing a variety of tasks for the right money: keeping tabs on unfaithful husbands and wives, threatening those in need of it and twisting arms generally. Ben suspected his résumé got even more colorful but thought it better not to ask.
For Ben’s purposes, Josiah was a spy, a function for which he apparently held a formidable underworld reputation. Andrew Hilton was still a danger and Ben knew that the sooner he was gotten rid of, the better. So, the day after his marriage had been settled, he’d hired Josiah and sent him on ahead to Little Brookings to garner what he could by asking a few discreet questions around the town. From Josiah’s groundwork Ben learned that Hilton hadn’t left Little Brookings for over a year, a fact that caused him to pause and wonder how he’d planned the attacks on Kate from such a distance. He also learned that although Andrew Hilton could be found at the boatyard most days, he hadn’t been seen there since the day after Ben arrived. Ben’s sudden presence in town had caused a minor, local sensation and news of it had undoubtedly found its way to Hilton. Obviously he’d thought it would be best to make himself scarce—pretty much an admission of guilt as Ben saw it.
Since arriving, Ben had kept Josiah on under the pretense of valet. Although he no longer needed his sleuthing skills, he figured it wouldn’t be a bad thing to have an extra pair of eyes around to look after Kate once she arrived. As it turned out, however, Josiah’s services weren’t really needed: Hilton was remarkably easy to locate. Ben actually just stumbled upon him. He’d gone for a walk into town to familiarize himself with his surroundings and to ask a few subtle questions of his own. It was a charming town filled with people who smiled and nodded at him without provocation—strange, but, the more he became accustomed to it, rather nice. He even found himself smiling back on a few occasions, something that the future tenth Viscount Sinclair would never do in London.
On his way home from this walk, he’d stopped at what was, in his opinion, Little Brookings’s principal attraction: the Seven Bells, its homely, sixteenth-century public house. The first time he’d entered th
is pub—and he was ashamed now to admit it—his lip had actually curled in snobbish distaste. He would never frequent such a modest establishment in London. Nor had he felt an immediate rapport with the townsfolk gathered inside: farmers, mostly, who spoke about their pigs in funny West Country accents. But Ben had had a frustrating day: he couldn’t stop thinking about his wife, and he hadn’t had a soul to talk to but the servants and Josiah since his arrival. Damn it, he was thirsty, and Mr. Palmer, the garrulous and compassionate publican, had sensed this. He’d begun pouring generous glasses of whisky while Mrs. Palmer brought him a steaming plate of steak and kidney pie and buttery, boiled potatoes followed with pudding. It was probably the most decadent meal they’d served in years, even if most London clubs and restaurants would have considered it far too humble for their menus. To Ben, it was heaven, and he’d visited the pub several times thereafter…probably several times more than was proper.
As he entered the low-ceilinged main room on this occasion, however, he immediately noticed a difference. Sitting in the chair that he had come to regard as his own was a man he’d never seen before.
“Ah, Mr. Hilton,” Mr. Palmer was saying, “will that be all for you today?”
Mrs. Palmer sniffed loudly, causing the other customers to snicker. “Can a whole bottle all to himself be enough, Mr. Palmer? Surely he can’t have finished yet— he certainly hasn’t paid yet.” She followed this tart statement with a meaningful glance.
The man just rose on shaky legs and slurred, “Tomorrow, Martha, tomorrow. I promise.” He then kissed Mrs. Palmer on the hand with a flourish and swayed right past Ben and out the door.
Ben didn’t move for a moment, too startled was he by his good fortune. He recovered shortly, however, and turned and followed.
Outside, the man hadn’t gone that far. He had merely walked around to the side of the building and seemed, from the satisfied noises Ben heard, to be relieving himself. Ben sighed in impatient disgust. He’d really been hoping to get this over with quickly.
The man reappeared after a minute. He didn’t seem to notice Ben and continued down the street.
Ben reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Andrew Hilton?” he asked, wanting to be certain that this was the right man before he planted his fist in his face. Mr. Palmer had referred to him only as “Mr. Hilton” and it was possible there was more than one person of such name, even in such a small village.
The man stopped suddenly and turned, obviously startled at being addressed so suddenly and at Ben’s cut-glass accent.
“I’m Andrew Hilton,” he replied in a surprisingly friendly voice accompanied by a slight bow. “And who’s asking?”
Ben didn’t answer, but took a menacing step forward. Hilton backed up speedily. “If you have a problem with me, can we not talk about it like reasonable—”
Ben didn’t let him finish. All the tension and frustration and anger that had been stewing in him since he’d asked Kate to marry him burst out. He grabbed Hilton by the front of his shirt and lifted him clear off the ground. Hilton was quite a bit smaller than Ben and dangled uselessly, eyes wide.
Ben lowered him to the ground. He wanted to hit him, but instead he took a deep breath and counted to five slowly. He needed answers before he knocked the man senseless.
Hilton looked warily up and down the street, but didn’t run off. He knew that he wasn’t a match for Ben and thought it best, for the moment, not to resist.
“You don’t know me,” Ben began, “but you know my wife.”
Hilton paled and began stuttering. “I…I know her…but not in the b-biblical sense you may suspect. I’ve winked at her, maybe, once or twice, when I’ve seen her on the green, but…it’s just flirtation.”
Ben longed to hit him again just for his stupidity. He seemed to think Ben was some jealous husband, a completely unlikely scenario. As if anyone would choose Hilton over him. He quickly clarified his statement. “Katherine Sutcliff, my wife, now Lady Sinclair. Now is everything beginning to make sense?”
Hilton said nothing, but he appeared to be sobering quickly.
“You will stay away from her.”
Hilton shook his head in slight confusion. “I haven’t seen her in months, my lord. She left Dorset and hasn’t been back. I…I’d only just heard she’d married.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t think it unwise to stay in town. Did you not think I’d find you and see that you paid for your harassment of her?”
Hilton took a small step back at the words “see that you paid.” Still he looked perplexed. “I…I’ve had my differences with her, my lord…but no lasting problems. I’ve been taking care of the company while she’s away…quite well, I thought.”
“Your service to Alfred and Sons is terminated.”
“You cannot do that. She owns that company, even if she doesn’t deserve it. Her father saw to that.”
“No, Hilton, I now own the company and I don’t like you.”
Hilton’s eyes grew wide in shock. “She would never let you own it.”
Ben raised an arrogant eyebrow. “She didn’t let me do anything. I am her husband and I make the decisions. You planned to be in a similar position, did you not?”
“I’m sorry, my lord?”
“You tried to coerce her into marrying you. You must remember.”
A deep flush stained Hilton’s face. He was completely sober now and for the first time he seemed to understand the cause of Ben’s aggression completely. “I only tried once, really, my lord—”
“Not according to my wife. You threatened her.”
“No! I only tried to convince her…she cannot be running that company on her own, but she wouldn’t listen to reason. I wanted her to sell it to me, but she refused.”
“So you tried to force her to marry you instead?”
“No! Not to force her to marry me…I mean, that’s how I put it, but only because I knew she didn’t want to marry me…nor I her, my lord. I was just trying to convince her to sell the company to me as a…more pleasing option.”
“And kidnapping her?”
Hilton’s expression remained completely blank. He stared for a moment, not seeming to understand yet again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Twice, Hilton. Surely you remember. You’re not that thick, are you?”
“I’ve been in Little Brookings for the past year at least. You can ask anyone. I don’t understand.”
Hilton’s astonishment seemed so sincere that a tiny speck of doubt entered Ben’s mind. He squashed it and took another step forward, this time grabbing Hilton by the lapels of his coat and dragging him forward. “What exactly don’t you understand?”
Hilton was shaking his head in desperation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, my lord. I never tried to kidnap her. I’d never do anything to hurt her. I just wanted control over the company. I worked for that family for my entire adult life, but I never planned on working for an inexperienced girl. I knew that with her in control we’d lose all business eventually. I’d lose my job as a result. I was owed more than that. I was. But I would never hurt her.”
Ben released Hilton abruptly, and in the suddenness of the motion he stumbled to the ground. Ben wanted to kick him, to hit him. He was the cause of every problem in his life. He’d threatened Kate, made her panic, made her need to marry, made her marry him even though she hadn’t wanted to. Because of Andrew Hilton, Ben was married to a woman who mistrusted and despised him. He wasn’t too far from despising her either, these days, although deep down he was afraid he’d fallen completely in love with her and would never be able to change that fact. That was what hurt the most.
But somehow he controlled himself.
“You’ve lost your job anyway, Hilton. You know that, and you have one more chance to tell me the truth.”
Hilton rose unsteadily. “I am telling you the truth! I would never harm her. I…I admit I tried to intimidate her, but never more than that. Never.”
Ben knew in that moment that he was telling the truth. He’d already begun to suspect it, but now he knew it without a doubt. Andrew Hilton was guilty of threatening Kate, and for that he’d lost his position at the company forever. But he’d had nothing to do with the attacks on Kate in London and at Peshley: that had been someone else.
Ben stepped away and nodded at Hilton. Hilton tipped his hat and walked off down the street quickly. When he’d gone about fifty feet he began to run.
Ben watched him go, filled with dread.
Chapter Fifteen
Kate was at once pleased to be returning home and dreading the consequences that return would bring. News of her marriage would already have reached her servants and, although they were too discreet to ask any personal questions, they would obviously wonder why she had come back to Dorset without her husband. They certainly would gossip about it when she was out of hearing. It wasn’t natural for a wife to leave her husband so soon after marrying…and Kate had left him, not the other way around. She’d pushed him away before even giving things a chance. She’d left him within a few hours of marrying him and hadn’t even told him she was leaving. She’d meant to inform him, she really had…only he was in the study talking to his father and she hadn’t wanted to disturb him.
Oh, hell. She hadn’t wanted to face him. She couldn’t. She was too much of a coward.
Her heart accelerated as her carriage slowed to a halt in front of the house. Mary had been talking for most of the long journey, but Kate had barely paid attention. She was just too worried. What on earth would she tell everyone? How would she explain her situation? Little Brookings was quite small and gossip always spread quickly there. She could say that Ben had been detained in London, but what would she say when he didn’t turn up in a few days? In a few weeks? And how would she explain it when she never went to visit him? Eventually she’d have to come up with something.
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