CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;
Threescore men and threescore more,
Could not place Humpty as he was before.
Sprawled in a deep wingback chair by the fire, Granville stared at the pale, thin excuse for a man standing before him. Dark circles ringed his sunken eyes. A dead giveaway that he had not slept properly for days, perhaps even weeks, and had sunk back into his vile habit for opium.
Of course that is what he had given him the blunt for in the hopes that he would eliminate himself before he had to do it for him. He was becoming too much of a liability.
Roberts had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach causing him to tremble as he stood before Granville.
Granville crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his leather chair regarding Roberts thoughtfully. “I have learned some new details that you might find interesting.” His eyes gleamed eerily in the firelight. “Why don’t you sit down?”
Roberts swallowed noticeably as he scrambled to obey, the expensive leather creaking as he sank back into the available chair.
“Do you know anything about my ring?”
“Know what?” Roberts asked with a puzzled look.
Granville raised his brow.
“No, my lord.”
Granville said nothing.
“What am I missing?” Roberts’ voice was defensive, his eyes shifting to the other men in the room.
Granville shook his head, his green eyes staring a hole through him. “I’m sorely disappointed in you, Roberts. I gave you a lot of money to take yourself away and live comfortably for the rest of your life and you waste it in a matter of months on…” he waved his hand around negligently, “… drugs.” His condescending tone sent shivers of fear down Robert’s spine.
“You were the last one to have access to my person.”
“It’s big. It’s gold. It has a sapphire.” Roberts grumbled. “Why?” The question came out in a gravelly whisper.
“You may leave.” Granville’s voice was like silk as he spoke to the other men in the room. He waited until the door closed.
“What?” Roberts’ voice a panicked whine now.
Granville stood. “Would you care for a drink?” As he walked past, he trailed his finger over Robert’s jaw in a deeply intimate gesture.
Roberts’ eyes were wide with fear.
“It will help you to relax,” Granville murmured.
Roberts nodded his head slowly.
“You no longer hold any value to me.”
A cold sweat broke out on Roberts’ forehead as he sat paralyzed with fear. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What had he gotten himself into? Why had he been such a weak excuse for a man?
“I think it would be best if we drink to our past, and end our association now.” Granville handed him a cut-glass crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid.
Roberts’ glass held the same, so he took a deep swallow to ease his nervousness, then flinched at the evil twist that appeared on Granville’s face.
A moment later, Roberts clutched at his throat unable to breathe.
Granville leaned forward, his arms braced on the desk, satisfaction glowing in his eyes. “Cyanide,” Granville stated matter-of-factly. “Quite affective, and less of a mess.”
Roberts gasped in a ragged breath unable to speak.
Granville smiled when it looked like it was going to be Roberts last. He walked to the bell pull and waited, turning at the scratching on the door.
“My lord,” the voice asked.
Granville gestured with his head to the body slumped in the chair. “Get rid of it.”
***
Fothergil sat still in the chair opposite Lord Ashford’s desk next to Rockwell and waited for his reaction, knowing it was not going to be good.
“What the fuck!” Parker slammed his palms flat against the blotter on his desk, raising his eyes from the information Fothergil had collected while he had been in London. “It’s not possible.” What had she endured? How had she escaped? Grateful that she had been so lucky. Angry at the men who tortured her, who caused her to shrink away from life.
“I’m afraid it is, my lord.” Fothergil nodded.
“All this time and he was the one all along.” Parker grimaced as he thought of it, his jaw tightening in rage as he handed the information over to Rockwell. “Someone must have been sleeping when they were supposed to be investigating Miss Mayton’s death,” he snapped. “These men are far from the most intelligent.”
“Yes, my lord.” Fothergil’s eyes held a hint of sympathy.
“You are positive he is part of the same group of men whose activities insured Miss Mayton’s death.”
Rockwell looked up after examining the information, his eyes hardened glints of amber.
Parker couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be this simple. He turned his eyes to Rockwell. “How did we miss this?” Anticipation rippled through him. This was what he had been waiting for. Years of investigating, of searching out clues to finally have an answer sent waves of relief washing over his soul. He had heard there was a group of peers who acted out their innumerable perversions, but no one knew where. And those that did wouldn’t talk. This club was probably one of the best kept secrets of the ton. It was by invitation only and no matter the reputation he cultivated, he was unable to gain access to their circle.
There hadn’t even been a strong suspect in the years since Miss Mayton’s death. He or they were an anomaly, a shadow. Now he knew why.
Money.
Power.
Name.
Bile rose quickly to his throat almost chocking him, on the verge of making him physically ill. How many had suffered while he had seemingly searched in vain? How many more had paid the ultimate price? He prayed to God none, but he knew in his heart of hearts that was a child’s fantasy.
The bastard responsible would pay.
He would pay for his part in causing Miss Smith and Tillie’s pain.
Rockwell gave Parker a sympathetic look. “Because he pays a lot of blunt and the other men involved pay a lot of blunt to keep their evil deeds a secret.”
“So what happened to Miss Mayton wasn’t an accident?” Parker questioned, seeking confirmation.
“No, my lord,” Fothergil replied. “Based on the new information I’ve uncovered, I believe it was a sexual encounter that went awry.”
“How is that possible?” Parker shook his head, feeling unbelievably naive. “She was a young, unmarried lady.”
“She wouldn’t be the first unmarried lady who was led astray, Ash,” Rockwell reminded.
“She must have known too much,” Parker added.
Fothergil spoke up, “Granville’s group of men have a multitude of indulgences. Some tame, some not so tame, and some involving women with their innocence still intact.”
Parker’s head shot up. “There are enough women willing to do the despicable acts they are accused of without taking an innocent.”
“Roberts paid for an innocent,” Fothergil added. “He is the third son of a peer, no chance of inheriting the title and very little funds remaining. Perhaps this made him feel powerful?”
Rockwell added, “I’ve heard he became addicted to opium during his extensive travels abroad a few years back and will do anything to feed that hunger.”
“I’m going to kill him.” Parker’s eyes were hard as he came out of his chair and stood. Then unable to remain still, he began an agitated pace around the desk, anger surging through him demanding action of some kind, any kind. So young. Twenty-one perhaps and yet forced to endure more than anyone should have to in such a short life. He had witnessed the haunted pain in her eyes too many times and now he was going to make it right. Eliminate the object of her fears so that she could feel safe.
Rockwell’s loud sigh was one of resignation, standing to follow Parker. “I’ll tag along to see that you don’t.”
“My lord, there�
��s more.” Parker watched as Fothergil’s throat worked, before he spoke. “His name has been linked with these circles.”
Rockwell turned his sharp stare to Parker. “What?”
Parker’s expression blackened. “Son of a bitch.” Then all of a sudden the color drained from his face. “I don’t believe what you are saying.”
“I have proof.” Fothergil’s brow furrowed.
Parker froze inside at Fothergil’s words. “He would never…” His voice trailed off as he saw the look on his secretary’s face. “You say you have proof?”
Fothergil reached for a file on the desk, holding it out to him.
Parker stalked back to his desk and grabbed the file. His jaw tightened as he stared coolly at the contents contained within. There in black and white showed dates and times. He pushed his fingers through his hair as he shot unfocused eyes in Rockwell’s general direction. A bitter smile twisted his lips.
“Ash?” Rockwell said carefully and when Parker didn’t respond he tried again, “Parker?” He laid his hand on Parker’s arm and he jerked at the touch.
“There have been no rumors, not so much as a hint that he did this,” Parker murmured, shaking his head in denial. “He assured me time and time again that these things were cultivated to enhance his reputation only.” A frown marred his brow; he seemed to stare off into nothing. “It’s too late tonight. The women are decorating; don’t let them become aware of this information. Get some sleep, we’ll leave first thing in the morning.” Parker dropped into the chair behind him, pushing his fingers tiredly through his hair, and sighed. For years he had searched. He had wanted to clear his name. He didn’t want to leave this world with this cloud of suspicion hovering over the Peregrine family, over the marquisette. He had wanted answers, but he didn’t want this.
Didn’t need this.
Couldn’t believe this.
Rockwell watched Parker’s eyes, saw the pain that flashed inside them. He pulled the paper from Parker’s loose grip and stared at the writing. “Fuck.”
***
“You had better send messages to your friends and inform them of this new development.” Granville leaned back in his chair, crossed an ankle over the opposite knee, and lifted his tumbler of brandy from the side table where he had set it earlier.
Laurent Tisdale, the Marquis of Knighton, stared at him silently, watching as Granville sipped from the glass. “What friends?” Knighton finally asked.
Granville shook his head. “Don’t be dense; you know of whom I speak.”
Knighton reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. Patience was not his strong point. “St. Claire is the son of an earl; Seighton will surely miss his heir. How are you planning on explaining his absence?”
“Men choose to disappear all the time, Knighton,” Granville said by way of explanation. “St. Claire wouldn’t be the first.” He flicked his wrists. “Besides, Seighton has plenty of heirs. St. Claire is an idiot anyway.” He snorted in disgust.
Guilt flickered briefly in Knighton’s eyes. “How did it get this far?”
“He is weak,” Granville yelled, coming to his feet in a barely controlled rage.
Knighton shrunk into the back of his chair.
Granville returned to his seat, leaning forward. “Don’t you go soft on me too,” he snapped, his eyes glittering angrily. “You have brought his father’s power back to the forefront of my thinking. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so hasty.”
Knighton sighed, but there was no regret, only knowledge and acceptance and fear. He didn’t want to become a liability. He was too well versed with what Granville did to them.
***
Persephone, Piper, and Adele stood back from the hearth and admired their handiwork. The mantle had been adorned with fragrant greenery, glossy branches of holly, and festooned with red ribbons.
“It is beautiful,” Persephone breathed.
“I know it is early, but it helps ease the emptiness,” Piper removed her spectacles to clean them. “I will miss Poppy and Peyton dearly.”
Adele pulled her close to her side, hugging her tightly. “It will be our first holiday apart.”
Persephone reached for Piper’s hand and squeezed.
“Thank you for obliging me,” Piper managed a watery smile.
Persephone released Piper’s hand. “I say we sit and admire our handiwork and enjoy some much deserved refreshments.” She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. “The men I’m sure are happy for a reprieve from these particular duties.”
Piper lifted her head from her aunt’s shoulder and laughed. “I wonder if Mrs. Harris has prepared any of her minced pies.”
Persephone stood and strolled to the bell-pull. “Shall we see?”
“By all means,” Piper interjected as she sat next to her aunt.
“I fear you girls have tired me beyond redemption.” Adele held her hand over her mouth as a wide yawn overcame her. “Even Cook’s mince pies will be unable to revive me.” She kissed both girls on their cheeks before she left the room.
***
Parker sat sprawled in his deep leather wingback chair his legs spread out before him and groaned. “Don’t I employ servants for this sort of physical exertion?”
“I fear, if my wife says jump that I cannot deny her wishes.” Rockwell’s smile one full of contentment and something far greater.
Parker was surprised that he felt something similar and feared that his face reflected those same emotions. “The women I’m sure are seated in the parlor purring with satisfaction that we neither argued nor fought their demands, but followed their commands as if we are their dutiful soldiers.” Parker sipped his brandy, missing the shrewd glance Rockwell directed his way.
“I did not hear you protesting overly at the demands.”
Parker leaned his head back, closed his eyes and let out a heartfelt sigh. “Coming from lips so sweet, I could not deny any request.” He unconsciously ran his hand across his chest over his heart. “I believe I understand the sentiments spoken in poetry, my friend.”
“Hmm.” Rockwell’s gaze was on the fire. “I fear Piper’s displeasure more than I ever feared my father’s reprimands.” He chuckled, grateful that he no longer had need to worry about his father.
Parker thought of her green eyes. Her complexion accentuated by the golden flakes that sprinkled across her delightful nose and wondered when the change had truly overtaken him. When had he so willingly relinquished his heart to her commands? And why hadn’t it bothered him?
Both sat listening to the crackling fire far into the night, sipping the expensive brandy, content with their lot in life unaware of any turmoil or battles being waged in distance parts of the house by one green-eyed lady, but all too aware of the tasks that waited for them on the morrow.
***
Later that night after everyone had retired to their rooms for the evening, Persephone sat huddled on the floor of the nursery, hugging her knees to her chest. She rocked Tillie back and forth in a constant motion. She wanted to keep her quiet and not wake up the nurse and attempted to soothe her own riotous nerves.
She could not sleep, even though she had tried. She had lain in bed tossing and turning as her thoughts dwelled on the task that stood before her and the magnitude of its outcome. She hadn’t been able to quiet her mind, not with what loomed before her. She was saddened by what she had to do and what it would mean for her future. She mourned for what might have been. She would remember their talks. His smile. His eyes. She would be forever grateful for his kindness and the brief time she felt cherished again. She would lock these memories away to pull out in secret.
She wanted to go home. She wanted to race up the drive to find her mother and father waiting on the front steps for her to return from one of her long rides. She wanted to roam the park, remembering the way it had been when she was a girl. Through the eyes of innocent wonder and a hopeful heart, not the inky blackness that shrouded her mind and stopped her breath at the memories of the house of h
orrors that truly awaited her. Her sorrow was too great to name. How she longed for the home of her youth. One full of joy and laughter. One that she would be able to proudly present to Tillie.
“I won’t be gone long.” She closed her eyes and rocked harder. “I promise.” She pressed her face into the crook of Tillie’s neck and shoulder and inhaled the sweet smell of her daughter, committing her scent to memory. She sucked in deep breaths and tried to focus her thoughts on the journey ahead.
“You will be safe with Parker.” His image brought her comfort and eased her fears. “He will take care of you if anything should happen to me.” Sadness crept into her soul.
Her protector.
Her champion.
Her angel.
Angry tears burned her eyelids. She could not cower in the darkness forever. She would end this once and for all.
No more running.
No more hiding.
Tillie would be safe forever.
No matter what, Tillie would be safe forever.
She kissed Tillie’s forehead and laid her gently down in the bottom of the cot. She pulled the blanket over her little body and rushed from the room without a backwards glance.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep
And doesn’t know where to find them.
Leave them alone and they’ll come home,
Bringing their tails behind them
Parker looked up from the note that he found lying across his pillow, his heart immediately plummeted and curses exploded from his mouth. His heart beat raced in his chest like a rabbit being chased across a field by a hungry fox as he reread the ominous words a second time. His pulse galloped so fast he felt light-headed. Fuck.
The little fool!
I must settle this once and for all.
Eight words. Eight simple words that punched him in the gut. No explanation. No goodbye.
Rescue Me Please Page 21