Royce looked thoughtful. “I would say that your trip to Tunbridge Wells was even more productive than we could ever have imagined,” he said eventually. Finding himself the target of three pairs of eyes in which astonishment was plainly revealed, he smiled faintly and elaborated, “You managed to spread the word of our marriage to Wetherly’s entire party—no mean feat, considering we had no idea that they would all be attending that public ball. You’ve also, inadvertently it may be true, informed the one-eyed man of Morgana’s changed status, but more importantly, we now know that he can only be one of a small group of guests staying at Wetherly’s house.” A dangerous expression on his handsome face, Royce drawled, “All we have to do is cut him out from the pack, and once we have him in our sights ...”
“But can we?” Morgana asked sharply. “If Jack didn’t recognize him and he continues to disguise his voice, how will you be able to discover which one of the gentlemen he is?”
“That’s just it,” Zachary interjected excitedly. “He can’t keep his voice disguised all the time—someone who knows how he talks normally is bound to ask him what is wrong. All we need to look for is someone of Wetherly’s party claiming to have a sore throat!”
“I hope it’s that easy, but I doubt that it will be,” Royce said dampeningly. “He’s a clever bastard, and I think the most that we can assume is that Jack’s appearance tonight gave him a hell of a shock!” An unpleasant smile suddenly curled Royce’s lips. “And of course, the news of Morgana’s marriage to me can’t have pleased him either. I would suspect that at the moment, our one-eyed man is very nearly beside himself with rage... .”
CHAPTER 29
Royce was correct on both counts—seeing Jane’s oldest brat, looking every inch a gentleman, strolling confidently across the crowded ballroom with Zachary Seymour had indeed been a hell of a shock for the one-eyed man! He’d barely been able to swiftly conceal the stunning jolt that the sight of Jacko had given him before he was beset with the terrifying knowledge that if Jane’s brat had not already recognized the sound of his voice, as soon as he opened his mouth, Jacko was certain to identify him.
In the flurry of introductions, it had been easy enough to disguise his voice beneath a cough and a muttered greeting, but prolonged conversation anywhere in the vicinity of Jacko was fraught with danger, and he kept his mouth shut afterward. But how he had kept from exploding with rage when Zachary casually dropped the news that Manchester had married Morgana, he was never certain. He was aware that a muscle had bunched furiously in his cheek and that his hands had closed into impotent fists, but again, conscious of the situation, he had savagely brought himself instantly under control.
Years of hiding his real emotions behind a polite mask came to his aid, and he had forced a smile to his lips as he had listened to the cries of astonishment that had met Zachary’s announcement. Heart pounding murderously in his chest, nearly breathless with the black rage that scalded through him, he had behaved faultlessly, his smile holding just the right amount of amusement at the various jocular comments made by his friends, his polite expression conveying just the exact hint of curiosity about the sudden match.
He had been so caught up in effectively concealing his own raging agitation that he could not even take malicious pleasure in the swiftly hidden expressions of appalled consternation and stark rage that had flickered across the faces of the Earl and Countess of St. Audries when Zachary had tossed out his explosive bit of news about the marriage. For once, the invincibility of the one-eyed man had utterly deserted him and he had been as helpless as any of his many victims, forced to stand there in a crowd of people and smile and act as if his world were not in immediate danger of crashing down about him, caught so totally off guard, first by Jacko’s presence and then by the monstrous enormity of Zachary’s announcement, that he almost couldn’t comprehend it.
A febrile glitter in the black eyes, he sat silent in the coach during the ride back to Wetherly’s home, and in desperate need to come to grips with this terrible calamity, he retired immediately to his room. Alone at last, he was able to let all his fury show.
Morgana married to Manchester! Fairly grinding his teeth with fury, he stormed around the room, his face twisted with hate and violent rage. Why had he never considered such a shattering event? How had all his glorious plans come to this unbelievable state of utter disarray? With a vicious movement, he sent an elegant chair crashing against the wall. Manchester! he thought malevolently. It always came back to that damned American!
He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring whitely from the force of the rage that continued to roil within him as he tried to gain some semblance of mastery over his nearly maniacal emotions. But it was not just rage and fury that warred in his breast; for the first time in years, he was conscious of a faint feeling of alarm, and he cursed the day that he had ever laid eyes on Jane’s children.
It was still almost inconceivable to him that Jacko had actually been there tonight at the assembly room, that if he had not spied him first, his days of hiding behind the disguise of the one-eyed man would have been over. It wasn’t so much the loss of his disguise that worried him as it was the fact that Jacko would have known his real identity, and that knowledge would have given Jacko power over him! The one-eyed man could vanish forever without a trace, as had been his intention once he had married Morgana, but he ... he could not afford to find himself in the position of being blackmailed for the rest of his life by Jacko! And if Jacko plumbed his identity ... Manchester would learn the truth and he would be destroyed.
Slumping down in a chair, he buried his head in his hands. Had he ever envisioned this dangerous situation arising when he had first hit upon the scheme of killing the original one-eyed man and taking his identity? A bitter laugh broke from him. Oh, no! At twenty-one years of age, just up from the country, burning to make his fame and fortune, he had been so cocksure, so arrogantly confident that there was nothing that he could not accomplish if he set his cunning mind to it.
Having lived all his life, until then, buried in a corner of rustic simplicity in the north of England, he had been dazzled by London. As the local squire’s youngest son, he had grown up being treated as a person to be fawned upon and pandered to by the local inhabitants, but in London ... His eyes glittered angrily. In London he had been considered nothing more than a bucolic bumpkin by the haughty members of the ton, a ludicrous, unsophisticated figure to be tittered about or, in some cases, snubbed, and of course, when it was learned that a certain high-flyer being kept by Lord Bailey was actually his half sister, it had not increased his stature within the rarefied society that he so yearned to join.
His father had been, by country standards, a comfortably established man, but in London the squire’s position and fortune had been considered paltry—a mere nothing—and as for him as the youngest son ... Jane bluntly explained all of this to him when he had first called on her after arriving in London. She had invited him to stay with her at her elegant little house off Half Moon Street, a move that had been, as he was to learn to his cost, a disastrous mistake for someone intending to breech the inner ranks of the ton. Wealthy and aristocratic men might share Jane’s bed, but that did not open any doors to her brother—quite the contrary! But he’d had no money, having come expressly to London to seek his fortune after a final violent falling out with his father and brother, and seeing the fine things his sister had acquired in such a short time, he was positive that he would be able to do even better—after all, he was a man!
Things had not worked out as he had envisioned, and he had found himself compelled to live on his sister’s bounty, which infuriated him and made him resentful and envious of his amoral half sister. He had been livid when she had so stupidly gotten pregnant with Jacko, and as her belly increased, so did her latest protector’s visits decrease, and more important to him, so did the aristocrat’s generosity. And as the money dried up, his resentment and frustration had grown so much that he could hardly bear to be i
n the same room with Jane and her monstrously swelling belly.
Lifting his head from between his hands, he stared blankly around the attractive confines of his room in Wetherly’s house. A cynical smile tugged at his mouth. It certainly was a far cry from the dingy, sordid little tavern where he had been sitting nursing his rage against Jane and fate with a pint of bitters, and had first caught sight of the one-eyed man. He hadn’t paid much attention to the one-eyed man’s furtive movements as the old man had sidled across the dimly lit interior and had eventually taken a small table in the darkest corner of the room. A small table that providentially just happened to be right behind where he had been sitting, cursing Jane and the stupidity of her actions.
In the beginning he had hardly been aware of the low murmur of voices behind him, but then gradually the import of what was being said impinged upon his consciousness and he began to listen carefully. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing—the well-dressed gentleman who had joined the one-eyed man was actually arranging a murder. It was apparent from their conversation that the one-eyed man carried out this sort of business on a regular basis, and the money that the gentleman was willing to pay for this one act was a small fortune!
The notion of taking over the one-eyed man’s identity, and consequently his wealthy patrons, didn’t occur to him that night—Jane sold a few pieces of jewelry the next day and they had enough money to live on for a while. But over the following weeks, with nothing better to do, he began to frequent the tavern where he had seen the one-eyed man, and when the fellow reappeared, he began to cunningly follow him, to stealthily ferret out all the man’s secrets. By the time a year and a half had passed, he knew all there was to know about the one-eyed man, and the idea of killing him and becoming the one-eyed man himself had by then been in his mind for several months. And so one black night, well acquainted with his habits by now, he laid an ambush for the one-eyed man and coolly and efficiently murdered him and disposed of the body by weighing it down and tossing it in the Thames River. He didn’t care whether it was discovered eventually or not—a few weeks in the river and the corpse would be unrecognizable.
And so, over twenty-five years ago, the squire’s poor youngest son became the one-eyed man! It had been ludicrously easy to slip into the one-eyed man’s shoes, so effortlessly simple to take the money that poured from the hands of those wealthy members of society who had dared snub him, but now who desperately needed his atrocious services. He didn’t tell Jane in the beginning what he had done—she had recovered her figure and had, by the time Jacko was three months old, snared a new protector.
With the money from his first act as the one-eyed man—the murder of a rich old aunt, for an impatient and impecunious nephew—he found himself his own lodgings and put as much distance between himself and Jane as he could. He lived quietly and unobtrusively for several months, perfecting and honing the dual role he intended to play, and as his fortune grew and he became more familiar with the mores and manners of London society, he cautiously began to cultivate those members whose acquaintance would do him the most good. He never mentioned his family, and since his first abortive foray into polite society had been exceedingly brief and shallow, by his twenty-sixth birthday, he was well established on the London scene, and no one ever connected his elegant form and charming manners with the brash, green boy who had arrived in London years before ... or the one-eyed man.
His seamless intrusion into polite society opened up all sorts of opportunities for the one-eyed man, and he was quick to seize them, capitalizing on his dual roles, continuing to amass his fortune. He discovered he had a marvelously criminal mind, and in time, he expanded his range to include all manner of criminal activities, far beyond the scope of the original one-eyed man. As his fortune had grown, he had deliberately not kept in touch with Jane and had almost forgotten about her until he had passed her one evening at Covent Garden and she had approached him archly, teasing him about how fine he had become these days. Fortunately, he had been alone, and hoping that anyone who saw them together would leap to the conclusion that she had been soliciting him, he hustled her away so that they could talk privately.
Ben had been born by this time, and Jane was finding it harder to attract the attention of the wealthy young aristocrats as she had in the beginning. She still was living in the house near Half Moon Street, but with two children now, life was becoming more difficult for her.
Rising to his feet, he walked over and poured himself a large glass of whiskey. It was those stupid brats of hers! he thought viciously, not for the first time. Who in the hell wanted a mistress with a pair of mewling bastards hanging at her skirts! He’d said as much to her at the time, but she had shrugged and asked him for some money. He’d given it to her and he had ordered her to keep her mouth shut about any relationship between them—he didn’t ever again want her to approach him as she had in Covent Garden! If I’d been wise, he admitted grimly, I’d have throttled her and the brats that night—at least then I wouldn’t have had to endure tonight’s nerve-shattering scene!
Precisely how Jane had become privy to his dual role, he didn’t remember. No doubt, he thought with a grimace, he’d gotten drunk one night and had wanted to brag about his exploits to someone—he had been younger then, not as careful as he was now. Once she knew about the one-eyed man, though, he had made it a practice to visit her only in that disguise. He had wanted her to forget that she ever had a brother, and never appearing as her brother seemed as good a way as any to accomplish it. His secret had been safe with Jane—she had nothing to gain and everything to lose by making things difficult for him, and she’d been eager to receive the gold that he occasionally tossed her way.
He’d been anxious about Jane knowing about the one-eyed man, but over the years he had taken great pains to keep his public life totally separate from hers, and she had never known the full extent of either his fortune and his growing stature within polite society. A cruel smile curved his mouth. Stupid, silly slut! She had never even been suspicious and had believed right up until the day she died that he had lived in nearly as desperate straits as she and her children. He had never feared Jacko and Ben plumbing his disguise—they had been far too young to remember him as Jane’s younger brother, and they had grown up believing that he was simply the one-eyed man. Even if Jane had risked mentioning that he was her brother, they still wouldn’t have been likely to recognize him garbed in his fine clothes if they had passed him on the street.
No, he thought viciously, it isn’t my face that will give me away, but my voice! His face darkened with rage and he poured himself another glass of whiskey.
Years ago, while he had realized immediately the necessity of muffling his voice when dealing with his various victims if he wanted to continue to move freely among them, it had never occurred to him to do the same thing when in the company of Jane and the others. A stupid, stupid mistake!
Of course, he realized that Jacko recognizing his voice was the least of his worries—Morgana’s marriage to Manchester had smashed the plans that he had nurtured for so many years, and unless he acted immediately, there would be no way that he could salvage anything from the ruins.
His mind working at a furious rate, he stared off into space, trying to decide how he was going to recover from this most recent catastrophic turn of events. Time had become of paramount importance—if he was to salvage any of his plans, he had to get Morgana away from Manchester instantly! Once she was introduced to society as Manchester’s wife ... His face twisted savagely. That wasn’t going to happen—when she made her first appearance to the members of the ton, it would be as his wife!
So how to get her away from Manchester? A scowl wrinkling his brow, he reviewed Zachary and Jacko’s comments. The two young men had clearly indicated that the marriage between Morgana and Manchester had been a love match, and if that was the case, then Morgana would no doubt do anything in her power to save the life of her very new husband... .
A note, he tho
ught slowly, a very explicit note delivered to her in the morning, should bring her running to him... .
Very well, that took care of one problem, and a second note delivered to Manchester several hours after they had left for his own country estate should bring the distraught husband following quickly behind... .
A gleeful expression suffused his features. Yes! Yes! It was a splendid plan! First thing in the morning, he would inform Wetherly that he would be leaving for his home in Hastings, just a few hours ride from Tunbridge Wells, and since he had deliberately not committed himself for the full length of the house party, no one would think it strange if he departed ahead of time. He would be waiting for Morgana near Lime Tree Cottage, and once she was safely under his control, he would drive immediately to Hastings and make some very lethal preparations for her husband’s arrival. Disposing of Manchester’s body would be relatively easy—his home overlooked the sea, and it would be simple enough to make certain that when Royce Manchester’s corpse sank into its icy depths, his body would never be recovered—Royce Manchester would simply disappear forever!
Almost chortling with delight at his own brilliance, he very nearly convinced himself that he had been scheming to arrange this entire sequence of events. It would be so perfect! Royce’s new wife, a little nobody whom no one had ever met or heard of and who had bewitched the foolish American, would mysteriously run away, and the poor, half-demented Manchester, unwilling to believe that she had deserted him, would frantically follow her ... and would never be seen again! Oh, but it was diabolically clever! A plan so very worthy of him!
Whisper To Me of Love Page 46