Lord of Legends

by Susan Krinard

  His fingers tightened on her wrist. “Did you lie with Cornell?”

  “No.”

  His gaze remained fixed on hers. “You were seen with him many times.”

  “No more than I was seen with other men.” She searched his eyes. “Why did you leave? You were so different in New York. I actually believed…” She looked out the carriage window. “How can you have changed so much?”

  “I haven’t changed. It is you—”

  “Why did you imprison your own cousin?”

  His skin blanched. “Imprison him? I had never seen the man before today, when he attacked me.”

  “Then why did I find him locked up in the folly by the mere, half-starved and irregularly fed by a keeper no one at Donbridge knew about?”

  Donnington opened his mouth and closed it again with a snap. “My dear,” he said very carefully, “I fear for your sanity.”

  “I have another witness,” she said. “Your own brother.”

  Surely he ought to have anticipated that someone would have found Ash eventually, but he seemed completely unprepared. “The man you call Cornell,” he said, the words half-strangled in his throat, “tried to kill me.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “He appeared shortly before our wedding. It was clear that he was a relation, but his behavior was beyond eccentric. He claimed he was the son of my mother’s sister, and that he had come to England to receive his portion of the Ware fortune.”

  “You mean that he did not know that he was entitled to nothing except what you might choose to give him?”

  “What would you expect? An American, believing himself entitled to anything he can steal by any means.”

  The insult was surely calculated, but Mariah would not be distracted. “So he arrived in England, without revealing himself to anyone else, and approached you with outrageous demands. And you found that sufficient reason to cage him like an animal.”

  “I told you, he tried to kill me. When I refused to grant his demands, he obtained a gun and twice tried to shoot me when I was riding across the estate.”

  “And instead of summoning the police, you took the law into your own hands.”

  “He proved himself entirely mad, capable of anything. I would not under any circumstances see you put at risk. But I hoped he might regain his sanity before I summoned the authorities.”

  Donnington must have known that what he said was not only improbable but outrageous, beyond the behavior of any civilized person. And yet he spoke without apology, without regret.

  Mariah was having none of it. “You went away without telling me, without telling anyone. You left Ash to rot. Why?”

  “I had my reasons.”

  “And I am supposed to be satisfied with such an explanation?”

  “Some day you will understand.”

  “I want to understand now. You must have known that he would be found eventually. He was a little mad, but how could any man not be, wrongfully imprisoned in a cell scarcely big enough for a dog?” She held her husband’s stare. “Sinjin and I did what we could to help him. He was finally able to tell us the truth about what you did.”

  “What truth? The truth of a madman?”

  “The truth of an evil perpetrated upon an innocent man.”

  If Donnington could have stood up, he would have done so. As it was, he simply became more menacing.

  “You were taken in, Mariah. You accepted his lies.” He laughed. “You came to care for him, didn’t you? To believe that I was the villain?”

  “I didn’t know what to believe for a long time,” she said. “I tried to withhold judgment. But now I see that you have no defense.”

  “You are a child and a fool, Mariah.”

  “I was, yes.”

  “I can still destroy your precious Mr. Cornell. He attacked me in a public place. All I need do is testify that he was already mad when he first came to me, and he will be put away forever.”

  “And all I need do is join my testimony to Sinjin’s.”

  He leaned back again. “Are you so naïve as to think that they would ever accept your story over mine? They already think you are mad.”

  “Sinjin is well regarded by the prince and the Marlborough House Set. What reason would he have to speak falsely, especially about his own brother?”

  “To gain the earldom. To take revenge for what he perceives as injustices in the past.”

  The words were accompanied by a sneer, but suddenly Mariah was certain that Donnington was genuinely shaken. “Did you intend to kill Ash and hide his body?” she demanded. “Whatever your real reasons for what you did, they are certainly not what you claim.”

  He breathed harshly through clenched teeth. “You are quite a clever little girl, Mariah. But you have stepped into waters much too deep for your dainty feet.” His eyes glinted. “My mother has urged me to seek an annulment to our marriage. She has a number of witnesses willing to testify that they heard you arguing with me on our wedding night, refusing to let me approach you and swearing I would never have you. Refusing to honor your vows is grounds for dissolution of the marriage.”

  “I refused?”

  “Then there is the matter of your apparent infidelity. I believe we can find other witnesses happy to testify there, as well.”

  “Your mother and her witnesses are liars. And why should I contest an annulment? My reputation has already been ruined. I have no more desire to be married to you than you do to me.”

  “Ah.” He smiled almost sweetly. “But there you are wrong, my dear. I do intend to remain married to you. I had my doubts before the ceremony, but as an honorable man I went through with it, even though I had come to believe I was making a mistake. I changed my mind while I was away. And now…” His smile broadened. “I would never let you go, Mariah. I know you think you love Cornell, but you will never have him.”

  “You would stay married to a woman you clearly despise simply to take revenge on another?”

  “But I don’t despise you, Mariah. I admire your—what do you Americans say?—your ‘spunk.’ When enough time has passed, you will turn to me.”

  A knot of realization began to twist in Mariah’s stomach. “How do you suppose you will ever manage that, Donnington?”

  “By striking a bargain with you, my dear. If you cooperate, I shall not pursue my contention that Cornell twice attempted to kill me. I will simply testify that he was bent on causing trouble in our family and that I warned him to return to America…which clearly he did not do.” He narrowed his eyes to slits. “You have wealth of your own, Mariah, but I have far more. It isn’t difficult to buy men of a venal nature, which is a majority of the human race. If you do not agree to my proposition, I can see to it that ‘Mr. Cornell’ is put away for a very long time.”

  “Why?” she whispered. “Why did you marry me?”

  “I want you, Mariah. That is all that matters.”

  But it wasn’t. She sensed that there was much more behind Donnington’s strange behavior than she could yet determine. Why had he married her if he’d had doubts about her? As he’d reminded her, he didn’t need her money. How could going away for several months, never communicating with her or any member of his family, have convinced him that he wanted her?

  But Donnington could not be reasoned with. He had committed a crime and would get away with it. The alternative was to see his wealth and power focused on destroying Ash.

  They rode on in silence, stopping for the night at an inn in Hertfordshire, where—much to Mariah’s profound relief—they were given separate rooms.

  The next day they reached Donbridge, where the dowager was overflowing with joy at her beloved boy’s return.

  For all her efforts, Donnington paid his mother scant attention. In turn, she barely acknowledged Mariah, her demeanor as cold as an Antarctic iceberg.

  Dinner was a horrid affair. Mariah imagined Ash being held by “doctors” bought and paid for by Donnington, prepared to do anything necessary to keep
their “deranged” patient quiet. After she and the dowager left the table, Mariah made an excuse and returned almost immediately to the dining room.

  “I will do as you say,” she said. “I will be your wife in every way. But you must release Ash and allow him to leave the country.”

  Donnington sipped his port. “I am happy to see that you have come to your senses, my dear,” he said. “We will enjoy our marriage bed tonight.”

  “No.” She lifted her head. “Not until I see Ash board a ship bound for America.”

  He set his glass down, hard. “I could force you.”

  “Then our bargain will be null and void. I shall never be yours.”

  He rose, nearly knocking his chair backward. “Mariah,” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. “I have never humbled myself to a woman before. I do so now.”

  “You?”

  “Yes. I was wrong to leave you. I did love you, Mariah. I just didn’t realize how much until I went away.” He touched the scar on his cheek. “When I left, I went to hunt in Germany and Hungary. I almost died. I was ill for many weeks. A man near death begins to see many things to which he was blind before.”

  Mariah closed her eyes. He appeared sincere, even vulnerable in a way she had never observed in all their time together. Yet she could not believe him. He might have reasons for wanting her now, but they had nothing to do with love.

  “Once I thought I loved you, Giles,” she said. “But how can I love you now, knowing what you did to Ash?”

  “I do not demand your love.” He raised his hands in a gesture almost like a plea. “Cornell is not what he appears to be. I ask only for time, time to show you.”

  “How can I trust you?”

  “Give me a chance, Mariah. I forgive you for any past indiscretions. It will be as if they never happened. And I will let Cornell go.”

  “You will allow me to see Ash off on the ship?”

  “Yes. And he will have all the money he requires to make his way when he returns to America.”

  “Then—when he is gone—I will be yours in every way.”

  Donnington circled the table and held out his hand. “Shall we shake hands on it, Mariah?”

  She stared at his outstretched fingers. Then she slowly put her hand in his.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “SHE IS QUITE MAD, you know,” Vivian said.

  At first she wasn’t certain that her son was listening. Then, abruptly, he turned toward her, morning sunlight streaming through the window onto his broad shoulders, his expression as closed as one of the books in his library.

  “Why do you say that, Mother?” he asked. “Has she done something to provoke such an accusation?”

  She quickly softened her tone. “She refused to fulfill her wifely duties,” she said. “She drove you away.”

  “She did not refuse. I had doubts about our marriage, and—”

  “As well you might! I have heard about her shocking behavior at Marlborough House. Surely there can be no better reason—”

  His stare was savage. “Mother,” he said, “it would be best if you stay out of such matters. The dower house is quite comfortable. Perhaps you would be happier there.”

  Even his threat of exile, frightening as it was, couldn’t silence her. “You doubt that she is mad? Perhaps she is not—at the moment. But her mother was quite insane. She ended her life in an asylum.”

  “I know.”

  “You know?”

  “Did you think I didn’t look into her background before I courted her?”

  “Then why…why did you marry her?” She reached out to touch his arm. “I am your mother, Donnie. I want only what is best for you. Once you are no longer able to annul your marriage, you will be compelled to provide for her for the rest of her life. If she does go mad…” She shuddered. “And your children, Donnington. Think of your children and what she may pass on to them.”

  “May,” he said. He stepped back, so that her hand slipped from his arm. “I am prepared to take that risk.”

  “But why? You can’t possibly love her, or you would never have—”

  He turned on his heel and left her standing in the drawing room as if she were a child begging for sweets before dinner.

  For the rest of the day, Vivian wandered the house in a daze. Mariah remained in her room. Donnington saw to his business. No one spoke to her except the servants, and then as little as possible. They knew her own son had treated her like a parlor maid, dismissing her concerns as if they were so much meaningless babble.

  He wanted the girl. It made no sense, and neither did his vague accounting of why he had failed to write while he was on his supposed “hunting trip” in Germany and the Balkans. It seemed she merited no real explanation.

  When night fell, she found herself in the entrance hall, unable to consider even the idea of sleep. Behind the closed door of the library she heard voices, one of them Donnington’s.

  The other was also male, but of a much lighter timbre. Not Sinjin, nor any of the servants. She could not make out the words, and she knew she should turn away and leave her son his privacy.

  But she did not.

  Instead, she moved closer to the door, close enough so that she could set her ear against the wood.

  “…our agreement,” the lighter voice was saying. “It was your task to leave them alone together so that Arion could win her cooperation and bring her to the Gate.”

  “Cornell has failed,” Donnington snapped. “Or did you not know that he has already taken her virginity?”

  “But he has not. I know.”

  “It doesn’t matter now. His desire for Mariah is moot. He is in custody for attempting to attack me, and he will remain so unless I authorize his release.”

  “What becomes of him is of no moment to me. In coming to care for the girl, to love her—” the unknown man gave the word a snarl of contempt “—he has become little more than human himself. But that can still change to your benefit.” A silence. “You have one final chance, Donnington. I have almost consolidated my power in Tir-na-Nog, but even after I have won, Mariah will be a prize. When I am ready to come for her—”

  “I am no longer interested in our agreement. I have changed my mind.”

  “Has your absence addled your wits, human? How is it that you can have ‘changed your mind’ when you have not seen the girl in months?”

  “She is my wife. Mine.”

  Vivian closed her eyes. The rest of what they had said made no sense, but this did. Now she would have her answers.

  “You would not understand, Fane lordling,” Donnington said. “Your kind have no feelings. I came to care for the girl even before we were wed, but I honored our bargain until I came to my senses.”

  “Your senses?”

  There was another silence, pregnant with hostility. “I’ve no proof that you would ever have kept your part of the bargain. If you do not overthrow Oberon, your powers remain limited in this world. And without the ability to change Cornell back to his true form, you would renege even if Mariah were delivered to you. But if you did gain that power, you could force Mariah through the Gate yourself. Why, then, should you keep our agreement?”

  “You dare to doubt my word?”

  “You want her, Cairbre, at any price. I choose not to let you have her. You used me, believing in your arrogance that you could manipulate me as you would have manipulated Arion. You were wrong.”

  “Do you think the girl trusts you now? She found Arion in his prison, just as we intended. But her feelings for him have grown too strong. Does she not believe his accusations that you are responsible for his suffering?”

  “I told her that he tried to kill me.”

  “Lies which you cannot back with proof.”

  “They will suffice. Return to your country and seek your own bride.”

  “Be warned, mortal. When I come fully into my power and Oberon can no longer enforce his will, I will be free to enter this world in my physical form. I will be free t
o destroy you.”

  “There must be some way to destroy you, Cairbre. And I’ll find it.”

  “You will suffer for your insolence, human. Make no mistake. Even now, I can do you harm.”

  Vivian started as a loud crash rattled the walls. Without thinking, she opened the door and stumbled into the room.

  Donnington was just getting up from the floor, a fallen bookshelf directly behind him. The man to whom he had been speaking stood well out of reach.

  Except he was not standing. He was floating in a nimbus of light that might have belonged to an angel.

  Vivian covered her mouth with her hand. Neither man so much as glanced in her direction.

  She backed out of the room and closed the door, as quiet as a whisper.

  “Think carefully before you attempt that again,” Donnington said, his voice shaken but unafraid. “Cornell shall meet his end soon enough, and you shall never interfere in my life again.”

  “This is not the last time you will hear from me, mortal.”

  Then there was no more talk, no sound from the room. After a few minutes, Vivian heard the noise of something heavy being scraped across the carpet, and she turned and fled up the stairs to her room.

  She had seen the…man, or whatever he was, called Cairbre. She had heard the words he spoke to Donnington. He had threatened her son. And they had both referred to Cornell as if he were part of some sort of agreement between them. An agreement that somehow would have seen Mariah delivered to Cairbre, with Donnington’s assistance.

  It made no sense. Only two things were clear: Cairbre wished harm to Donnington—harm Vivian was certain he had the ability to inflict—and Donnington intended to kill Cornell.

  Vivian laughed under her breath. She wondered if she were the one going mad.

  But no. She saw her path clearly, perhaps for the first time in months. She liked Mariah no better than she had from the beginning. The girl was at the center of some contest of wills between Donnington and a seemingly human creature who could float above the earth. She was also very likely an adulteress. But neither like nor dislike had anything to do with Vivian’s next decision.