Tall, Dark and Royal

by Vanessa Kelly

  “After he shoved her into the wall,” Griffin cut in, his angular features pulled sharp with anger. “Fortunately, unlike my sainted mother, Hill had anticipated trouble. He and his nephew came charging to the rescue with pistols and cudgels, I’m happy to say.”

  Dominic pressed the tips of his fingers to his throbbing temples. “Chloe, this nonsense has to stop. You are placing both yourself and the girls in danger.”

  Her slender figure went rigid. “Are you suggesting this is somehow my fault?” She stared at him, her normally gentle eyes snapping with outrage.

  “Of course not.” Dominic tried not to let frustration color his voice. “But this sort of threat seems to be occurring with some frequency lately, and your security and privacy have clearly been compromised.”

  She continued to glare at him. Even though she looked heartbreakingly delicate, Chloe’s determination and courage shimmered in the air around her. Dominic was torn between shaking some sense into her and getting down on his knees and declaring his undying devotion. She was the most magnificent woman he’d ever known.

  “I will not abandon my girls or their babies, Dominic,” she said. “You should know that by now.”

  “I’m not asking you to abandon them. I only want that you exercise an appropriate degree of caution.”

  Her eyes narrowed a bit more, but she held her tongue.

  Magnificent and stubborn.

  “Tell me what happened next,” he said with a sigh.

  “Justine and I came onto the scene,” Griffin said. “Young Roger wasn’t stupid enough to threaten me.”

  Dominic’s tension ticked down a notch. “Ah, then he recognized you?”

  “He certainly did,” Justine piped up from her seat next to Griffin. “I thought he was going to faint dead away when he realized whom he was dealing with.”

  She beamed at her husband with such obvious pride that Dominic had to hold back a smile. Justine had always been a reserved, proper young woman with a marked distaste for conflict and controversy. All that had changed when she met Griffin Steele.

  Griffin snorted disdainfully, yet his dark eyes warmed with affection as he took his wife’s hand. “Hardly, my love, but he understood the point I was trying to make.”

  “Punching a man in the nose will tend to do that,” Justine said.

  This time, Dominic did smile. “I take it you explained to this young man in your own inimitable fashion that further contact with Jane, Chloe, or any other member of this house would be most unwise.”

  “I did,” Griffin said.

  Chloe beamed at her son, her eyes shining with the love denied her for so many years. “And you did it quite splendidly, my dear. I was most impressed with your reasoning.”

  “Thank you,” Griffin said in a dry voice. “Although I doubt it was my reasoning that got Roger out the door.”

  For the first time all afternoon, Dominic started to relax. “Then I would hope this is the end of the affair. If Roger—I begin to wonder if he has a last name—is aware of Griffin’s reputation, surely he will know to steer clear of any further involvement.”

  When Chloe and Griffin exchanged a worried look, Dominic felt an all-too-familiar sense of foreboding. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Justine eyed her husband and mother-in-law, who both maintained an uncharacteristic and uncomfortable silence. She rolled her eyes and then gave Dominic a placating smile. “Well, Uncle Dominic, it’s more about who Roger is, not what.”

  He forced himself to speak evenly. “Now I begin to understand why you’ve all been careful to avoid using Roger’s last name. Justine, I would be grateful if you would share it with me.”

  “It’s Campworth, Uncle Dominic.” Justine grimaced sympathetically. “Yes, that Campworth. Roger is the nephew of Borden Campworth, the crime lord.”

  Chapter Two

  Chloe knew it wasn’t a good thing when Dominic looked stunned. For a man who dealt in the unexpected, he had a particular aversion to secrets and surprises.

  “I know very well who Borden Campworth is,” Dominic finally replied, dry as dust.

  Oh, dear.

  Chloe knew what that tone of voice meant too. Dominic was displeased, and the fault for that rested at her door.

  Again.

  She resisted the urge to pull the lap robe over her face and pretend that today hadn’t happened. She’d spent a long night walking the floor with a fractious baby, the back of her head was throbbing from her bump, and her nerves were stretched thin as a skein of silk. Dominic’s irritation was doing nothing to alleviate those conditions, either. That’s why she’d resisted Griffin’s decision to send for him in the first place. Chloe had known Dominic would react in his typically overprotective fashion, ordering everyone about and trying to fix everything. And as much as some part of her wished for him to do just that, she simply refused to add to the long list of burdens Dominic shouldered.

  But if Griffin’s and Dominic’s reactions were any indication, Roger Campworth was indeed a problem. And that would make it Dominic’s problem, since he would insist on shielding Chloe. It was one of the reasons she’d been loath to come out of hiding. It had been many years since she’d last seen Dominic, but she’d discreetly followed his career and recognized the kind of man he’d become. He’d want to take care of her, just like he took care of everyone in his life. Chloe simply couldn’t permit that, not when she suspected his sense of obligation stemmed mostly from guilt—guilt that resulted from a foolish belief that he was at fault for the tragic mistake she’d made when little more than a child. Dominic believed he should have somehow prevented her seduction by Prince Ernest all those years ago and all the bad things that had subsequently followed.

  But Chloe was entirely responsible for her own actions, and the idea that she was an object of pity or guilt to the best person she’d ever known filled her with despair.

  She squared her shoulders, determined to regain control of the situation. “Surely you’re exaggerating. Roger Campworth is a repellant individual, but I must believe his uncle’s reputation has been blown out of proportion. And why would he even be interested in his nephew’s, er, love life? I’m sure we have nothing to worry about.”

  Griffin snorted. “Go ahead and tell yourself that, Mother, if it makes you feel better.”

  Despite his annoying response, Chloe’s insides glowed. Her reunion with her son had been difficult, but he’d surprised her by expending time and energy getting to know her and trying to understand why she’d hidden away for so long. Every time he called her “Mother,” even in that sardonic voice of his, she felt lit from within, as if a star had fallen from the heavens and lodged itself in her chest.

  “Griffin, there’s no need to crab at your mother,” Justine said. “She’s just trying to help.”

  “And I’m just trying to keep her from getting murdered,” Griffin retorted.

  As soon as Dominic raised a hand the argument petered out. As usual, he dominated the room merely by standing there. He never raised his voice and his movements were always economical and self-restrained, but he was a tall, utterly masculine presence and could intimidate a room simply by lifting a disapproving eyebrow. He’d grown into a man of tremendous physical and intellectual power, a combination Chloe found both intoxicating and rather unnerving.

  Dominic was not a cruel man, nor would he ever lift a hand to an innocent, but he was also no longer the expressive, eager boy she’d loved, one who never hid what was on his mind or in his heart. Now, he exercised iron control over his emotions, and most of the time she hadn’t a clue what he was thinking, especially about her return to his life. Most days he appeared to be happy about it, but Chloe was never entirely sure.

  “A little common sense would not go amiss in this discussion,” Dominic said, “so let me try to inject some. Borden Campworth is a dangerous man, one of the very worst in London, as Griffin indicated.”

  She ignored the sudden pounding of her heart and tried to remain calm i
n the face of that daunting news. “I see. But it doesn’t necessarily follow that Roger is just as dangerous.”

  Dominic’s flinty green eyes widened. “He pulled a pistol on you, Chloe.”

  She winced. Clearly, that bump on her head was affecting her brain since she was in danger of sounding like a nitwit. “What I meant is that I don’t think he intended to shoot me or anyone else. He was simply trying to intimidate me into allowing him to see Jane.”

  “He pushed you into a wall,” he gritted out.

  “Yes, he’s a complete lout,” she admitted. “And I’m not trying to be difficult or reckless. I just don’t know much about him or his relationship with his uncle.”

  “Then perhaps we should ask the one person who does know,” Dominic said.

  Chloe clapped her hands together. “Of course! We need to talk to Jane. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”

  With a rueful shake of his head, Dominic sat down next to her, reaching out to stroke her cheek. “I imagine it was the knock you took to the skull. You seem slightly rattled this morning.”

  His gentle touch and the affectionate tone in his deep voice almost undid her. Chloe had to clamp down on the impulse to lean into him and let the tears flow. Because she had been frightened when Roger pulled his weapon—more from the fury in his mud-colored eyes than from the gun barrel pointed at her chest. She truly believed he had no intention of shooting her, but she’d seen the ugly results of that sort of anger too many times, both in her life and the lives of the girls who sought her help. It was an anger that led to bruises and broken bones and lives ripped apart by fear.

  Dominic withdrew his hand after a moment and stood. She immediately missed his warmth and his reassuring presence by her side.

  “Justine,” he said, “perhaps you could fetch Jane.”

  When Justine slipped from the room, Dominic went to the tea trolley to pour Chloe another cup of Earl Grey. He and Griffin fell into a discussion about a crime bill under consideration in Parliament, and Chloe knew they were giving her time to recover her poise.

  As she watched the two men she loved so dearly, her heart swelled with both pride and more than a little sorrow. Griffin had overcome great adversity to build his fortune and find the woman he loved, while Dominic had matured into the finest man Chloe had ever met. She had missed all of that, left behind while they had made their way in the world without her.

  That it had been her choice to be left behind offered her no comfort.

  In a few minutes, Justine returned with sweet-faced, pretty Jane Clayton, her belly gently rounded in the middle stages of pregnancy. Jane was much too fine a girl to spend her life in the clutches of a man like Roger Campworth, and Chloe would do everything she could to make sure she and her baby would remain safe.

  Jane’s eyes rounded in dismay. “Oh, Mrs. Piper, I didn’t know Roger hurt you.” She threw herself to her knees, grabbed Chloe’s hands, and burst into tears.

  Chloe let her sob for a moment or two before drawing her up on the chaise. “Hush, Jane, I’m perfectly fine. There’s no need to cry.”

  When Jane continued to weep, Chloe gave her a gentle shake. “That’s not good for the baby, my dear. You must be calm.”

  Jane gave a watery sniff and nodded. Chloe gestured toward Dominic. “This is Sir Dominic Hunter. He’s a magistrate, and he’s not going to let anything happen to you or the baby, I promise.”

  The girl cast Dominic a dubious look, but he gave her an encouraging smile in return. Even dressed for driving in breeches, boots, and a plain dark coat, he was the picture of aristocratic elegance. It was not so much the style and cut of his clothing as the way he carried himself—with an innate dignity and restrained power. It had always struck Chloe as the height of irony that Dominic, a butcher’s son, had more true nobility than all the royal princes combined.

  “Miss Clayton,” Dominic said, “I wish the circumstances of our meeting were more pleasant, and I apologize for any distress our discussion may cause you. But we stand very much in need of your help.”

  It was the perfect thing to say. Dominic had a knack for reading people, and Jane was a good girl who liked to be useful.

  “I’ll do whatever I can to help, sir,” she said earnestly.

  Dominic smiled, his craggy features warming. Though he was a ruggedly handsome man in a forbidding kind of way, and often looked intimidating, it never failed to amaze Chloe how gentle and reassuring he was with women and children.

  “Excellent,” he said. “It would be very helpful if you could tell us about your relationship with Roger Campworth.”

  Haltingly, Jane told them how she’d met Roger at her father’s haberdasher shop when he’d come to purchase a hat. An attractive and bold man, he’d quickly swept past her defenses. To their credit, Mr. and Mrs. Clayton had not abandoned Jane when she confessed she was with child. Despite their worries about his infamous uncle, they’d been greatly relieved when Roger announced his intention to marry her.

  But relief had soured when the young lovers quarreled and Roger responded by beating Jane, leaving her bruised and terrified. When Mr. Clayton ordered Roger to stay away from his daughter, the brute had simply laughed. He’d threatened to bring the wrath of the Campworth gang down on the Claytons if they tried to prevent their marriage or deny his right to the baby.

  Desperate to ensure her daughter’s safety, Mrs. Clayton had made enquiries that led her to Chloe, and she had then spirited Jane away to Camberwell in short order.

  As they absorbed the ugly tale, Chloe struggled to contain her surprise. She’d known Roger Campworth was trouble, but this was the first she’d heard about his dangerous uncle. “Jane, why didn’t you tell me about Roger’s uncle?”

  Jane’s blue eyes grew teary. “Mamma and I were afraid you wouldn’t take me. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Piper. I was sure Roger would never find me out here in the country.”

  Repressing a sigh, Chloe patted the girl’s back. “I wouldn’t dream of turning you away, Jane.”

  Dominic finally stirred. “Jane, how long have you been with Mrs. Piper?”

  “Almost three weeks, sir.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That long? I congratulate you on your security measures, Chloe. Evading Borden Campworth’s detection for more than a few days is impressive.”

  Chloe didn’t miss the hint of disapproval in Dominic’s voice. Nor was she blind to the fact that her old friend had serious reservations about her work. But what else could she have done with her life? When she’d become pregnant at the age of fourteen, Chloe had been exiled to Yorkshire to live with a coldhearted relative. Then after Griffin was born, she’d been sent off to a school in Leeds where she’d been treated with harsh discipline and trained to be a servant. Only by the grace of God had she landed in the household of Mrs. Lamotte, a wealthy widow who took her under her wing. Mrs. Lamotte’s kindness had fallen on Chloe’s bruised, lonely heart like the sweetest of summer rains.

  Mrs. Lamotte, a philanthropist and Quaker, had set Chloe on the path to her true calling and mission in life. Having no children or close relations, Mrs. Lamotte had left her considerable fortune to Chloe on the stipulation that she use the money to maintain a private charity to assist unmarried pregnant women. Because the kind widow had rescued Chloe from a life of shame and privation, how could she not carry out Mrs. Lamotte’s plan for her?

  “And what of your parents?” Dominic asked, returning his focus to Jane. “Has either of the Campworths threatened them?”

  Jane twisted her fingers in her lap. “Not yet, but Roger won’t hold off for long, especially now that he’s found me.” She started to tear up again. “I’m so afraid for my parents. I tried to make them come with me, but Papa said he couldn’t close up the shop.”

  “Mr. Clayton has been struggling with debt these last few years,” Chloe explained. “I offered to shelter the entire family, but he refused.”

  “Anything could happen to them, alone like that,” Jane said with a he
artbreaking quaver.

  Chloe hugged her. “They’re not alone, dear. We’re going to help them, and everything’s going to be fine.”

  Jane shook her head. “You don’t truly know what Roger’s like, and his uncle’s even worse from what I hear.”

  “No, Mrs. Piper is quite right,” Dominic said. “You’re not to worry, Jane. We’ll take care of the Campworths and make sure that no harm comes to your parents. You have my word on it.”

  Jane took a handkerchief from the pocket of her plain round gown and carefully dabbed her cheeks. Then she managed a shy smile for Dominic. “Thank you, sir. Is there anything you wish me to do?”

  Dominic returned her smile with one so charming and kind that Chloe wondered how any girl—or woman—could help but fall madly in love with him. “For now, I only want you to rest and follow Mrs. Piper’s instructions.”

  “That’s very good advice,” Chloe said past the odd constriction in her throat. “I want you to go upstairs now and have a nap. I’ll be up to see you later.”

  After Jane left the room, Chloe turned to Dominic. “My dear sir, who is this Borden Campworth? The way Jane talks about him—as does my son—he sounds a veritable monster.”

  “That’s a tad dramatic even for me,” Griffin objected. “I believe I called him a right sodding bastard.”

  “A regrettably accurate description,” Dominic said. “Campworth runs one of the biggest criminal rings in London, dealing in extortion, blackmail, thievery, and the occasional kidnapping.”

  “Kidnapping?” Chloe echoed faintly.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Griffin said. He gave Dominic a hard stare. “We need to do something about this.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Dominic replied, looking imperious again. “But I need more information on which to base an effective plan of action.”

  Griffin’s dark eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Then plan fast, or I’m going to take care of it myself.”