Lord Sinister (Secrets & Scandals Book 3)

by Tiffany Green

  She looked steadily into Nicholas’s troubled gaze. “I’m going to turn the baby.”

  His face drained of all color. “Have you done this before?” He looked ready to swoon.

  “Yes, I have.”

  Satisfied, Nicholas gave a nod and turned to his wife.

  Half an hour later, Amelia breathed a sigh of relief when the baby slid into her hands. Thank the good Lord above it hadn’t been a full breech. She smiled as the wizened little face scrunched up, releasing an indignant wail.

  The door crashed open.

  After wrapping the babe in a soft cloth, Amelia turned. Julian and his father entered the room, scowling at her, followed by Margaret and Nicholas’s mother.

  The doctor rushed toward the group, his face as red as a cherry. “Please, you cannot enter yet.”

  “Is my little girl all right?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Dr. Kellerman sighed. “Thanks to Mrs. Wesson.”

  Julian stepped forward. “Lady Amersleigh,” he said, scowling at the poor man.

  Amelia’s heart flipped over. Hearing Julian admit she was his wife out loud did funny things to her insides. Her entire body tingled and grew warm. She wanted to be his wife. Yet, she wanted so much more than that. She also wanted Julian’s love.

  Realizing she still stared at her husband, Amelia glanced over at the Duke of Kenbrook, who stood there watching her. Her breath hitched when she noted the twinkle of gratitude flicker in his eyes before he ushered everyone out of the room.

  Releasing the breath trapped in her lungs, she smiled and turned to Nicholas. “Your son, Your Grace.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Julian walked into Nick’s study, surprised to find Jeremy seated at one of the chairs before the desk, puffing on a thin brown cigar.

  “Julian,” Nick said, rising from his chair. “Come join us. I was just telling Jeremy about my son.”

  “Yes, although you haven’t given me his name,” Jeremy stated as he came to his feet.

  Nick’s smile grew. “Jordan Alistair Christopher William.”

  “A notable name,” Jeremy said as everyone took his seat, surprising Julian. The man openly abhorred the thought of marriage and having a family, often scoffing at the very idea.

  Jeremy turned. “Heard you got leg-shackled, old man.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, it had to happen sooner or later.”

  “Later sounds much more appealing than sooner, does it not?”

  “Ah, Jeremy, you just haven’t found the right lady yet,” Nick said.

  “And therein lies the problem.” Jeremy expelled a puff of blue-gray smoke up into the air. “The right lady for me doesn’t exist.”

  Nicholas shook his head. “One of these days, you’re going to meet someone who will liquefy your insides every time she glances in your direction. Your thoughts will be haunted by her, damn near driving you to distraction. When you do finally make her yours, you’ll think the craze has passed. Instead it gets worse. And no one else will do. It has to be her.”

  Julian clutched the arms of his chair, listening to Nick describe the exact things he’d been feeling. Since he found Amelia aboard his ship, he wanted her. Before then, even. When they first met years ago, he’d wanted her. He’d planned carefully for Amelia’s seduction, more carefully than any other. And the more she resisted, the more determined he’d been to have her.

  Just like now.

  When Amelia told him they wouldn’t have a physical relationship, Julian knew he’d do everything within his power to see that they did. Then it happened, and he experienced heaven on earth. But the bloody rub of it was he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. He wanted more.

  “I’m certain no one will ever cause me to behave in such a ridiculous fashion,” Jeremy stated with confidence, gaining Julian’s attention.

  “Ah, Jeremy.” Nick released a rumble of laughter from deep in his throat. “You have no idea what you’re missing.”

  Looking unconvinced, Jeremy extinguished his cigar. Then he turned and asked, “How ever did you manage to meet Amelia Jamison again? I heard she was a widow, by the by.”

  “As you’ve undoubtedly heard already, we ran into each other in America.” He told the fabricated story with ease, although he couldn’t quite keep the irritation from his voice. For some reason, he didn’t like people gossiping about his wife. It made him angry as hell. However, for her reputation’s sake, the lie had been necessary. Everyone now believed she had gone to America to be with her father those years ago, then married a man named Wesson soon after.

  More curiosity filled Jeremy’s hazel eyes. “I’m told her son looks remarkably like you.”

  Julian gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles going white. “What are you saying?”

  “Just repeating what I’ve heard, old man, nothing more.”

  Instead of commenting on that, Julian stood and walked to the liquor cabinet. Splashing two fingers of whiskey in his glass, he gulped it down, then turned. “Alexander is my son,” he said, “although that knowledge cannot leave this room since it would damage Amelia’s reputation.” He knew both men would adhere to his wishes. Even Jeremy. For all his faults, the man could keep a secret. “And, as you’re soon to learn anyway, I’ve adopted Alexander and have put him in my will.”

  “You didn’t have to marry Amelia in order to take care of Alex—”

  “Yes, I did.”

  A storm gathered in Jeremy’s eyes. “You mean she demanded marriage?”

  He turned back to the whiskey decanter. “No. Marriage was my idea.” He poured more of the pungent amber liquid into his tumbler.

  “Be damned, Julian, your idea? Are you mad?” Jeremy asked.

  With a sigh, he swiveled around to face his friends. Although Nicholas looked pleased, Jeremy did not. And if Jeremy didn’t support his decision, if he snubbed Amelia, it would not bode well for her amongst the ton. He opened his mouth to inform his friend that he didn’t at all mind having Amelia as his wife, but stopped. That would not do. Jeremy wouldn’t understand. “I’m not mad, Jeremy, but practical,” he stated as an idea sprang into his mind.

  “Practical?”

  “Yes.” Julian shrugged. “Not only did I manage to secure my son’s future, but I escaped the torture of courting all those simpering debutantes.” He ignored Nicholas’ scowl, deciding to explain the subterfuge as soon as they were alone.

  Jeremy leaned back in his chair, his expression clearing. “That’s quite ingenious, old man.”

  Even though a large smile spread across his lips, Julian felt anything but pleased. In fact, he felt as though he’d committed an act of betrayal. Those words had not been at all true. But they had been necessary. To keep Jeremy—a most popular pink—from shunning Amelia. He didn’t want her suffering from wagging tongues and acrid stares from anyone.

  “You know, I almost felt guilty,” Jeremy stated, crossing his arms.

  Julian lifted a brow. “Guilty?”

  “Yes. You recall our wager ten years ago that you couldn’t seduce Amelia? I thought you were feeling obligated to wed her because of that. Especially after learning she had a child as a result of that night.”

  Clutching the book she’d retrieved for Megan tightly against her chest, Amelia slowly backed away from the doorway. The library was adjacent to Nicholas’ study, the joining door slightly open, and the men’s voices had drifted to her as she entered the room. She hadn’t meant to listen, but hearing her name had caught her attention.

  And now, knowing Alex had been conceived because of some cursed wager and the truth behind Julian’s marriage proposal made her sick to her stomach.

  What a fool she’d been, believing her husband had started to care for her. He never had, and he never would. No doubt, he had just been using her to quench his desires between women. She was just a…a bookmark.

  Spinning on her heel, Amelia fled the library. In her haste, she almost collided with a passing maid.

  “Oh, do fo
rgive me, my lady,” the young woman stated contritely, her freckled cheeks going pink.

  Amelia shook her head. “The fault is mine. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Then, realizing she still held the book to her breast, she gave it to the maid. “Please, take this to the duchess and tell her I had to leave. I-I’m not feeling well.”

  The maid curtseyed. “Yes, my lady.”

  Knowing that Alex would be occupied for a while out in the stables visiting a new foal, Amelia turned to the front door. A brisk walk would help, she decided, and exited the mansion.

  Without a destination in mind, she turned to her right and began walking. The sun blazed bright and clear overhead. She should be warm, but the coldness within her wouldn’t allow it. She increased her pace, her arms pumping back and forth, her hands balled. She’d forgotten her gloves, she noticed, then shrugged. At the moment, she could care less.

  How dare that man make such exquisite love to her when he truly felt nothing for her! It had led her to believe…to hope… Amelia shook her head, not wishing to finish the thought.

  “Amy?”

  Knowing that voice, Amelia stopped and spun around. Seeing Jack standing there bold as you please, grinning like a simpleton, she wanted to smack him. “What are you doing here?” She glanced around to see if anyone watched them.

  Jack took her arm and led her toward the park. “I needed to know how you’re faring.” He halted before a marble bench and they sat.

  When Amelia realized no one had screamed for the watch, she relaxed. Sliding her gaze sideways, she noted Jack’s fashionable attire. Bright gold silk pantaloons that fit like second skin, a gold and green plaid waistcoat, and a gauche green hat with a fluffy gold feather sticking out the back, curling around his right ear. No one would recognize Jackson Townsend in those ridiculous clothes and powdered face, she decided, and wanted to laugh. “You look rather dandy.” Keeping a straight face proved hard to manage.

  His painted lips twitched. “I thought so, too.”

  “Is that mole painted on?” she asked, reaching up to his chin.

  He batted her hand away. “Yes and don’t smudge it. It took me too long to get it just right.” Then he turned serious, the humor in his eyes diminishing. “How are you, Amy? Really?”

  Hoping she looked sincere, Amelia forced her lips to remain curved up. “Very well,” she lied, grateful the words hadn’t stuck in her throat. She turned away from his probing gaze. “It’s a shame most everyone leaves for Brighton or Bath for the summer. The park is so lovely this time of year.”

  When Jack didn’t comment, Amelia turned and found him staring off into the distance. “Is something wrong?”

  He blinked several times then glanced over at her, revealing sadness in his dark eyes. “How is Megan?”

  That stunned Amelia. “You know Megan?”

  Jack nodded then explained how Megan had been abducted last year and his assistance in her rescue. “Is she well?” he asked again, his face tight with worry.

  “Yes,” she said, feeling as though she wanted to cry. The thought of this gentle, caring man being accused of murder was beyond incomprehensible.

  “I heard she had her baby last week.” His voice turned gruff. “A son.”

  “That’s right.” Amelia studied Jack’s profile, recognizing that he had fallen in love with Megan. How unfair. If the murder hadn’t happened or the true murderer had been caught, Jack would probably be married by now with children of his own. Instead, he had to remain alone for who knows how long. “Oh, Jack,” she whispered, feeling those dreaded tears threatening.

  “What’s this?” He tipped her chin up with his hand. “Why are you crying, Amy?”

  The warm drops gliding one after another down her face startled her. She shook her head, trying to cease the foolish display, but couldn’t.

  “Oh, the devil,” Jack said under his breath and gathered her in his arms, allowing her to sob against his chest.

  “Unless you wish to lose those arms, sir, I suggest you remove them from my wife.”

  Amelia started at the sound of Julian’s low, venomous voice and pulled away from Jack. She glanced up just in time to see Julian’s feral expression alter into surprise. “You!”

  “Julian,” Jack said calmly, rising to his feet.

  As Amelia rose, her husband stabbed her with a hot, piercing glare. “Just what in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing with this pirate?”

  She had to get Jack away before Julian drew any more attention to them. Thankfully, her husband had become too enraged at the moment to think to call out for the authorities. With a deep breath, she forced herself to calm. “Jack and I were friends as children,” she said steadily. “Our fathers’ estates were separated by only two miles.”

  At the mention of their fathers, Amelia realized her blunder. She watched Julian’s eyes narrow. Oh, no, he’s going to have Jack captured! Quickly, she stepped close to her husband and placed her hand on his arm. “Julian, don’t.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw, then he shifted his attention to Jack. “I’ll give you five minutes before summoning a constable.”

  She gasped. “Julian, that’s—”

  “That’s all the time I need, Amy,” Jack said. She turned as he reached out and lifted her hand to his painted lips. “Farewell, dear friend.” He faced Julian, his expression hardening. “Hurt her and I’ll see that you pay dearly for it.” Then he swiveled on his heel and marched away, the fluffy gold feather fluttering merrily in the wind.

  As Jack disappeared around a corner, Amelia turned to her husband. “Summon the constable and I’ll never forgive you for it.” She started to move away but Julian’s hand shot out and gripped her arm.

  “That man murdered his father.”

  “Jackson Townsend is no more a murderer than you are,” she said, trying to pull her arm free.

  Julian’s hold tightened. “He was caught in the act.”

  She shook her head. “No. He had just found his father.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “My God, Julian, what was he to do? Just turn and walk away?” The salty drops slid down her face and dripped from her chin. “He pulled the dagger out, trying to save his father’s life.”

  Julian released a long sigh. He let go of her arm. “Jack had just returned from the war, Amelia.” He pressed a pristine square of linen into her hands.

  After wiping the tears from her cheeks, she glanced up. “What has that got to do with anything?”

  “War can change a man.”

  She shook her head. “You’re wrong, Julian.”

  And no sooner were the words out of her mouth, the shot exploded in her ears.

  CHAPTER 17

  Amelia stood there for a moment, dazed, just staring at the beech tree between her and Julian. At the hole in the trunk, not three inches from their heads, raining small bits of bark and wood over them. The hole from a speeding pistol ball on a deadly mission.

  As her brain assimilated that, she heard Julian’s voice. He seemed far away, shouting across a vast distance. How ridiculous, she thought, he stood right beside her.

  “Get down!” He threw his body against hers, just as the second shot went off.

  Landing hard, the back of her head connected soundly against the latticework of roots at the base of the tree. The air escaped her lungs in a whoosh. Julian lay over her, the entire length of his body covering hers. She couldn’t draw in a breath. The world around her tilted and a loud buzzing filled her ears. Her limbs grew heavy and numb.

  “Breathe, Amelia,” Julian said, his voice distorted, as if speaking through water.

  She couldn’t do it, she thought, and started to drift. But her husband’s voice sounded again, demanding she stay with him. And she wanted to. Dear God, she wanted that above anything else.

  With every ounce of strength she could summon, Amelia parted her lips and sucked in some precious air. After several more breaths, she opened her eyes, the ache in the back of her head pounding with each beat of her
heart.

  Julian kneeled at her side, his face etched in concern. “Amelia, can you hear me?”

  She swallowed and nodded as strength returned to her body. Ignoring the soreness in her head, she began to sit up.

  “No, love, stay still.” He held her shoulders down to keep her from moving.

  And that’s when she noticed the rip on the arm of his gray coat and the crimson stain surrounding it. “You’re hurt.”

  “Just a scratch,” he said distractedly, his eyes narrowed on something in the distance.

  Feeling much restored, she started to rise up and take a look at Julian’s ‘scratch’ when people rushed up to them. Two middle-aged ladies, a servant, and a man near Julian’s age formed a semicircle around them as whistles blew in the air.

  A man not as well dressed as the others parted the crowd. “Let me through, I’m from Bow Street.” He peered down at them. “Are you all right, milord?”

  “We’ll be fine,” Julian answered, “as soon as you catch the man shooting at us.” He raised his uninjured arm and pointed toward the east. “He went that way. And his name is Jackson Townsend.”

  Amelia sucked in a startled breath. “Jack didn’t do it.” But her words went unnoticed. Three men blew their whistles and ran in the direction Julian had indicated. The same direction Jack had gone. Furious, she batted her husband’s hand from her shoulder and stood. Dizziness struck but, thankfully, lasted for only a few seconds.

  “For God’s sake, Amelia, you hit your head rather hard.”

  Ignoring Julian’s so-called concern, she reached for his injured arm. “Jack didn’t do this,” she said, studying his wound through the ripped material.

  He sighed. “The shots came from the exact direction Jack had—ouch! That bloody well hurt.”

  “You were right.” She finished tying the handkerchief he had given her around his arm and stepped away. “The wound is a mere scratch. You’ll live.” Then she swiveled around and started past the curious onlookers, heading back to the Claremont town house.

  As soon as Amelia stepped up to the front door, it opened. Carson bowed. “Her Grace wishes to see you, my lady.”