by Bold, Diana
A brother? Talon stared at the boy, his heart thundering in his chest, the sting of tears burning his eyes. He’d always wanted a brother.
Before he could think better of it, he darted across the street, climbed the steps and dropped to his knees before the lad. “Is Lord Sutcliffe your father?”
The boy scooted backward, his eyes widening in fear. He tightened his hold on the toy soldier in his hand until it broke, the head bouncing down the stairs and rolling away. “Go away. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”
“I need to know.” Talon’s voice rose in desperation. He knew he’d never have another chance. “He’s my father, too. My mother told me he was.”
“You’re lying.” The boy shook his head in denial then jumped to his feet and raced to the door, throwing it open and darting inside.
Talon followed, dashing past the wide‐eyed butler, careening to a stop inside the grand marble hallway. His surge of bravery dissipated when faced with the reality of his surroundings.
He’d never seen such grandeur. Dozens of gleaming white columns rose toward the domed ceiling, while ivory statues twice the size of men guarded the huge oak doors that led in all directions.
“Father, Father, come quickly!” the boy yelled up a grand curving staircase, darting nervous looks in Talon’s direction.
After a moment, a tall, dark‐haired gentleman appeared on the landing.
Talon swallowed, suddenly terrified.
“Daniel,” the earl said at length. “Why is there a beggar child in the hall?”
“He says you’re his father.” Daniel’s thin voice was angry and tearful. “Tell him it’s not so. Tell him you’re my father.”
Sutcliffe laughed, a harsh, unfriendly sound. His icy gaze returned to Talon. “I’m your father, am I, boy? Where is your proof?”
Talon fisted his hands at his sides so the earl couldn’t see them shake. “My name is Talon, sir. My mother was Maggie Montgomery. She died a few days ago, and I have nowhere else to go.”
“Maggie Montgomery?” Sutcliffe descended the stairs and strode toward Talon with long, ground‐eating strides.
Talon forced himself to keep from flinching as the man grasped his chin and turned his face up to the light.
The silence in the hall was absolute.
Sutcliffe laughed and released him, dusting his hand on the side of his tailored trousers as though he’d touched something foul. “You do have the look of me.”
Talon nearly collapsed in relief. His mother had been telling the truth. The earl’s eyes turned flat and distant. “Your mother was a whore, boy. It’s true I could be your father, but so could any of a dozen other men.” He waved a hand at the boy on the stairs. “Besides, as you can see, I already have a son.”
Daniel’s smile was cold and mocking. In that moment, Talon hated his half‐brother more than he’d ever hated anything, even the father who scorned him.
The earl snapped his fingers and one of the footmen stepped forward. “Give the little bastard some money and send him on his way.”
Talon drew himself up with as much dignity as possible, given the circumstances. “I don’t want your money, sir. I don’t want anything from you at all.” He turned and walked away, head still held high, the earl’s laughter ringing in his ears…
He’d gone straight to the docks, hired on as a cabin boy and gone to sea. But from time to time during the last twenty years, he’d imagined coming back so flush in coin and elegantly attired no one would think of denying him entrance.
Not even in his worst nightmares had he imagined he’d be dressed in rags and covered in his own stench.
When they finally arrived in St. James Square, Sutcliffe was the first to step out of the carriage, trailed by Talon and the massive footman. The same haughty butler who had witnessed Talon’s childhood humiliation stood waiting on the steps.
“Good evening, Lord Sutcliffe.” The impassive little man bowed to his employer and then turned his attention to Talon, betraying not a flicker of surprise at his ragged condition. “We’ve been expecting you, Mr. Montgomery.”
“Jenkins, make sure he has everything he needs. Inform me when he’s ready for dinner.” Without a backward glance, the earl strode off down the hall.
“Right this way, sir.” Jenkins escorted Talon up the curving mahogany staircase to an opulent bedroom suite on the third floor. Moments later, an army of servants arrived, laden with every imaginable amenity. After the huge copper tub had been filled with steaming water, Talon sent them all away, desperate for a little privacy. After so long alone in the dark, the chaos rattled him.
Shedding his filthy clothes, he stepped into the deep tub, letting the hot water seep into his frozen bones. “Lady Kathryn,” he muttered, shaking his head in despair.
Christ, what had he gotten himself into?
It had taken a will of iron to pull himself out of the gutter where he’d been born, but Sutcliffe had managed to break him with nothing more than the promise of a breath of fresh air.
He’d bought his freedom by swearing to seduce his sister‐in‐law, but he had no intention of doing so. The question was, how did he keep his hatred for his father at bay long enough to pretend he did?
Every instinct urged him to run, and it took a supreme act of will to resist. The wisest course was to remain here a few days and regain his strength. He needed every possible advantage before attempting to outsmart his father. Lord knew his thinking was none too clear at the moment.
Lifting a mirror and razor from the table next to the tub, he took a moment to look at himself and was stunned by what he saw. The pale, gaunt stranger who stared back at him bore no resemblance to the dashing pirate he’d once been. Hell, how did Sutcliffe expect him to seduce anyone?
Resolutely, he scraped off his heavy beard, determined to play the part his father had scripted. He would meet Daniel’s wife, perhaps even show an interest in her. Anything to get safely out of England.
But as soon as the ship cleared the Channel, he intended to wash his hands of both his half‐brother and the unfortunate Lady Kathryn. No estate was worth his honor. Especially since his honor was all he had left.
The steaming water was lukewarm by the time he exited his bath.
He dried off with a big, fresh-smelling towel, then pulled on the velvet robe that had been provided for his use. He’d just finished belting the heavy fabric when the door opened behind him.
“You clean up well, my boy.”
Talon turned and met his father’s appraising blue gaze. Sutcliffe sized him up as though he were a prized stallion. An accurate analogy, considering what the old bastard wanted him to do.
“Well,” Talon muttered, taking a seat in front of the crackling fire. “We wouldn’t want Lady Kathryn to be disappointed, now would we?”
Sutcliffe gave a short laugh and strode across the room, seating himself in the deep leather chair opposite Talon’s. “No. We wouldn’t want that.”
A loaded silence fell between them, broken only when several burly servants arrived to remove the tub. When they were finished, a young girl brought up a dinner tray for Talon and a decanter of brandy for Sutcliffe.
Talon gave the girl a wan smile and was rewarded with a wink and a blush. She was lushly curved, Irish, he’d guess, from that riotous red hair. Perhaps in a day or two he might feel up to the invitation in her eyes.
“Bridget,” Sutcliffe said. “That will be all.”
Bridget lowered her gaze and backed away. Talon waited until she was gone then glared at his father. “Planning to keep me celibate until I’ve performed your dirty little deed?”
“I’ll admit the thought had occurred to me.” Sutcliffe poured a generous glass of brandy and took an appreciative sip. “But I doubt that will be necessary. You see, I do have one more ace up my sleeve.”
Talon had broken open a steaming roll and was in the process of buttering it, but his father’s words gave him pause. He set the roll down and met Sutcliffe’s mo
cking gaze head on. “What do you mean?”
“We’re a lot alike, you and me. So, don’t think you’ve fooled me for a moment. I know you agreed to my demands only to get out of that stinking hellhole. I also know you’ve spent the last few hours thinking of ways to thwart me. After all, that’s what I’d do in your shoes.”
Talon said nothing. A sense of impending doom settled over him as he waited for what would come next.
“The wealth and plantation aren’t enough, are they? If it were only yourself at stake, your own life, your own freedom, no doubt you’d take your chances and jump ship at the first opportunity.”
“My crew?” Talon closed his eyes. The loss of freedom had addled his brain. He should have known Sutcliffe had saved his men only to use them against him.
“Yes.” Sutcliffe shrugged one broad shoulder. “I don’t know why you care what happens to that mangy assortment of scoundrels. But you do, and I’m sure you realize what will befall them if you don’t do exactly as you’ve promised.”
“I would do anything for my men.” They were the only family he’d ever known. He’d already mourned them once and had no intention of doing so again.
Sutcliffe downed the rest of his glass of brandy and then stood. “We have an understanding, then?”
“Of course.” Talon watched his father leave the room. And he vowed to kill the son of a bitch, if it was the last thing he ever did.
Chapter Three
Lady Kathryn Sinclair frowned as her father‐in‐law’s magnificent coach started up the long, tree‐lined drive toward Rosewood Manor. Dear God, what was he doing here?
Something was definitely wrong. The Earl of Sutcliffe never visited his country estate. His unexpected appearance didn’t bode well.
Had something happened to Daniel?
Heart racing, she let her spade drop to the freshly tilled soil of her rose garden. While she bore her husband no great love, neither did she wish him any harm.
She picked up her dusty skirts and hurried up the stone path toward the imposing gray mansion, intent upon making herself presentable. It wouldn’t do to have the earl see her in her gardening attire. He disliked impropriety of any kind.
She ran up the servant’s stairs to her suite of rooms on the second floor. Shutting the door behind her, she blocked out the commotion of the earl’s arrival below.
“Dear Lord.” A quick glance in the mirror confirmed her worst fears. She grabbed a cloth and wet it in a basin of tepid water then scrubbed her face and did her best to wash the embedded dirt from her hands.
There wasn’t time to change or ring for her maid, Betsy, so she tried to repair the damage on her own. Her hair had escaped its simple chignon to wisp about her face in unruly chestnut ringlets. She took the heavy mass down, gave the dark strands a vigorous brushing, and then arranged it in a much simpler style.
Her stomach clenched in a fierce knot as she descended the sweeping front stairs. She wished she could run out the door and across the park until she collapsed, but it wouldn’t do any good. There was no way to escape the earl or the hold he had on her life.
“Lady Katherine, Lord Sutcliffe has arrived.” The butler, Gregory, met her in the echoing front hall, his usually calm demeanor visibly rattled. “He’s waiting for you in the library, milady.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, smoothing her hair one last time. “Please announce me.”
She paused outside the library and took several deep, calming breaths, waiting while Gregory said her name in his cool, formal voice. Then she gathered her courage like a shield and walked into the room.
Her father‐in‐law stood behind his huge desk, staring out the window at the lake in the distance. He turned when she entered, and his impassive, ice blue gaze swept over her, taking in her unkempt appearance. “You look like a washerwoman, Kathryn. It’s not fitting for a viscountess to dirty her hands like a common peasant.”
“Gardening is a genteel pursuit,” she pointed out, clenching her dirt‐stained hands behind her back. “My roses have won numerous awards.”
He frowned, obviously annoyed that his cutting comments hadn’t caused her to burst into tears as they once would have. Her marriage had taught her many things, paramount among them to never show weakness.
He glared at her for another long moment and then sat down in the leather chair behind his desk. There weren’t any chairs on her side, a ploy to give him the upper hand and make all those who stood before him feel inferior. She raised her chin a notch and waited him out, determined not to give in to the panic his arrival had precipitated.
Why is he here?
“How long has it been since Daniel paid you a visit?”
Shamed heat crept up her cheeks, but she managed to hold his steely gaze. “He came in February.”
“Four months?” His displeasure was evident. “Then I’m correct in assuming he still hasn’t managed to get you with child?”
His shockingly blunt statement managed to do what all his calculated cruelty could not. Kathryn looked away, her cheeks flaming.
Her husband didn’t desire her, and everyone seemed to know it. “This situation is intolerable,” Sutcliffe continued. “Daniel’s drunken carousing is an embarrassment to me. He refuses to do his duty and produce an heir, so I’ve decided to send the two of you to my new estate in the Carolinas. Perhaps if he has nothing else to occupy his time, we’ll see some results and I’ll allow you to come back.”
Her world shifted beneath her feet. It was an effort to remain standing when everything she knew and loved had just been snatched away.
She’d managed to live without the hope of a loving husband or a family of her own, but she couldn’t bear to have Rosewood Manor, even the land of her birth, taken from her as well.
“The Carolinas?” she breathed. “Surely you jest.”
“I never jest.”
She fought to keep her composure. “I’ll speak to Daniel. Surely he’ll spend more time with me once I explain how serious the situation has become.”
Sutcliffe shook his head. “I spoke to him months ago. He refuses to listen to reason.”
Shame overwhelmed her. Was the thought of making love to her so repugnant Daniel would risk banishment to avoid it? She’d never thought of herself as exceptionally pretty, but she wasn’t unattractive. Did she have some terrible flaw she was unaware of?
“Please, don’t make me leave the Manor.” She hated the betraying tremor in her voice, but she was too heartsick to stop it. “It’s my home.”
“I’ve made up my mind. Nothing you can say will sway me.” The earl dismissed her with a flick of his wrist. “I suggest you begin packing. The ship leaves at the end of the week.”
Five days. Kathryn whirled around, determined to leave the earl’s presence before she gave in to the threatening tears.
She wouldn’t let him see her cry. Never again.
* * * * *
“Why do you allow the poor girl to think Daniel’s inattention is her fault?” Talon reached for the bottle of brandy on the table and poured himself a healthy glass, feeling the need to get stumbling drunk. How else could he bear to participate in this terrible tragedy his father had set in motion?
He’d watched from a leather chair in a secluded nook as the earl bullied and belittled Lady Kathryn. It had taken every bit of self‐control he possessed not to intervene.
She hadn’t noticed him, and for that he was thankful. Her interview with the earl had been upsetting enough. She’d have been mortified to know she had an audience.
“Daniel keeps her off balance. She doesn’t know how to remedy the situation.” Sutcliff waved a deprecating hand. “It’s good for her. The girl has far too much spirit. She’s impossible to deal with.”
Talon narrowed his eyes at his father’s callous words, his admiration for his sister‐in‐law growing by the minute. She wasn’t at all what he’d expected.
When Sutcliffe told him she was the most beautiful girl in the land, he’d envi
sioned one of the blonde, blue‐eyed English roses who populated London’s elite drawing rooms by the dozens. A pale, mindless creature with a vapid smile and not a single opinion of her own.
Lady Kathryn was none of those things. She was a passionate, gorgeous brunette with enough courage to stand up to the earl. Talon couldn’t help but be impressed. “I like her.”
Sutcliffe leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his lips. “I thought you might.”
Talon scowled. It annoyed him to no end that he and his father shared the same taste in women.
Sutcliffe chuckled at his expression. “It won’t be so terrible, son. A few hours in Lady Kathryn’s arms and you’ll have all you’ve ever wanted. Holyoke will be yours, and I’ll even give you enough money to run the place. I should think you’d be grateful to me for giving you this chance.”
Son. Once Talon would have thanked God on his knees to hear that word from this man. Now his stomach churned to think he’d come from Sutcliffe’s tainted seed.
“You expect gratitude for what you’ve done to me?” Talon shook his head and stood. “When hell freezes over, old man.”
He exited the room, ignoring Sutcliffe’s surprised bark of laughter.
* * * * *
“Lady Kathryn, where shall I put your riding habits?”
Kathryn shrugged and pointed in the direction of the half‐dozen trunks that lined the far wall of her bedroom. “It doesn’t matter, Betsy. Put them wherever you think best.”
Betsy tsked under her breath, but Kathryn ignored her. She returned to the window and let her gaze wander to the lake in the distance, doing her best to ignore the entire situation.
Servants had been parading in and out of her room all afternoon, pestering her with endless questions. They’d asked which set of the priceless Sutcliffe silver she wanted to take with her. They wanted to know which jewels should be packed and if she wanted any of the furniture shipped at a later date.
She really didn’t care. She had no interest in the monumental move Sutcliffe was orchestrating, because she had no intention of leaving England.