by Ella Edon
Biting back a huff, Eleanor stormed out, careful not to slam the door behind him.
Nathan stepped out into the street and turned to the nun who had walked him out.
“Thank you for talking to me, Sister Cecilia.”
“It was a pleasure, Captain Reynolds.” Sister Cecilia gave him a warm smile. “And thank you for your contribution to the orphanage. It is much appreciated.”
“You’re very welcome.” Nathan looked up at the huge building. “After seeing the work you do, how could I not give a contribution? Those children deserve something better in life.”
“They certainly do.” The nun’s eyes twinkled. “Lady Eleanor can’t do better than you, Captain.”
“You flatter me too much.”
“Mother Superior does say I tend to speak my mind too much.”
Nathan laughed. “That can be considered a good thing in the right circumstances.”
“Not when you’re a nun, I’m afraid.” Sister Cecilia gave him a nod and another warm smile. “Good afternoon, Captain. Have a safe journey home.”
“I will. Take care.”
Nathan waited until the nun closed the door behind her and then started to cross the road towards his carriage waiting on the other side of the street. This was the best thing he could have done. After a fitful night’s sleep - coughing and wheezing with the smoke still coating his throat, Nathan had washed, dressed, and gone for a carriage-ride around London. He needed to get things straight in his head. Someone had murdered Leyton, and there was a good chance it was Eric Black who had slit his throat. Had he seen Leyton as not useful to him anymore? Or had he seen Leyton as a nuisance who needed to be taken out of the way?
Nathan was still trying to figure out his motive for pushing an arranged marriage onto Nathan and Eleanor. Eleanor was simply chosen as an unmarried woman who had the motivation to marry. But why start it off in the first place? What had Nathan done to him?
It had to be about the children. Black must have heard that Nathan was after him.
But the plans had been set in motion before Nathan came back from France, and his mother had been involved, either willingly or pressured. Nathan still had to talk to her about that. But later. He wanted to go and see Eleanor again. Mainly to say that he approved of her work with the orphans.
Nathan didn’t know what to expect, but he hadn’t expected so many people to praise Eleanor for giving up her time to help those she didn’t know. She had a big, kind heart and affected everyone. Eleanor was adored, and the nuns were appreciative of her and Marion for helping whenever they could. Nathan knew it wouldn’t be just Eleanor who would be affected if he stopped her from working there.
They could come to a compromise. Nathan would be happy to discuss it further, and he wouldn’t stop Eleanor from going to help. But she had to be careful while Black was still around. Nathan didn’t want her to become a target after what had happened. Hopefully, they would get to a joint decision about what to do. Nathan wouldn’t take something she loved doing away from her.
Then maybe Eleanor wouldn’t be so stubborn. Nathan liked stubborn, but Eleanor took it to another level.
And speaking of Eleanor, Nathan saw her storming along the road, her face drawn in an angry scowl. That had Nathan slowing. Why was she out now? As far as he was aware, Eleanor was going to stay home, or she would be at his home having morning tea with his mother; Vanity did mention that Eleanor would be visiting, but Nathan didn’t think it would happen, considering what had occurred the night before.
Why was she here?
Signalling for his driver to wait, Nathan changed direction and hurried back across the street.
“Eleanor? What are you doing here?”
“Go away, Nathan, I…” Eleanor stopped short. She stared at him with wide eyes, looking him up and down. “How...how did you…?”
Her mouth opened and closed, reminding Nathan of a fish in his carp pond. Now she was looking at him like she had never seen him before. Nathan grabbed her shoulders and gave her a shake.
“Eleanor, what’s wrong? How did I what?”
“You...how did you get here before me? I left before you.” Eleanor stared at his attire. “And how did you get changed so quickly?”
“What are you talking about? You were at my home?”
“And you just walked into your drawing room. Lady Vanity fainted at the sight of you, and you…” Eleanor swallowed. “You told me to leave while you looked after her.”
He had just walked in while Eleanor was with his mother? Nathan was confused.
“I don’t understand. I’ve been here talking to Sister Cecilia for the last two hours. I left before Mother had even risen.”
“But…” Eleanor’s mouth opened and closed again. “But that’s not possible. You’re at your house in Brixton.”
“Clearly, I’m not.”
This was not making any sense. If Nathan was here, nowhere near his home, then who was with his mother? As far as Nathan was aware, he didn’t know anyone who looked exactly like him, or enough that Eleanor thought it was him.
What the hell was going on?
“Come on.” Nathan steered Eleanor across the road, neatly sidestepping a horse and cart as it trundled along, ignoring the abuse from the driver. “We need to go back. Quickly.”
Whatever was going on, Vanity knew something, and Nathan was going to make her talk. Along with the intruder, whoever he was. If he was still there, Nathan was planning on getting answers from him too.
Vanity stirred. Her head was still spinning, but she was coming back to herself. Had she just fainted? It had been a while since she had done that. But why? What had caused her to faint? Surely, drinking tea with Lady Eleanor wouldn’t result in fainting.
Then Vanity heard a familiar voice, and she knew why.
“Wake up, Mother. I know you’re not unconscious anymore. I can see your eyes moving.”
Vanity debated pretending to lie still, but Eric already knew. She couldn’t do it forever. She opened her eyes and saw that she was lying on the couch. Eric must have picked her up from the floor. Now he was leaning over her, his face inches from hers with a dark scowl.
God, a face so much like Nathan’s. And yet it wasn’t. Nathan had never made Vanity feel so frightened.
“What...where…?”
“I sent Eleanor away.” Eric smirked. There was no mirth in that smile. “I didn’t think you wanted her to hear this.”
“What...but…” Vanity sat up, Eric barely easing back. She felt pinned in. “What are you doing here?”
“I got your message.”
Her message. Oh. That one. Vanity had hoped that a simple message would make this stop. Especially after almost losing her son and future daughter-in-law. Vanity liked Eleanor. She really did, and Nathan clearly loved her. Vanity had taken one look at them and known that she couldn’t hide this any longer. Nathan deserved to know, and Eric needed to back off. She couldn’t do this.
“So, you decided to barge into my house without notice?”
“Best effect. I didn’t want you to be on your guard.” Eric scowled. “You’re not going to tell them anything, Mother.”
“I am.” Vanity resisted the urge to shrink back at Eric’s fury. “I can’t hide this anymore, Eric. You were foolish to think this would work, and I was foolish thinking that I had something to fear. But I don’t have anything to fear anymore, except losing my son. Whatever you do to me can’t hurt me.”
Eric blinked. For the first time since he walked into her drawing room a year ago, he looked genuinely baffled. Vanity wondered if anyone had ever stood up to him before. No one had ever stood up to the man who had raised him.
Except Vanity. She had stood up to him, and from the way Eric treated her, his guardian had never forgotten it.
“I know what can hurt you.” Eric reached into his coat and pulled out a knife. The blade was long and curved. “And you won’t be able to walk away from it.”
Vanity shrank
back, trying not to whimper. She could scream, call for the servants, but they wouldn’t get here in time. Wait, was that blood on the blade? Vanity couldn’t take her eyes off the smears of blood on the knife.
Eric sniggered. “I’ve had a bit of practice with this one. Cuts very nicely through skin. Worked wonders on the man who kidnapped your would-be daughter-in-law. I almost regret trying to block him into his house with fire, otherwise I wouldn’t have known.” He leaned towards her, the knife moving towards her throat. “Now I know how to make you quiet. You’ve outlived your usefulness, Vanity.”
“How do you think you’ll be able to walk out of here after killing me?” Vanity didn’t know where she got her courage from, but it was there. Just a flicker. “People will know you were in here with me.”
Eric smirked.
“No, they won’t. They’ll think you and your son had an argument and he snapped. Soldiers do have delicate minds and they think they’re on the battlefield when they’re trying to be normal people. I know he carries a blade like this one.” Eric flicked the knife around his fingers, the tip of the blade narrowly missing Vanity’s cheek. “They’ll see me walk out of here and believe it was Captain Reynolds who snapped and murdered his mother. I leave this where the authorities can find it, and I’ll have him fitted up for another murder as well.”
“No one will believe it.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Actually, don’t.” Eric leaned towards her, grabbing her head by the hair with the knife inching closer to her neck. “That will be the last time you’ll say that.”
Vanity screamed. Then the door burst open and Nathan ran in.
Nathan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His mother was pinned on the couch, a man leaning over her with a knife at her throat.
A man who looked exactly like him.
How was this even possible?
Nathan snarled, reaching for his own knife hidden inside his jacket.
“Get your hands off her now!”
The other man sniggered. He rose up off Vanity and squared up to Nathan.
“Make me, Nathan. I don’t think you can.”
He charged, the knife swinging at Nathan’s head. Nathan ducked and jammed the end of the handle of his knife right into the man’s gut, right under the chest. His attacker froze and gasped for air as Nathan danced away. Vanity began to sob.
“Eric, no! Stop this!”
“When I have an opportunity like this?” Eric straightened up, spinning the knife around his fingers. “Not a chance. Come at me, Captain.”
Nathan heard a whimper behind him. He didn’t need to look to know Eleanor had entered the room as well. But he focused on Eric. It was surreal looking into a face exactly like his.
“We can talk about this reasonably.” He spread his hands. “Just...put the knife down, and we can talk.”
Eric snorted.
“After everything I’ve done for this point and you want to talk? Not going to happen. I’m getting what I want.”
“Which is?”
“You, dead.” Eric gestured at Vanity, who flinched away. “Her, dead. And the pest of a woman you’re about to marry? I’ll have a think about that.”
Nathan went cold. He would have talked this out without violence. But the mere mention of violence on Eleanor, and all bets were off. He growled.
“You touch her, and I will kill you.”
Eric sniggered.
“Not if I’ve sliced your throat open.”
He jabbed at Nathan’s head at the knife. Nathan jerked his head sideways, only to be punched in the face. He staggered back and Eric came after him. Nathan stumbled and fell, grabbing at Eric’s coat as the man practically fell on him. He acted on instinct and got his feet between them. He kicked upwards as he landed, and Eric went over his head, landing on the carpet with a gasp and a grunt.
Scrambling to his feet, Nathan lashed out, his fist catching Eric in the face as the other man tried to get up. Eric went down again, rolling onto his back. Eric snarled and slashed at Nathan, the air moving as the blade narrowly missed his face.
Then Eleanor was there, bringing a vase down on Eric’s head. Nathan jerked away as the vase smashed. Eric’s snarl froze, his eyes rolling back in his head. He slumped to the floor.
Nathan’s heart was racing. He looked up at Eleanor, who was standing over the unconscious man breathing heavily. Her cheeks were flushed.
“I... I’ve never hurt anyone like that.” She murmured.
“And I’m grateful for it.”
Hands shaking, Nathan plucked the knife from the man’s hand and backed away. He stared at the knife, very much like his own. Was that blood?
He was the one who killed Matthew Leyton. He had to be.
“Is…” Eleanor swallowed. “Is he dead?”
“No, he’s just unconscious. But not for long.” Nathan tucked both knives into his belt and went to her. “Go and find Mason. Get someone to go for the constable. The magistrate himself lives around the corner. And then get Stewart and Reeve to guard the door.”
“All right.” Eleanor bit her lip. “Forgive me, Nathan. I didn’t know.”
“I know.” Nathan kissed her head. “Now go. I’ll talk to Mother.”
Eleanor hurried off. Nathan closed the door and turned to Vanity, who was sitting huddled in the corner of the couch. She looked terrified, shaking with a whimper. Nathan went to her.
“You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No, he didn’t get a chance.” Vanity was staring at the unconscious body. “He...he was going to kill me.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because I…” Vanity gulped. “I told him I couldn’t do this anymore.”
That didn’t make any sense. Nathan took his mother’s arm and helped her to her feet. Then he led her to the window, as far away from her would-be murderer as possible.
“Sit down, Mother.” Nathan urged Vanity into a chair before standing with his back to the window so he could see the imposter. It was unnerving seeing his face momentarily looking back at him. “Who is he, Mother? And why did he want to kill you?”
“He…” Vanity took a deep breath, her lower lip quivering. “His name’s Eric. Eric Black.”
Nathan stared. This was Eric Black. Now he knew why people acted strangely in the criminal underbelly whenever Nathan tried to talk to them.
“How do you know him, Mother?”
Vanity’s face whitened. She closed her eyes.
“He’s my son.”
Chapter Thirty
It took a moment for the words to sink in. Eric Black was Vanity’s son. He was Nathan’s brother? How was that even possible? It made sense looking at him, but at the same time it didn’t.
“You had another son? But...I thought you couldn’t have a child after me.”
“You’re twins.”
“Wait, what?” Nathan stared. “Twins? We’re twins?”
Now he felt like he was in a nightmare. Nathan had grown up believing that he was an only child, and that Vanity had never had any other children due to a traumatic birth. How could she have kept this from him for so long? Nathan could feel himself swaying and he sagged onto the window seat. He had a twin. And the twin was a criminal.
“Eric was born first.” Vanity glanced over at the fallen man. “And there was no crying. No screams. I was scared that he was dead, but I couldn’t focus on him as I was still in labour with you. The pain was still there. The midwife gave the baby to one of my maids and told her to deal with the child. As far as we were aware, we thought that he - Eric - was dead.” Vanity’s voice trembled. “It wasn’t until last year after your father’s death, and you left for France again, that I discovered he had been alive all this time. And he had been raised by…” Her voice broke and Vanity let out a little sob. “By my former betrothed.”
This felt like far too much to take in. Nathan felt like he had been hit over the head. He rubbed his hands over his eyes.
“Let me get this
straight. You’re saying that I had a twin and you threw him away within minutes of him being born because you thought he was dead?”
“I didn’t mean to, I…”
“Did Father know about the other baby?”
Vanity bit her lip.
“He was told that I had twins but only one survived. He was just grateful that I was alive, and we had a child. The midwife was so focused on trying to keep me alive.” She raised a hand to her mouth, her hand shaking. “Why the maid took Eric to the man who hated me, I have no idea. She left my service soon after. But the damage was done. I had abandoned him when I was needed most in his life, and then he was raised with poison being poured into his ear. Then your father died, you went back to fight, and Eric...he came back. Walked into this room and said he wanted the title of Earl of Brixton, as it was his birth right.”