The Marquess of Secrets (The Hornsby Brothers Book 3)

by Karyn Gerrard

  Harrison picked up his utensils and continued eating. “A condition. Yes, it is the reason. I was mocked mercilessly at Cambridge. Why would an heir to a duke study medicine? It was deemed to be beneath me. A middle class profession. Obviously, I didn’t listen.”

  “Yet, you kept it secret. Is it because of the censure from your peers?”

  “Yes and no.” He glanced at his butler. “Leave us, Youngston. Return in about thirty minutes.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The butler snapped his fingers at the two footmen and in a manner of moments, they were left alone.

  “I am sorry. Is your staff not aware of what you do? Did I reveal too much?”

  “They are not aware, but I’m sure they must have an inkling. I wish to continue with our secret exchange, and—”

  A coughing fit interrupted Harrison. She lifted the napkin to her mouth to catch the sputum. How mortifying.

  His eyebrows creased with worry. “You’re still unwell. As soon as we complete our meal you should return to your room to rest. Are you up for further conversation?”

  If Lydia were of a mercenary bent, she could exaggerate her illness and take advantage of his generous nature by extending her stay and continuing to indulge in her beautiful room, servants, wonderful food, clothes, and anything else she could squeeze out of him.

  But regardless of her sins and horrid mistakes, she was not that unscrupulous and cruel. Glancing at his handsome face, the concern showing on it touched her. Lydia could not hurt this caring man no matter what her circumstances.

  Wiping her mouth, she nodded. “Yes, please. Let us continue.”

  “Last night we left off at what you’re bring accused of. I want to let you know I’ve hired an investigator to look into these charges. Mr. Robins is an ex-copper, more specifically; he was a decorated and respected detective sergeant with the Metropolitan Police.”

  Lydia dropped her fork and pieces of carrot bounced across the tablecloth. Her heart sank. Then fright settled in the dark corners of her soul. If John Huntsford caught wind of someone asking questions…It did not bear thinking about.

  Harrison laid his hand on top of hers. Much needed comfort and warmth travelled through her. “Mr. Robins is discreet, do not worry. He knows of the detective who came to the terminus. Said Willis is an oily character. In fact, Willis may be investigating this off the books. The surgeon no doubt hired him. There may not even be official charges against you. Robins will get to the bottom of it.”

  No charges? Could it be possible? Her stomach lurched, and she brought her hand to her mouth, her eyes closing briefly.

  “Lydia? Look at me.”

  She cracked open her eyes and met his gaze.

  “I give you my word I will assist you anyway I am able.”

  “Why?” she whispered. “You don’t know me. I am a stranger. I could be lying—”

  “It’s easy enough to verify. In fact, Robins is doing so as we speak.” Harrison removed his hand and continued eating, so she did the same. “Besides—we made a pact. Reveal secrets and tell the truth. And you have so far?”

  “Yes.”

  “So have I.”

  “You truly are a hero.”

  Harrison laughed, and the masculine sound reverberated through her, her toes curling with pleasure in her slippers.

  “I am not a masked crusader leaping about the rooftops of London, sword in hand, fighting injustice and brutality.”

  “But you are masked. As I said before, you’re a medical Robin Hood. Instead of a bow and arrow, you battle injustice with a stethoscope and your vast medical knowledge. You rescue those who cannot rescue themselves. You rescued me. I will be eternally grateful.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Thank you. It was my pleasure.”

  Lydia picked up her fork. “About the theft of pharmaceuticals. As I said, I had nothing to do with it. When John Huntsford spoke about his twisted plan; I didn’t take him seriously. I wish I had. For when I found out about the robbery, I confronted him. He warned me to keep quiet or he would blame it on me. Reveal our clandestine relationship.” She blinked, then looked down at her hands. They were trembling. John had then struck her for the first time. The blow was so forceful it knocked her off her feet. That became the deciding factor in her sudden flight from him.

  “And he stated that he would also reveal the salacious details of our arrangement, claiming I was the one who introduced him to drugs through the enticement of sex. I stupidly believed he loved me, when all along he used me. And he’d been taking my money. John can be very convincing. I was ashamed. Frightened.” Lydia paused, as old horrors clawed their way back to the surface of her mind. She took a breath, buried them again, and continued on. “After…an unpleasant incident between us, I made my escape when he left for work. I had no idea if he’d reported the crime and accused me. I did not stay about to find out. Until the policeman showed up at terminus.”

  “Let us wait to see what Mr. Robins reports. As he said, Huntsford may have hired this Willis to investigate.”

  Lydia shakily dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. “Huntsford said I was his property, to do with what he will. He had too much control over my life. What I thought was love…it is patently obvious I know nothing of it. I cannot abide being a victim. But I am, aren’t I? I laid my trust in a man who did not deserve it. I gave myself—” she choked back a sob.

  “Lydia—”

  “I’m utterly and completely ruined, professionally and personally, and I’ve no one to blame but myself.”

  “You are not the first to mistakenly place your love and trust in the wrong person,” Harrison offered gently.

  Lydia met his empathetic gaze. “Have you?”

  “I’ve never been in love. Not even close. I probably never will. Perhaps it is best. I’m embarking on selecting a suitable bride in the marriage mart. It’s past time I married.”

  That bit of information caused her to feel more nauseous than she was already. Why did it matter to her if he married? Why wouldn’t an heir to a duke want to find someone suitable? Of which she was not—in any way. After her disaster with Huntsford, why was she even experiencing any feelings toward the marquess? Oh, she was shameless. Apparently so desperate to fill the empty void in her heart, she latched on to any man who showed her any attention. A fatal flaw to be certain.

  “The opium? Would you elaborate on the usage?” Harrison asked.

  No more.

  Lydia could not talk about this, not tonight. Her whole body shuddered, goosebumps raised on her flesh. At least she’d eaten most of the food, though it churned in her stomach. How could she discuss the opium and how it factored into her and Huntsford’s physical relations? If he didn’t think her a degenerate now, he would once the facts were revealed. She never should have agreed to the exchange of secrets.

  Placing her palms flat on the table, she stood, then swayed. Harrison jumped to his feet and held her steady. Before she could protest, he swept her up in his arms.

  “No, Harrison…”

  “Hush, I’m taking you upstairs. You’re far from recovered, and I never should have asked you to join me tonight. As a physician, I should have known better. Youngston!” he bellowed.

  The butler must have been just outside the door for he opened it.

  “Miss Best has taken ill. I’m taking her to her room. Please see that a brandy toddy is prepared and the fire in the hearth is going at full tilt. Have Mariah bring the drink and inform her she is to assist Miss Best.”

  “At once, my lord.”

  Sighing shakily, she slipped her arms about his neck as he vaulted up the stairs as if she weighed nothing at all. Lydia was far too thin, and weaker than she imagined. The illusion that she was recovering was wishful thinking, and the fact she nearly swooned at the dinner table was certain proof.

  Harrison lowered her to the bed, then laid his hand on her forehead. It felt blessedly cool.

  “You’re warm. Yes, dressing and coming downstairs
was premature. Ah, here is Mrs. Wickes.”

  “I’ve come to assist. Mariah will be bringing the toddy directly. What can I do?” the housekeeper asked.

  “See Miss Best comfortable, anything she needs.” He removed his hand and straightened. “Have the maid fetch her food, books, or leave her to sleep.” Harrison trailed a finger across her flushed cheek. “I will check in later this evening when I return.”

  “Har…my lord, you are going to…” Lydia let the sentence hang in the air, for she would keep his secrets. No doubt he was going to the terminus.

  “Yes. I am. Rest and recover.” He stepped away from the bed, turned, and left the room. Tears gathered on her lashes. Never had a man cared for her like this, not since her father when she was a child. Sniffling quietly as Mrs. Wickes tended the fire, she allowed another moment of self-pity. She would never find a man like Harrison. Lydia was ruined for any decent man of honor. Focus on getting well, for the sooner she recovered, the sooner she would be far from here and the temptation of the Marquess of Tennington.

  Whatever lay in her future, she was determined to move forward with her head held high, battered but all the wiser from the lessons she gleaned from her various life-altering mistakes. Returning to medicine may be an uphill battle, but one she was willing to make.

  Reparations. Recovery. To start anew.

  If the marquess offered his assistance, she would take it and be eternally grateful. Closing off her heart, however, was an absolute must.

  Chapter 12

  Arriving at the terminus shortly after nine o’clock, Harrison immediately threw himself into his work. Safely hidden behind his Dr. Damian façade, he treated dozens of people, assessed the new arrivals, and received a status update from Sister Monica.

  At midnight, Sam strolled in. His friend didn’t bother to conceal his identity. Harrison envied his freedom. Sam motioned toward the small office area and Harrison nodded. Once out of sight, Harrison pulled off the mask. “Why are you here so late?” he asked Sam.

  “I was on my way home from a secret meeting with a certain young lady.”

  Harrison raised an eyebrow. “You have a new mistress?”

  Sam scoffed. “I never had an old one. I’m not flush enough to support such an expensive venture. This was entirely innocent.” Sam took a seat opposite Harrison. “I met her at that blasted ball we recently attended.”

  “The dark-haired beauty I saw you talking to? And she agreed to meet you? How bold. Who is she?” Harrison asked.

  “Adelia Wollstonecraft, youngest daughter of Viscount Tensbridge.”

  “Jesus, Sam. You are aware her grandfather, the Earl of Carnstone, attended the meeting with Shaftsbury regarding our clinic.”

  Sam crossed his arms. “And?”

  Yes, and what? The Wollstonecrafts were not a conceited lot; they were just as passionate about progressive causes as the Hornsbys. “Meeting any young lady in secret is not very prudent. Scandal and all that societal rot.”

  “I am aware. We wanted to become better acquainted before we ventured further. I haven’t even kissed her as yet. I will do what is proper soon enough, as in calling on her at her home. Meeting her parents, her older brothers and sister. What do you know about the viscount? Will he object to a country-raised physician with no name or money to court his daughter?”

  Harrison tore off his gloves and tossed them on the makeshift desk. “We’ve had dealings with the Wollstonecrafts, but haven’t interacted much in society, at least not of late. We collaborated on a home for those with special needs; it’s located not far from our estate. These past several years they rarely came to London except to Westminster, and only then when they feel that they must. Who was she with at the ball? I assume that she was chaperoned.”

  “By her great aunt and uncle, Garrett and Abigail Wollstonecraft. They were nearby when we spoke. Her uncle is a beast of a man, half Scottish, Adelia said. He must be six and a half feet in height, and solid as a brick wall. I wouldn’t want to cross him. Anyway, Adelia is heading to Kent tomorrow, to the family estate. Hence the reason we wanted to meet. We’ve agreed to correspond.” Sam sighed wistfully. “My God, no woman has affected in such a way. The ease in which we converse. The way she makes my heart pound. Never have I felt so alive.”

  Yes. Alive.

  Exactly how he felt when he was with Lydia. “Then by all means, Sam, follow your heart. I doubt the Wollstonecrafts would hold it against you regarding your lack of money. They are rich enough, and will no doubt settle a dowry on their daughter. Miss Adelia is aware you’re but a poor doctor?”

  Sam chuckled. “I told her, she never batted an eye. Already I like and admire her, beyond her outward beauty. Enough about me. Will you be following your own advice? And don’t give me that blather about duty.”

  “Perhaps I should inquire if the Wollstonecrafts have any other eligible and unmarried young ladies in the family,” Harrison replied wryly.

  “Or perhaps you should follow your heart. I take it Miss Best has not absconded with the silver? No? Good. Learn all you can about her. Do not deny the feelings within, for I cannot picture you in one of those damned aristo-alliance marriages. What a cold and lonely outlook. You deserve more.”

  “So I’ve been told. I will heed your advice as best as I’m able.” Harrison stood and affixed the mask and reached for his coat. “In fact, I believe I will head home. You can finish up here?”

  “Absolutely. I’m on call at St. Bart’s for the next three days in the casualty ward from two in the afternoon until midnight. I’ll come here first in the mornings. It will leave the afternoons without either one of us if you attend parliament. I’ve already informed the nuns and they said they will fill in where possible.” Sam exhaled. “You are right; it is becoming impossible for us to keep up this crushing and punishing pace. Let us pursue this clinic with all haste. For all our sakes, the nuns included.”

  Harrison nodded as he slipped on his coat. He kept the mask on until he was outside. Then he would walk a pace from the terminus before he removed it and hailed a hansom cab.

  “I agree. Goodnight Sam, do not stay too late.”

  “I won’t. I’ll send word when I hear from William Robins. Should be any day now.”

  Harrison made his escape, and once on the sidewalk, removed the cap and mask. It was dark and no one was about. Sam and Adelia Wollstonecraft. He knew nothing of the young lady. But he knew the family well enough he would be honored to put in a good word on his friend’s behalf, should he require it. Life, it seemed, was moving forward for them both.

  The clop-clop of horses’ hooves filled his hearing and when the hansom came into view, he hailed it. On the way home, his thoughts were filled with his discussion with Sam. He honestly had no idea what to do next on any front, personal or professional.

  Once he entered the town house, Youngston dutifully met him at the door.

  “I have told you before there is no need to wait up for me,” Harrison stated.

  “I understand, my lord. Do you require any assistance? Gillis has retired for the night. I insisted.”

  Harrison handed his coat to Youngston. He never reacted to Harrison coming in at all hours dressed in white. He often wondered if his staff ever discussed his strange schedule, absences, and stranger dress. Though after Lydia’s slight slip, Youngston no doubt had put the pieces together. And the fact the housekeeper told Lydia that a doctor had attended her. Meaning him. What did it matter? The servants were discreet, and he trusted them all unreservedly.

  “No, lock up for the night. I can see to my own needs.”

  “Very well, my lord.”

  Harrison quietly ascended the stairs, stopping outside of Lydia’s room. He turned the knob and peered in. The room lay in darkness, the fire banked. About to close the door a voice reached him.

  “My lord?”

  “Yes, just checking to see if you are all right. Go back to sleep.”

  “Come in for a moment. Leave the light low, pleas
e. What I have to say I would rather have the protective darkness.”

  Stepping across the threshold, he closed the door behind him. It was blasted dark, but he headed in the general direction of the bed. Groping about, Harrison located the chair and sat next to her.

  “What we spoke of,” Lydia said, her voice shaky. “The usage. I have to tell someone, get this off my conscience. I’m not sure where to begin, except to just blurt it out. John started to rub cocaine on our privates. ‘To enhance the experience,’ he said. Huntsford then wanted to introduce me to injecting it directly in the vein. I balked. He forced me to take the drug mixture,—I abhorred it. I began to abhor him. It’s exactly as you said, it was a violation. Though he never forced himself on me sexually, he assaulted me nonetheless.”

  Anger boiled inside Harrison at the thought of this lovely woman being abused in such a way. The temptation to hunt down this reprobate doctor and throttle him senseless was hard to ignore. “An assault to be certain, and I am deeply sorry you were treated thus.”

  “Yet I stayed. Not long after this horrible incident, but still. What does that say about me?”

  “You believe in your craft as a nurse. You wanted to fix or cure him, and it created an unhealthy bond between you.”

  A gasping sob escaped Lydia. “Yes. Exactly. But it’s beyond that. I should have left when he first introduced drugs into our relationship. I became addicted to the wild and heightened sensual responses. The numbing sensations. I am a deviant. There is no hope for me.” Her voice was low and Harrison could hear the shame in her tone.

  “I’ve heard of what you’ve described. Cocaine can be absorbed through the skin. Numbing prolongs the act. It wasn’t necessarily the sex you craved, but the drug itself. When did you last take the cocaine mixture?”

  “The injection? Close to two weeks before I gathered my courage enough to depart. It struck me how far I’d fallen. I refused to allow him to touch me after he forced the needle in my arm. I was silently relieved he actually left me alone. He was no doubt finding his thrills elsewhere. There were nights he did not come home and I was glad. I should have left then, but I had nowhere to go. There was hardly any money left. I’d been frightened into inaction. Not like me at all. My father…” Another sob escaped her. “He would be so disappointed in me. It was not the way he raised me. He was a kind and honorable man.”