by Wolf, Bree
Drawing back a little, Adelaide lifted her head, her gaze studying her husband’s face. “Are you not…angry with me?” she whispered, afraid to trust that he truly did not hold her past against her. “I expected you to−”
“Have you been with him since…?”
Swallowing, Adelaide shook her head, her eyes open as they looked into her husband’s. “No, never.”
Matthew nodded. “Did he hold your heart?”
“I liked him,” Adelaide admitted, wanting no secrets between them, “but I did not love him. Not the way I love you.”
A deep smile suddenly claimed her husband’s face. “You do?”
Blinking back fresh tears, Adelaide nodded. “I should have told you long ago, but I was so afraid to lose you. I still can’t believe…” Her voice trailed off as she averted her gaze.
“What?” he asked, gently lifting her chin. “Tell me.”
“A part of me cannot believe that…that you’re truly not angry with me,” she said, trying to choose her words carefully. “The fact that my brother could simply claim a bastard child and did not suffer for it while I would have been ruined had I done the same proves how strict rules in our society are…at least for women. No one would have wanted me if they had known. My father would not have been able to bargain with my hand if the truth had been revealed.” A slight blush came to her cheeks, and yet, she held her husband’s gaze. “I gave myself to another man. I bore his child. Does this not bother you? I need to know the truth. I need to know how you truly feel.”
Holding her gaze, her husband drew in a slow breath. A hint of anger rested in his eyes, and yet, Adelaide did not feel afraid. Instead, she welcomed his honesty. “I cannot deny,” he forced out through gritted teeth, “that the thought of you…with him turns my stomach. A part of me wants to rip him limb from limb, but I can accept your past with him if indeed it is only your past. It belongs to a time when we had not yet met, when we did not feel bound to one another. I understand…why it happened, and as I said, for Tillie’s sake, I cannot truly regret it.”
Sighing with relief, Adelaide smiled at him. “It is of the past, I swear it.”
As his pulse hammered in his neck, his hands on her tightened possessively. “You’re only mine now.”
“I am,” Adelaide whispered, joy claiming her heart like never before. “Only yours.”
“Then what does he want?” her husband asked unexpectedly, his eyes hardening. “Why does he seek you out?”
Tensing, Adelaide shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Her husband’s jaw tightened. “Perhaps he seeks to repeat what happened between you,” he growled. “Some men have no honour. They compromise innocents and seduce other men’s wives.” He inhaled a long breath. “Does he know about Tillie?”
“No one knows, except for my grandmother, my mother and my brother.”
“Good. Then I will−”
In that moment, footsteps echoed to their ears shortly before the door was flung open. Adelaide’s brother stormed in, his face flushed and deep concern resting in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re up,” he remarked, holding up a letter. “Father left the house late last night and then again early this morning.” Gritting his teeth, he shook his head. “I cannot say why but I feel that something is very wrong. He left this for you.” Lifting his hand, he held out the letter to her, and Adelaide could see her own name written there in her father’s hand.
Rising from the settee, she stepped toward her brother, a dark sense of foreboding coming over her. She could only hope that her father was not in the process of making another monumental mistake.
With trembling hands, she reached for the letter.
Chapter Thirty-Six – A Return to Hyde Park
Still feeling the pulse thudding in his neck from his wife’s revelations, Matthew wished he could have a moment of peace and quiet to sort through the chaos in his head. Many questions still remained, but he could not deny that he felt a sense of relief not only because his wife had finally confided in him, but also because his worst fears had not turned out to be true. Yes, she had slept with Bartholomew−curse the man! −but it had not been out of love. She had never given him her heart. Bartholomew had not possessed it then, and he certainly did not possess it now.
Her heart belonged to Matthew.
Again, he recalled how she had whispered that she loved him, and his whole being warmed, finally content and at peace.
She loved him!
“What is it?”
His brother-in-law’s concerned voice jarred Matthew from his thoughts, and he directed his attention back to his wife.
Her eyes had widened as they flew over the parchment in her hands. Her skin had turned pale, and her body began to tremble ever so slightly as she read on. Then she sighed and for a brief moment closed her eyes, inhaling a shuddering breath that sent chills down Matthew’s spine.
John fared no better. “What does he write?”
Swallowing, Adelaide met her brother’s gaze. “He…he wrote to apologise,” she began, “for everything he did, for ruining my life, my happiness.”
Matthew stepped forward, his arm coming around her, pulling her closer. Welcoming his support, Adelaide leaned into him, and again−despite the seriousness of the situation−his heart rejoiced at the knowledge that she was his.
His to comfort.
His to protect.
His to love.
“He also writes,” Adelaide continued, her gaze fixed on her brother’s, “to say that he will ensure that my new happiness will not be ripped from my hands. He promises to protect me.” She swallowed hard, tears coming to her eyes. “What does this mean, John? This letter, it sounds as though he…he…”
Clearing his throat, John took a step back, his face paling as he raked his hands through his hair. His eyes grew distant as they flitted around the room, his thoughts racing to make sense of what he had just learnt.
In that moment, Matthew saw his new brother-in-law in a new light. He saw his vulnerability, his doubt and regret. He recognised him as a young man, who had made mistakes and was finally coming to realise the severity of his actions. Despite his mostly reckless and egotistical behaviour of the past, John Cartwright was a decent young man, who simply needed someone to believe in him in order to find his way.
After all, had he not done what he could to protect his sister when she had needed him?
“Bart!”
That single word on his brother-in-law’s tongue whipped Matthew’s head around in the very moment he felt his wife in his arms tense. “What?”
After glancing at Matthew, John immediately turned his attention to Adelaide. “Father must have heard us talking yesterday. From what we said, it is not unreasonable to assume that he concluded that Bart is a threat to you.”
Adelaide’s eyes widened. “What are you saying, John? Even if he heard us, even if he believes Bart is a threat to me, what could he do? Why would he−?” Clasping a hand over her mouth, Adelaide stared at her brother.
John’s gaze had widened in shock as well before he gritted his teeth. “He called him out,” he growled, his hands balling into fists. “It makes perfect sense. That’s where he went last night, and that’s why he left the house before the break of dawn this morning.”
“A duel,” Matthew whispered, feeling the blood in his veins run cold as his mind unbidden conjured another morning that had ended in a tragedy.
“Hyde Park,” John exclaimed, then spun on his heel and strode toward the door. “We need to hurry.”
Shaking off his paralysis, Matthew hastened after his brother-in-law, his wife by his side. “I’ll call for the carriage.”
“No need,” John replied, crossing the front hall in large strides. “Mine is waiting at the kerb.”
Without bothering to don coats and hat, the three of them rushed down the steps and into the waiting carriage. John yelled instructions to his driver, and they were off without delay. The wheels churned on the cobblestone
as the carriage flew along toward its destination. Luckily, at this time of day, few people were on the street, not hindering their progress.
Holding his wife tightly in his arms, Matthew looked across at his brother-in-law. “In what way does your father think Bartholomew could be a threat to Adelaide?”
For a moment, John did not answer before his eyes travelled to his sister, a question in them that Matthew understood as well.
“He knows,” Adelaide whispered, and Matthew felt a new warmth engulf him now that he was no longer an outsider. He knew. He was one of them. He no longer stood alone.
John nodded, then turned to look at Matthew. “Bart has been following her around.”
Matthew nodded. “I’ve noticed that,” he growled. “Do you know why?”
John cleared his throat, his gaze darting to the window before it returned to meet his. “I cannot say for sure. I have not spoken to him since he’s returned to England.”
“Then what does your father know that we don’t know?” he asked, watching his brother-in-law carefully, certain that there was more to the story than he was willing to share. “Why would he think him a threat to her?”
“I believe,” John said, his gaze travelling to Adelaide, a gentle smile coming to his features, “that Father does not believe Bart to be a…a threat to her in the way that he would harm her…physically.” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “With everything that’s happened lately and now considering the letter he wrote to you,” he looked at his sister, a silent apology in his eyes, “I believe the threat he sees is the one Bart poses to your marriage.”
“My marriage?” Adelaide exclaimed. “But if he believes Bart a threat to my marriage then he must know…” Her voice trailed off, and Matthew felt a shiver shake her body.
Instantly, his arms tightened on her.
“About Tillie,” John finished for her.
Drawing in a shaking breath, Adelaide stared at her brother. “But how could he? In all those years, he never said a word. Did you tell him?”
John’s jaw tightened, and pain came to his gaze. “I did not,” he forced out through gritted teeth, and Matthew could tell that his sister’s question, her doubt had wounded him deeply. “I spoke of this to no one, but despite his reputation as a gambler and drunkard, Father is not a fool. If he was, he would never have been able to survive this long. Our fortune is all but gone, and yet, he continues to gamble. He still finds funds. He finds people who provide him with funds because he knows things. Things others would rather not see revealed and so they pay.”
Matthew scoffed. “He threatens them, blackmails them.”
John shrugged. “He does what he has to in order to survive.”
“You sound like you’re proud of him,” Matthew accused, his voice hard.
Sighing, John met his gaze. “I am not,” he said, honesty ringing in his voice, “and yet, I understand how hard it is to abandon a path once chosen.” He dropped his gaze for a moment before shifting it back to his sister. “It seems all Father is concerned with right now is your happiness.” Matthew thought a touch of envy rested in his brother-in-law’s eyes. “And so, he sees Bart as a threat. A threat from which he wants to protect you.”
Adelaide hung her head, and she turned to him, leaning closer. “I cannot believe he would do this,” she whispered, tears clinging to her lashes. “Always has he been the one I feared. How am I supposed to think of him now?”
“Do not worry,” Matthew whispered to her. “We will find a way to deal with this. He is your father, and yet, he did wrong by you all your life. One good deed−if you want to call it that−does not redeem him from a lifetime of neglect and abuse.” He held her gaze, praying she would not take this upon her own shoulders. “This is not your burden. You’re not responsible for what he does.”
Swallowing, Adelaide nodded. “I hope we’ll get there in time.”
As they passed through the gates of Hyde Park, a part of Matthew could not help but hope that the earl would kill Bartholomew. It was a primal, territorial and slightly vindictive part of him that never failed to frighten Matthew, making him wonder if given the right circumstances he could become a man like his father.
Still, deep down, he knew he had no grounds for this fear. It was not rational.
Certainly, he despised Bartholomew. The man had no honour, no decency, and thought that he had every right to prey upon innocent young women for sport. After all, the man had not cared for Adelaide. If he had, he would have married her back then. No, Matthew was certain that Bartholomew had seduced Adelaide for purely selfish reasons, and as he glanced across the carriage at his brother-in-law, he was certain John knew what those were.
Still, Bartholomew’s character flaws were not a good enough reason to condemn a man to death. Perhaps a lesson would do him good and help him see that he, too, had made mistakes. Perhaps it was not too late for him to become a better man.
Turning his gaze out the window, Matthew swallowed as the scene drew him back to an early morning about a year ago. The sky was awakening with streaks of light blue and violet dancing across the lofty canvas. Beyond the horizon a soft glow rose as though out of the ground as the sun began its ascent. Morning dew still hung in the air, and he could smell the sweet scent of the world awakening, fresh and clear and invigorating.
And yet, the reason that had brought them there this morning was nothing short of devastating.
A year ago, Matthew had entered the park to confront his cousin, Tristan. He remembered only too well how his father had seemed that day, consumed by greed, madness shining in his eyes, willing to sacrifice his brother’s son in order to steal his title and fortune.
It had been the day Matthew had finally realised the truth.
What would today bring?
Would the clearing at the edge of the park see another death this morning? Or would no blood stain its fresh grass?
“It’s up ahead,” Matthew said, pointing out the window the very moment the grove of trees grew sparser, no longer obstructing his view. His breath caught as his eyes detected movement between the trees.
“There they are!” his brother-in-law called, surging toward the window. Then he banged on the roof to draw the driver’s attention. “Faster!”
In Matthew’s arms, Adelaide shivered like a leaf, her eyes wide as she stared out the window. “Oh, no! It has begun.”
Holding her tightly, Matthew knew there was nothing he could do, and so he simply looked at the few lone figures standing in the clearing. Two stood back to back and a moment later started to march in the opposite direction of one another.
“We’re too late,” John growled, his hand already on the door handle. “Faster!”
The carriage bounced on the uneven terrain as it left the path behind and surged through a gap in the tree line. Matthew held on to his wife, his eyes fixed on the two figures slowly approaching their final position.
For a moment, time seemed to slow down before the world exploded and everything seemed to happen at once.
One second, the two men were still walking away from one another. The next they spun around, raised their weapons and fired.
Two shots rang loud and clear through the morning air, tearing a scream from Adelaide’s lips.
Chapter Thirty-Seven – A Father’s Goodbye
Dimly, Adelaide heard a scream ring from her own lips as she watched the two figures go down. From the distance, she could not tell who was who, and her eyes darted back and forth between them.
In the next moment−as though it had been a shot starting a race−John pushed open the door and leapt from the moving carriage. He landed on his feet, and then rolled sideways to break his fall. Instantly, he jumped back up and surged toward the clearing.
“Halt!” her husband called, and the carriage slowed down. Once it had stopped, he opened the door and helped her to the ground. Then they ran, following in her brother’s wake.
As they drew closer, Adelaide could spot her father
down on the ground, not moving. Bart, too, was lying in the grass; however, she could see his head moving as his second knelt beside him, tending to his arm.
Her father, however, was alone.
Moments later, John reached his side, dropping into the grass beside him. His face went ash-white as his eyes darted over their father’s form. Then his arms flew forward, and he pressed his hands onto his chest. Sighing, John lifted his head, and the moment, Adelaide met his eyes, she knew that their father would not walk away from this.
Running, Adelaide held on to her husband, allowing him to pull her forward until they finally reached the clearing. She stumbled onward and then sank down onto her knees beside her father, her eyes drawn to her brother’s hands, blood seeping through his fingers, staining her father’s shirt and coat, her brother’s hands and the grass below a bright red.
The wound in the upper left corner of his chest bled profusely, and his skin was already turning a bluish grey. His eyes were closed, but when she called him, they began to flutter open and he turned this head to look at her.
His gaze found hers, and Adelaide thought to see a small smile play on his lips. “For once I wanted to be the one to protect you,” he whispered, his voice almost strangled as he spoke, and yet, his eyes shone clearer than she had ever seen them. He drew in another ragged breath…and then stilled.
Completely.
“Damn you!” John cursed beside her, his face drawn as he stared down at their father. Then he sank back, his hands leaving their father’s chest as he sat down in the grass, his blood-stained hands raking through his hair. Tears stood in his eyes, and he hung his head in defeat.
Momentarily numb, Adelaide stared from her brother to her father, feeling her body begin to shake when two warm, familiar hands descended upon her shoulders. “Are you all right?” came her husband’s gentle voice from somewhere behind her before he urged her up onto her feet and turned her around, so he could look at her face.