Chapter Eighteen
Her. The dream begins with her now, always with her. Teasing dark eyes hidden under long, thick lashes. Red lips. Such a deep red, velvety and soft. The rose petal lips smile, move, make shapes. Words. No, not words. One word only. His name. Julian. There’s an entire world in that word. His entire world. His knees go weak and his heart soars, but then the thick lashes sweep down to hide her eyes, and when they rise again they’ve gone cold. One blink, and her beautiful dark eyes are cold, so cold his heart drops, becomes an icy stone, and then impossibly they are colder still, so cold they turn blue, and the silence is swallowed by a sudden explosion of red, such a bright red, more vivid than it should be, redder than he’d ever imagined blood could be, and what used to be Colin Hibbert’s chest becomes a bloody mass of jagged metal, the flesh torn to pieces, a gaping, pulpy hole where skin and bone should be, and sightless, staring blue eyes.…
“Julian.” A rough hand shook his shoulder. “Christ. Jules, wake up!”
Julian wrenched awake with a curse, his hand scrabbling for his waistcoat pocket and Colin’s watch. No pocket. No waistcoat. Damn it, where—
“It’s in your hand.”
Julian cracked open burning, gritty eyes. Cam stood over him, his mouth pulled into a grim line. He gestured with a sharp jerk of his chin to Julian’s hand. As always, Colin’s watch was clutched in his palm.
Where the bloody hell am I?
“You’re in my study,” Cam said. “You fell asleep in the chair again, helped along by large quantities of whiskey, no doubt.”
Julian struggled upright in the chair and ran a hand over his chin and jaw. He had a face nearly overgrown with whiskers by the feel of it. A quick hand through his hair confirmed it was rumpled and damp with sweat, and his eyes were no doubt bloodshot, since it felt like someone had ground glass into them.
Not a pretty sight. No wonder his cousin looked grim.
Cam strode over to the tall windows on one side of the room and yanked the curtains aside. “Something wrong with your bedchamber, cuz?”
Julian flinched as the morning sunlight fell across his face. “No.”
Not unless one counted the nightmares, which had grown so disturbing he’d permanently abandoned his bed for his chair in Cam’s study in the hopes he’d wake more easily if he slept in an upright position. It had seemed to work, too.
Until last night.
That gaping hole in Colin’s chest, the coldness in Charlotte’s eyes, and the blood—so much of it, and so red. Far too red—not like real blood, which was much darker, but bright, lurid, pretend blood. Julian drew in a deep breath and clutched at the watch in his palm. The blood was always the worst of it.
He fumbled for the table at his elbow until he found the glass of whiskey he’d abandoned last night. Ah, good. Still half full. “To your health.” He tipped the glass toward Cam, and then brought it to his lips.
“It’s not my health I’m worried about.”
Julian let the liquor sear his throat, then dropped the empty glass back onto the table. “Don’t say you’re worried for me, cuz? I’m in the pink of health.” Julian held his arms out wide. “Never been better. Just look at me.”
Cam did look at him—such a long, hard look Julian had to fight to hold his cousin’s gaze. What did those sharp green eyes see when they looked at him now? He’d never been able to hide anything from his cousin, not since they were boys. Maybe Cam knew he’d offered to pleasure Charlotte in the middle of Lord and Lady Elliott’s garden last night.
No, not offered—threatened.
What kind of hero insinuates a lady is a whore?
No kind of hero at all. Julian did drop his eyes then, desperate to avoid Cam’s searching gaze, and ran an unsteady hand down his face. Jesus. He’d been out of control from the moment he stepped into that garden last night, utterly at the mercy of the brute lurking under his skin. What else had he said to Charlotte? Damn it, he’d been so overwhelmed by his own pain and anger he couldn’t remember.
But her face, pale and anguished, the tremor in her voice when she begged him to stop—dear God. He remembered that.
He rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. The moment she arrived this morning he’d tell her how sorry he was. He’d beg her forgiveness—
“This business with Charlotte, Julian. Its best if—”
“It’s done. She’ll accompany you to Bellwood this morning.”
Cam’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? How did you manage it? Should I expect to find her bound and gagged and deposited on the floor of my carriage?”
Julian tried to smile. “A simple thanks will do.”
Cam wasn’t amused. “Your tactics with Charlotte thus far have been—”
To Julian’s relief, Cam didn’t get a chance to finish before he was interrupted by a knock on the study door. “Yes? Come.”
Phipps entered, his long face flushed with distress. “I beg your pardon, sir, but there’s a gentleman here who demands to see you, and he’s rather insistent.”
Cam raised his eyebrows. “Insistent?”
“I’m afraid so, sir. I tried to turn him away, it being far too early in the day for calls, but he pushed his way inside. Nearly knocked me down, sir.”
A strange sense of foreboding shot up Julian’s spine. “Did he give his name, Phipps?”
“Yes, sir. Lord Devon.”
“Devon!” Cam shot to his feet. “Send him away at once, Phipps.”
“No! Wait.” Julian held up his hand to stay Phipps. “Something’s wrong, Cam. It must be. Devon would never come here otherwise.”
Cam’s face paled. “Charlotte?”
Julian nodded. It had to be Charlotte, and whatever it was, it was dire. Nothing short of disaster could induce Devon to appear on Cam’s doorstep. Fear choked him as he sifted frantically through his memories of last night. What had she said? She’d asked him to stop, yes, but what else? Something about wanting to see him, to tell him something, but he hadn’t let her speak, and in the end she’d said very little.
I did weep for you. I still see your face when I close my eyes.
Julian went still, remembering.
“Phipps, give us ten minutes for Captain West to make himself presentable, then show Lord Devon in.”
“Yes, sir.” Phipps bowed and left the room.
“Get dressed, Jules. Quickly.” Cam retrieved Julian’s clothes from the chair. “For God’s sake, what did you do to them?” He cast an impatient eye over the crumpled coat and waistcoat.
Julian shoved his shirt into his breeches. “Makeshift pillow. Give them here,” he snapped when Cam tried to shake the wrinkles out of them. “Devon doesn’t give a damn about my clothing, and I wouldn’t give a damn even if he did.”
Cam threw the waistcoat across the room to Julian. “Good thing, because it will take far more than ten minutes to make you presentable. No, forget the cravat—it’s as believable as silk gloves on a cutpurse. You look a ruffian either way.”
Julian had just struggled into his waistcoat when Phipps returned. “Lord Devon.” The butler stood back to let Devon pass, then hastily retreated and closed the door behind him.
Julian eyed Devon. Wise of Phipps to escape before the bloodshed began. Devon looked ready to take someone’s head clean off his shoulders.
No, not someone’s. His.
Devon didn’t spare Cam a glance. “What the devil did you say to Lady Hadley last night, West?” He strode across the room until his livid face was mere inches from Julian’s. “Whatever it was, you’ve made one hell of a bloody mess.”
Julian’s heart stuttered in his chest, but there was no way he’d let Devon see his panic. “I told you last night, Devon. Lady Hadley is no longer your concern.”
“Is that so?” Devon’s voice was soft, menacing. “Well, I’ll damn well make her my concern until you manage something more than your current pathetic efforts.”
Cam shoved himself between Devon and Julian, his face dark with fury. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, Devon, but you have a bloody nerve coming into my home and telling me how to take care of my family.”
Devon turned on Cam. “You’ve done a damn poor job of it, otherwise I wouldn’t need to be here at all.” Devon jerked his chin in Julian’s direction. “Good God, man. Is he the best you can do?”
Julian clenched his jaw until it threatened to shatter. “You think yourself a better choice? You would have disgraced her, ruined her—”
“No, West.” Devon’s low voice cut through Julian’s fury. “I would have married her.”
Cam’s mouth fell open. “What?”
Julian stared at Devon, searching for a blink, a twitch—anything that would give him away as a liar, but the blue eyes held his without wavering. “What’s the matter, West? Have I shocked you?”
“I might be shocked if I believed a word of it.” But he did believe it. He could see by Devon’s face the man told the truth.
“I don’t give a damn what you believe, but ask yourself this. Did you ever bother to ask Lady Hadley? To talk to her at all? You’ve been harassing her to leave London for a week, and in that time you never tried to understand what kept her here, did you? I suppose you thought you knew it all already. Not just a hero, but a mind reader, as well.”
Julian shook his head. “No. It’s impossible. She would have said something, told me—”
“Why, because you’ve proved yourself so worthy of her confidence?” Devon gave a harsh laugh. “You wouldn’t have believed her even if she had told you.”
Julian wanted to deny it, but he knew damn well Devon was right. “She’d have told her family, then. Her sister.”
“No doubt she would have confided in her sister had there been a betrothal, but Charlotte didn’t give me an answer until last night.”
Julian’s stomach gave a nauseating lurch. Last night when he’d come upon them locked in an embrace, she’d been giving Devon her answer. It hadn’t looked like a refusal. Well, he bloody well wasn’t going to ask Devon if they were betrothed. He wouldn’t give the man the satisfaction.
But the fierce possessiveness thrumming through him refused to be denied, and in the next breath he heard himself say, “Charlotte? Unless you’re betrothed, she’s Lady Hadley to you, Devon.”
Devon stared at him for a moment, an incredulous look on his face; then he made a disgusted noise and wheeled away. “Yes, by all means, Captain, let’s quibble over my manner of address. Perhaps then we’ll have tea and adjourn to Tattersall’s for the afternoon while Lady Hadley continues her journey to Hampshire. Alone.”
“Hampshire?” Julian stared at him. “You’re mad. She leaves this morning for Kent, accompanied by her family.”
“My God. You don’t even know. What did you do, West? Dump her off in front of her house and congratulate yourself on being such a hero? You haven’t even bothered to find out where she is!”
A horrible suspicion began to form in Julian’s mind. No. She wouldn’t have gone there, not by herself.
But even as he shook his head he knew it was true, and in the next moment Devon confirmed it. “Last night, not an hour after you dropped her off at her house, Lady Hadley left for Hampshire. For Hadley House.”
Cam and Julian stared at him, mute with shock.
“That’s right. She left in the middle of the night with no one to attend her aside from a maid and two footmen. Whatever you said to her last night to make her leave London certainly had the desired effect, West.”
The floor gave a sickening lurch under Julian’s feet. “But she told me—she promised she’d leave for Bellwood—”
He fell silent as he thought back to her words last night. No, she hadn’t promised that. He’d heard a promise because he wanted to hear one, but her actual words…
You have my word, Captain, I will leave London immediately.
She’d meant Hadley House. By the time he finished with her she no longer intended to go to Bellwood. It was too close, and she must have known at some point she’d see him there.
Julian groped for the mantel to steady himself. Last night when she’d disappeared into her house—God, she’d looked so small as she passed through that cavernous entryway. Hadley House would devour her, swallow her whole.
Devon was watching him. “So you do care about her, West.” His face relaxed ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t have believed it possible.”
“How do you know about this, Lord Devon?” Despite the early hour Cam went to the sideboard and poured a finger of whiskey into each of three glasses, then crossed the room to hand one to Devon and the other to Julian.
Devon tossed his back at once. “I went to her house this morning. I was concerned after last night. When she left, she looked so…unlike herself. Her butler, Nelson, told me she gathered a few things together and was gone not an hour after she arrived home from Lady Elliott’s ball. Her lady’s maid, Sarah, confirmed it. Sarah is under strict orders to pack up Lady Hadley’s things and come to Hampshire at once. Once she’s gone, the servants will close the house.”
“She intends to stay away from London for quite some time, then,” Cam muttered. “This is bad. Hadley House is remote, with no neighbors nearby to speak of.”
Julian gripped his whiskey glass with white fingers. What had Charlotte said about Hadley House? It’s an estate without an end. For her to be there alone, all winter…
Devon slammed his glass down onto a table. “She’s in no state of mind to be alone in that enormous house. No company, no distractions, nothing to keep her mind occupied—she may as well be locked in a tomb.”
Distractions. All at once the truth crashed over Julian, spitting foam and spray in its wake. The scandals, the whorehouse incident, the gaming—they were what kept Charlotte in London. The widows and Devon were part of it—a convenient means by which to achieve an end—but they weren’t the real reason she insisted upon staying in the city. They hadn’t led Charlotte into vice. She’d come to London in search of it, to silence the voices in her head.
And what better place than London to lose oneself?
For the past week he’d chased her from one corner of the city to another, like… How had Cam put it? Like a hound after a very clever fox. But she’d begun to run long before he arrived in London. Didn’t she know it made no difference whether she was in London, at Bellwood, or at Hadley House? No one could run fast enough or hide well enough to escape themselves.
He knew that better than anyone.
“We’ll go after her, of course. Immediately.” Cam turned to Devon. “Did Nelson say what time she left last night?”
“Midnight, or thereabouts.”
“She has an eight hour start on us. Damn it. It’s impossible for us to overtake her before she reaches Hadley House. Even on horseback—”
“I’ll leave at once,” Julian said. “I won’t stop except to change horses. If I make good time she won’t be alone at Hadley House for more than half a day.”
Cam frowned. “No, Jules. I’ll go after her myself. You’ll stay in London.”
Julian felt the refusal like a blow to the stomach. Cam looked away, but not before Julian saw the truth on his face.
His cousin didn’t trust him to go after Charlotte.
Cam turned to Lord Devon with a respectful bow. “I offer you my thanks, my lord. I believe I’ve misjudged you. Perhaps I had reason to, given your questionable behavior with Charlotte over these past months, but it’s clear to me now your intentions were honorable. I beg your pardon.”
Devon looked as if he didn’t quite appreciate this apology, but after a moment the white lines around his mouth eased and he returned Cam’s bow. “I ask you to favor me with a line once you’ve located Lady Hadley. Whatever else may have passed between us, we’re friends.”
Devon didn’t look at Julian again, but turned and left the study.
“Lord Devon. Wait.” Julian followed him into the hallway. “Are you and Lady Hadley simply friends? Or are you betrothed?”
It was a dangerous question, one he had no right to ask. Whether they were betrothed or not could make no difference to him. He was betrothed to Jane Hibbert, and he wouldn’t lose his one chance to make amends to Colin.
But none of this mattered. Nothing mattered as much as his need to know.
Devon regarded him in silence for a moment, then shook his head. “She accepted my offer, but then last night, in the garden, right before you came upon us…” Devon drew the moment out until Julian’s nerves screamed in protest. “She retracted. Strange, isn’t it? I can’t imagine what could have happened yesterday afternoon to make her change her mind. Can you, Captain West?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, but turned and took his leave.
Julian went back into the study to face Cam, his mind in turmoil. Those stolen moments with Charlotte in the carriage—
Tell me it matters.
It matters. It matters, Julian.
Was that when she’d changed her mind about marrying Devon?
Cam was waiting for him, but as soon as he saw Julian’s face he began to shake his head. “No, Julian.”
“Cam. Please. I have to.”
“No. I should never have asked you to do this in the first place.”
Julian’s chest went tight. “I’ve made mistakes. I don’t deny it, but this time I promise you—”
“I can’t trust your promises anymore, Julian.” Cam’s mouth was hard. “I won’t risk having Charlotte hurt again.”
“I—I won’t hurt her. Not ever again. Please. Give me one more chance, Cam.”
But Cam looked away. “No.”
Julian fought back the panic that threatened to close his throat, to choke him. To silence him. “You’re meant to leave for Bellwood this morning. Ellie and Amelia are ready to go. It has to be me, Cam. Don’t you see? Please.”
Cam searched his face, looking for…what? Some trace of the Julian he remembered, perhaps. Would he find any?
“Cam.” Julian’s voice broke. “I’m begging you.”
Cam’s gaze shot back to his face. He was silent for a long moment, then, “She won’t go anywhere with you if she doesn’t trust you.”
“I’ll find a way—somehow, I’ll find a way to make her trust me. Please let me try. If she won’t come with me, I’ll write you at once, and then stay with her until you can get to Hampshire.”
“I won’t have her forced or coerced or manipulated, Julian. Do you understand me? You’ll have to persuade her. Gently.”
“I understand. I give you my word.”
“Your word.” Cam looked him in the eyes. “You were a man of your word once, Julian. Are you still?”
I don’t know. I don’t know who I am anymore.
But he knew one thing—a small, insignificant, paltry thing, but at the moment it was all he had. He held Cam’s gaze. “I want to be.”
Julian held his breath as Cam studied his face. Please, let him find some trace of Julian there still. Please—
Cam blew out a long breath. “Go and get her, then. But don’t make me regret this, Julian.”
Julian’s breath rushed from his lungs and his eyes closed. “Thank you,” he rasped. “Thank you for giving me one more chance.”
Cam sighed. “I warn you, Jules. It won’t be easy.”
No, it wouldn’t be easy. Rescues never were. Not even for a hero.