Chapter 28
Jeremy followed his limping wife, who had her hands clamped onto a damn footman’s arm instead of his. She had refused his assistance from the coach or to the door of his London town house, that was after a silent six-hour journey from Windermere. Oh, indeed, Evie was livid. He sighed as Bentley closed the front door and took his coat and gloves.
“Tea, my lord?”
His eyes followed his wife as she disappeared into the drawing room.
“Oh, your mother is here.” The man nodded to the very room Evie had gone. “Shall I fetch the tea?”
“Yes.” He sighed. “The gin, too.” And he marched into the room, halting at the sight of his mother sitting right beside Myran on the sofa. She turned to him and beamed, a true look of delight he hadn’t seen on her face in years.
Everything clicked into place.
Getting his feet to work once again, he sat in the chair beside Evie, opposite his mother and cousin—no, brother.
Of course.
“Jeremy, you have returned. With Evie.” She smiled wide. “I am so happy to see the both of you.” Glancing over at Myran, she patted his hand. “We were just talking about the both of you, were we not, dearest?”
Myran nodded. “Yes, my lady.” He glanced up, then over to Evie. “I am glad to see you both, Lord and Lady Fielding.”
For the first time all day, he heard Evie speak. “None of that Lady Fielding nonsense, Myran. Pray, call me Evie.” She gave him a dazzling smile. “I am ever so happy to see you looking whole. Are you recovered?”
“Yes, my la—Evie, I am.” He dipped his head up and down. “I was just about to say I can leave now.” He clasped his hands together tight in his lap. “Get out of your way and go home.”
“Absolutely not,” his mother said at the same time Evie said, “That isn’t necessary.”
Myran glanced up, perplexed. “Surely, I have been a burden, my lord.”
Jeremy saw his mother sharpen her eyes on him, just as she used to do when he was about to confess to stealing sweets. “No, of course you haven’t been a burden. Not at all.” He leaned back in his chair. “In fact, I would be happy for you to stay here longer. You have hardly spent any time with the family.”
His mother beamed at him, then turned to Myran. “I think that is an excellent idea. Don’t you, Evie?”
“Yes, I certainly do.”
“There,” his mother nodded. “That is settled.”
The tea trolley arrived and Mrs. Fagan must have baked enough sweets for the entire English Navy. Myran rubbed his hands together and leaned forward. Mother made the boy a heaping plate, chirping happily about how she hoped he wouldn’t ruin his dinner.
Myran grinned. “I promise to have plenty room for roast duck in plumb sauce. Mrs. Fagan is the best cook in all the world,” he said and took a large bite of his cherry tart.
Jeremy took the offered cup from his mother, sliding a look to see if Evie was offended she hadn’t been the one to pour. It was difficult to tell since she began the day displeased with him. He sighed and sipped his tea. “How is Phyllis?”
His mother nodded and gave a worried smile. “As long as she remains in bed another week, Lady Amersleigh feels confident the babe will survive.” She glanced over to Evie, then back and scooted forward. “Perhaps if you go speak to her and mention seeing Montague?”
Jeremy watched Evie shudder, then lift her cup to try and hide the reaction. “I am not sure…” He stopped speaking when his wife turned to him and gave a nod. “All right, yes, I will go speak to her,” he said instead.
“Wonderful.” His mother lowered her cup. “I know Phyllis will recover with the news.”
Jeremy noticed his mother hadn’t touched the gin decanter on the tray before her. Not once. He slid a gaze over to Myran, still inhaling lemon bars and strawberry tarts, and was certain he knew the reason she began drinking in the first place. She had just given up an infant son.
Finishing his tea, Jeremy rose. “If everyone will excuse me, I would like to go see Phyllis now.”
Evie set her cup aside and rose unsteadily from her chair. “I would like to come, too.”
He was about to refuse, fearful Montague was still running about, but she had that stubborn tilt to her chin, her eyes daring him to tell her no. Blowing out a breath, he nodded and directed the footman to have the coach brought back around.
“Tell Phyllis I will see her shortly.”
Jeremy inclined his head to his mother and helped Evie to the front door. He was pleased she allowed him to assist her, even though he really wanted to turn her around and kiss her senseless. Now, that was an appealing thought.
“How is your ankle?” he asked once he settled in the opposite seat.
“Fine.” She glanced out the window.
He sighed. “Evie, do not be angry with me. I am trying to keep you safe.”
She turned, her eyes narrowed. “I would be perfectly safe.”
“Missions are dangerous.” He folded his arms. “As well you know. Just look at your ankle.”
“I turned my ankle when the sheet ripped apart.”
“Climbing out of a second-story window.” He gave her a pointed look. “After getting kidnapped.”
“I needed to get kidnapped,” she snapped. “So, we could learn Viper’s identity. You were taking too long.”
Jeremy could only stare at his wife. They had the same argument last night, until the wee morning hours. He honestly didn’t know how to handle the situation. They loved each other. So, why would she want to put her life in danger by continuing with the Guardians? He asked her just that.
Evie glanced back to him. “How about I ask you the same question?”
He frowned. “I have to learn the truth about my family. Especially now.” He swallowed. “Especially learning about Freddy…and Myran.”
Her brows shot up. “Myran? What about him?”
He told her what he suspected and what Ash had admitted to him and Belle when driving them to Bow Street.
Evie nodded slowly. “I think you are right. But why would your mother switch babies?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a sigh. “What would cause a mother to do something like that?” He rubbed his chin. “To let everyone believe the child didn’t survive…”
Evie leaned forward. “What?”
Jeremy glanced back up. “What if Father somehow found out?”
“You think your Mother was trying to protect Myran?”
He nodded.
“From what?” She reached out and placed her hand over his, the contact sending sparks through his body. “Surely you don’t think your father meant to harm the child?”
Once he would have also considered that thought absurd. Then he remembered what Freddy told him about getting shot in the knee, then a venomous snake sent to bite him when he couldn’t move. Jeremy shivered at the very idea. Could his father have done such a thing? And did Freddy do something to get even? Did Freddy kill his father in return?
His father had been clutching a Viper ring when they pulled him out of that cold lake on the property six years ago. As soon as Jeremy saw the ring, he knew his father had been murdered and he worked hard at locating Viper. The Guardians had been trying to stop the Nest ever since with no success. Viper’s wealth and power continued to grow with each devious deal and nefarious transaction.
Yet, there was something about Freddy that didn’t seem so…so…evil.
The coach shuddered to a halt and Jeremy assisted Evie out and to the front door. He didn’t see Amelia’s carriage and thought that was a good thing. Perhaps Phyllis had improved. Failing to see the brass knocker, he knocked on the front door.
The butler nodded. “Good day, Lord Fielding. Lady Fielding. Please do come in.”
Jeremy stepped into the house and turned to Evie as the butler closed the door. “I do not think you should manage the stairs just yet.”
She pressed her lips together, but nodded. “I will wait in the drawing room. Send Phyllis my regards.”
He held her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “I will return soon. Do not fly away from me, little bird.”
He left her standing there with pink cheeks, sputtering something as she turned and limped away. Then he went to the stairs and marched up to his sister’s room. The door was ajar and a thin strip of pale yellow light spilled weakly out into the hall. He tapped on the door and came inside.
A maid dipped a curtsey, then left with a water pitcher in her hands. Jeremy went through the anteroom and into the bedroom, where Phyllis lay in the center of a canopied bed, propped up against pillows. Her eyes were closed and a smattering of freckles stood out starkly over her pale cheeks. He frowned and came closer, his mind filling with images of Ghost weeping over his dead wife and child. Things went wrong in childbirth sometimes, and a jolt of fear coursed through him. He had no idea what he would do if something like that were to happen to Evie.
His sister stirred and her eyes swept open. They were glazed, red, and out of focus, then she saw him and her brows drew together. The blankness receded and a large smile spread across her lips. “Where have you been? I thought something terrible had happened.”
Jeremy frowned. Was his sister confused? Did she think him Montague? He moved to the side of the bed and scooped up her limp, cold hand. “It’s me, Phyllis. Jeremy. I have come to see how you are.”
She licked her lips. “Jeremy?” Then she opened her eyes and glanced around. “I thought I saw…” She stopped and turned her head from side to side. “Never mind.” She gave him a weak smile. “I am glad to see you.”
He settled on the bed beside her, still holding her hand in his. “Are you feeling better?”
She nodded. “I ate broth and a crust of bread today. Lady Amersleigh said I must stay strong.”
“That is true.” He squeezed her hand lightly. “I have some good news if you are up to hearing it.”
Her eyes brightened. “What is it?”
“Lord Montague is alive and well.” He would not upset her by explaining how he knew that, nor what the scoundrel almost did to Evie. But he hoped to reassure Phyllis and settle her worries so she could recover and give birth to a healthy babe.
“Truly?” she whispered, as though afraid he would say otherwise.
“Truly,” he said with a nod.
A frown puckered her brows. “Then, where is he?” She glanced toward the door. “Why isn’t he here?”
He patted her hand. “Do not upset yourself any further, Phyllis. You can be certain what I tell you is true.”
“But how are you certain?”
Jeremy blew out a sigh. “I saw him myself.”
Her gaze sharpened on his. “Was he well?”
“Yes.”
Her confusion deepened. “I do not understand.”
Jeremy started to say something, when a voice came from the doorway behind him. He froze, hoping he hadn’t heard who he thought he had.
“Lord Fielding. What a surprise.”
Slowly, Jeremy turned his head. “Lord Montague, what are you doing here?”
The man lifted his top lip in a sneer and pulled a pistol from his coat. “I’m taking your advice, of course. I am here to see my wife.”
“My lord,” Phyllis said, her voice shaky. “What is that in your hand.”
Montague lifted the weapon a bit higher. “You mean this pistol?”
“Yes. Why are you pointing it at my brother?”
A look of pure rage filled Montague’s eyes. “I mean to kill the bastard.” His lips twisted down. “His wife, too.”
“Please,” Jeremy said softly, rising from the bed, “you are scaring Phyllis.” He was pretty damn afraid as well, but he hoped to keep Montague from pulling the trigger. Did the man know Evie was downstairs?
For the first time, Montague glanced over at Phyllis. “You are not to lose my child.”
“I won’t,” she answered, her voice trembling. “Please, won’t you put down that pistol?”
“I much prefer to put a hole through your brother’s heart, dearest.”
The man spoke the truth. Jeremy could see it plainly in his eyes. Montague meant to kill him. He swallowed. Then he would go after Evie. He could not allow that to happen. Yet, what could he say or do to stop the man?
A slow smile appeared across Montague’s lips. “Now, say farewell to Lord Fielding, my lady.”
“Please, don’t,” Phyllis sobbed.
Jeremy ground his teeth together and turned to his sister. “Do not cry,” he said softly. “Just close your eyes.”
“No, no,” she garbled, tears spilling out of the corners of her eyes.
“Tell Evie I love her, will you?”
Phyllis continued to cry and her shoulders shook.
Jeremy took a slow, deep breath before turning back to face Montague. The man twisted his lips in a feral smile and took aim. And as fire spewed out of the barrel, he saw Evie’s pale face in the doorway, her screams drowned out by the explosion that knocked him back against the painted poppies covering the silk paper lining the walls.
Pain tore through his chest and darkness crowded his vision. He tried to lift his arm and speak. He tried to tell Evie to run, to hide. But he couldn’t fight the hollow numbness driving out his awareness.
He slid to the ground, hearing and seeing and feeling nothing at all.