Читать книгу If He's Wicked - Hannah Howell - Страница 11

“Just what do you think you are doing?”

Julian clung to the chair he stood next to and looked at Chloe. Her eyes were dark with annoyance and she was scowling at him, her soft, full mouth turned down and slightly taut. He had the wisdom not to tell her she was beautiful when she was angry, the flush of temper upon her soft cheeks flattering. Chloe would probably hit him over the head with the loaded tray for uttering such tripe.

A little unsettled by how well he knew this woman, he answered, hoping conversation would silence his wayward thoughts. “I thought I would have my dinner at this table tonight instead of in my bed.”

He decided to pretend not to see how she rolled her eyes as she placed his dinner tray on the table. Instead he concentrated on sitting down without revealing how unsteady and weak he was. After a week in bed, his wounds were healing and he had decided it was time to regain the strength he had lost. Once out of bed it had not taken many unassisted steps for him to know that he had a lot of work to do before he could consider himself back in fighting trim. He just hoped that when he achieved that goal he would be able to do more than just hide in the house and listen to reports of what his enemies were doing now.

When Chloe sat down across from him and helped herself to a tankard of cider, he frowned. “Do you plan to join me for dinner?” The thought was far more attractive to him than it ought to be. “I see no plate for you.”

“I have already dined,” she replied. “I just thought it might be wise to sit here so that I can aid you in returning to your bed.” She smiled faintly, then had a sip of cider when he grunted. “One more week and you will be nearly as good as new.”

Pausing in his enjoyment of an excellently cooked and seasoned slice of beef, he eyed her a little warily. “And you know this for certain, do you?”

“You mean, did I see it?”

He sighed. “Yes. Well? Did you?”

“Vaguely. I had no dream, asleep or awake. I just know. At times that is all it is. Just a knowing, an absolute conviction. I know that, in one week, you will be healed. Although I would not suggest that you immediately rush out to slay your enemies.”

“That is not the best way to deal with these particular foes, is it.”

“Nay, I fear not. If they were not who they are, were not so highly born and bred, you could probably do as you pleased. Your word on their crimes against you would be enough to justify the punishment you dealt. Not particularly fair, but—” She shrugged.

He forced himself not to stare at how that movement made her breasts shift enticingly beneath the bodice of her dark blue gown. “But true. Instead, I must become a spy, a gatherer of information, and a deceiver.”

“Better a short time of playing that game than a long time in a grave.”

He grinned at her. “Well said.”

Julian fixed his attention on his meal but found it difficult to become completely unaware of Chloe. Even the tempting aromas of a fine meal could not fully obscure her own soft and alluring scent. The attraction he had for her was refusing to be smothered, pushed aside, or ignored. It kept growing. Each time he heard her soft, husky voice, or her laugh, or looked into her wide, inky blue eyes, he felt it grip him even tighter than before.

Listing all the reasons he should not think of Chloe Wherlocke as any more than a friend did not help dim that attraction. Each time he reminded himself that he was married, a little voice whispered that he would not be for very much longer. He owed her and Leo his life and his son’s life. She was an innocent, something he was certain of despite the way she ignored the rules of propriety by so often coming into his bedchamber unchaperoned. She thought she could see the future and that her whole family had such gifts. Chloe Wherlocke was the sort of a woman a man married, and he had no intention of marrying again. All good sound reasons, he mused when he finished his silent litany, but a part of him continued to fight to ignore such logic, and that part was winning. Hands down.

Pushing aside his now empty plate, he set the bowl of stewed, spiced apples in front of him. Chloe handed him the small pot of sweet clotted cream and he emptied it over the apples. When he caught her smiling at him, he cocked one brow in question even as he dug into his rich dessert.

“Anthony also loves to have a few stewed apples with his clotted cream,” she murmured and laughed when he narrowed his eyes at her but kept right on eating.

Julian felt inordinately pleased by that information about his son. He took a minute to finish his sweet and clean his mouth and fingers before speaking. It was not just good manners that prompted his hesitation to speak. The mere thought of how the child he had been deprived of for three years showed signs of having even one of his quirks or qualities caused an uncomfortable lump to form in his throat. He needed a minute to regain his calm.

“The boy reveals excellent taste,” he drawled and sipped his wine in a vain effort to cool his blood when she laughed again. Her laugh had a way of going straight to his groin. “He seems a clever lad.”

“Oh, aye, he is.”

The look on her face told Julian just how deeply Chloe Wherlocke loved his son. “You have taken very good care of my son,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an odd combination of gratitude and a possessiveness he could not fully repress.

Chloe smiled, beating back the pain she felt over the knowledge that she would soon lose Anthony. “Aye, I have, m’lord, but it has also been my pleasure.” She stood up and began placing his empty dishes back on the tray. “I love that child, have loved him since the moment I first held him. But I have never forgotten that he is not mine, that he is not even my sister’s child despite what we have told others. Not for one single moment. He is your child, the future Earl of Colinsmoor. You need not worry that I shall try to keep him tied to my apron strings. Try not to fall on your face as you return to your bed,” she added as she left the room.

The telltale sharp click of the door shutting behind Chloe told Julian that she had heard the possessive tone of his voice and probably none of the gratitude. He cursed as he cautiously made his way back to his bed, refusing to acknowledge that he could have used her help. After all she had done, it was churlish of him to feel the jealousy he did whenever he saw how close she and little Anthony were. It was also foolish. Anthony had known the Wherlockes since his birth, but had only known his father for a matter of days, and that was not Chloe’s fault. He needed to get control of that unreasonable jealousy.

A knock came at the door as he wearily settled himself in bed, slumping back against a bank of thick pillows. Bidding the person to enter, Julian knew his smile of welcome was a little weak as he greeted Edgar. His body felt as if he had climbed a mountain instead of simply walking around the room a few times. The revival food had given him had proved to be very short-lived.

“Perhaps this should wait until tomorrow,” Edgar said, frowning at Julian. “You look pale, tired.”

“No, come in. Sit down. I just pushed myself a little too hard in my first unassisted walk. It will pass.”

Edgar nodded and pulled a chair close to the bed. “Getting restless?” he asked as he sat down.

“Very. I am straining at the bit to get my strength back so that I can do more in my defense than talk.”

“Understandable. Still, you do not want to push too hard or you will just lengthen your recovery.”

“I know.” Julian suddenly noticed that Edgar was dressed in some of his finest clothes. “Going somewhere?”

“The Paxtons are having a gathering. We are going to see if your uncle and wife appear. They were seen at the Gremonts’ just last night.”

“Obviously my wife does not intend to mourn me for very long.”

“Seems she is telling anyone who will listen that she has considered you dead to her since the day you left her to take to drinking and whoring. Although she does not say whoring. Uses some very prim words I cannot recall just now.”

“Clever. Makes herself the victim. Is it working?”

“With some, but not many.” Edgar cleared his throat and tugged at the lace on his cuffs before mumbling, “Too many know how she was no saint before you left her. Too many angry wives, I think.”

“Quite possibly. Who is the we going to the Paxtons?”

“Myself, Leo, and Chloe. I came early so that I could have time to speak to you while Chloe finishes dressing.”

Julian suddenly realized that Chloe’s hair had been done up in a style that had left fat ringlets brushing her slim shoulders. He had had the passing thought that he preferred her hair in a more untamed style. The fact that a woman had sat across from him while he had eaten his dinner and he had never once told her that her new hairstyle looked nice on her astounded him. He had been well trained in such courteous flatteries. It was apparent that he had become a little too sunk in his own misery. To then let her see his jealousy concerning Anthony’s attachment to her had probably only added to the fuel of the fire started by his lack of attention. He had obviously drowned all of his charm and courtesy in the copious amount of liquor he had consumed in the last year. It was a wonder she had not slapped him upside the head with the tray and slammed the door on her way out.

“Is this all part of gathering information on my uncle and Beatrice?” Julian found himself wondering if Edgar had a romantic interest in Chloe and was surprised at how much he disliked that possibility.

Edgar nodded. “Last eve, my godmother overheard Arthur and Beatrice discussing your death.”

“In public?”

“I am certain they thought they were private, but it smells like a mistake to me. Careless.”

“Extremely careless. Considering that my uncle deals in secrets, one would think he would be well aware of how easily someone can overhear something you wish to keep secret. Exactly what did she hear?”

“Your uncle is not certain they should trust in the news of your untimely demise. He reminded Beatrice that he had received no word of your death.”

“Very carefully said, damn his eyes.”

“He is a clever rogue, no doubt about it. Beatrice, however, is not so clever. Cunning, manipulative, and amoral, but not clever. She said that you were dead even if they had not seen the hand. Suggested that you and their man might have killed each other. After all, if you were still alive, they would have known by now. My godmother said Arthur spat out a few words she could never repeat and told Beatrice to guard her words. It is not the sort of thing that can get a man of your uncle’s ilk dragged to the gallows, but at least it confirms his guilt to us.”

Julian slowly nodded. “It also shows us who is the weakest link.”

“Are you surprised?”

“No. If naught else, Beatrice is supremely arrogant. Worse, she is impulsive, can act and speak without thought. My uncle plans his every move and word. Beatrice just charges ahead. She also believes her beauty will save her from any consequences no matter how vile the crime.

“I admit that I am still shocked by what she tried to do to our son.” He held up his hand to silence what Edgar began to say. “Not that she would deny me an heir. Even in my blindness, I realized she was not pleased when she got with child, but I thought she was afraid. Too many women die in childbirth. I also knew she was vain and undoubtedly feared having children might tarnish her beauty. What I still find so difficult to understand is how any woman could set her child out to die. That is what she did when she had Anthony placed in the arms of a dying woman in an isolated cottage on the moors.”

“I was not as blinded as you were, but even I find that difficult to understand. Children are cast aside, but usually by the poor, and often because they simply cannot afford another mouth to feed. That certainly was not Beatrice’s concern. God’s tears, if she did not want a child because she did not like children, she still had no reason to do it. She could have handed the boy over to a nurse and never looked back. To me, it is simply more proof that she and Arthur have planned your death from the start. Therefore, you could have no heirs.” He frowned. “Are you certain there were no other attempts upon your life before the ones of this last year?”

Julian thought back over his short marriage and then grimaced. “I once wondered if Beatrice’s many attempts to set me upon the dueling field were actually attempts to get me killed. She had an unerring skill for picking men who were deadly upon the dueling field and, often, very eager to duel. After that first duel, I made it clear that I would fight no more over her long-lost honor, and that may have ruined a plan to have me killed in a way that raised no questions.”

“A good plan. It might have worked.”

A soft rap on the door ended the conversation. Julian was stunned when Chloe stepped into the room. Over the last week he had considered her everything from adorable to pretty. Dressed in an elegant, dark blue silk gown, her hair done in the latest style, she was beautiful. As he pulled free of his shock, he found himself pleased that the muslin tucked into the low neckline of the gown was very modest. He should not care how much of herself she displayed to others, but he did. Neither did he like the idea of her going out for an evening without him at her side. It was glaringly obvious that he was utterly failing in all his attempts to kill his attraction to her.

To his surprise, he found himself a little dismayed by this more stylish and fashionable Chloe. He preferred the one who dressed in comfortable, modest muslins and cottons, her hair only partly tamed. Then he saw her grimace and start to reach for her hair.

“Oh, no, you will not go scratching and ruin all Maude’s hard work,” said Edgar as he leapt from his seat and rushed to her side. “Try to keep this hair just as it is for at least the start of the evening.”

Chloe’s sigh was that of a martyr and Julian grinned. Here was the Chloe he recognized. “Have trouble keeping it tamed, do you?”

“I challenge you men to try and smile through the torture of having your hair twisted and pinned up into an unnatural lump,” she said and then looked at Edgar. “Leo and I are ready to leave, but we can wait if you need more time to speak to Julian.”

“No. Said all I needed to,” replied Edgar.

Julian wished them both a good evening and then sighed when they were gone. He hated being stuck in a bed while others hunted down his enemies. Thinking of how Chloe would soon be smiling and dancing with men eager to savor her charms only soured his mood more. He had no right to feel that way as he was still a married man, but that stern reminder did not kill the feeling.

“Only a week to wait,” he told himself. “One more week and I can join in this game.” And maybe even steal a dance with Chloe, he thought with a faint smile as he closed his eyes.

Chloe stood behind a set of heavy drapes in a tiny library. The Paxtons were obviously not the bookish sort, she mused as she vainly tried to scratch an itch at her waist. Unfortunately, the heavy material of the dress and the corset she wore beneath it were making it impossible. She truly hated coming to these affairs, she decided. If she heard one more man speak of the great hunt he had attended or one more woman slander another with honey-sweet words, she would scream. The only thing that kept her from doing so was the knowledge that it would hurt Leo in many ways. It would also make it difficult for her to hostess his occasional dinners and gatherings, and she liked doing that. His friends did not treat her as if she were some lack-witted doll whose only purpose upon this earth was to smile and look pretty. Sadly, none of those people had attended this gathering, nor had any of her relatives besides Leo.

Making herself comfortable on the narrow bench beneath the window, Chloe savored the cool air the heavy curtains blocked from the room. Her thoughts immediately turned to Julian and a smile curved her lips when she recalled how he had looked at her tonight. That one hot look from his beautiful green eyes had given her the confidence needed to face this interminable evening.

He was far too attractive for any woman’s peace of mind, she decided. Chloe had to admit that it was not just his fine looks that stirred something strong and hot within her, however. She had the sinking feeling she was coming to care for the man, and that way lurked disaster. He was a married man, and the fact that his wife was trying to kill him, had betrayed him again and again, and that the marriage was nothing but names on a paper, did not change that. He was also far above the touch of a penniless, cast-off daughter of a knight. She suspected the man held some very poor opinions of women, too. Unfair, but understandable. She suspected that if a man had done to her what Beatrice had done to him, she, too, would find it hard to trust any man again. Sad to say, that knowledge and all the good sense she could muster did not halt what appeared to be a rapidly growing infatuation.

The sound of a door opening and shutting startled Chloe out of her thoughts. Her moment of solitude was over. Even as she started to get up, two men began to speak and she went very still. The name mentioned by one of the men was enough to make her sit back down and pray that she would remain unseen.

“You ask too much, Arthur,” said a man with a low, trembling voice.

“Rubbish. I but ask you to do a small favor for a friend, Conrad.”

“You are no friend of mine.”

“No? Is it not a true measure of friendship to keep a man’s secrets? And I do keep your secrets, Conrad. Or do you no longer care if that sweet girl you are betrothed to finds out about your lover? How is young George, by the way?”

“Bastard.”

“Tsk. Name-calling is so beneath you.”

“What you are asking me to do could get me hanged.”

“So could what you are doing with young George.”

There was a long heavy silence, broken only by the harsh breathing of one of the men. Chloe assumed it was Conrad. Arthur’s voice had remained cool throughout the exchange. She wished they would say exactly what was going to be done.

“This is the last thing I will do for you, Arthur. The very last.”

A moment later, the door slammed. Chloe stood up, intending to step out of her hiding place, when she realized she had only heard one set of footsteps. A chill went through her. She was alone in a room with Arthur Kenwood, a man who thought nothing of murdering his own nephew, even his own great-nephew. Chloe had no doubt that she would be in danger if he found out she had overheard him and Conrad. She was eyeing the window to see if she could easily, and silently, open it and run when someone else entered the room.

“I just saw that fool Conrad. Did he agree to help us?”

This had to be Beatrice, Chloe thought. She fought the temptation to ease open the drapes just enough to peek out at the woman. She had only seen Julian’s wife a few times, either from a distance or in a crowd, and was not exactly sure what she looked like. Her curiosity was pushing her to risk discovery just so that she could see what kind of woman could do all the things Beatrice had done, but she beat it into silence. She would wait to get a look at the woman when it was a lot safer to do so. Chloe reluctantly admitted that a large part of her curiosity was born of a keen need to see what kind of woman could make Julian Kenwood plunge himself into a year of debauchery.

“Very unwillingly,” replied Arthur. “After this, I fear he may be more trouble than he is worth. He becomes more angry than afraid.”

“Ah. Dangerous. So be it. No one will really miss the fool.”

“Except, perhaps, for young George.”

Soft laughter trailed behind the couple as they left the room. Chloe did not move for several moments, frightened that one or the other might return. Finally, she eased the drape aside enough to peer into the room. Seeing that no one was there, she stepped out from behind the drape and wondered what to do next.

The first thing she needed to do was find Leo. He would know who Conrad was or, at the very least, know how to find out that information. Once they knew who the man was, they would have some idea of what he was being forced to do for Arthur. Despite her lingering fear, Chloe felt rather pleased that she was the one who had some helpful information this time.

She reached for the latch on the door only to see it move. Chloe yanked her hand back and frantically tried to think of some excuse for being in the library. Discovery meant that two very dangerous people might learn that she had been in the room, possibly even at the same time they were. She was fighting a rising panic when the door opened and Leo stared at her in surprise. Relief swept over Chloe so quickly, she felt a little unsteady, but Leo caught her around the waist and helped her to a seat.

“Are you ill?” he asked even as he lightly touched her forehead and cheeks for signs of a fever.

“Nay. I was afraid I was about to be caught lurking in here, and the relief I felt when I saw you briefly overwhelmed me.”

“Who did you fear would discover you?”

“Arthur and Beatrice. They were in here only a short time ago. So short a time ago that I am surprised you did not meet them on your way here.”

“Nay, I did not see them. Just where were you?” He glanced toward the large desk set near the far wall.

“Not under there. I was behind the drapes.”

Leo ran a hand over his tightly queued hair and stared at her, his concern for her actually making him grow a little pale. “God’s tears, Chloe. They could easily have found you.”

She nodded and wrapped her arms around herself as a chill of lingering fear rippled over her. “I know. When someone came into the room I began to think on how I could gracefully step into view without causing myself a great deal of embarrassment. Then the two men began talking and I realized one of them was Arthur Kenwood. I stood as still as a statue and hardly dared to breathe.”

“Who was the other man?”

“Conrad. That was the only name spoken.” She told him everything else she had heard. “Do you have any idea who Conrad is?”

“I have an idea, or two, but I will need to look closely at the matter.”

She sighed, disappointed that there would not be a quick resolution. “I was hoping you would know, for I am sure it would tell us what he is going to do for Arthur. The man is in danger, as well, and not just from the consequences of doing what Arthur asked of him.”

Leo nodded, stood up, and tugged Chloe to her feet. “Aye, Arthur must see that he is losing his hold on the man, and he cannot allow that to happen.”

“Leo? You do not think all that young George talk meant that Conrad abuses boys, do you?”

“I hope not. I would sorely regret saving the man’s life if that is so. Yet, we need to thwart as many of Arthur’s plots as we can.”

“Conrad could also be a worthy witness.”

“Not if he abuses boys. Sad to say, not even if his lover is a willing adult and just a little younger than Conrad.”

“How unfair.”

“True, but I fear that will be a long time achanging. And this is not something I should be discussing with an unwed young woman. Now, since you were lurking behind drapes, I will assume you have had enough of this gathering.”

“More than enough.”

“Then we will gather Edgar and leave. I doubt I have much time to find Conrad and I should like to get started.”

“Should we tell Julian about this?” she asked as they started out of the room.

“It is not worth disturbing his sleep tonight. Morning will be soon enough and, if I am lucky, we will know who Conrad is and what Arthur wants.”