The Resurrection of Lady Ramsleigh Page 16

  “I’ll check on Mr. Wells,” he offered. “And join you and young Tristan later, if you are amenable.”

  She nodded her acquiescence and sailed gracefully from the room.

  As the door closed behind her, Graham uttered the very sentiment that was stirring in Nicholas’ mind. “Can’t we just kill the bounder? I can challenge him to a duel. As a lord myself, there might be some scandal about it, but the law has no teeth where I’m concerned.”

  “I would not advise it, my lord,” Pritchard protested. “There are still those not entirely convinced of your identity. To engage in such scandalous behavior would be to invite those naysayers and doubters to take action. It is best I think to continue as we are and focus our energies on providing protection for Lady Ramsleigh and her child.”

  “Fine,” Graham relented. “But if he steps foot on my lands or makes any sort of threat against anyone in this house, I’ll shoot him where he stands.”

  Clearly uncomfortable with such violent proclivities and strong emotions, the solicitor gathered up his papers, sketched a hasty bow and retreated quickly. After Pritchard left, Nicholas and Graham were alone in the study, free to discuss the matter without worry of being overheard.

  “Scandal be damned. If it means protecting a woman and an innocent child, it’s worth the risk,” Graham vowed.

  “It is. But it isn’t your fight this time. It’s mine. And I know what I have to do. Where is Lord Ambrose?” Nicholas asked.

  “He’s upstairs preparing for his departure in the morning, I think. You’ve decided to accept the bequest, then?”

  Nicholas nodded. “I have. As a lowly country doctor, I can’t challenge Ramsleigh. As a landed and wealthy bastard son of the late Lord Ambrose, I might fare better.”

  Graham arched one black brow. “You cannot challenge him over a woman who is simply your acquaintance. Not without ruining her.”

  “She is far more than an acquaintance, as you well know,” Nicholas admitted. While they were making every attempt to be discreet, Graham was a man of the world and had eyes with which to see.

  “And is this simply an affair, or is it something more?”

  Nicholas laughed at that. “Are you trying to ask me what my intentions are?”

  Graham shrugged. “Perhaps. You mean to marry her, then? Or will I be forced to issue a challenge to you down the road, as she is currently under my roof and, therefore, under my protection.”

  “I mean to offer,” Nicholas said. “But the decision is hers. Too many men have made decisions for her already. I would not try to defy her will in this or anything else.”

  “You think she’ll reject your offer, don’t you? Nicholas, I think you sell yourself and Lady Ramsleigh short with that kind of doubt. It is obvious that the both of you have developed rather deep feelings for one another.” Graham paused, cleared his throat, and then continued, “I know that you have become lovers. There is little in this house that I am not aware of. And I do not think she would undertake such a thing lightly.”

  “I don’t think I’m selling either one of us short,” Nicholas said, shaking his head. “And I won’t lie to you and deny that our relationship has become more intimate than propriety would allow. But that doesn’t mean she wishes to marry me. Women are just as given to fits of passion and to the longings of the flesh as are men—regardless of what society would have us believe!”

  “But surely if you offer—”

  “Given what they’ve put her through,” Nicholas began, interrupting his friend, “and the lengths she went to in order to escape that hell and have her son safe, could you really blame her for never again wishing to place her life solely in the hands of another? I wouldn’t if our situations were reversed.”

  Graham had no response to that. Instead, he simply reached into the drawer of the desk, retrieved two glasses and a bottle of brandy and placed them on the leather blotter. After filling both, and drinking liberally from one, he finally spoke, “Then do not ask her yet. Wait, until you can be certain of her response… women are unpredictable creatures. The moment you are certain you know what they will do or say, they change course like the wind. Eventually, a time will come when she will not be so set against such an entanglement.”

  Nicholas reached for his own glass and took a long sip, letting the amber liquid burn its way to his gut. “To be completely fair, I saw just how badly you mucked up your own affairs in trying to convince Beatrice to marry you. If you hadn’t been shot and nearly died from it, you’d still be trying to maneuver her to the altar!”

  Graham shrugged. “Then you have your answer. Do something dashing and heroic… and try not to die in the process.”

  Nicholas considered how much to share, and ultimately decided the answer was very little. It was not his story to tell, it was Viola’s and he would not betray her trust by breaking a confidence even if there was an excellent reason to do so. Instead, he said, “I wish I could tell you the lengths of depravity and wickedness to which the elder Lord Ramsleigh and the current Lord Ramsleigh have actually sunk. But I cannot. I can only tell you that if an opportunity arises to rid this world of him, it should be taken and rejoiced at.”

  Graham took another sip and met his gaze levelly. “You do not have to sway me, my friend. I trust your judgement. If you say the man is a bounder, then a bounder he is, and whatever steps must be taken will be taken. I owe you my life, after all.”

  Nicholas placed his glass on the desk. “Then for the love of God, get some decent brandy and stop trying to murder me with that swill we used to drink aboard ship!”

  Graham laughed then. “You’ve grown soft.”

  “I’ve grown unconscious! Blacked out cold from that rot gut that could turn a man blind drink with nothing more than a sip! You’re a lord, now. A gentleman. Stop drinking like a bloody pirate!”

  A shrug was Graham’s only response. “Once a pirate, always a pirate… and to that end, if Ramsleigh needs killing, it doesn’t have to be a duel. People have accidents all the time. I’m certain one could be arranged.”

  Nicholas had already considered it, and if it came to it, he wasn’t above murder. Not if it meant keeping Viola safe. “I will certainly keep that in mind. Now, I suppose I should go and let my newly-discovered half-brother in on the fact that I’ve decided to accept my place as the resident by-blow in the Garrett clan.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Viola looked in on Tristan. He was napping and she didn’t wish to disturb him. But she did stand there for a moment and stare down at him, sleeping peacefully in his ignorance of the plots and schemes that threatened them both. With a small, wooden horse clutched in his hands and his dark brown hair curling against his forehead, he had an angelic appearance that belied his willfulness and temper.

  When she’d fled Ramsgate Hall, her only thought had been keeping her unborn child safe and protected. She hadn’t expected that she could love anything or anyone as completely as she loved her son. Even while still in the womb, he’d become the entire focus of her being. But she hadn’t been prepared for the wave of love and happiness that had suffused her when she’d first held him and stared down into the wrinkled, red and angry face of her newly-born son. Now, all she wanted was for him to be healthy, to be happy and to be a better man than the one who’d sired him—the very same man who now wanted him dead.

  Coming back had stirred up a hornet’s nest of trouble and it no longer mattered what she wanted to do as far as reclaiming what was left of her inheritance and seeking the title for him. Randall would come for them regardless of her actions. In her attempts to secure his future, she’d underestimated Randall and put them both in unbearable danger. And what if that danger extended to those who had offered her solace and sanctuary?

  Easing from the nursery, she left him to sleep and retreated to her chambers, her heart and mind heavy. Nicholas would seek her out, but what they had left to discuss she couldn’t be sure. Knowing what he did now, about her past, about Randall’s insanit
y and dogged determination to see her ended once for all, surely the man would be sensible enough to flee and never look back. If he wasn’t, did she have the strength of character to push him away for his own good? Or was she too selfish for that?

  Settling herself at the dressing table, she plucked the pins from her hair and placed them in a small vessel. Brushing her hair was a mindless task that also soothed her frayed nerves. The silver-backed brush was yet something else gifted to her by Lady Agatha or Lady Beatrice, she’d long since given up determining whose largesse she was enjoying. Dragging the stiff bristles through her hair, she brushed the mass of it until she felt some semblance of calm begin to overtake her.

  That was how Nicholas found her only moments later when he entered her chamber. She felt his gaze upon her without actually hearing him enter the room. Looking up, she noted how intently he watched her and the concern that etched his too-handsome face.

  “I’m not about to fall into a fit of the vapors just because Randall wants me dead. It isn’t the first time he’s tried to kill me, after all,” she stated, her mild tone easing the sting of the words.

  “He’ll not get close enough to you for it to matter. You can’t imagine that either I, or Lord Blakemore for that matter, would ever allow harm to come to you?” His tone revealed not only his incredulity but also his anger. Whether it was directed at her or at Randall, she couldn’t say.

  “I don’t know that. I trust that you will both do whatever you can to prevent it, but you cannot make promises, Nicholas. You’ve no notion what you’re dealing with! The level of depravity, the sheer inhumanity of him! My God, he murdered his own unborn child to cling to his hopes of inheritance! Tristan and I are nothing to him but a threat… I was foolish to ever think I could come back here and simply take up residence. But then, I was unaware that my father had helped Percival render me a legally dead woman! This entire situation has been complicated unnecessarily by their greed and collusion!”

  He stepped deeper into the room until he was standing behind her. She couldn’t see his face, but she could feel the tension emanating from him as he took the brush from her hand and placed it on the dressing table. His hands then delved into the thick, dark strands, mussing them terribly. She knew that he had an affinity for her hair, that he enjoyed the look and feel of it on his skin. It was one of the many things she’d discovered the previous night.

  “I’ve accepted Ambrose’s offer,” he said softly. “I’m taking the bequest from my father. The world will know me for a bastard, but I’ll be a noble bastard at least. Given that, my friendship with Lord Blakemore, my service in the Royal Navy and now Ambrose’s public acknowledgement of me as his half-brother, I will be recognized as a gentleman.”

  “To what end?” She knew what he was about to say and she also knew that she would not be able to permit it. The risk was too great.

  “If I challenge him to a duel, it can all end… immediately,” he said. “His plots and schemes die with him and there is no one to challenge your assertions that Tristan is the rightful heir.”

  “And if he kills you? You assume he will fight fair, you assume that your time spent as a soldier—as a physician in the navy—offers some certainty that you can best him… but he’s been dueling since he was practically in short pants. He’s seduced his way through the ton, he’s deflowered innocent and protesting young maidens, and he’s affronted and cuckolded some of the most powerful men in society! Most of the society matrons of any importance at all refuse him entrance. He lives in disgrace because he is incapable of even feigning honor.” Her protest was heated, her voice rising with it until she was all but shouting at him. Taking a calming breath, she forced herself to speak in a gentler tone, though the words were no less forceful and uncompromising. “He’ll see you dead, Nicholas, and I won’t have that on my conscience. I’d rather take Tristan and flee to the ends of the earth and certain poverty than to see you die at his hands!”

  “Have you so little faith in my ability to protect you? Or is it that you’re so used to him having complete power in his own little domain that you can’t conceive of his defeat?” Nicholas challenged.

  “You are a good man, Nicholas Warner. Perhaps, the very best of men… and my life hasn’t allowed me to retain faith in the ability of goodness to survive the influence and the cruelty of the Granthams. They’ve turned me into an adulteress, a runaway wife, a liar, a defrauder, and a woman whose own family has turned its backs on her. How could I believe anything other than that they, in all their power, will prevail?”

  “What would you have me do then? Simply walk away?” he snapped.

  She faltered then. Was that what she wanted? A part of her screamed yes. He terrified her because he gave her the one thing she’d sworn never to have again—hope. He made her believe in and yearn for things she’d thought impossibly lost. The power he had to hurt her was far greater than Randall’s because Nicholas possessed the ability, knowingly or not, to break her heart.

  When she opened her mouth to speak, one single word escaped her. “No.” Drawing a breath to steady herself she uttered again, “No. I don’t think I could bear that.”

  “Trust me to help you, Viola. I can and I will. You had no one to stand for you in the past, no one to question their treatment of you. That is no longer true… you may be surprised at how little power Randall actually wields when the odds have been evened a bit.”

  “Why are you doing this, Nicholas?” She hated herself for asking the question, for needing the answers from him. “Is this all simply some overburdened sense of gallantry on your part?”

  “I am not a gallant man. And I’m not the naive innocent you believe me to be, Viola. Just because I don’t take joy in the suffering of others doesn’t mean I’m unaware of how cruel the world can be or how evil men can be.”

  “I have never said you were naive… and I know you aren’t innocent. But I fear that you have never encountered men like my late husband and his nephew! I fear for your safety, Nicholas. If something were to happen to you because you were trying to help me—”

  “Being a physician in the navy did not spare me from the duties of a soldier. I fought and I killed. And then I took up with pirates while I lived in the Islands. That is where Lord Blakemore and I became acquainted, you see? He was a pirate, as well. I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, but if those past misdeeds put me in a better position to defend you now, then the path I have laid to hell has been well worth it,” he asserted. “Because whether you are ready to hear it or not, I am ready to say it, and I have said it no other woman in my life. I love you.”

  Viola’s heart stuttered in her chest, skipping erratically as the magnitude of what he’d said enveloped her. “What?” The question came out in an undignified squeak.

  “I love you,” he repeated, slowly and with far more patience than he ought to have had in such a circumstance. “From the very moment I met you, I was drawn to you. Before, even. There is no reason, Viola, that I should have seen you clinging to life in that dark water, much less been able to reach you and bring you back to the beach. I think I felt you before I even knew you were there. Fate brought us together. I’ve never been a believer in such things, but there is no other cause that I can think of. Fate brought Graham to me in the Indies, and then brought me here to you. I love you, and whether you return that feeling or not is of no matter at this time.”

  “Of course, it matters!” Viola interrupted. “Do you honestly think I would have taken you to my bed if I wasn’t in love with you? After all that I have endured, do you truly believe anything less than love could prompt me to take such risks?”

  *

  Nicholas felt as if all the breath simply rushed from his body in one sharp exhale. For a moment, longer than was comfortable with, he was so stunned he was unable to replace that breath. He simply stood there, the enormity of their admissions weighting the very air around them.

  Finally, managing to draw breath once more, he said, “Well,
I’d rather hoped.”

  The sardonic answer drew a sharp burst of surprised laughter from her. “You are incorrigible.”

  “So, I’ve been told. Would you have an incorrigible husband, Viola?”

  He saw her face shutter, saw the panic in her eyes. It wounded his pride, her lack of faith in his ability to protect her and the hesitation that he saw so clearly in that moment. But he wasn’t so insensitive that he couldn’t understand her reasoning. In her life, the Grantham men had been all powerful. The fear and terror they’d forced her to endure would loom large in her mind for many years, possibly forever. Why would she wish to marry again, to give another man that kind of control? So as much as it stung, he knew that lashing out at her for it was not the way.

  “Are you asking me to marry you?” Her voice was tremulous, perhaps wary, but he thought, possibly, there was also hope buried within it.

  “Not yet. I’m informing you that I would like to marry you. If and when you are ready to be asked, you may let me know. It seems to be the standard protocol for how our relationship progresses, don’t you think?” he teased.

  “It isn’t that I don’t want to. It’s rather that I hadn’t anticipated it would ever come up. There is Tristan to think of,” she said hesitantly. “I could not leave him. I would not.”

  “There is Tristan,” he agreed amiably. “And I would never ask you to leave him. I promise you that, little experience as I have with fathers, I will be the best one that I possibly can be to him… I will never treat him poorly. I will love him and care for him as if he were my own son. But now I must ask you another question, Viola.”

  “What is that?”

  “I am a bastard, and soon there will be no denying it. Once Ambrose acknowledges me openly as his illegitimate half-brother and I accept my late father’s bequest, the world will know. We will not be welcomed in society and both you and your son will be tainted by the circumstances of my rather ignoble birth. Can you live with that?”