Scoundrel Ever After (Secrets and Scandals) (20 page)

T
HE HERMIT PECK
awoke early and departed the tiny cottage. Ethan opened his eyes after he left. He’d turned toward Audrey in the night. Now, he watched her sleep, her long, dark lashes fanned against her cheeks. The fire had died down, but still cast enough heat that her cheeks were pink and lovely.

He’d watched her sleep every night that they’d been together. The two nights he’d spent apart from her at Bassett Manor had been cold and lonely. He’d been annoyed at how quickly he’d grown accustomed to her company. He was right about being the hermit—he’d lived a solitary life for far too long and it galled him to rely on anyone else, let alone want to.

Did he want to rely on her? Trust her?

The temptation was there. She was so earnest in her desire to help him, to understand him, to vindicate him. All of it was so misplaced. He didn’t deserve that, especially from her. Which was why he’d continue to keep her at arm’s length no matter how badly he’d softened toward her.

And he had.

She occupied his thoughts as they rode each day and crowded his dreams every night. She was beauty and goodness and he desired her so badly he nearly shook with it. He was no better than a rutting beast. She wanted to improve him, and he wanted to shag her. Proof that he wasn’t worthy of her.

He just needed to get through the next handful of days until they reached Beckwith. Then he could deposit her with Sevrin, who would keep her safe. He’d take his leave and return to London to attempt to clear his name. How would he do that? Teague would stop at nothing to ensure he hung for killing the Marquess of Wolverton. And Ethan had made it easy for him. For Christ’s sake, Teague
had
found him standing over the dead body with a bloody knife. Ethan wiped his hands over his eyes and cursed his stupidity, as he’d done countless times since that night.

He’d crafted an elaborate plan in which Wolverton would be exposed as the head of a theft ring that preyed upon the elite of Mayfair, while at the same time appearing to have double-crossed Gin Jimmy, which would lure the crime lord out of the rookery. That last part had been the most difficult to manage. Jimmy stayed close to his usual haunts, where he was safe and protected. Getting him out of St. Giles so he’d be vulnerable had taken careful planning. But Gin Jimmy had learned that someone had set him up.

Ethan had tried to puzzle out how that had happened. He could only reason that Jimmy had arrived at Wolverton’s too late that night, after Bow Street—whom Ethan had anonymously tipped off—had already infiltrated the marquess’s home. Instead of being at Wolverton’s when Bow Street had arrived, he’d showed up after the fact. Probably, Bow Street had ignored Ethan’s tip to conceal themselves until after they’d apprehended the crime lord and consequently, Jimmy had seen them at the house.

It made sense that Jimmy had then gone on the hunt for Wolverton, finding him at Lockwood House during one of Jason’s notorious vice parties. Jimmy had killed one of Jason’s footmen, donned his livery to pass into the party unnoticed, then killed Wolverton. Ethan had gone onto the terrace just as Wolverton lay dying. The marquess had told Ethan that Jimmy was dressed as a retainer. Then Ethan had caught sight of the knife Jimmy had used. The hilt had been engraved with the letter J, which Ethan knew meant Jimmy, but which could also be interpreted as being for Jagger. He’d picked it up, intending to remove it from the scene, but that was when Jason and then Teague had come onto the terrace and discovered him.

In the eyes of Bow Street, Ethan was a murderer. It didn’t help that they’d also wanted to charge him with the death of Lady Aldridge, who’d died of opium poisoning at the hands of Jimmy’s underlings. Her husband had led a second Mayfair theft ring and had been killed last spring when he’d been in danger of being caught by a former magistrate. Jimmy didn’t want Aldridge or his widow telling the authorities about the intricate theft rings he’d built among London’s Upper Ten Thousand.

Audrey’s eyes opened and she blinked several times before focusing on him.

He tried to read her expression, but couldn’t. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she murmured. She sat up abruptly. Her hair had come completely undone, as it usually did in her sleep. The dark curls cascaded past her shoulders. She put her hands up and patted the mass.

He gathered up the pins on and around his coat and handed them to her. “Here. I don’t see a glass, and judging from the length of Peck’s beard, I presume there isn’t one.”

She held her palm flat to receive the hairpins. “I daresay you’re correct.” She smiled at him, and it was at moments like these that he wondered if he could truly choose a normal life. With her.

He shook off the ridiculous fancy and got to his feet. “I need to run outside.”

He took his time conducting a rudimentary toilet in the narrow stream running seventy or so yards away from the hermitage. He wondered if he’d run across Peck, but didn’t.

Perched on a rock, he leaned over and splashed water on his face. The sound of a gunshot nearly launched him into the creek. He leapt up and raced back toward the hermitage. If Jimmy’s men had found them again . . . He nearly tripped in his desperation to get to Audrey.

As soon as he reached the clearing where the tiny cottage was settled, he stopped short. Four young dandies were circled around with their rifles. Peck and Audrey stood near the doorway to the cottage.

Everyone looked safe and whole. Ethan’s heartbeat began to slow.

One of the dandies turned. “This your brother, then?” He took in Ethan’s damp hair and shirtsleeves. Ethan hadn’t bothered to don his waistcoat or any of his other garments yet, while these men were decked out in their best hunting attire. Their finery grated on Ethan. His clothing and accoutrements back in London rivaled anything they were wearing. He might be a goddamned criminal, but he was the best-dressed one in London.

Audrey had managed to tame her hair into a sedate style. Dressed in Miranda’s dark blue gown that was too short for her, she looked like an inferior miss in hand-me-down clothes. Ethan detested that far more than his own inadequate costume. In different circumstances, he would gown her in the finest silks and drape her in jewels.

“Yes, this is my brother, Wendell,” Audrey said. “Wendell, these gentlemen are out for their morning hunt.”

“I heard the gunshot. I trust they’re not hunting hermits.” He didn’t bother masking his glower. What manner of idiots were they to be firing so near to the hermitage?

“No, no,” one of them answered jovially. “Just a misfire!” He didn’t seem to notice or perhaps he didn’t care about Ethan’s annoyance, which only served to irritate Ethan even more. Everyone paid attention to his reactions. It was generally accepted that agitating Jagger wasn’t beneficial for one’s health.

Ethan cut through the group of gentlemen and went into the hermitage. He quickly donned his waistcoat and simply tied his cravat. He pulled on his thoroughly rumpled coat as he walked back outside.

“If you weren’t such a delightful young lady,” one of the men was saying to Audrey, “I’d be inclined to report Peck’s behavior to my father.”

“What sort of ‘behavior’ is that?” Ethan asked, again not sparing the effort to keep the bite from his question.

“Having guests. We don’t pay him to entertain.”

One of the other men snorted. “That’s precisely why you pay him. To entertain us. And I’m
thoroughly
entertained by Miss Hughes.” He dropped a lascivious gaze at Audrey’s chest and it was all Ethan could do not to toss his dagger into the man’s throat.

“Ah, Wendell, we should perhaps be going,” Audrey said, touching his arm and drawing his murderous glare away from the man who’d offended her. Audrey’s gaze connected with Ethan’s and she widened her eyes to perhaps communicate with him to stop. Though Ethan wanted to eviscerate the man who’d ogled her, he recognized such foolishness, though satisfying, wouldn’t aid their cause.

He forced a smile at the dandies, his lips threatening to break under the exercise. “Don’t blame Peck. He merely took pity on us as we were traveling through. It was quite late and my sister is in a rather delicate condition.”

He slid a glance at Audrey, whose face had paled. “Come, Sister, it is time for us to depart.” He went to their horses and loosened them from their tethers. Then he helped Audrey to mount.

Ethan offered his courtliest bow to the hermit, and pointedly ignored the others. “Thank you for your kind hospitality.” He swung himself up on his horse and led Audrey from the clearing.

They weren’t able to ride side by side until they reached the main road. Audrey wasted no time in riding abreast of him. “Why did you say that about my condition?”

“I wanted to mitigate any trouble our visit might’ve caused Peck.” And attempt to make her less attractive to their lewd attention.

“I don’t think it caused any trouble.”

“You heard what that fop said. He considered telling his father that Peck had somehow overstepped his role of hired hermit.” Peck was little better than a slave, it seemed. They weren’t so alike after all. Ethan enjoyed absolute freedom. He could do whatever he wished whenever he wished.

His body slumped as if he’d been kicked in the gut. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t simply tell Jimmy he was through being his right hand, that he wanted to be a proper gentleman in Society as Ethan Lockwood. Jimmy would never let him go, would never free him from his criminal obligations. It was why Ethan had orchestrated his plan to bring him down in the first place. Only then would he be truly free.

Ethan and the hermit were exactly the same. Men who’d chosen a life in the hope that it would be an improvement, only to find they were little better than serfs of old.

“I’m not sure they really meant any harm,” Audrey said.

His hands tightened on the reins. “You might have if you’d noted the way they were looking at you.”

She snapped her gaze to his, then nodded, understanding his meaning. “I didn’t realize. No one ever looks at me like that.”

I do.
He bit back the words before he uttered them. There was absolutely no reason to encourage an attraction between them.

They rode a few minutes in silence. “Peck said he put some bread in the saddle bag for us,” she noted. “I hope those gentlemen didn’t mean him ill. He really is a kind soul.”

A kind soul. How Ethan longed for her to think of him in that way. Could he be kind? He’d tried to be. He’d gone out of his way to try to save people in recent months, risking his own neck in the process. Not only had he not had a hand in Lady Aldridge’s death, he’d tried, unsuccessfully, to persuade her to leave London, to remove her from Jimmy’s reach. And now, seeing how far Jimmy was willing to go to get his way, he had to ask himself—would it have helped? Ethan wondered if he’d even have a chance at life if he went back to London. Clearing his name was one hurdle; surviving Jimmy’s death warrant would be a far more dangerous one.

He had another choice. He could go to America and start over. It wasn’t what he’d planned or what he wanted, but what if Audrey went with him? She’d seemed not only open to the idea, but even enthusiastic about it. She’d tried to do it once, after all.

He looked over at her, her gaze fixed straight ahead, her posture tall and regal in its bearing. She might’ve agreed to go with him once, but now? After all she’d seen at his hand and everything he’d revealed?

He wanted to nurture a sliver of hope, but he didn’t know how. The life he’d chosen had led him to abandon such worthless sentiments.

F
OUR VERY LONG
days later, Audrey followed Ethan into the tiny inn where they’d secured a room in Lostwithiel. It would be their last stop before reaching Beckwith.

Audrey had never been so happy to arrive somewhere. Her body was exhausted and her mind equally so. Keeping Ethan at arm’s length took a great deal of mental effort. They’d both adopted mutual avoidance tactics, but she’d no idea if it came easier to him or not. It certainly seemed as though it might. They ate meals in relative silence, traveled in absolute silence, and exchanged mere pleasantries upon retiring each night and awaking each morning. It was, upon reflection, the antithesis of the adventure she’d hoped for.

Since the hermitage, anyway.

Prior to that, it had been one life-changing event after another. The question was, in what way? Her life was unalterably different, which meant she’d have to figure out what to do once she arrived at Beckwith. She knew what she
couldn’t
do, and that was return to the life she’d been living before Ethan Locke-Jagger-Lockwood had waltzed into it. Which left spinsterhood, perhaps retiring to her own hermitage, or if she really wanted to embrace her ruination, lead the life of a demimondaine. She smiled to herself at that absurd thought.

“Audrey?” Ethan nudged her arm, dislodging her from her musings.

“Yes?”

“We have a room, albeit a very small one just beneath the roof. The innkeeper is preparing it now. I also requested a tub of water.”

Audrey nearly squealed with delight. They’d spent the last two nights in a barn and a lean-to. She was just grateful to have a bed tonight—everything else was extravagance.