Willoughby 03 - A Rogue's Deadly Redemption (22 page)

“Now you’re going to leave? Go to America and pretend you don’t have a husband here?”

“Why not? He never wanted me. He always wanted you.”

She hadn’t meant to say that.

She squinted at Cordelia, but Cordelia hadn’t reacted. She sat with perfect poise, as though posed in a painting on their elegant chaise. Damn her. “You knew that, right? He always wanted you.”

Her body felt weightless, free. She’d admitted that to the one person who had the power to take it all away from her. Of course, it was gone anyway.

“Then he was a bloody fool,” Cordelia told her. “Who would choose me over sunshine and bluebirds?”

Lily met her gaze, wavy though it might be. “I’ll be gone soon. I won’t stand in your way.”

Cordelia slammed her glass down. “You ninny, I don’t want him.”

“But youshaid you shdid.” Had she said that right?

Cordelia shrugged. “That was a long time ago. He made me feel something, but he couldn’t have given me what I need. I know that now, and so should you.”

“I wanted him to,” Lily argued, waving her hand. She wasn’t certain why.

“All this time, you ignored me because you thought, what, that I would take your husband?” Cordelia sat straighter. “I know I was foolish then, Lily, but you’ve spent years hiding from me, avoiding me because of that? And now you’re leaving.”

She was going to America, and she should be excited. Thrilled. She wanted to be the woman who would stand up, stomp on the man who had hurt her, and continue on her way.

Cordelia would be that woman.

And if Lily’d had any of her wits about her, she’d do just that. But right now, she couldn’t seem to find them. All she found was the sway of her body, the swirls her head made.

Oh, and that stupid hope. “Why am I so shtupid?”

“What do you mean?”

Lily poked herself in the chest. “I shtill want him to choose me.”

“That is pitiful. You should want nothing to do with him.” Cordelia poured her another glass, which sounded just lovely. Lily felt as light as a feather.

“Before his accident, I told him I was leaving. He let me. Off you go, he said,” Lily said, emphasizing her point with a finger in the air.

“I don’t think you wanted to go at all,” Cordelia said.

Lily gasped. “That is shnot twue.”

“Yes. It is. You spent all this time believing he didn’t want you, and you forced his hand to prove otherwise.”

Lily shook her head, then stopped as it continued spinning. “No. I made up my mind. Ship.” She peered at her sister, narrowed her eyes. “You are not sauced.”

Cordelia shrugged a shoulder. “If you say so. I’m not set to rights, I assure you, but I have had more experience. Enough to know it was precisely what you needed.”

Lily wasn’t sure what she meant by that. “It does feel lovely. Lov-e-ly is such a lovely word, isn’t it?”

She was fairly certain her sister smothered a laugh. “It won’t feel lov-e-ly tomorrow. And that, dear sister, is
my
revenge for being so unforgiving these years.”

Lily didn’t have time to ask her what that meant, either, because the room grew light.

She slid her eyes closed, trying to ignore the way her eyelids spun opposite the rest of her head. How could eyelids spin? She gave in.

Grit filled Robert’s burning eyes. His limbs felt as though they’d been weighted with a thousand pounds of sand. Being in this area of Whitechapel in the middle of night was idiocy on a good day. But when he was this tired, this worn down and alone? A stupid, stupid move, but one he didn’t feel he had any choice in. Edwin hadn’t been at the townhouse when he’d returned, and the sense of urgency Robert felt didn’t allow for waiting.

Robert’s body hummed with awareness of the grunts, the shuffles of boots around him as he made his way to the familiar alleyway. He hadn’t realized how much having Edwin guarding his back had given him a sense of confidence. Arrogance.

Stripped of that faulty bravado, Robert couldn’t shake the anxiety that breathed fire inside of him, churning, waiting. Edwin had said Robert wouldn’t last a day, and Robert was beginning to see why.

His claim at power in this organization had been nothing but a tower of cards. He wasn’t powerful. He wasn’t strong. Without Edwin by his side, he was as frightened as the next man. What had driven him to this?

Where had that need gone? He didn’t know, but it had disintegrated in the last weeks.

He shoved his chin up and pretended to feel invincible. The box of copperplates weighed heavy in his arms, even though the plates were light.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

Robert’s body tensed as he rounded. He let out a rush of air. “Damn it, Edwin.”

“You should’ve waited for me.”

“I couldn’t.” His answer was gruff, since he knew Edwin was right. He’d never admit it, but relief coursed through him. “How did you find me?”

“It’s my job to be your shadow, Robert. Whether you recall that or not.”

A surge of affection overcame Robert. “Since you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful.” He shoved the box into Edwin’s arms.

They made their way to the door and through the tavern replete with the usual sounds and smells. It was near deserted—only a handful of men, one bar wench.

All Robert could see was the desolation, the absence of anything good.

They followed the guard around tables. Kane had staffed light that night—only two men stood on opposite ends of the room.

Once through the door, Robert strode to the table Kane sat at and gestured for Edwin to drop the box. The table shook, nearly toppling over the cups of ale.

“It’s about time.” Kane shoved his chair, not caring when it fell backward. “All here?”

“Every last one.” He’d checked to be sure. “I’m done.”

“The captain’ll be in touch.”

“No.” Robert’s heart pushed to a pounding sprint. “I am finished. This is the last set I’m drawing.”

“Quite the jester these days, aren’t you?” Kane’s gaze never left his, his impassive tone never varied.

“I’m out, Kane.”

“Ye think ye can walk away.” Amusement laced his words.

“I approached you. I set this on my terms.”

“Yer a bloody fool if you believe that. Ye proved yer value to us. Ye should be proud.”

Before, Robert had been. He knew that. He’d worked hard to gain acceptance, to show his worth. To be worthy.

But he had chosen the wrong person to be worthy of.

“You cannot force me.”

“Then I have no reason not to kill you.”

Robert’s gaze darted to the left, where the door to the alley was.

He had no time to react before the two men rushed from either side and grabbed his arms. Robert kicked out, heard the grunt of pain as his foot connected with a knee. Edwin was behind him, surrounded by an army of men, in a struggle of his own.

The grips tightened until the meaty fingers dug into his skin. His arms were stretched until his muscles screamed, threatened to snap as though he were on a rack for torture.

Robert tilted his head to spot Edwin, his body straining for escape from the four men who held him, with a knife held against his throat. They’d been prepared for this.

Kane walked toward Robert. He struggled to escape, but couldn’t break free. His breaths came in shallow, quick spurts.

“Have you changed your mind?” Kane asked in a dark, smooth tone that delivered a promise: death.

Robert remained silent. Kane could kill him, but he’d be damned if he’d satisfy the man’s need for surrender.

“I understand you have changed residences.”

Rage exploded inside of Robert. He tried to lunge at Kane. “If you touch her, I will kill you.”

“That would be quite the trick, as you’ll be dead.” At that, Kane gave a flick of the wrist. Robert struggled in earnest, turning, thrashing to get free. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of something.

His head connected with a fist, and pain radiated through his body but his arms were released. He didn’t think, he just struck. His fists pounded into whatever, wherever they landed.

He launched himself at someone, tackled the man to the ground. Punches landed at his sides, and his back arched in agony.

Then the blows stopped. Robert heard a scuffle behind him, and he twisted around. A few of the men lay on the ground by Edwin. He flung around and swung hard at another man barreling at them. Robert jumped to his feet.

Fists brandished blades. A slash across Robert’s arm made him howl with pain. He felt Edwin at his back, and that gave him the strength to jab at and kick the man who kept coming.

Then no more blows struck.

Robert sucked in a ragged breath, and turned to Edwin. “Where’s Kane?” Robert surveyed the dead men on the ground. Kane was nowhere to be found. He had disappeared into the night. If anyone remained in the front room, they’d long since learned to mind their own business.

Edwin didn’t answer. He slid to the floor, his pale face a sharp contrast to the blood that soaked his shirt and spilled through the hand he held over his stomach.

Robert’s gut clenched. “Edwin, get up.”

“Kane will kill you. You’ve left him no choice or he loses respect.” Edwin’s words came out in spurts of air.

“So get off your ass and let’s go.” His words were harsh, but panic shot his heartbeat into a gallop. He grabbed Edwin’s shirt. Edwin was growing paler by the minute, except for the bright red splashes across his torso.

“Go. Leave. You can’t stay here,” Edwin said, his voice a fading whisper.

Robert leaned down, wrapped an arm under Edwin’s arms. “You better move your blasted ass, Edwin. You are not dying over my miserable hide.”

Edwin, too weak to fight, lunged forward. Robert’s already damaged body screamed in protest as he heaved shaking muscles to lurch Edwin to his feet. He didn’t go out through the tavern—they’d never make it. A door at the rear of the room led to a dank, dark crawl space that could barely be called an alley. It was poorly lit for the buildings that crammed next to each other, leaving very little room to walk. Edwin was a lump against Robert’s side, and every step he dragged them both forward lit a fire in Robert’s side and a new layer of sweat on his brow.

He leaned against the wall and sucked in a deep breath, the air putrid with something foul. A chamber pot alley—not a place to linger. The damp permeated his sweaty skin. Edwin faltered.

“Edwin, you’ve got to stand,” Robert managed, hefting his companion, his friend—damn it, he wasn’t going to lose him.

But no matter how he tried, Edwin slipped from his grasp and fell beside the building and down into the muck.

Robert scraped him up off the ground and shoved, pushed until Edwin leaned back against the wall. Edwin slumped back, dropped his head back. “You have been good to me.”

The slow words eked out, ripped the breath from Robert’s throat. “Don’t be a schoolgirl. You’ll be fine, and we’ll both get out of here.” No response. “Edwin.” Robert shoved at him. “
Edwin
, answer me, you bloody bastard.”

Edwin stared back at him, his eyes a hollow shell of what they’d been. Open. But unseeing.

Rage tore through Robert. It slashed open his heart, ripped out his gut. He grabbed Edwin’s shirt, not caring about the blood and grime that covered them both. “Damn you, no!”

The one person who’d been loyal.

The one person who had never let him down. Who had done anything asked of him.

Robert had lost every bloody thing in his life worth having—what he hadn’t destroyed himself had been destroyed for him. Except Edwin. It had been Robert’s decisions that brought them here. Put a target on his own back. Killed Edwin.

Brought Lily into this filth.

He couldn’t allow anything else to happen to the people that mattered to him.

Robert stood on shaky legs, fighting the movement with every breath. He couldn’t leave Edwin here. But he couldn’t move him alone either. He barely had the strength to walk.

He had no choice but to ask for help.

Sunlight hadn’t yet begun filtering in through the cracks in the drawn curtains in the room, and Lily thanked heaven for small favors. She wanted nothing to do with the sun. It was too blessed bright.

That also meant she was wide awake at some ungodly hour.

Her head felt as though it might careen right off her shoulders with the slightest shrug, but she rose from her bed, careful to minimize to required movement. Dressing gown on, she headed to the door. The idea of breakfast sent her stomach rolling, but tea—yes, that sounded like heaven. A spot of tea would right her world.

While Lily’s head pounded with the force of an angry surf, her mind felt clearer than in a long time.

Cordelia had been right.

Annoying as that was, Lily hadn’t wanted to leave Robert before his accident. Why else had she stayed so long to
tell
him she was leaving? She had wanted him to fight for her.

It stung that he’d let her leave, with the brush of his hand and the offer of a divorce. Yet that was nothing compared to the hollow ache in her chest now.

Robert hadn’t returned.

She’d pieced together enough to understand what had happened. With the loss of their baby and the complicated loss of his mother, the demise of their marriage was almost foretold.

Lily hadn’t the security in their relationship to believe anything but the worst. She had lived with the sharp reminder that he’d
courted
Cordelia. He’d chased her. He had met Lily while visiting Cordelia, and Lily had never stopped believing she was second choice.

That night Lily had sent the letter, she’d been beyond happy to believe he’d come for her. To see her. It was the one thing she’d clung to.

But that might not have been true, either. So many of her beliefs, at every point, were false.

She’d had the dream for a short while. But it wasn’t real, and it wasn’t enough. She would fool herself no longer. Starting today.

Or perhaps tomorrow, after her head stopped feeling like a pin cushion.

“Lily? We’re in the parlor.”

Or not.

Adam’s voice echoed and rattled around in her skull. Lily winced, but turned in the new direction.

When she entered, she found Adam and Michael.

“Does everyone get up at this ridiculous hour?” she muttered.

Michael stood looking out the window—the offending thing let far too much light in, and Lily put a hand to her eyes as she lowered them.

“It’s seven in the morning. Feeling all right?” Her brother’s amusement was clear.

“Fine.” She looked around. “Tea? Please?”

Adam chuckled. “That won’t be strong enough.”

“Are you ill?” Michael asked from his stance at the window.

“I believe she’s afflicted with the morning after illness,” Adam answered. He moved to the sideboard, where a service had been set. “I found an empty decanter this morning and two glasses.” Cup in hand, he brought it to her. “Here. Coffee, with a liberal amount of sugar and cream. It will help.”

The rich aroma wafted up, and Lily took a deep breath. It was stout, and it perked her senses a little. She took a small sip. The warmth slid down her throat with a bitter sweetness, but not with the fiery trails the spirits had left the previous night.

“Have you and Cordelia reconciled then?”

“We’ve come to terms.” The strides they had made last night were too new, too fragile to put pressure on. But Lily wanted to believe that they would hold.

“Could we move this discussion to the matter at hand?” Michael asked, swiveling around. His face was tight with tension, regret. “I want to know about Keenan.”

“You aren’t starting without me, are you?” Blythe entered the room with her usual grace, headed toward Lily. “You look a little ragged, my dear.” She pressed a kiss to Lily’s cheek. “But sometimes, it does prove just the thing, doesn’t it?”

“
Keenan
?” Michael prompted.

“Don’t badger her.” Blythe scrunched her face at him. “She will be no help if her head is spinning.”

“I’m fine.” To pretend the spinning wasn’t happening, Lily continued to sip the coffee. She’d never partaken much, though she’d appreciated the scent that filled the house. But right now, it tasted like ambrosia.

She finished the cup and headed to the sideboard to pour another. “I’m sure Adam has already told you what I know. I was only in the captain’s company for a few moments.”

Michael paced around the edges of the room. “Yes, but I want to hear you tell it. Don’t leave anything out.”

Lily took in a ragged breath through her nose, hoping the coffee would clear the cobwebs. Then she repeated, again, everything that had happened at that establishment. She wasn’t even sure what to call it.

“It can’t have been him. Damn it!” Michael smacked a fist on a table. “I shouldn’t have let him go so long without communication. I should have known something was wrong. But I was so bloody wrapped up in my own life—”

Blythe cleared her throat.

Lily looked between them. “Why? What was wrong? Did something happen?”

Michael met her gaze, and she saw the pain and regret etched in his face. “Keenan married a few years ago, and he lost his wife a year ago—a tragedy, their house was robbed and she was killed.”

“Oh my God.”

“After the funeral, his correspondence stopped coming. I assumed he needed time to grieve, and…hell, I shouldn’t have let it go so long.” His lips thinned. “If he’s here, in London, and he’s who you saw, he’s taken that grief in a direction I never thought possible.”

Blythe reached out to him, placed a hand on his arm. “It isn’t your fault, Michael. Whatever William has done, you couldn’t have known.”

“I should have. Well, now we fix it. Now we discover what the hell he’s gotten himself into and we get him out of it.”

Lily bit her lip. The captain hadn’t appeared “caught” in anything.

“Lily?” Blythe asked. “What is it?”

“It’s just…he…he was in charge. He was the one controlling things, making decisions. It didn’t appear he was coerced in any way.”

“We don’t know the truth yet,” Michael snapped, then sighed. “Forgive me. I feel as though I failed my friend, but I shouldn’t take that out on you.” He racked his fingers through his hair, more distressed than Lily could recall seeing the ever-solid, ever-calm duke.

“We need to address the issues at hand,” Adam said. “I’ve sent a missive to Wayfair letting him know we’ll call today. We’ll hand over what we know of his brother and let him pursue his own ends.”

“Isn’t Wayfair on the committee for forgeries?” Michael asked. At Adam’s nod, he gave a low whistle. “That’ll be a blow. I wonder what he’ll do.”

“What do you mean, what he’ll do?” A warning flared in Lily’s belly.

“I don’t give a fig how he handles it,” Adam replied. “My priority is to make sure you are out of it.”

“I am leaving for America. What more do you need?” she countered.

“Are you? Are your bags packed? Your feet on the deck?”

“So eager to see me leave?”

“I’m eager to see you alive. And safe. And across an ocean from that man before he drags you back into his madness.”

“My ship leaves on Friday, and I shall be on it.”

“We must throw a party.”

The unremarkable words came from a remarkable source, and they all turned as Aria strode into the room. “What, pray tell, are you all gawking at?”

“Y
ou,
suggesting we throw a party?” Blythe said, her tone full of amusement.

Aria looked unfazed. “Every society has its culture and traditions. In this one, sending a loved one on a voyage without pomp or circumstance would imply we
want
her to leave. With the endless prattle in those insidious papers about her marriage we don’t want it to seem she is skulking away, do we?”

“They’ve stopped,” Blythe mused.

“What has?”

“The papers. At a time when your marriage offers a goldmine.” Blythe offered a chagrined smile. “Forgive me.”

“No, it’s true,” Lily replied. “I don’t understand it, either. Reports about the day I packed my things were the last. It is odd.”

Aria turned toward Lily. “A goodbye party. Small, but weighty in its message.”

At that, everyone erupted into their own conversations. Lily stood to the side and watched them, as she’d often done. Sadness curved her lips into a melancholy, affectionate smile.

She hated to leave them.

“A goodbye party it is, then,” she said to no one in particular. Not that Aria was waiting upon her agreement anyway.

Lily had other considerations. She needed to say her goodbyes at the library, but she had no idea how. She couldn’t separate out the funds she had provided them versus what Adam had helped her set up.

What was she supposed to do? Remove half of the books because they were gained by ill-gotten means? How could she?

But how could she do nothing, either?