Loving the Earl: A Loveswept Historical Romance (31 page)

He looked at Gabrielle. Something in his eyes made Claire peer closer. There was an intimacy between them that was altogether surprising for two people who had known each other only a few days.

“Gabrielle,” he said, “do you mind if I speak to Claire alone?”

Gabrielle looked at Claire, a question in her eyes. Slowly Claire nodded. She didn’t want to speak to Sebastian, didn’t want a listing of her failures or how much she inconvenienced him
and the staff and Gabrielle. But Claire knew her brother well enough to know that he wouldn’t go away and she might as well get it over with.

Gabrielle stood. “I will instruct the staff to prepare some tea.” She looked meaningfully at Claire. “I will be close by if you need me.”

Claire nodded and watched Gabrielle shoot Sebastian a glare. Sebastian met her gaze then looked away. When her footsteps receded, Sebastian cleared his throat and moved closer. Claire straightened her spine and resolved to wait out the lecture.

“I apologize, Claire.”

She jerked her gaze to his.

“For not being there for you during your marriage to Richard.”

She suddenly became cold, goose pimples rising on her skin. “He told you?” she whispered, referring to Blythe.

Sebastian nodded, looking haunted. “I … Well, there is no excuse. I should have protected you better.”

“No. No,” she said louder, with more vehemence. “Richard should have protected me better. He was my husband. He was the one who vowed in a church in front of a priest and hundreds of witnesses that he would protect me.”

“I’m your brother. I should have seen, should have done something.”

“I hid it from all of you because Richard threatened you.”

Sebastian waved his hand in the air. “You had to have known that meant nothing to me.”

“He threatened to bring the entire family down and he could have done so with just one whispered word to the king. He was well respected, well liked and well on his way to becoming an advisor. Nothing was going to get in his way, certainly not his wife.”

Sebastian’s lips thinned. “All the same, I would have helped you.”

Her shoulders drooped. “It’s in the past now. Richard is dead and I’d like to bury him for good if possible.”

“Nathan told me of your adventure.”

All of it? Somehow she doubted that.

“He regrets not telling you that I asked him to watch out for you. Don’t blame him, Claire. This was my fault.”

She wanted to laugh but she hurt too much. “Always your fault, Sebastian. Does it ever
occur to you that others make mistakes that have nothing to do with you? Lord Blythe held information from me because he wanted to, not because he told you he would. He had every opportunity to tell me but didn’t. Not everything falls on your shoulders.”

Sebastian looked at her steadily. “I believe, Claire, that in some ways you’re the smartest of the lot of us.”

She nodded once, inordinately pleased with the backhanded compliment. “I’m glad someone is beginning to realize it.”

Sebastian’s smile was faint. “He’s miserable.”

“He should be.”

“You need to forgive him.”

In time she might. No, in time she would. Blythe thought he was doing what was right, and God save her from men who thought they were perpetually right. It was her burden in life to be tasked with the lot of them. Even so, even though it frustrated her to no end, she still loved the blasted man.

“Where is he?” she asked.

“He said you were too angry at the moment and he had somewhere he needed to be. Some meeting or such.”

The letters. She was disappointed she wasn’t going with him since she’d been beside him through most of this journey, but he wouldn’t have allowed her to accompany him anyway.

She stood on shaky legs and smoothed her skirts out. “I’m going outside for some fresh air.”

Sebastian lifted his chin toward the other side of the room. “The garden is through that door. Turn right and walk through the
piano nobile.
The first door on your left leads to the inner gardens.”

Claire paused and looked at her brother closely. How did he know his way around Gabrielle’s home so intimately? Her eyes widened. “You and—”

“Enough, Claire.” This was said in the brotherly tone he’d used almost her whole life when rebuking her. Claire suppressed a smile and walked away, following Sebastian’s direction until she stepped out into the damp night. On the other side of the walled garden she could hear the canal slapping softly against the wall. There was some sort of ball or entertainment a few doors down, the muted laughter penetrating her peace and quiet. She took a deep breath, alone
for the first time since … Well, since the few moments she was alone at the hospice, and it felt good to be able to sort through her thoughts without distraction. To settle her mind and really think about the last few days.

She and Nathan had spoken of marriage in such a sterile way that it depressed her. Even though she’d been in a miserable marriage before and vowed never to marry again, she discovered she didn’t want the type of convenience Nathan was offering.

Yet not once had he mentioned love. He’d merely stated very solid, acceptable reasons for marriage. And she hated every one of them. She wanted more, damn it. She wanted love and passion. She wanted mutual admiration and a level of comfort that only two people who lived together for a long period of time could achieve.

She wanted it all and she refused to settle for less.

A noise behind her had her turning around. A shadow flitted through the garden then was lost.

“Sebastian?” Claire took a step closer, peering into the darkness. “Gabrielle?”

She listened, filtering out the canal noises and the revelries, but heard and saw nothing else. With a shrug she turned back and meandered down the path.

A hand suddenly closed over her mouth. She shrieked but the sound was muffled. An arm clamped around her waist, dragging her against a body. Claire shoved her elbow into the soft flesh behind her. Her captor grunted. She shrieked again and tried to bite down on the fingers covering her mouth but she couldn’t get a good grip. She kicked back but the person quickly stepped to the side, avoiding her foot.

“Silence,” he hissed in her ear. For the sound most definitely came from a male. “Not one sound, Lady Chesterman. I will take you to Lord Blythe but only if you cooperate.”

She stilled, her heart pounding furiously. Nathan? Did he have Nathan as well? Who would want the both of them? What was happening here?

“Will you cooperate?”

She hesitated, then jerked her head in what she hoped he interpreted as a yes.

“A wise choice, my lady. Let’s walk calmly. No trying to escape. Do I have your word?”

She nodded again.

The man walking behind was shorter than her and soft around the middle but he had a strength that she couldn’t match. If there was one thing she learned during her marriage it was
when she was physically outmatched. But there were other ways to fight back. She merely had to bide her time, be patient and watch closely.

He pushed a rusty gate open with his foot. The screech pierced the night. He stilled, waiting, every muscle tense. After a few moments, when no one came running, he pushed her through the gate and hurried to a gondola tied to the dock.

Nathan sat back, too stunned to breathe, yet knowing he’d been anticipating this revelation since Rosaria revealed that she was his father’s mistress. Thomas was his father’s son. His half brother.

Rosaria clutched his hand, squeezing his fingers in a surprisingly bruising grip. “He’s your brother, Nathaniel. Please don’t let them hurt him.”

“I won’t, Rosaria.” He was sitting with his father’s mistress and he had a brother. How the hell was one supposed to digest that information? “Tell me about the men. Who were they? What were their names?”

Her gaze darted around the room, her fingers trembling in his. “They’ll find me. They’ll find Thomas.”

“I won’t let that happen, Rosaria. I’m the earl now and you and Thomas are under my protection.”

Her gaze landed on him, wary and hopeful at the same time. “Do I have your word? I could always rely on Michael’s word. Can I rely on yours?”

“Of course.”

“He’s a simple soul, Thomas is. Something happened while I carried him and he was born that way. But he’s a nice boy.”

“Tell me about the men, Rosaria.”

“They are powerful,” she said. “Nobles.”

“The
familia
is comprised of nobility? English nobility?”

“English and Italian and French. Mostly English and French. They want a new regime.”

Nathan’s fingers flexed. “They want to overthrow the crown?”

Rosaria nodded, fear creeping into her eyes. “By combining England and France they feel
they could rule all of Europe. No one will touch them.”

“Does this
familia
still exist?” His father died sixteen years ago. The men would be older now but not necessarily incapable of treason.

Treason. He could barely think it without flinching.

Rosaria was crying quietly. “I told him not to go.”

“Did he know what they were about?”

She suddenly grabbed his shoulders in a tight grip, her fingernails digging through the fabric of his coat and waistcoat, biting into his skin. “I begged him not to do this. There had to be a different way.” She stood. Her face twisted in anger and fear. “Let them go, I said. This has nothing to do with you. If you do not want to think of me, think of our
bambino
, I said to him. These men, they are
molto
dangerous.”

He remembered the names of the men who were on that mountain with his father. Some were minor nobility, some higher, all still active in society and the government. Were they a threat even now, all these years later?

Burnbaum had been on that mountain. Burnbaum was on the same ship as Nathan and Claire. He’d been in Place Dauphine as well. Nathan hadn’t seen him since then but that didn’t mean that Burnbaum hadn’t followed them here or didn’t know where they were headed.

Bloody hell.

“I loved him but my love wasn’t enough. Our
bambino
wasn’t enough. He left us, so confident he was invincible.” She laughed, a harsh, dry sound that ended on a sob. “They killed him, just as I tried to warn him they would.”

“Why did you contact me now?” Nathan asked. “Why wait sixteen years to tell me the truth?” Had they been watching her all these years? Monitoring her movements? Did they know the moment she sent the letter to him? Or, worse, had they been monitoring him?

Rosaria’s lips thinned. “Look around. We live in poverty. No
denaro
has come from Michael’s solicitor in years. I do not care for me but I care for Thomas. He is a simple boy but he still needs to eat. He still needs new shoes and clothes.”

Guilt ate at him that these two people had so little due to an oversight by his father. That his half brother lived in poverty while Nathan didn’t. There had been times when he feared his life would come to this. There had been lean times. Times of fear. But there had never been hungry times, or cold times. He’d always had food, clothing and a roof over his head, even if it
had been that of a gaming hell or a brothel.

“He left us destitute,” he said, knowing it didn’t make a difference now. “We had no money after his death. Nevertheless, if I had known about you and Thomas, I would have sent what little money we had.”

She blinked rapidly. “You are like your father. Kind, caring.”

Nathan nodded once, pleased even though speaking of his father brought on a fresh wave of grief that he’d thought buried long ago. “He was a treasure hunter, how did he come across these men?”

Rosaria frowned. “He wasn’t a treasure hunter. He worked for your king.”

Not a treasure hunter? All these years Nathan believed his father thrived on the adventure and excitement of finding lost artifacts. He’d convinced himself that these artifacts meant more to his father than his own son had. It had all been a ruse? A disguise so that Michael Ferguson could travel undetected and infiltrate secret societies? And why had he not been told of this after his father’s death? Why did the crown allow him and his mother to suffer near financial ruin?

“Rosaria, you must tell me of these men. If I mention names would you recognize them?”

“I believe so, although there were many.”

“Even if we had just a few, it will be enough. What about proof? Documents? Anything that will help.” He burned with the desire to see justice done, to avenge his father’s death.

“There is something he left with me. A letter for you.” She shrugged as if anticipating his next question. “I did not tell you because I feared the men. I had Thomas to protect. But it’s time now.” She stood and made her way out of the room in a way that indicated her old bones ached. He would rectify that as soon as possible by moving them to a better apartment in a better part of town, where the wind didn’t whistle through the cracks in the walls.

He could hear her rummaging around. Drawers opening and closing. Muttering. The swish of her skirts as she moved about.

He waited motionless, but impatient, wary but with restrained excitement. For so many years he harbored a deep, secret disappointment in his father—for leaving them destitute and for being so reckless as to die because of a foolish thirst for ancient artifacts.