My Fallen Angel (23 page)

But he’d been kind to her on the
Revenger.

She nibbled her lip in thought. He’d killed his brother.

Then again, nobody had actually proven that yet. She frowned, thoroughly confused, though that wasn’t an altogether uncommon occurrence, she admitted.

Less than five minutes later the door re-opened and a woman who was obviously Melanie, Countess of Selborne, glided into the room with all the dignified aloofness of royalty, but when she spied Ravenwood her regal glide came to a peasantlike halt. “Ravenwood!” she gasped.

“Melanie.”

Melanie’s gaze swung toward them, her eyes widening. Lucy studied her, curiously disappointed by what she saw. She had expected the countess to look like one of the witches from
Macbeth
—instead she saw a woman approximately ten years older than herself. She had black hair and features which might have been beautiful but for her pointy chin, which spoiled it all. Lucy shivered as she looked into her cold eyes.

“Here now, what is the meaning of this?” asked a man coming up behind her who—judging by the brown and gold dressing robe, and the ingrained loftiness on his face—was undoubtedly the earl. And whereas Melanie’s eyes were frigid, the earl’s gray eyes were filled with anxiety and confusion as he spied Ravenwood’s pistol, then the room’s other three occupants. “Who are you and what do you want?”

Ravenwood smiled, an evil smile filled with malice. “I am Ravenwood.”

“Ravenwood?” the earl gasped. “The
duke
of Ravenwood?”

He bowed.

“What do you want, you black-hearted devil?”

“I am that, and I’m here to speak with your wife … and you.”

The earl turned to his wife. “Do you know who this is, Melanie?”

The countess tiled her arrogant nose to an elevated level. “I’ve never met the man in my life—”

“She’s lying,” Lucy said, her eyes meeting the evil countess’s defiantly.
“She
asked the duke to find us, and he did, capturing us with help from pirates—”

“Who the devil are you?”

Lucy looked the earl square in the eye. “Lucy Hartford. And as I was saying, your wife wanted the duke to kill us, at least, I think she wanted him to kill us—”

“Kill
you!” the earl boomed.

“Miss Hartford, please,” Ravenwood interrupted. “Do let
me
do the talking.”

Silenced, Lucy debating the wisdom of complying.

“He wants ta expose the countess, too,” Tom exclaimed.

Lucy stiffened. She exchanged a startled glance with Garrick. Wherever could Tom have gotten that idea?

But one look into the duke’s diabolically amused face made her realize Tom could be right.

The thought was confirmed when the duke said, “Indeed I do, young man.”

“Expose the countess?” Lucy gushed, unable to stop herself.

“Indeed, Miss Hartford.”

“But why didn’t you just confront the earl with what you knew earlier?”

“I needed the boy as proof,” the duke answered.

“This is ridiculous—”

“Sit down, Melanie,” the duke snapped. He pointed with his pistol to two armchairs whose tall backs were to the dormant fireplace. “You too, my lord.”

The earl looked clearly defiant, in his eyes a mixture of fear, anger and confusion. “No.”

“Sit down.”

The earl jumped, as did Lucy. Then Selborne’s eyes narrowed. He straightened his brown and gold dressing robe and with one last look of rancor, placed his hand on the small of the countess’s back and guided her to a chair.

“Um, may we sit, too?” Lucy asked.

The duke nodded. “By all means,” he announced, indicating a settee opposite the armchairs.

All three of them sat, Tom between Lucy and Garrick. Lucy shifted around a bit, until she realized she was sitting on the spent pistol. She pulled it out from beneath her. Tom snorted in amusement. When she looked up, she found the duke staring down at her with a frown on his face. Ignoring it, she went on to straighten her skirts, then settled back in the settee, impatiently waiting for the duke to begin.

Ravenwood turned back to the earl and after a few moments of contemplative silence finally said, “My lord earl, what do you remember about the death of your firstborn son?”

“I’ll not listen to another word,” the countess suddenly cried, shooting up from her chair. “Richard, if you do not—”

The duke strode forward, the countess yelping when he shoved her back down. “If you say one more word, Melanie, I will gag and bind you to that chair.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she huffed.

“Wouldn’t I?”

She stared up at him, her eyes cold as tempered steel, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

“Stay put, Melanie,” her husband warned.

The countess shot him a glare, then looked at Ravenwood, her expression pure snake venom, but she settled back nonetheless.

“Very smart of you, Melanie. I see you realize I should have no problem putting a ball through that cold lump of iron you call a heart.”

“You bastard,” she spat out.

“No, my dear, I can assure you I am many things, but not that.”

“Is it more money you want? Is that it?”

“No, Melanie. I never wanted the money, I only wanted the letters from you asking—nay,
begging
for my help. But you never mentioned the boy by name. You’ve no idea of the trouble that caused me. I had to go after the boy myself, my living proof of your perfidy.”

“No—”

“Quiet!” he snarled, turning to the earl. “The boy is your first son, my lord. Ten years ago she paid to have the child killed.”

“Lies!” Melanie shot.

The duke turned back to her. “Are they, Melanie? I think not.”

The countess didn’t move.

A slow, victorious smile trickled across the duke’s face. He turned to the earl. “Fate has played a cruel trick on your wife, my lord, for the child in question sits over there.” He motioned toward Tom. “Say hello to your son, my lord. Your firstborn son. A boy your wife paid to have killed ten years ago.”

Lucy waited, hardly daring to breath as she waited for the earl’s response. She had it a moment later.

“Preposterous.”

Her brow scrunched into a frown.
That
wasn’t the response she’d expected.

“Impossible,” the earl continued, his eyes latching onto the duke’s with the ferociousness of a wild animal. “How dare you, sir? How dare you implicate my wife in such a scheme?”

Melanie looked smug now, so much so Lucy found herself saying, “He dares because it’s the truth, my lord. The man who was hired to kill Tom was your kennel master.”

“Enough,” the earl spit out. “You’re insane. All of you. Certainly Melanie and I have had our problems, but not even she would be so evil. Besides, I saw my son buried with my own two eyes.”

“Did you?” Lucy interrupted. “Did you actually see his body?”

The earl’s eyes narrowed in anger, his patience obviously at an end. “No, I did not. Nor would I want to—”

Lucy seized her advantage. “Then how can you be sure it was your son who was buried?”

The earl bristled, the anger rising off him like heat from a fire. “I don’t know what your part is in this, madam, but I assure you, you’ll pay for your involvement. Whatever it is.”

Lucy stiffened and Tom shot up from the settee. “I says we leave ‘im to ‘er.”

“Thomas Tee,” Lucy hissed. “Sit down.” The boy looked ready to protest until she lowered her tone of voice. “Please,” she said softly. “You’re not helping matters.”

Tom stared hard at her for a moment, but then his shoulders slumped. He turned toward the earl and gave him a glare.

But the earl was staring at Tom as if she’d suddenly sprouted an extra set of arms. “W-what did you call him?” He asked hoarsely, his voice stangely devoid of emotion considering the disbelief on his face.

Lucy darted Garrick a confused stare before saying, “I called him Thomas Tee.”

Selborne slowly sat up in his chair. “Where did he get that name?”

“I, well, I don’t remember exactly. You told me that was your nickname, didn’t you, Tom?”

Tom nodded, then crossed his arms in front of him mulishly.

“Where did you get the name?” the earl repeated, his fingers alternately clutching then releasing the arms of his chair.

Tom shrugged, looked as if he wasn’t going to answer, but relented when Lucy tapped his foot with hers. “Been called that since I was a little mite.”

“Why?”

Tom was beginning to look rebellious. He darted a glance around the room, his eyes catching upon Lucy’s. “Tell him why,” she said earnestly, excitement flowing through her. “Tell him Tom, tell.him now.”

Tom uncrossed his arms, took a deep breath and leveled a glare upon the earl. “It’s short for Tom Thumb. Been called that on account of me big toe lookin’ like a thumb.”

“Dear God,” the earl moaned, sinking back into the seat.

“Utter balderdash,” the countess said shrilly. “It’s not true. They must have heard the tale from somebody.”

“But we can prove it, can’t we Tom?” Lucy said triumphantly. Tom nodded reluctantly. “Take off your boot.”

“Me feet stink,” the boy said petulantly.

“Do it, imp,” Garrick urged.

Tom shot Garrick a look of long-suffering resignation and then did as he was told. In seconds his left foot was exposed for all of them to see. The earl gasped.

“They don’t smells that bad,” the boy mumbled.

Lucy laughed. She couldn’t help it. She was so delighted. She glanced over at the countess in triumph.

She was gone.

“The countess!”

But Ravenwood already had her, had grabbed her by the back of her dressing robe and tugged her toward him.

“No,” Melanie screamed, turning on him with her arms outstretched, her hands curled into claws and confirming her guilt by her very actions. The duke neatly sidestepped her charge, and Lucy tensed as she waited for the crack of a pistol. But it was apparent the duke had other plans for his captive, for he grabbed her and pulled her up against him. She struggled despite the pistol now held to her temple. His head lowered and Lucy had to strain to hear, “I’m looking forward to making you pay, Melanie,” he said softly. “Looking forward to it a great deal.”

“No,” she pleaded, her eyes seeking out her husband’s. “Richard, I—”

“Don’t,” the earl interrupted coldly. “No more of your lies, Melanie.”

And for the first time Lucy saw fear on Melanie’s face. Loads and loads of it.

The next morning Lucy watched, alone, as Melanie, Countess of Selborne, was escorted to the waiting carriage like Lady Jane Grey on her way to the executioner. The image through the glass at Selborne was crystal clear, and so Lucy had a perfect view of Melanie walking toward the carriage, her posture so straight and upright it looked as if she balanced an apple beneath that green bonnet she wore.

It had taken hours to truly convince the earl of Tom’s identity. He’d questioned the boy over and over again about his childhood, but in the end it had been the letters that had convinced him, the duke’s concern over Tom not being mentioned in them all for naught. Melanie had very distinctive handwriting, handwriting the earl had recognized at once.

Lucy sighed. The sight of the earl’s face when he’d realized the truth was one Lucy never wanted to see again. He’d been destroyed. Utterly destroyed.

Shoving the memory aside, she refocused on the scene outside the window again. Ravenwood was helping the countess into the carriage with a smugly superior grin on his face. The countess jerked her arm away, and Ravenwood’s smile grew. A moment later he too disappeared. The vehicle sprang forward, the trunks piled atop it swaying from side to side as it rumbled around the curved drive, past some bushes, beyond the fountain, until at long last it crossed between two brick columns and turned onto the road.

And just like that, it was over: the countess was gone and Tom restored to his rightful place as heir to the earldom. Too bad Garrick wasn’t here to see it, but he’d gone to London to fetch her aunt, leaving so early he’d missed breakfast. But Lucy was sure Garrick would’ve liked to have seen the countess being marched from the house like Napoleon on his way to Alba. Perhaps it might have helped to banish the blue funk he’d sunk into, a dark mood she’d no idea how to brighten.

She sighed. Between Garrick’s glowering countenance and Tom’s obnoxious behavior this morning, she was hard pressed to decide whom she wanted to choke first; Garrick for dodging her questions with the sure-footedness of a goat, or Tom for behaving as if he’d lived in a barn for the past two months. Right now the boy was undoubtedly upstairs, pouting after being forced to take a bath, small punishment indeed for passing gas at the breakfast table.

She turned back to the empty room, the gray light of morning turning the off-white tones of the decor to the color of ash. She was exhausted, the wound on her head still hurt, and she ached for Garrick’s arms.

The door clicked open and Lucy turned to see Tom striding toward her with the clomping steps of an outraged general. One look at his attire and she realized it wasn’t
her
he was angry with, but rather, whomever had dressed him.

She choked back a laugh. Goodness, someone had forced the boy into a jacket two sizes too small. The arms of the garment ended halfway between wrist and elbow, exposing the cuff of an equally small shirt beneath. Trousers, which very obviously belonged to someone much shorter, rode far above his ankles.

“Look what they done ta me,” he cried, holding out his arms.

It was at that exact moment one of his buttons launched itself like a rock from a catapult. She ducked, the button striking the window behind her with a metallic
ting.
It clattered to the floor and spun on the ground like a top.

When she straightened, Tom looked so outraged, so completely belligerent, she couldn’t help but let loose with a gurgle of laughter which quickly turned into full-scale chuckles.

Tom was not amused. “They stole me clothes,” he gritted out, his little fists clenched in anger.

Lucy laughed harder.

“The earl’s man forced me inta this bloody outfit, sayin’ it were either that or nothin’ at all.”

Lucy managed to gasp out, “Oh, Tom. You look as if you got caught in a rainstorm and hung out to dry.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Never wanted no part o’ this bloody scheme anyhow. Everybody tiptoein’ aroundme and callin’ me m’lord, as if I were some watch-fobbin’ nabob.”

Lucy’s laughter abruptly faded. Even though the words were spoken bravely, she could hear the underlining note of fear. Sympathy for his plight washed over her. It would be hard to be suddenly thrust into a world that was totally foreign and unfamiliar.

She walked forward and she could see the tears gleaming in his eyes. Placing a hand against his cheek, she watched as his control broke, sobs racking his small frame.

“Oh, Tom,” she said softly, drawing him into her arms. “This hasn’t been easy for you, has it?”

“I’m scared,” she heard him murmur. “Ain’t never been so scared in me life afore. Not even o’ those pirates.”

Resting her cheek against the top of his head she said gently, “Things will work out. You’ll see.”

“Don’t wants ta be no lord’s son,” he hiccuped. “I want to be your son, or Salena and Adrian’s.”

She drew back to stare down into washed-out violet eyes. “I’m so sorry, Tom, but it’s not possible.”

“Then I belong on the streets with the rest o’ me mates,” the boy continued.

“No, Tom. You belong here, and though you may not realize it yet, in time you will.”

“But the man don’t feel like me father.”

“He will, Tom. One day soon. You’ll see.”

Just then the door opened, the object of their discussion walking into the room. The earl took two steps into the room and stopped dead in his tracks. “Good God!” he cried. “What happened to your clothes?”

Tom darted a glance at her, then back at the earl, whose uncertainty in how to treat the boy shone in his eyes. Tom didn’t make it any easier. He stared at the earl, his eyes declaring war.

“Would you like to change out of that monstrous outfit?” the earl finally asked.

And Lucy could see it for the olive branch it was. Trouble was, did Tom see it?

“I s’ppose anythin’s better’n this,” Tom grumbled, snapping the branch off. He ignored the earl’s outstretched hand as he walked by.

The earl stared after him, a look of uncertainty on his face.

“Give it time, my lord,” Lucy said softly as Tom walked out of the room. “He’s been through a lot.”

“I understand, Miss Hartford. Believe me.”

Yes, Lucy thought. Undoubtedly he did. It must be difficult to lose one’s wife and gain a son all in the space of a few hours.

They both looked up at the sound of a carriage wheels crackling down the drive. She turned toward the window, her eyes widening at the shiny black carriage making its way toward the house with all the pomp and ceremony of a coronation. There were two footmen in green and gold livery stationed behind the vehicle, three men riding postilion atop the silver-gray horses, and two outriders. The horses’ tack gleamed, even in the gray light, and the black paint on the coach was so shiny she could see the reflection of the earl’s green lawn in it. Behind the vehicle rumbled another coach.

Her aunt’s.

“Garrick,” she breathed.

“So soon?”

“Yes, and unless I miss my guess, the other coach belongs to my friend Salena, the Duchess of Warburton.”

“Warbuton!”

Lucy headed for the front door, hearing the earl follow. They reached the porch just as Salena’s coach drew to a flamboyant, hoof-skidding halt.

A footman jumped down and placed a small, cushioned step atop the ground so precisely Lucy wondered if he’d been waiting all morning to do exactly that. “’Ere ya go, Lady Salena,” he said as he opened the door.

“Thank you, Will,” a soft voice answered. A moment later an elegant figure draped in a rose-colored gown stepped down, golden eyes lighting up when they met Lucy’s. The feather hat perched atop her wheat-colored curls brushed the frame of the door as she rushed forward. “Lucy, you goose, I can’t believe you went and followed Garrick.”

“Warned his lordship she would,” said another voice.

Lucy groaned as her aunt slowly climbed down from her own coach. “Aunt Cornelia, what a surprise.”

“I’d wager it is,” she snapped, banging her cane on the pebbled ground like a priest slapping the pulpit.

“This is your aunt?” the earl said from behind her.

Lucy turned. “Er, yes, my lord. Aunt Cornelia, this is the Earl of Selborne, Tom’s father.”

Cornelia’s eyes narrowed. “So it’s true, then? Garrick told us you’d convinced the man.”

“They have, my lady,” the earl confirmed.

“Good, for I don’t fancy my niece embarking on any more adventures. Heart couldn’t take it.”

“Neither could mine,” grumbled a feminine voice.

Lucy looked up. “Beth!”

Beth stepped down, her white and blue dress a stark contrast to the black carriage. She looked disgruntled as she made her way toward Lucy, but the look slowly faded into a smile. “Congratulations, Lucy. I knew you could do it.”

Lucy felt an answering grin spread across her face. “Thank you, Beth.”

“I should hope I helped, too.”

At the sound of that familiar and beloved voice, Lucy turned toward her aunt’s carriage with a radiant smile. Garrick stared back at her, the most poignant and tender look on his face she’d ever seen. It made her breath catch. The man looked as if he wanted to drag her into his arms and never let her go. And then she caught sight of who was walking beside him. “Adrian!”

An answering smile nearly as bright as the gold watch fob dangling from his tan waistcoat spread across the Duke of Warburton’s face. “Lucy, my dear. How lovely to see you in skirts for a change.”

She giggled.

“Although considering your propensity for fire, that might not be a good thing.”

Lucy laughed again, delighted to have all her friends with her, even if her aunt seemed to have developed a permanent tick in her cheek.

“Where’s Tom?” Salena asked.

“We sent him upstairs to change.”

“Which reminds me,” the earl said. “I offered to find him some clothes.”

At Salena’s questioning look, Lucy explained as she led them back to the salon. Quickly, she brought them up to speed on the morning’s events. By the time she was done, Tom and the earl had joined them. Tom took one look at Salena and flew into her arms. The earl watched, a look of curiosity mixed with longing on his face as, next, the boy hugged Adrian.

“It’s good to see you, imp,” the duke said. “We were worried about you.”

“Ya should’a seen it, Adrian,” Tom said excitedly. “There was pirates and a sea battle. And Lucy got the crew sick, an we, Garrick and I, was locked in the ‘old, an’ we almost died—”

“Ahem,” Lucy coughed.

Tom glanced at her, then at the earl. It was to the boy’s credit that he actually appeared to realize the effect his words had on the earl. “But we come out all right an’ tight, we did,” he added.

“My lord,” Salena said into the uncomfortable silence which followed. “May I say how glad we are you and Tom are reunited.”

The earl nodded stiffly.

“We realize how difficult this must be for you,” Adrian added. “My wife thought it might be a good idea to stay with you just until the boy is settled.”

Tom looked ready to declare his unwillingness to become “settled” but Salena silenced him with a glare.

“That would be most kind of you, Your Grace.”

“Adrian. Please, call me Adrian, and my wife Salena, if you will.”

“But Adrian,” Tom interrupted. “I wants ta watch Luce and Garrick get leg-shackled.”

“Then you must ask your father.”

“You’re not wed?” the earl said, looking between Lucy and Garrick.

“Er … ah, no. We’re to leave for Scotland today,” Garrick answered.

Lucy gasped. “Today! But Garrick, it’s so soon.”

“The sooner you’re wed the better,” her aunt harrumphed.

Yes, she supposed that was true. Still, it would have been nice to be sent off in style. She would have liked to have a big wedding, with hundreds of gawking guests and a bunch of little choir boys singing in their pubescent voices, but it looked as if that was not to be.

“I had your aunt pack you some clothes so we can leave straight for the dock,” Garrick added.

“You did?”

“And I brought you my wedding gown,” Salena said softly.

Lucy’s eyes widened. “Oh, Salena. You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“And I packed some clothes for you,” her aunt said. “Not that you deserve it, you wretched girl.”

“Oh, Auntie,” Lucy said softly, delight spreading through her. A small wedding would be ever so much fun, she concluded. And in Scotland, too. How scandalous. Pushing herself to her feet, she blinked a few times to dispel the dizziness which had plagued her sinceher bump on the head, and walked to her aunt’s side. “Thank you, Auntie.”

Cornelia, obviously in a perverse mood, hardened her jaw.

“You do know that next to Garrick you’re the most important person in my life.”

“You have a fine way of showing it, gel, gallivanting around as you do.”

“But I
had
to go with Garrick. I couldn’t let the man I love ride into danger without me.”

Her aunt looked as if she was going to be stubborn, but when Lucy reached down and gave her a hug, she heard her say, “Very well. You’re forgiven, but only because after tomorrow you will no longer be my responsibility.”

Lucy drew back, rolled her eyes, then gave her aunt a kiss on her cheek.