Regency 02 - Betrayal (19 page)

The viscount took a startled step back.
Brewster appeared then and moved swiftly around the two men.
Greville slammed the door in Lord Steyne’s face, locked it again,
and turned to the countess.

“What happened?” Brewster asked as she gently
rocked her mistress in her arms.

“You tell me,” Greville said. “Who’s been
beating her?”

“Who hasn’t, my lord,” the maid retorted
softly. She brushed the damp hair from Bri’s face and murmured
something to her. The countess nodded, sniffled, and buried her
face in Brewster’s shoulder.

The Earl of Greville stood staring at them
helplessly, battling his rage and wondering what he could do to
help his poor mistreated cousin. He wanted more than anything to
kill every bastard who had dared to lay his hands on her in any
way. A sudden thought occurred to him that made him pale
considerably, swallow against a fury that threatened to consume
him, and pray for some semblance of control.

There was another knock.

Greville went to the door and threw it open
again. Mathers bowed and announced in a wooden voice belied by the
concern in his eyes, “Lord and Lady Connor Northwicke, Mr. Adam
Prestwich.”

“NO!”

Lord Connor pushed his wife and friend into
the room, shut the door, and locked it. The fury that was the
Countess of Rothsmere launched herself at Adam and gave him the
same treatment she had given the earl only moments before. Adam
crushed her against his chest, pinning her arms harmlessly at her
sides. When that didn’t stop her banshee-like wailing, he did the
only other thing he could think of.

He kissed her.

Bri stopped screeching so Adam let go of her
arms, which she instantly wound around his neck. Then she kissed
him back with all her heart.

The rest of the room’s occupants just stared
at them in surprise. Everyone appeared unsure what to do. Greville
was clearly too shocked to leap to his cousin’s rescue, as he
should have done when a strange man took such liberties with her
person. Connor was thinking that Adam really shouldn’t be getting
the girl’s hopes up when he was married since it was painfully
clear that she returned his feelings at least in part. Verena’s
thoughts were much along the same lines. Except, knowing more
details about the marriage than her husband did, after her private
chat with the man, she found herself wondering if Adam would kill
his wife so that he could marry Bri.

Adam finally drew his head away from the
countess, saw the drowned look in her eyes, and whispered for her
ears alone, “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

And, to everyone’s considerable shock, Bri
smiled. It was a smile of pure happiness. “No, you probably
shouldn’t have,” she replied equably. “But you did.”

Adam was very nearly lost in a world that
contained only the two of them. She was playing with the little
hairs at the back of his neck and smiling up at him with such trust
and…love…that he could barely think straight. He brushed away her
tears with one long finger, then drew it down along her jaw and
kissed her again. Very lightly, like the touching of butterfly
wings.

Connor cleared his throat and the two broke
apart suddenly. Adam saw Bri blush and very nearly did the same
himself.

Damn.

This meeting was not going the way he had
imagined or hoped or even feared. He had been a trifle surprised to
be accosted by one of the countess’s footmen when he had left
Connor’s. Well, dumbfounded with shock would be more accurate,
actually. The man had been clearly agitated and barely
intelligible.

Adam had surprised himself by his patience.
Instead of curtly ordering the man to spit it out and let him get
on his way, Adam had instead encouraged the young man to breath
deeply and concentrate on what he was saying.

The message had been a shock. After telling
the man to return to his mistress, Adam climbed the front steps of
Vale Place for the second time that day. Samson informed him that
the marquess was in his wife’s sitting room and offered to let his
lordship know of Mr. Prestwich’s arrival.

Adam had ignored him and took the steps up to
the third floor two at a time. He knocked at the door of the room
that he himself had just recently occupied with the marchioness and
waited impatiently for an answer.

Connor had appeared in the doorway with a
look of annoyance that had turned quickly to surprise and then to
alarm when Adam informed him of the footman’s message.

It had taken only moments for Verena to get
ready and they were soon mounting the steps of Bri’s home.

Adam stood back as the countess lowered
herself back down on the sofa next to a tall, homely woman he
assumed was her maid. Bri avoided looking at him and allowed the
maid to hold her hand and listened attentively while the woman
whispered something in her ear.

Lord Connor watched the scene for a moment
with a grim expression before turning his gaze on the earl. “Care
to explain?” he asked with raised brows.

Adam noticed the very large young man for the
first time. He looked at him curiously and a trifle suspiciously.
This must be the cousin, although Connor had not mentioned that
Greville was such a giant.

Verena seated herself on Bri’s other side and
placed a comforting arm about her shoulders. She murmured things to
her that were too low for anyone to hear and the countess was soon
nodding and shaking her head at intervals.

Adam sat down heavily on a chair when his
friend pushed him into it. He sent him a bewildered look but stayed
put.

Connor indicated that Greville should be
seated as well. The gentlemen’s chairs were far enough away not to
disturb the women and close enough to still know what was
happening.

“I’m just so tired,” Bri whispered to her two
listeners. “I fight, but I know not what I am fighting against.
Control, slavery, pressure, hatred, I don’t know what is happening
to me.” She dropped her face into her hands and wept silently while
Lady Connor and Brewster patted her back and murmured reassurances
to her.

“What the devil is going on?” Adam finally
bit out in frustration. “A footman nearly runs me down in the
street and proceeds to tell me in garbled English that his mistress
is in sore distress and needs Con and Verena and I to attend her
immediately. The order was given by his lordship, the Earl of
Greville. I assume that’s you,” he said as he looked at the giant,
“and then we arrive to find the countess in a state of near
insanity.”

“You are Prestwich,” Greville replied
unnecessarily and with a definite edge to his voice. “Interesting.
You’re the reason she’s in the state of mind she’s in. I hope
you’re proud of yourself.”

Adam edged forward in his seat. He ignored
Connor who was trying to catch his eye. His anger with himself was
taking control and at this point, he didn’t bother trying to stop
it. He didn’t want to, in fact.

He smiled unpleasantly at the earl, his eyes
as icy as his voice. “Call me out, Greville. I’m itching for a
fight, you know.”

“No one is going to challenge anyone,” the
marquess inserted firmly before Greville could take Adam up on the
offer. The earl had a gleam of interest in his eyes at the prospect
that Connor couldn’t like. “We are going to try to determine what
is best to be done since we are all on the same side here.”

“Are we?” the earl asked belligerently. His
angry glare was still directed at Adam.

“Yes,” Lord Connor replied sternly. “More
than you know,” he added under his breath.

Adam sent him an odd look and Connor knew his
friend had heard the comment. He chose not to enlighten him. “Do
you stay here, Greville?”

“Yes, for now,” the younger man replied, eyes
still hard with anger. “Someone has to protect her now that she has
been returned.”

“Protect her?” Adam bit out contemptuously.
“Is that what you call allowing her to be beaten and raped?
Protection? You have a very odd idea of protection, puppy. Had you
the sense God gave a flea, you would have killed Steyne by now. In
his sleep if you had to.”

He hadn’t realized he was standing until
Connor shoved him back down into the chair none too gently. He
hadn’t realized his voice had risen until he turned his head at the
collective gasp that issued from the three women on the sofa. Then
he cursed, fluently.

With another color epithet, Adam stood up and
left the room. Steyne had the misfortune to be crossing the hall at
that moment with a rigidly angry Duke of Corning and a slightly
disdainful and annoyed Viscount Breckon.

Without conscious thought in regard to his
actions and possible consequences, Adam closed the distance between
him and Steyne in a few quick strides. Before the man could utter a
word or so much as a blink, Adam leveled him—and then shouted at
him to get up when the viscount remained seated on the floor with a
hand to his broken nose.

Two large footmen rushed forward at the
duke’s command and took Adam by the arms. He shook them off easily
since they actually didn’t think he would try and punched Steyne
again as that man had risen to his feet and was standing
precariously with the assistance of Lord Breckon. Breckon caught
him as he fell and held him up. The footmen meanwhile had managed
to grab the baronet again and actually hold him this time.

At the duke’s gesture, the men hauled Adam
into an antechamber and stood in the middle of the room, still
holding him tightly until the duke gave them the order to release
him. This, he did not do.

The Duke of Corning strode forward and looked
Adam up and down with a mocking half-smile on his face. “To what do
we owe the pleasure of your presence, Mr. Prestwich?” he asked
pleasantly. “Certainly you have completed your mission. My niece is
returned to me, somewhat the worse for wear, but returned
nonetheless. I can see no further reason for your presence in my
home. I await an explanation.”

Adam resisted the urge to spit in the
bastard’s smug face. He mocked him back, his stormy eyes hard as
granite. “If I recall correctly, this is Lady Rothsmere’s home,
Corning. You are merely here on sufferance.”

The unexpected jab hit Corning where he was
most sensitive, his reliance on his niece’s money for his creature
comforts. The duke reacted purely from anger. He punched his
prisoner with enough force to snap Adam’s head back. The footmen
had to tighten their hold on their captive to keep Adam from
leaping on the man.

The duke rubbed at his smarting hand and
continued to stare at Adam with cold contempt and mockery. “What
has the little bitch told you, Prestwich? That she is mistreated?
That she is being beaten for no reason? Believe me, that little
whore deserves every bit of punishment she receives.”

Adam had never before seen red. He did now.
The efforts of the footmen were in vain. Adam made them release
their hold on him by the simple expedient of cracking their skulls
together. They slumped at his feet and he stepped over them. He was
on Corning before that man even realized what was happening.

A second later, Adam was pulled off the duke
by Greville and Lord Connor. Although, Adam reflected as he came
out of his rage and beheld the bruised and bloody face of the duke,
it may have been a bit longer than a second.

“That was a very bad idea,” Connor muttered
after Corning had been taken away by the butler and the duke’s
valet and the two footmen had been removed as well. “I will have a
hell of a time keeping you out chains for this, Adam.”

Adam turned a look of surprise on Connor.
“Why?”

“Why? Have your wits gone begging? You just
beat a duke, Adam. Attacked him in his own home. You won’t stand a
chance if he wants to press charges over this, you know.”

“He won’t,” Adam and Greville said at the
same time. They looked at each other with lowered brows for a
moment before returning their attention to the marquess.

Greville explained. “The duke is very
particular about appearances. He will not take Prestwich to court
because of a broken nose. Steyne might, but I doubt that, too.
Corning won’t. He will come up with some explanation for anyone who
needs one and glare haughtily at those who don’t. Then he will seek
to put Prestwich in his place in the only way he knows how: he will
hire someone to kill him.”

“That’s rather barbaric, don’t you think?”
Adam asked dryly.

Greville shrugged. “It may well be, but it’s
also true.”

Connor stared at both men intently. “What do
you suggest we do, Greville?”

“Why do you ask him?” Adam asked with a jerk
of his head in Greville’s direction. “Don’t tell me you believe
this nonsense about Corning’s trying to kill me?”

“I didn’t say I believe it. However, out of
the three of us, Greville knows Corning the best. And really, Adam,
you should not be taking such a personal interest in Bri’s
problems. You know you shouldn’t.”

Greville looked from one man to the other,
his curiosity evident in his dark eyes. “What’s this?”

Adam ignored him. “I think you should mind
your own affairs, Northwicke,” he said very softly. “I will do what
I feel I must. And I will not let Carly’s existence stand in my
way.”

“Who is Carly?”

Connor and Adam turned at the same time and
favored Greville with the same look. It seemed to consist of
surprise that he was even there mixed with astonishment that he
would ask such a thing with a little bit of threat thrown in for
good measure. Greville thought it was a perfectly reasonable
question considering his cousin was also a critical part of the
conversation. And so he told them.

Adam, who had had his back partially to the
earl, turned fully around and gave him a haughty look. “I don’t see
how Carly concerns you no matter what other lady we happen to be
discussing, Greville. Carly doesn’t matter, never has, never
will.”