Silent Revenge (33 page)

S
imon climbed into the ducal carriage sporting the gold emblazoned
C
on the door and sank back against the maroon leather seat across from the Duke of Collingsworth. With an audible sigh, he closed his eyes and let the wave of exhaustion he’d held at bay for the last two months creep into every weary bone in his body.

“I appreciate your help tonight, James,” Simon said to his friend. They’d just spent a long evening going over some papers with Ira Cambden. The information all pointed to the same frightening conclusion.

Simon breathed a heavy sigh. The pain reached deep into his chest. “Damn him, James. How did he do it? How did Tanhill managed to acquire so many of my father’s notes without leaving a trail? Jessica’s money makes me one of the richest men in London, yet all I hold free and clear is the town house and Northcote Shipping—and every day he comes closer to taking even those away from me.”

Simon dropped his head back against the seat and fought the wave of anger, knowing how close he was to losing everything. For weeks he’d battled the constant threat of someone trying to destroy Northcote Shipping. He’d spent endless hours struggling to get the ships ready to set sail and loaded with their first cargo only to have one small disaster after another hinder his progress—a fire purposely set on one ship, weevils planted in the four on another, torn sails on a third. Yesterday he’d had to stop a rebellious crew from walking off because someone had convinced them they would never get paid.

Storm clouds continuously gathered, and he knew it was only a matter of time until the worst hit.

Seeing to the constant repairs of the damaged ships, hiring honest supervisors and reputable workers, and checking on the shipping manifests and cargo inventories took an insurmountable amount of time. Time he would rather have used in finding a way to get his properties away from whoever controlled the notes.

“Even though I have no proof,” Simon said, fisting his hands at his side, “I know Tanhill holds the notes. Deep in my gut I know it.”

The Duke of Collingsworth crossed one leg over the other. “I don’t understand how he acquired the notes so quickly. You have only been married to Jessica for two months. How has he accomplished so much in such a short amount of time?”

Simon hesitated, then answered. “Tanhill set out to destroy me long before I married Jessica. His vendetta to take everything away from me started before I met Jessica.”

Collingsworth lowered his foot and sat forward in his seat. “Perhaps you’d like to explain?”

Simon kept his gaze focused on the houses that passed outside the carriage window. “It’s a long story, and it goes back to my time in India.”

“You knew Tanhill there?”

Simon nodded. “Not well. I had little association with him. He was deeply entrenched in a group with whom few wanted to associate.

“One day I was called before my commanding officer and shown a list of names. The list contained soldiers the army believed were involved in illegal activities. Tanhill’s name was on the list.” Simon breathed a heavy sigh. “I was ordered to discover what I could about their activities.”

“What did you find out?”

“The men on the list were smuggling opium to England and China. Tanhill was the leader of this group.”

“Did you report him?”

Simon shook his head. “I intended to, but my commanding officer was on patrol. This was just before the fiercest of the uprisings, and patrols went out daily. I was afraid Tanhill suspected I knew what he was involved in, but wasn’t sure. Before I could report my findings, the worst of the uprisings reached Cawnpore. Tanhill used the revolt to silence me before I could tell anyone what I knew.”

Simon sat forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. “Tanhill and several of his group broke into my house. I wasn’t home at the time, but returned shortly after they arrived to find Sanjay fighting them off as best he could. They intended to rape Sanjay’s mother and sisters. He saved all of them but one. Tanhill raped her, then killed her.”

Simon swallowed hard. He could still hear Sarai’s screams. “She was only fourteen.” Simon sank back against the cushion. “I tried to save her, but Tanhill had a sword. I didn’t see it until it was too late.”

“Hell, Simon,” the Duke of Collingsworth hissed through clenched teeth.

“By the time I healed enough to tell my commanding officer what I’d discovered, I was told they weren’t looking for Tanhill any longer. He was dead.”

“Dead?”

“Yes, he’d faked his death. They recovered a body after the massacre with his papers on it. Of course, the soldier was too mutilated to recognize, but the papers identified the corpse as Captain Tanhill.”

“Do you think it’s possible Tanhill’s still involved in the opium trade?”

“I’d wager every pound I have that he is.” Simon looked at his friend. “There’s no middle ground in this, James. He won’t give up until he has it all and I am destroyed. That’s why it’s so important that I protect Jessica’s inheritance. He’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

Simon raked his fingers through his hair. The fear that Tanhill could get to Jessica punched him in the gut like a doubled fist. A picture of Sarai’s bloody, lifeless body flashed before his eyes. Jessica’s happy, smiling face appeared in contrast. He knew how quickly those smiles could fade, and he’d do everything in his power to prevent that from happening.

He didn’t know when it had happened or how. He certainly hadn’t wanted it to, but he had come to care for her—more than care. They were comfortable with each other, and the hours away from her were torture. Empty and lacking.

He missed her easy laughter and quiet patience. He missed her gentle touch and the way her gaze held him captive each time she looked at him. Perhaps the day would even come when there were no longer secrets between them. Secrets that neither of them were willing to share.

A wave of warning raced down his spine. She still did not know the real reason he’d married her. That was the most dangerous secret of all.

The carriage turned the corner to his street, and Simon sat forward. “I can’t thank you enough, James,” he said as the carriage stopped in front of his town house. “Rest well. You deserve it.”

“You too, my friend.”

Simon prepared to dismount, but the Duke of Collingsworth’s fingers tightened around his arm.

“We’ll stop him, Simon. I know how worried you are for Jessica, but we won’t let anything happen to her. She’ll be safe.”

Simon nodded, then jumped to the ground and sprinted up the walk as the carriage pulled away. He pictured Jessica curled in the big chair in his study, waiting for him. She always was. It was her habit. He longed to hold her close and keep her next to him where their secrets could no longer intrude.

His steps quickened. She would probably be asleep, but as soon as he kissed her cheek she would moan softly and turn toward him. Before she was even awake, she would hold out her arms and—

A movement in the bushes to the left of the town house caught Simon’s attention. He turned just in time to see an arm lift, then heard the muffled pop of gunfire in his ear.

He hadn’t moved fast enough. A sharp jolt pelted him in the shoulder, knocking him off balance. Instinct and years of training on the battlefields of India caused him to dive to the ground.

He rolled to the side behind a large oak tree in front of the steps. He carefully looked to the spot from where the shot had come and saw his assailant running to another hiding place even closer. Simon angled behind another tree. It would not be long before he was trapped with nowhere to hide.

The gunman moved again, his tall, broad physique moving gracefully in the shadows, his overly long blond hair shimmering in the moonlight. Fury more violent than the pain in his shoulder consumed him to his very soul. It did not take a genius to figure out the man holding the gun was Tanhill.

Simon crouched low and dived toward a row of azalea bushes. He rolled beneath the low branches just as another shot rang out, the bullet hitting something just above his head. His shoulder burned like the fires of hell, but he ignored it.

Tanhill moved again, but stopped when the door to the town house opened and Sanjay and Hodgekiss both ran out onto the front steps holding lanterns high above their heads.

“Help is on the way, master,” Sanjay hollered. “Stay where you are.”

Simon rolled back under the bushes and listened to the sound of retreating footsteps racing over the lawn and down the cobblestone street. When he was sure Tanhill was gone, he got to his feet and wiped the perspiration from his face.

“Are you all right, master?” Sanjay asked, running down the steps to help Simon into the house.

Simon ignored Sanjay’s help, cursing himself with every step he took. Why hadn’t he realized an ambush was exactly the tactic Tanhill would use?

Hodgekiss held the door, and Simon stormed through the entrance as furious as he’d ever been in his life. Furious because his shoulder hurt like hell. Furious because he’d been such a fool not to anticipate such a cowardly move by Tanhill. And furious because he’d almost failed Jessica.

He walked to his study, barely glancing at the stunned look on his wife’s face. The look that said until now she hadn’t considered that one of them could be in mortal danger.

His anger rose to another level. His stupidity could have left her to face her stepbrother on her own.

At that moment he was angry with everyone. Especially himself.

He made his way across the room, stopping next to a full crystal decanter of brandy. Instead of pouring the liquor into a glass, he lifted the bottle to his lips. The liquid burned a path down his throat, and Simon welcomed the warm relief. Without looking, he knew Jessica stood behind him, waiting. If he could find a way to send her away without looking into her face he would. But he couldn’t. He took another long swallow and turned to face her.

“Go up to bed. It’s late.”

She glanced at the blood on his jacket. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing. Just leave me alone.” Simon braced himself against the corner of the desk. The wound wasn’t bad, just a graze. Painful enough to remind him what could have happened.

“But you—”

“Go to bed, Jesse. Sanjay will take care of it.”

She shook her head, the stunned disbelief obvious. “Why? Why would Colin want to kill you?”

Simon’s world froze. “How do you know it was your stepbrother?”

“I saw him from the window.”

“Hell.”

“I don’t understand. Why would he want to hurt
you
?”

“Why do you think? For the money.”

“But he can’t get the money. I don’t have it any longer.”

“No. I have it now,” he whispered.

Simon held her gaze and waited. He knew it would not take her long to decipher his meaning.

Her eyes opened wide. He knew the moment she understood.

“Oh, dear God,” she moaned, covering her mouth with her hands. “Give him the money, Simon.”

“No.”

“What good is it to either of us if you’re dead?”

Simon gripped her by the shoulder. “Don’t, Jesse—”

She twisted out of his grasp. “You knew what my stepbrother would do before you married me, didn’t you?”

He ignored the tremor in her voice, the shocked look of guilt on her pale face.

“Didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you marry me? If you knew, why did you—”

“My reasons have never been secret. I needed the money. It was worth the risk.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but it was too late to take them back. He lifted his head and gazed into her pale face. A fierce knot twisted in his gut. “Go to bed. It’s late. Tomorrow you will send our regrets for any obligations we have accepted for the rest of the week. You will not leave the house until this is settled.”

“And when, pray tell, will that be? When you are dead and Colin has found a way to lock me in an asylum?”

Before he could assure her she would always be safe from her stepbrother, she turned and left the room, her chin as high and her shoulders as rigid as they’d been the night she’d come to him to propose marriage. The only difference was her gown was no longer drab with a frayed collar and cuffs, her hair was not pulled tight in that hideous knot at the back of her neck, and she was no longer a stranger to him. His life would have no meaning if something happened to her.

He’d do whatever he must to protect her.

Chapter 21

R
osalind stormed past the timid servant who held the door to her town house and threw her cloak and gloves in a heap on the floor. She marched into the drawing room and swirled around as Colin closed the door behind him. God, she hated him.

“You bastard! You stupid, ignorant bastard! You could have killed him!”

Colin arrogantly shrugged his shoulders and folded his arms across his chest. “What did you think I intended to do, darling? Pay him a social call?”

“You said you only wanted to threaten him.”

Colin smiled. “I did. Unfortunately, he survived.”