Vexing the Viscount (12 page)

Adams lifted her hand and kissed it softly. “A pleasure indeed. I can see why you might have given up your vow.”

Braden clenched his jaw and smiled slightly at his friend and business partner. “It was hardly a vow.” Of course, that was exactly what it was and now that both his friends had reminded him of it in one night, he felt his frustration growing. He had to get the conversation off Tia.

“Who was the man Jonathon was fighting?” Braden asked.

“Evan Chambers.”

“Yes, but
who
is he? I have never heard of him before the runner told me his name.”

“No one of any significance. The third son of Mr. Richard Chambers. A banker in town.”

A banker? Dear God, had Jonathon tried to get a loan to carry him until his allowance next month?

“Chambers?” Tia whispered.

Braden looked down at her pale face. “What do you know about him?”

“Your brother told me Chambers was the one who encouraged him to take the . . .”

“The what, Miss Featherstone?” Adams demanded. “You need to tell him what you know about this mess. And your involvement.”

“My involvement?”

“Her involvement?” Braden asked at the same time. Tia had better not be involved in this situation. She had access to opium for medicinal purposes. If she had anything to do with his brother's addiction, he would never forgive her.

“Perhaps we should take this out of earshot of others,” she wisely recommended.

Her suggestion only raised Braden's suspicions of her. “Very well, let us talk in the office.”

Adams slid back a door and they entered a dark corridor. He led them back to an office where two people sat counting money. “Liam, go check on the faro table. Mr. Blackwood seems to be winning an unusually large amount. Simon, give Weathers a break at the front door. Tell him to get some supper.”

“Yes, sir,” they answered in unison and quickly departed the room. Both gave Braden a quick nod.

“Now, what exactly is your involvement in this situation, Tia?” Braden asked as he closed the door to the office.

“Nothing. Jonathon and I had become close friends while he was staying at the estate.”

“She's from the estate?” Adams asked.

“Not now,” Braden replied.

“As I was saying,” Tia said with a pointed look at Adams. “We had become close friends. That's when he started to confide in me about his past. He told me about . . .” She paused and gave Braden a questioning look.

Braden nodded, understanding she wasn't sure if she should speak of this in front of Adams.

“He told me about the opium. He admitted that his intake had become out of hand, but you were helping him. I asked him how he had started, assuming it was due to a physician giving him too much when he was hurt in some manner. But he told me it was a man named Chambers. He had told Jonathon how enjoyable it was when he ingested the drug.”

Braden closed his eyes. Like Tia, he had assumed it was a physician who had started the intake of the drug. “Is there anything else you haven't told me?”

Tia shrugged. “I do not believe so. I had forgotten about Chambers until I heard his name.”

“Where can I find him?” Braden asked Adams.

Adams wrote down an address. “That is his father's address. I don't know where Chambers is staying while in town. I'm sure his father could tell you.”

“Thank you. If you hear anything, please let me know.”

“Before you go . . .” Adams unlocked a drawer, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to him. “For last month.”

“Thank you.”

Tia glanced between them both, but kept silent. Braden assumed she wanted to question him about the envelope, but perhaps realized she had no right.

“Good evening, Miss Featherstone,” Adams said with a quick bow. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“And you, Mr. Adams.”

“Come along, Miss Featherstone,” Braden said tightly. “We should be leaving now.” And going back to his home, where she would expect him to make love to her.

Oh, dear God, how was he going to resist her?

T
ia's hands trembled as she clamored into the carriage. But as she sat back against the leather squabs, she noticed a difference in Middleton. He sat across from her stiffly with his arms over his chest. His lips were pressed into a tight line, as if he were angry about something. Perhaps he'd hoped for a more positive outcome tonight.

“Are you all right, Middleton?”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “I am fine. Only worried for my brother.”

“I understand.” She didn't know how she could have missed the concern on his face. She wanted to ease his burden and reached over to touch his knee. “At least now we have some information.”

“And yet, we still do not know where he is,” Braden replied in a harsh tone.

Taken aback by his demeanor, she removed her hand from his knee and sat back. Not knowing what else to do, she glanced out the window as the dark streets of London flew past. The man was nothing but contradictions. At times, he treated her rather rudely and other times seemed almost protective of her. He could be cold and not talk to her and then speak of his brother's issues. Yet, he never talked about his past.

She doubted he would tonight, but maybe he could tell her more about Jonathon. It might give her some insight into how his problems started. “What was Jonathon like as a child?”

He turned his head and scowled at her. “Back to your infatuation with the boy?”

“No,” she replied, wondering why he always pushed her away. “I thought if I learned about his past, it might help determine why he started with the opium.”

“He was a fine young boy. The light of my father's eyes.”

“And you weren't?” she whispered.

“No.”

“Your mother's, then?”

“No.” He glanced away. “I thought we were discussing Jonathon, not me.”

“It might be good to hear about your childhood too. I should think it had an impact on Jonathon's upbringing.” Perhaps that would get him to tell her about his childhood.

“Not likely. When I was home, my parents spent their time away from me as much as possible. Once my father died, I had to find a way to support my mother and brother.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

Tia closed her eyes, trying to imagine how difficult it must have been for a ten-year-old boy to find a position to bring money in to support them. “How did you do that?” she asked in a soft tone.

“Doing unspeakable things.” The carriage rolled to a stop in front of his house. Middleton jumped out of the carriage and held a hand out to assist her. They walked up the steps in silence.

“Good evening, my lord, Miss Featherstone.”

“Nelson, have a brandy poured in my office. I have some papers to look over,” he said harshly.

“Would you like company?” she asked hesitantly.

“No, go to bed.”

“You're not coming to bed?” Wasn't tonight when he had said he would make her his mistress, make love to her, and show her how to please him? She should be happy he wanted to work and she wouldn't be forced to accept him into her bed. Except a part of her wanted just that. As much as she'd told herself he was all wrong for her, there was an attraction she'd never felt for another man. A very dangerous attraction.

“Go to bed, Miss Featherstone.” He walked down the hall before she could reply.

Feeling rejected, she walked to her bedchamber, where Mary waited for her.

“How was your evening, miss?” Mary asked as she helped removed Tia's gown.

Tia shrugged. She had no idea how to describe all that had happened tonight to the maid. Perhaps someone born and raised in Society might understand the oddities at the party tonight. But she doubted either a lady or a maid had been in many gaming hells. Few even let women inside their hallowed halls. “It was fine,” she finally replied, stifling a yawn.

Maybe it was best that Middleton didn't want her tonight, although his rejection stung her pride. What was wrong with her that he didn't want to make love to her? She shouldn't care, but she did. “Ow!”

“Sorry, miss. I didn't mean to jab you with the pin,” Mary said quickly.

Tia slid a glance toward her maid as she hurriedly put all the pins in a decorative jar. Mary appeared a bit nervous tonight. “Are you all right, Mary? You seem to be in a rush.”

She inhaled and then blew out a breath. “No, miss. I am well. Just tired and wishing for my bed.”

“Once you remove my stays, you can go to bed. I can manage the rest.”

“Thank you, miss. You and his lordship are most kind.” Mary swiftly untied her stays, put the clothing away, and said, “Good night, miss.”

“Good night, Mary.” Tia put on her night rail, then sat at the small dressing table and removed the pins from her hair. She wished she knew for certain if Middleton would be joining her. If he did, she wanted to leave her hair down. Not knowing for certain, she quickly put her hair in a queue. Unable to sleep, she picked up a book and stared at the words.

The sound of Middleton's voice carried from the study and made her pause from her reading. Who would he be yelling at? It was nearly one in the morning! She picked up a shawl and tossed it over her shoulders before heading down the stairs. Nelson met her at the door to Middleton's study.

“Who is here, Nelson?”

Nelson shook his head. “I only went downstairs a few moments ago. There was no one here.”

Tia bit down on her lower lip and listened to Middleton's rant.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. You were doing so well at the estate, only to return here and revert to your foolish ways!”

A short bout of silence followed.

“How dare you say that to me, your own brother? You are the one who brought shame to this family, not I.”

Tia's mouth gaped. “It's Jonathon, Nelson. He must have come in after you went downstairs.”

Nelson's brows furrowed as he shook his head. “I'm quite certain the footman at the front door would have notified me.”

She reached for the handle and stopped when he said, “Miss, if that is Mr. Tavers in there, I doubt his lordship would like you to interfere.”

“You might be right, but my concern is I don't hear Mr. Tavers's part of the conversation. He might be hurt.” Without another thought, she opened the door and entered the room.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Tia scanned the room. “Where is Jonathon?” she whispered.

“Right over there,” he said, pointing to an empty chair by the fireplace. “And what would make you think coming down here with no clothing on was a good idea? Anyone might see you!'

Panic surged through her mind as she tried to determine what was causing his delusions. There was no one else in the room except Nelson, who stood at the threshold staring at them both. How much brandy had Middleton ingested in an hour? “I am wearing my shift, Middleton.”

“Sweetheart, you have a shawl covering your nakedness and nothing more. Now Jonathon and my own butler can see your beautiful body.” His voice changed to a husky, slurred tone as he approached. “Maybe that is the way you like it? Do you want people to watch as I fuck you?”

She slapped his face and then drew back in horror. His eyes were dilated almost completely. He was not drunk. “Middleton, open your mouth.”

“All right,” he said and then closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

“Are you thirsty?” His mouth appeared terribly dried out. Her suspicions increased. “Nelson, light a few more candles for me.”

“No,” Middleton said, drawing back toward a darker corner. “It's too bright in here already.”

“Oh, God, not again.” Tia turned toward Nelson. “Find a couple of footmen and get his lordship to bed now.”

She started to run from the room, but Nelson caught her arm. “What is wrong with his lordship?”

“I think he's been poisoned.” She pulled away from his grip. “I have to get my bag and make sure I have what I need.” She ran from the room, lifting her night rail up to her knees as she raced up the stairs. “Get Mary too. I may need her.”

“Of course, miss,” Nelson shouted up to her as he hurried to wake an extra footman.

Tia hurled open the door to her room and found her bag of herbs and things next to the linen press. Strange, but she didn't remember moving it there. Perhaps one of the maids had been tidying up today. With a shrug, she picked up her bag and followed the footmen attempting to carry Middleton to his room as he laughed like a child.

Her heart pounded in fear as they laid him on his bed. She was certain what had caused the poisoning, but had no idea who would try to kill him.

“It's bloody hot in here,” he grumbled and then again as the footmen struggled to get his clothing off. “Would someone please extinguish those candles?”

“I need one or two on for now, my lord,” she said softly.

“Beg your pardon?” he said. “You're speaking too low.”

“It will be all right, Middleton. I'm going to help you.”

He laughed. “Nothin' wrong with me.”

She touched his forehead and he felt heated. This was happening all too quickly. She had only dealt with one other case like this and . . . She refused to think about what happened. Once the footmen had finally undressed him to his drawers, Nelson looked over at her.

“Miss, it's quite improper of you to see him like this.”

Tia laughed softly. “Mr. Nelson, I have been doing this work since I was a child.” She wanted to speak about the ailment, but not in front of the footmen. Right now, the only person she trusted was Nelson. “Please dismiss the footmen. If we need them, we can call for them.”

He did that and then came back into the bedchamber. “What is wrong with his lordship?”

“Belladonna.”

“What is that?”

“A poisonous plant.”

Nelson's eyes narrowed. “Who would do such a thing to him? He is a far kinder master than the previous viscount. And where would someone get such a plant?”

Tia had a dreadful premonition about where the drug came from. If she was right, it meant someone in the house had done this to him. Her hand shook as she opened her bag, praying she had what she needed. Finally, at the bottom, she found the small bag of black powder. “Nelson, I need a glass of water.”

“Yes,” Middleton mumbled. “Dreadfully thirsty.”

“Yes, miss.” Nelson walked to the basin and filled a glass. He handed it to her and then asked, “What are you doing?”

“Giving him charcoal. It helps to absorb the poison in his belly.” And hopefully this time, it wouldn't be too late. She took the glass and stirred in a teaspoon of the powder. “Help him to sit up.”

Nelson moved behind him and lifted him into a sitting position. Tia helped Middleton drink the liquid down.

“Nasty bitch,” Middleton muttered. “Why is it so dark in here?”

“Oh God,” she whispered. She held up two fingers in front of him. “How many fingers am I holding up, Middleton?”

“Too blasted dark to tell,” he replied.

“What is wrong?” Nelson asked.

“He's lost his sight.” Seeing Nelson's shocked face, she continued, “It should come back as the poison leaves his body.”

“Now what?”

“We wait.” She looked up at the older man's face. “Go to bed. There is nothing else you can do for him now. I will stay with him.”

“Can I trust you?” he asked seriously.

She tilted her head and looked at him. “Would I be trying to save the man I poisoned?”

“I suppose not.”

“Nelson, what happened to Mary? I asked that she assist me.”

“I am not certain. I will check on her.” He moved to the door. “If there is any change, you will let me know immediately.”

“Of course.”

It was a long night spent in worry for her. Middleton worked his way through many of the stages of belladonna poisoning, from the blindness to the retching. Finally near dawn, he fell asleep. But when she wasn't busy, the memories of the last case she saw of this poisoning haunted her. Angry with herself, she pushed away the scarring memories and gave her attention to Middleton.

His lips looked less cracked than before, but his fever was still raging. She prayed the charcoal was working. In another hour, she would give him more. She pulled her bag up from the floor and searched inside until she found her vial of belladonna. In small doses, it was good for some female issues, along with other assorted complaints. But it was never to be used in higher doses because it was so poisonous. Picking up her near-empty vial, she knew the poison had come from her bag.

A tear fell down her cheek. If she hadn't run from her position at the estate, this might not have happened. It was her fault and if he died like that poor child, she would never be able pick up that bag of herbs again.

“Yes,” Middleton started to mumble. “Yes, please.” He writhed in the bed as if his fever was getting worse.

Tia felt his forehead as best she could while he tossed back and forth, but he felt no different from before. He might be hallucinating still.

“No,” he said this time. “Not right. God, but I want her.”

Tia wondered whom he was imagining in his dreams. Penelope, perhaps? Although Tia had no idea what he saw in that bitch.

“Yes, put your hand on my cock.” His own hand reached between his legs, stroking his thickening member.

Tia stared, mesmerized by what she saw, and briefly thought she should look away . . . but couldn't.

“Your mouth,” he muttered. “That's it.”

Her eyes widened as his hand continued to stroke his hard cock. A part of her wanted to slide the light sheet down below his hips. She refused to do such a thing to a man hallucinating about another woman.

“Yes, just like that,” he groaned. Suddenly his back arched and his hand stilled. “Oh God, Tia,” he whispered. “So good.”