Page 26

Chapter Fourteen

P ressing at a stitch in her side, Anna jogged through the dimly lit, blessedly unoccupied corridors leading to Lady Wentworth’s chambers.

The enormity of what lay ahead penetrated her very bones. She reminded herself she’d managed to flee with little more than the clothes on her back—and her mother’s ruby—once before.

On the plus side, she wasn’t leaving a dead body in her wake. Not that Bolton had actually been dead.

Bolton, alive. She reviled the man for what he tried to do. Even so, she had never come to terms with having killed him, even in self-defense.

How unfortunate she had no time to enjoy the freedom from her ever-present guilt, nor any time to contemplate Caden, and what he must think of her.

What he thought? Bah. What about the awful things he’d said? Can you really blame him? an irritating inner voice demanded.

No. Definitely no time for mulling over what transpired with Caden. She must focus on survival. Her life hinged on a razor’s edge. If Angelique and Bolton got their hands on her, she’d exchange one death sentence for another.

Get the deed done, Bolton. I don’t care what you do with her afterwards. Toss her in the Thames for all I care. Do it and we’re home free. Angelique’s words before she stormed out left little doubt of the pair’s intentions regarding Anna.

Shivering, she entered the dark antechamber. She turned up one of the low-burning oil lamps and glanced around the shadowed room. What to bring? Her servants clothes, of course. A night shift? What of her tinctures and oils?

The Antechamber door creaked and swung open wide. Lady Wentworth crossed the threshold.

Anna blurted the first thing that came to her mind. “I…I have to go.” Her eyes stung. The thought of leaving this irascible woman who, against all odds, had become synonymous with home, threatened to break her like nothing else tonight had.

“I know.”

“You do? But—”

“There’s no time to talk. I packed your things and had them sent down.”

“You packed for me? Sent down where? I don’t understand.”

The older woman lifted one gloved hand, palm out.

“We haven’t the time for a lengthy discussion.

You must leave, and quickly. To that end, I’ve made certain…

arrangements.” She cocked her head as if contemplating her next words.

“You may find them slightly uncomfortable, but do bear in mind you’ll suffer this discomfort for only a brief time, and the small sacrifice far outweighs the alternative. ”

“Which is? ”

“Leaving here with Lord Bolton.”

Her insides froze. “He’s here?”

“No. But I believe his arrival is imminent.”

Anna’s head spun. Lady Wentworth knew about her marriage to Lord Bolton?

Had Caden told her? No. He wouldn’t have had time. She searched the dowager’s face.

“Anna, do you trust me?”

She’d known her employer only two years. She’d been betrayed by others whom she’d known much longer. Still. She inhaled deeply, praying she wouldn’t regret her decision. “Yes.”

Lady Wentworth’s demeanor conveyed a palpable sense of relief. “Follow me.”

***

Caden slunk back into the well-cushioned bench in the travel coach Harrison had lent him and stared morosely out into a night as black as death.

Horse hoofs clattering over cobblestones drowned out the gusts of wind tearing through the surrounding trees as the driver atop the box held the handsome pair of grays at a steady clip. Lord knew how on a night like this. Not a star penetrated the thick clouds blanketing the sky overhead.

Between the inky darkness outside and the glowing lantern illuminating the carriage’s interior, Caden could make out nothing through the small windows.

He glowered at the luxurious velvet cushions and swaying curtains that made up the entirety of his gilded cage. With a flick of his fingers he extinguished the lamp and plunged himself into a profound blackness which matched his mood.

He rubbed at his temple, near his uninjured brow. His head throbbed with a dull ache, whether from his first injury, or his second, or from plain, bloody frustration, who could say? And now a smattering of raindrops beat against the carriage doors and window panes. Perfect.

He rapped on the trap above his head.

The driver slowed the grays to a roll and slid open the trap. “Aye, sir?”

“If this storm breaks, we’ll need to stop for the night. Keep an eye open for an inn.”

“Aye, sir. If’n the weather turns.” The trap slid shut.

He dug in the pocket of his great coat and withdrew the flagon of whiskey Harrison had shoved into his hand upon seeing him off.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten and partaking of the spirits would likely knock him sideways.

If only they’d mute the deafening accusations echoing in his head.

He thumbed the cork off and raised the silver pint in a silent toast to nobody before taking a long slog. He welcomed the liquor’s burn as it slid down to his empty stomach.

He was off to Chissington Hall, summoned by Zeke, as if his dramatic declaration of less than a month ago had never occurred. For once, Caden couldn’t fault his brother. This was about the earl. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of reception he’d receive.

To say their last interaction had been caustic would be putting it mildly.

The afternoon had started out so promising. He’d gone in search of the earl and Zeke with a spring in his step, eager to finally share his findings about the many uses of limestone, along with his offer to personally oversee repurposing the mill.

He’d anticipated Zeke’s reaction with a quiet sense of pride. First would come surprise that Caden had taken on the project of his own recognizance. Perhaps he’d feel chagrined about not granting Caden access to the familial funds, leaving Caden no choice but to borrow against his own investments.

Next, Zeke and the earl would listen with interest to the myriad heretofore untapped benefits of limestone to the estate which Caden would outline in detail.

Finally, and most importantly, would be the satisfaction and pleasure in Zeke’s eyes when he realized how Caden’s plans for the quarry would ultimately please his wife.

Too bad he never got the chance to deliver his news.

Standing just outside the open door of the earl’s den, he listened to the two men he respected most in the world discussing him and his many character flaws as if he were no more than a child rather than a man fully grown.

“What about Caden? Where are you going with this, Zeke?”

“Kitty and I’ve been wrestling with the serious question of what to do about him. You know very well he’s spent the last several years galavanting ‘round England, gambling, sometimes in hells by his own admission—”

“—Zeke, we’ve established the boy does not have a gambling problem.”

The boy.

“He’s not like your father, Zeke.”

Damn right, he wasn’t.

“No? Then why did he come to me asking for a large sum of money? Money which, I might add, he refused to explain his need of.”

“I’m sure he had a valid reason.”

“Like the last time?”

“You refer to what happened at Oxford? Zeke, that was a long time ago and he learned his lesson. What did he say precisely?”

“He requested family funds to finance a so-called business venture, then refused to name the venture. I told him we’d discuss it once I returned.”

“That does not sound like a gambling debt to me. Perhaps the lad simply wanted to do something on his own, without the oversight of his big brother.”

“If so, he got his wish.”

“Zeke, why so harsh?”

“Mayhap I haven’t been tough enough. I agree, he’s not lost to his vices like our father. But what kind of life is it to jump from party to party, feasting on women and wine and all manner of sport without a care in the world—except for appeasing his own carnal appetites?

"And this request for money? What’s happened to all he’s amassed? A pretty penny, I can assure you—all gone in a blink? I tell you, it sounds too similar to the last time he needed a large influx of cash.”

“You really suspect a gaming debt, then, despite all his assurances to the contrary?”

“My best guess? Yes. And if I’m right, he’s fast on the road to ruin, just like our father. And the blame lands squarely at my feet.”

Caden didn’t know what he found more offensive—the fact his brother hadn’t believed him about the money, the idea he found him a ne’er do well, or that he dared take ownership for Caden’s actions as if he weren’t a man, able to answer for himself.

And the earl’s biggest show of support was to deny Caden gambled in the hells in a manner akin to their father? Indeed he did visit the hells occasionally, he wanted to shout. He just didn’t lose.

Having heard enough for a lifetime, he marched up to his bedchamber to pack.

His brother saw him as nothing more than an overgrown child intent solely on self-gratification?

One who couldn’t manage his own life without his big brother’s guidance?

Caden was happy to prove him right and to hell with the money he’d spent on the quarry.

Zeke could choke on it when he finally figured out what he had really been up to.

Randall’s request for Caden to accompany Harrison to their cousin’s wedding party in his stead arrived that very afternoon.

It couldn’t have come at a better time. He leapt at the excuse to escape.

But not before informing the Earl and Zeke he needed neither their money nor their influence nor their time, since he was such an anathema in their eyes.

Then he left, feeling damned good about his decision to write them off.

Only now that the earl had taken ill, his actions struck him as nothing short of a child’s tantrum, perfectly illustrating Zeke’s point.

And why stop there? Witness this situation with Anna. He’d barreled in, so certain he could solve all her worldly problems without the least idea what her problems entailed—namely a husband whom she wanted back from the grave. No wonder she’d rejected his help.