Page 18 of The Courtesan’s Protector (About An Earl #4)
CHAPTER 17
T he next morning, Ripley sat in the parlor of a home he’d ridden by over the years, casting side glances at its fine pillars and white stone facade, wondering who stood behind its windows, but never stopped at. His father’s home. Or one of them. The Earl of Pottinger had several, of course. His grandfather, the duke, even more.
And all while Ripley’s mother had lived in her little house, mourning the loss of a love that had been so cruelly snatched from her. Eventually dying with Pottinger’s name on her lips.
The hatred Ripley felt was like a fire in his chest and it was only Jane’s gentle hand in his that controlled it. She smoothed a thumb along the top of his hand.
“I’m fine,” he lied. She didn’t respond but arched a challenging brow. He smiled despite himself and lifted her hand to his lips. “I’m… tolerable ,” he corrected.
“And I’m sorry,” she said, and not for the first time. She’d been saying it every so often all morning. They both knew why. It was only because of Nora that he was here, and Jane took responsibility for that and the pain that came with it. A foolish thing since he would endure a great deal more pain than this to help her. He’d burn alive to do that.
The door to the parlor opened and Jane withdrew her hand as the stern butler who had met them earlier stepped in and announced, “The Earl of Pottinger.”
They both rose and watched as a tall man entered the room. Ripley had seen the man before, of course, in passing, but it was always a shock to see one’s own features on visage of a stranger, even as an older version. Ripley had his mother’s eyes, but the shape of him was this man. Though certainly the earl was more a tamed dragon than a wild one.
The butler stepped out, closing the door behind himself, and the earl took a little breath before he crossed toward Ripley with a hand outstretched. “Mr—Mr. Ripley. I’m so pleased to finally make your acquaintance.”
Ripley blinked but didn’t take the outstretched hand. He wasn’t certain how he expected his father to greet him, what would have made him calmer rather than angrier, but this wasn’t it. Pottinger spoke to him like he was some stranger. Or worse yet, just the famous former fighter that men of his ilk liked to trip over themselves to meet, even though they considered him beneath him.
“My lord,” he said softly, and instead of shaking the hand still outstretched, he touched Jane’s lower back. “This is my—my—Miss Kendall.”
His father’s gaze slid to her and his brow wrinkled, like he vaguely recognized her. Of course he would. He’d likely seen her in places like the Donville Masquerade. Once again, Ripley’s anger flared. His father had continued with his mistresses and courtesans and lightskirts even though all the while Ripley’s mother had withered and died.
He clenched his teeth. He was here for Jane, not to have a long-denied showdown with his father. He would not jeopardize her ability to find out where her sister was.
“Miss Kendall.” The earl inclined his head and then glanced at Ripley and back to her. “Welcome to my home. Please, won’t you both sit? It will be more comfortable.”
He and Jane returned to the settee, the earl took the chair across from them. For a moment there was only silence until his father filled it. “I-I’ve heard your club does very well. All my friends and their sons are members. I always recommend it to people, and did so especially at the beginning when you first opened it.”
Ripley glared at him. Was this man taking some kind of credit for his success? Acting as though men came to his club because an earl had suggested it, rather than because Ripley had been a champion? A fighter because he’d had no choice?
“Am I supposed to thank you?” he snapped, that anger bubbling up to the surface.
Jane reached for him, took his hand again without looking at him. She settled it against her knee, covered it with both her own, like she was offering shelter to some small part of him. To his surprise, he felt sheltered by her touch.
“No,” the earl said swiftly. “N-No, of course not. I only meant that I’ve been aware of your success. Proud of it.”
Ripley pressed his lips together, swallowed back every retort that bubbled in his mind, every anger he’d ever felt toward this selfish, entitled man. He was here for Jane. He had to focus for Jane.
“If we’ve done enough of the pleasantries, perhaps we could move on to why Jane and I are here.”
The earl nodded. “Yes, of course. May I call for tea or some other refreshment?”
“No,” Ripley said. “Where is your son, my lord? One of your legitimate sons? He goes by Hugo.”
Pottinger’s nostrils flared slightly. “What do you know of Hugo? Why would you be seeking him?”
Ripley drew a shaky breath, but before he could say anything, Jane leaned forward. “I have a younger sister, my lord. She has apparently met your son, there was an attachment of some kind which developed between them and she…she’s missing now. There’s reason to believe he may know where she is.”
Pottinger’s jaw tightened. Once again, Ripley realized with a start how much he looked like the man. How he hated that. “What is your sister’s name, Miss Kendall?”
“Honora Winchester, sir,” she said. When the earl arched a brow, Jane added, “We have different fathers. She also goes by Nora.”
“ Nora ,” the earl repeated, but it wasn’t said in a neutral tone. No, he sounded frustrated. Exhausted.
Ripley leaned forward. “You know that name?”
His father glanced at Jane again and then refocused on him. “I…I had become aware that Hugo had met one of the young women who attends the seminary not far from our country estate. He seemed smitten, was asking me for permission to formally court her. I said no, of course.”
“Of course?” Jane asked softly, but Ripley felt her tense at the instant dismissal of her sister.
He glanced at her again apologetically. “We are a family of title and wealth, Miss Kendall. And I…I looked into your sister’s background. Although I was unaware of your attachment to Ripley, I did find out about your mother’s past…and your own. You’re a woman of the world, you must understand why a connection between my family…my legitimate family…and yours would be untenable.”
Jane turned her face slightly and her tone became brittle. “Certainly.”
“Do not turn your face away from him as if you’re less,” Ripley said, squeezing her fingers gently. “Never do that, Jane. He doesn’t deserve that deference.”
“Ripley,” she whispered. “You don’t have to?—”
“You knew about this relationship he had or desired to have with Nora,” Ripley snapped as he turned his attention back to Pottinger. “So you must know that if she disappeared, it is likely with him. I ask again, where is he?”
“See here,” his father said, almost gently. “You’re very angry, that’s apparent. I cannot just send you after Hugo to mete out some justice. Not only do I think he would be defenseless against you, but there are appearances to be maintained. Protected.”
“Protected,” Ripley repeated, all the pains he’d felt as a lonely child making new appearances. Stealing some of the control he’d so carefully crafted to protect himself from them. “You dare to speak to me about protection? To tell me you wish to protect your son when you knew about me? You must have known about my mother’s situation. And you did nothing .”
He hated that there was a quiver to his voice and he snapped his mouth shut. He didn’t want to show that vulnerability to this man. And he also knew he was dancing precariously close to the edge where the earl might simply deny Jane any further information about Hugo’s whereabouts. They could possibly still track him, but without Pottinger’s help it would take far longer. Ripley had to set his own feelings aside for her. He would not fail her as so many selfish men in her life had done before.
The earl shifted and at least had the decency to look slightly chagrined. “I know I wasn’t present for you, but look how strong it made you. It made you a champion, a fighter .”
Jane made a soft sound in her throat and to Ripley’s shock she staggered to her feet. She stared at his father, a man with fifty times her power, and held him in place with the strength of her rage.
“You judge that as a good thing? The pain people like us suffered, it didn’t make us stronger. It made us broken . You cannot break a person and then claim credit for how they survived, as if you did them a favor.” She motioned toward Ripley with a trembling hand. “Campbell Ripley is powerful and good and decent despite you, my lord. Not because you abandoned him and his mother.”
Ripley couldn’t take his eyes off her. All this time he’d fought to protect her, as was his nature. But now she stood, sword unsheathed, eyes flashing, ready to go to war without thought to the cost.
His father opened and shut his mouth, his eyes wide. Ripley wasn’t certain if that was because he was shocked that someone like Jane would speak to him this way, or truly taking in her words.
Then he bent his head. “I-I failed you, Campbell. I failed your mother. And I’m sorry.”
Ripley caught his breath. There was the apology he’d never thought he’d receive. The one he’d dreamed of as a boy when he stared at the cracked ceiling, when he listened to his mother softly cry in another room. Or watched her pack up to go live with a lover, her eyes hollow and sad as she left him with a friend or a neighbor because her current protector didn’t want another man’s by-blow around in whatever accommodation he provided her.
He shook his head. “If you are sorry, truly sorry, then you will do as I ask and tell me where Hugo is. Jane is the most important person in the world to me, the only one who has any real meaning in my life. I want to help her find her sister.”
“If he truly loves her, if he has defied your edict to walk away, then there’s no threat to him from us,” Jane said.
“Yes. That would make him a far greater man than his father. Our father,” Ripley said.
“And if he hasn’t? If he has only kept her? What then?” Pottinger asked. “You still ask me to trade away the security of one son to the other.”
Ripley sighed and looked at Jane. She nodded, as if she understood. “If he is as craven a coward as our father has turned out to be,” he said slowly, and turned his gaze back on the earl. “Then Jane and I will simply remove Nora from his company. There will be no consequence, at least none to him. Just as your kind like and expect it, entitled as you are.”
The earl let out a shaky breath, shifted on the settee. It seemed he was having a struggle and so both Jane and Ripley remained silent to allow that to continue. If it led to what they desired, Ripley could wait.
At last, the earl shook his head and said, “Hugo is my youngest son. When he came into his majority, he was gifted an estate just outside of London. It’s rather run down—he rarely goes there—but if I were to guess where he might take someone, where he might escape, that would be it.”
Jane sagged next to Ripley and he wrapped an arm around her, no longer giving a damn what his father would think of it. He locked eyes with the man. “Thank you, my lord. And now we’ll trouble you no longer.”
As he stood, so did the earl. Pottinger was very pale now, eyes wide. “I-I loved your mother.” That stopped Ripley in his tracks. “And when you say I’m a coward, that’s true. I didn’t defy my own father to be with her, much as I desired to do so.”
Ripley pinched his lips together. Some good that so-called love did him or his mother now. But it could still do some good for Jane and for her sister, and even for Pottinger’s youngest son. “If you are truly sorry for your actions, then if Hugo has eloped with Jane’s sister you will show him more consideration than you were shown.”
The earl seemed to ponder that and then he nodded slowly. “I-I cannot speak for his grandfather. The duke won’t be happy with this turn of events if it has gone that way. But I’m not powerless. I won’t deny Hugo and any woman he marries the same future and support that I would give his older brothers. I…I promise you that, Ripley.”
“Good,” Ripley said. “Then we’ll leave you.”
If the earl wished to stop them, wished to make some further connection with Ripley, he didn’t make a move to do so. He let them go with only a soft goodbye .
Jane held tightly to Ripley as they returned to the drive and the phaeton the earl’s man brought around for them. After they’d entered the vehicle and Ripley urged the horses to ride, she looked at him.
“Ripley,” she said softly.
He shook his head. “Not—not yet, Jane. I cannot think about it or talk about it yet. Let’s focus on your sister, finding her and deciding our next step.”
She reached a hand up to tangle through his hair as he drove. It was a loving action, a soothing action. “Whatever you want. Whatever you need.”
And as they drove in silence for a while, he knew that what he needed more than anything was her. In his life, at his side, fighting his demons just as she’d done a few moments before. When this was over, he hoped she’d still be there to do just that.