If He's Wicked. Hannah Howell

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СКАЧАТЬ alley outside a brothel. And what the Wherlockes had to do with his troubles, he did not know. He looked at Edgar again.

      “No, I do not want them to win, whoever they are,” he said.

      “I think you know exactly who is behind it all, Julian,” Edgar said quietly, his eyes soft with sympathy.

      Not ready to say the name, Julian turned his attention to the Wherlockes and frowned. “Just what do you have to do with all of this?”

      Chloe felt a pang of sympathy for the man. She knew the pain in his jade green eyes was not all due to his injuries. Even if he had lost all love for his wife, the betrayal still had to cut deep, and she was soon to add to his wounds. As her cousin retook his seat at the foot of the bed, she clasped her hands in her lap and tried to think of just what to say and how best to say it.

      “I believe we can leave the explanations as to how we stumbled into this until later,” Leopold said.

      “That might be best,” Chloe agreed and then smiled faintly at Julian. “We have been involved in your difficulties for quite some time, m’lord.”

      Edgar nodded. “Leopold was the one who brought you to my house the last time you were attacked.”

      “But did not stay until I could offer my gratitude for his aid?” Julian asked.

      “Nay,” Leopold replied. “You were not as sorely injured as you were this time and I felt we still had time.”

      “Time for what?”

      “To gather the proof you will need to end this deadly game.” Leopold cursed softly. “It is time to be blunt, m’lord. You know who wants you dead. Edgar knows. We know. I can understand your reluctance to speak the ugly truth aloud.”

      “Can you?”

      “Oh, aye, most assuredly. Our family is no stranger to betrayal.”

      “Fine,” Julian said between tightly gritted teeth. “My wife wants me dead.”

      “Your wife and her lover.”

      “Which one?” The bitterness in his voice was so sharp Julian nearly winced, embarrassed by the display of emotion.

      “The only one who could possibly gain from your death—your uncle Arthur Kenwood.”

      Chloe clenched her hands together tightly as she fought the urge to touch Lord Julian, to try to soothe the anger and hurt he felt. She was relieved when Wynn arrived with tea and food, including a bowl of hearty broth for his lordship. It was best if the harsh truth was allowed to settle in a little before they continued. She proceeded to feed Lord Julian the broth, oddly relieved by the way he grimaced over such weak fare in the normal manner of most patients. Edgar and Leopold moved to the table set near the fireplace to sip tea, eat a little food, and talk quietly while she tended to Lord Julian.

      “What are they talking about?” Julian asked between mouthfuls of the surprisingly tasty broth.

      “You, I suppose,” Chloe replied. “They are probably making plans to keep you alive and bring down your enemies.”

      “Edgar’s interest I can understand, but I still have to wonder what you and your cousin have to do with this.”

      “What sort of people would we be if, upon knowing someone was in danger, we just turned our backs simply because we did not know him?”

      “Quite normal people.”

      “Ah, well, very few people have ever accused the Wherlockes of being normal.” After feeding him the last of the broth, Chloe set the bowl aside and retook her seat by the bed. “Perhaps we just feel that one cannot allow people to dispose of the gentry whenever the mood takes them. Tsk, think of the chaos that would result.”

      “Enough of your sauce,” said Leopold as he and Edgar rejoined them. “Shall we plot our plots, m’lord?” he asked Lord Julian as he sat down at the end of the bed again. “Unless, of course, you enjoy indulging in a slow, catch-me-if-you-can sort of suicide.”

      “And you reprimand me for sauce,” Chloe muttered but everyone ignored her.

      “No, curse you, I do not enjoy this game,” snapped Lord Julian, and then he sighed. “I but wished to ignore the harsh truth staring me in the face. It is bad enough knowing one’s wife is cuckolding one—repeatedly. To think one’s own uncle is not only doing the cuckolding but that he and said wife want one dead is a bitter draught to swallow. I am not a complete idiot, however. You are all right. They nearly succeeded this time. I am just not certain what can be done about it. Did the man you caught say anything useful?”

      “Nay, I fear not,” Leopold replied. “He says the man who hired him was well hidden in a large coat, a hat, and a scarf. All he is certain of is that the man was gentry. Fine clothes, fine speech, smelled clean. All the usual clues. He also said that he was paid a crown to follow you about until an opportunity to kill you arose and then grasp that opportunity.”

      “A crown? Is that all?” Julian felt strangely insulted by that. “An earl’s life ought to be worth more than that.”

      “To that man a crown is a small fortune, and he was promised more if he could prove that you were dead. And, nay, there is no hope of catching anyone red-handed. A very convoluted way was set up to deliver the extra payment. One that easily allows your enemy every chance to slip free of any trap set for him. Also, proof of your death must be shown, and we cannot feign that. I am assuming that you are rather fond of your right hand.”

      “You could say that.” Julian frowned at his right hand, at the scar that ran raggedly over the back of it. “It was a near miracle that I did not lose it to this wound. A duel,” he said when he noticed the curiosity the Wherlockes could not hide. “The first and last I fought in the name of my wife’s honor.”

      Julian was beginning to feel very tired and he knew it was not just because of his wounds. It was his own emotional turmoil that stole his strength, a heaviness of the spirit and the heart. Not only had his pride been lacerated by his wife’s betrayal, but his confidence in himself and his own judgment. However, he had wallowed in self-pity long enough. Painful though it was to face the truth, he could no longer try to ignore it, not if he wished to stay alive. Soaking himself in drink and whores might have looked like a slow suicide to others, but that had never been his intent. He was certainly miserable, but not so much that he was ready to welcome the cold oblivion of the grave.

      “Edgar and I think you should play dead for a while,” said Leopold. “Aside from us, the only one who knows you are alive is the man who attacked you. He will very soon be too far away to tell anyone the truth.”

      “Your servants—”

      “Will keep the secret.” Leopold smiled faintly at Julian’s look of doubt. “You must accept my word on that, m’lord. Our family and our cousins the Vaughns have servants whose loyalty and silence is absolute.”

      “Something many would pay a fortune for. So, I remain dead. Do I hide here then?”

      “Do you trust your servants to be silent?”

      “Not all of them, no.” Julian sighed. “I still do not understand how you became involved in this mess.”

      “We СКАЧАТЬ