If He's Wicked. Hannah Howell

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СКАЧАТЬ sees Leopold and me as his family. And to be blunt, his heritage needs protecting—now.”

      Julian let go of her hand and covered his eyes, softly reciting every curse he knew. He sought to stir up anger and resolve, to overcome the urge to weep like some brokenhearted child. The crimes against him were almost too great to comprehend, especially since his wife and his uncle had committed them. Yet he did believe and the grief, the pain, he fought to control formed a hard knot in his chest. Worse, this wide-eyed innocent miss knew it all, even knew of the depths he had sunk into over the last year.

      As he began to regain control of his emotions, he realized something else. This small, delicate woman and her dying sister had planned, very cleverly, a way to save his child. This stranger had buried her sister and, despite the grief she must have been suffering, had taken his child out of danger. She had made her way to London and cared for his child for three years as she waited for him to be able to take on the responsibility. What he owed this woman and Lord Sir Leopold was beyond calculating, and the debt was bound to grow as they helped him defeat his enemies. It humbled him and he found that an uncomfortable feeling. When he took his hand from his eyes, he stared at the bedclothes as he tried to conquer that feeling as well.

      “I still do not understand how you knew to do all you did,” he finally said.

      “Ah, well, I suspect you have heard a few rumors about the Wherlockes and our cousins the Vaughns,” she said.

      “Foolish things about spirits and gifts. Even sorcery and witchcraft. There have always been such rumors about your family. One should pay no heed to rumors.”

      “Nay? Not even when those same rumors have been whispered throughout the ton for generations? True, many rumors are to be doubted, but I believe one should at least listen to them. In our case, these rumors have caused wives to leave our men and husbands to leave our women. And most leave the children they have bred together as well. Time and time again. In the past, those rumors have caused Vaughns and Wherlockes to be burned at the stake or hanged or hunted down like wild beasts.”

      He frowned at her. “Are you claiming to be a witch?”

      “Nay, m’lord,” she replied as she plumped up his pillows again and helped him sit up more comfortably. “Oh, there have been some of us who have dabbled in what many call the dark arts but, nay, we are not evil witches or warlocks or worshippers of Satan.” She held out a goblet of cider enriched with healing herbs. “Drink.”

      After sniffing the drink she held under his nose, Julian asked, “What is in this?”

      “A few herbs to gentle the pain you feel and to enrich your blood, build up your strength, and hasten your healing. No eye of newt or even a pinch of magic.”

      Ignoring that, he drank it down with a little assistance from her. “Why remind me of what is whispered about your family?” he asked as she set the goblet aside.

      “Because of how Laurel and I, and even Leo, knew what was to come and what needed to be done. I had a dream, or vision if you will.” She held up her hand when he started to speak. “Hear me out first, if you would be so kind.” When he pressed his lips together and curtly nodded, she continued, “Laurel married beneath her as far as my mother and society was concerned, a good but very common man. My mother cast her out. Laurel and I had kept in touch through letters I smuggled out to her and which my aunt smuggled to me. That is how I knew when Laurel suspected she was with child. Shortly after learning that, I had a dream. In that dream I saw poor Henry, her husband, swallowed by the sea. I saw Laurel upon a bed, her body swollen with child, but there was little life there and it was rapidly fading.”

      Chloe sat down in the chair by the bed and tightly gripped the arms as she continued, “Lurking about outside the small cottage where my sister lay dying was a beautiful woman, also great with child. She wore flowing white robes decorated with bleeding hearts and skulls. The dream quickly grew very dark and frightening. The woman turned frightening as well and yet remained beautiful. She tore the dead child from my sister’s womb and then fled toward a mist-shrouded castle. Other figures, shadowy ones, flitted about and all the while the glow of life within Laurel continued to fade. I saw Henry weeping and reaching out for his wife and child. Then, suddenly, life appeared again, settling itself in the crook of Laurel’s arm.”

      “And you could make sense of that?” Julian asked when Chloe fell silent for a moment, intrigued despite his lingering doubts.

      “Some. I did know that I had to get to Laurel. My mother said that if I left, I was not to return.” She shrugged. “I have not. When I reached Laurel, she had just received news of Henry’s death. I had to help her bury him and then nurse her. She recovered a little, enough to give me false hope. I also discovered who the beautiful woman was and gathered all the information on her that I could. Laurel did as well. Soon the plot was clear and we began to spin our own plots, to prepare ourselves to thwart the woman. It all transpired as my dream foretold,” she whispered. “Anthony was the life brought into the midst of death and grief.”

      Although Julian was still not sure he believed any of the talk about visions, he asked, “You discovered the plot so quickly?”

      Chloe smiled faintly. “I was but the sister of a poor widow. People would say things to me or near me that they would never even whisper within a mile of you. Also, mayhaps, I had a natural, feminine tendency to immediately distrust such a beautiful woman. It matters not. When I first had the dream I thought I was needed to save Laurel. It did not take me so very long to see that I was drawn into that tragedy to save Anthony.”

      She watched him struggle with the tale she told. There was the hint of belief in his expression, but reluctance as well, and Chloe understood that. Few people wanted to believe in such gifts. She was pleased to see no fear. Doubts were something she could deal with, but for reasons she could not fully comprehend, she knew it would hurt if he feared her.

      “It is difficult to accept that a dream was what saved my”—Julian hesitated—“the boy.”

      “He is your son, m’lord. I have the papers to prove it if you wish to see them.”

      “Later.” He sighed. “He has my eyes,” he whispered and then scowled at her. “Why did you not come to me immediately?”

      “I doubted that you would believe me. So did Leo. She was your wife, your love, and we were strangers to you. The cost of trusting in you too soon would have been Anthony’s life. We dared not risk it. We had to wait until we felt certain you had seen the truth about her or, at the very least, knew enough to heed what we had to tell you.”

      Julian nodded in reluctant agreement, accepting the distasteful fact that he had been so enthralled with Beatrice he probably would have believed her over the Wherlockes. “I knew the child she showed me was not mine. In my heart, I knew, but I told myself many a lie until that doubt receded. The child did not have the Kenwood birthmark.”

      “Ah, aye, the little strawberry-colored mark upon the right buttock.”

      “Exactly. It was not there, but I convinced myself that its absence meant nothing. Told myself that it would have shown itself later, if he had lived. The boy has it?”

      “He does.” Lord Julian closed his eyes and Chloe knew he was feeling swamped with emotion again. “Anthony is such a pretty boy,” she said. “Leo keeps sneaking about and cutting the child’s hair. It grows into the most beautiful fat curls, you see. Just perfect for a bow or two. Green bows, of course, to match his lovely eyes.” She tsked and shook her head. “Leo even had his valet make some little manly clothes for Anthony, even though the child СКАЧАТЬ