Wolfsgate Read online

  Brandon crawled over to his uncle’s crumpled body. He touched his neck to find his pulse, but it was no more. Richard’s old wig lay lopsided on his head, a frozen look etched over his wretched, paper-skinned face. Blood seeped quickly from his chest and stained his faded blue silk dressing gown. The smoldering pistol hung from William’s hand and thudded onto the desk.

  “He’s dead,” Brandon said.

  Charles shoved Geoffrey into his mother’s embrace. The boy buried his wet face in his mother’s neck. “Mummy!”

  “Oh, my darling boy. Hush, hush now.” Amanda clutched her son and moved back towards a wall of books.

  William sank to his knees before his father’s bleeding corpse, his eyes drowning in his face.

  “Mummy! I want Grandfather!” Geoffrey’s tiny hand reached out towards Richard.

  “Hush, my love.” Amanda kissed Geoffrey’s forehead, her hand sinking into his hair.

  “Now there are more secrets to keep in the family, are there not?” Brandon asked. “William, do you agree?”

  “Yes,” William said without looking up.

  “And if you want my and Charles’s cooperation in keeping these secrets, keeping your family from scandal, you must comply.”

  William raised his bleary eyes at Brandon.

  “It is common knowledge that Richard had lost his senses. You will say he had a fit, was wandering the house. It was dark, you mistook him for an intruder. You were frightened for your family’s well-being. Martin, where did you get the knife?”

  “The kitchen. Came in through there,” said Martin.

  “Excellent. Give it to me.” Martin gave him the bloodied knife. Brandon placed it by Richard’s hand on the floor. “Let’s make this theatre really believable for the good doctor, eh? You were attacked with this kitchen knife, and you took defensive action.”

  Geoffrey’s muffled crying filled the room.

  “Say you sent for me and Charles. We will bear witness to your account,” Brandon said glancing at Amanda.

  “Yes,” she said, nodding stiffly, her blue eyes clear.

  “Where are Andrew and your father?” Brandon asked.

  “In town.”

  “All the better.”

  William’s eyes remained on his father’s lifeless body.

  “Do you agree with what I’ve said, William?” Brandon asked.

  “Dear God!” William closed his eyes.

  “Ah, it’s too late for you to turn to Providence now, there’s no time for that,” Brandon said, his voice louder. “Do you agree?”

  “I do,” William muttered, his jaw sagging.

  “For the sake of clarity, I shall repeat myself. I will forgive your attempts to kill my wife and me and Martin and Charles tonight. And I will do this one last thing. I will clear your debts in the village. The gambling debts are your concern.” Brandon turned to face Amanda. “Do you understand, Mrs. Treharne?”

  “Yes, I understand,” she murmured, averting her gaze. “Thank you.”

  “Our debts are paid now, William. Paid in full.” William’s watery gaze slid to Brandon. “Answer me, you devil,” Brandon said. “There is no longer any such thing as revenge or retaliation between us, do you understand?” William mutely looked up at him.

  “You don’t deserve to live for what you did to Justine. If it was up to me alone I would kill you. But I’m not going to because it would make my wife unhappy, and I want to live a long and happy life with my family without your stain on my hands. I can’t bear the sight of you.”

  William only stared at him.

  “They saved our son from your pistol, do you hear?” Amanda said, her voice a shriek.

  William’s weary, leaden eyes slid to his wife then back to Brandon. He exhaled. “Paid in full.”

  “Have some more of the tea ma’am. Your medicine is in it, ‘twill do you a world of good for the pain.” Justine took the cup from Mrs. Shaw’s hands and drank more of the bitter, lukewarm fluid. “Very good.” Mrs. Shaw took back the cup and handed Justine a napkin.

  “Do you know that I am with child?” Justine asked.

  “Yes, milady.” The woman smiled down at Justine. “Isn’t it wonderful, Lady Graven? You’re to be a mother. Mother to the heir of Wolfsgate.” Mrs. Shaw’s soft face beamed at her. Justine swallowed, the bitterness of the medicine still coating her mouth. Her head sank back into the pillows.

  Mother to Brandon’s baby? It was inevitable, but barely hoped for. In fact, she’d never let herself hope for it. It was too secret, too precious a desire that she kept locked in the deepest place inside herself. A baby would certainly cement her and Brandon’s marriage. He had even told her he loved her. Wasn’t that every girl’s dream to have a fine man declare his love to her, to claim her for his own, and for her to bear his child?

  But everything between her and Brandon was blemished, scarred. William had once again resolved everything in his favor, and she would have to bear Brandon’s disappointment forever over William’s sour tale of a love affair between her and Martin. She could never tell Brandon the truth, for the truth was unspeakable and would spell disaster for all of them. She would never risk Brandon’s safety or that of their child’s upon the altar of William’s cruelty. Would their child be safe from William?

  A heavy tear fell from her eye and slid down her cheek.

  “Why do I not think that is a tear of joy, Lady Graven?” Mrs. Shaw’s voice poked at her chest.

  She glanced up at her and wiped the tear away. “It’s too late now.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Mrs. Shaw plucked the napkin from Justine’s fingers and tossed it onto the nearby tea tray.

  “It’s a long and intricate story, complicated by someone else who won’t stop interfering, and, I fear, never will.”

  “Be that as it may, you are married to a fine man who loves you,” Mrs. Shaw voice was firm. Justine’s head sank back against the pillow. Mrs. Shaw let out a high pitched laugh. “My lady, your husband adores you! It’s evident in the way he looks at you, the way he speaks to you, and the way he speaks of you.”

  “Mrs. Shaw—”

  “Lord Graven was destroyed when he brought you here, absolutely ravaged. Him watching over you, and you lying there like a broken doll beyond his help. I never seen the like before, and doubt I ever shall again.” Her brow furrowed and her shoulders stiffened. “It is a rare thing when a marriage includes such affection. You have that. Be grateful for it and don’t ever turn your back on it. And don’t ye tell me I know not what I speak of, ma’am. I know of menfolk. Had me fill.”

  “His ardor will fade soon enough, and things will go back to the way they should be,” said Justine.

  “And how should things be?” asked Mrs. Shaw, taking a seat in a chair by the bed, her lips pursed.

  “They way they used to be. He and I as cousins, companions,” said Justine.

  “Companion cousins? Gaw!” She shifted in her chair and shook her head. “Not the way he looks at you!”

  A physical ache spiraled inside her at the memory of Brandon’s body pressing against hers, his touch over her flesh, the tang of his salty skin on her tongue, his unfettered groans of satisfaction as he moved inside her, filled her…

  Her face heated.

  “Hmm.” Mrs. Shaw chuckled. “I see you agree with me.”

  “Still, he won’t want the baby.” Justine bit her lip.

  “Why ever not? Excuse me for asking ma’am, but is the babe Lord Graven’s?”

  “Of course it is.”

  Mrs. Shaw’s eyes bulged at her. “So why wouldn’t he want his own child, I ask you?”

  “Does he know?” Justine asked.

  “Of course he knows! Doctor’s told him. He was very emotional. He sat with you until he had to leave late in the night.” Mrs. Shaw waved a finger at her. “You are making me quite cross, you are, milady. No, ma’am. You are wrong. He wants this child. Why wouldn’t he? A sensible man with a woman like you at his side and in his bed?
Whoo!”

  “It’s a matter of trust, Mrs. Shaw. I have reason to believe he mistrusts me,” Justine said.

  “You are wrong. So very wrong. I refuse to hear another word about it.”

  Justine curled her fingers into the bedlinen. “But you don’t—”

  Mrs. Shaw raised her eyebrows and her hands high in the air. “Wrong!”

  Brandon’s bloodshot eyes strained over his wife’s sleeping face. The color had seeped back into her skin giving her back the freshness that always marked her. He had been relieved to hear from Mrs. Shaw that there had been no more bleeding. There was still hope for their babe. He clung to that hope as he would the jagged edges of a cliff on his last breath. He curled her relaxed fingers around a small bunch of pink viburnum from their garden.

  Charles and Martin had left William’s and gone on to Wolfsgate to wait for him. He had stayed on at Crestdown to assist William and Amanda with Dr. Langham’s visit and Richard’s corpse. Once home, Brandon made arrangements for Martin to board the next ship to Jamaica and head for his office there. He wrote out a letter of introduction on the young man’s behalf to his chief manager.

  Martin refused.

  “Are you mad?” Brandon asked. “After everything we’ve been through tonight? After what you did to him? You know William cannot be trusted. He might one day seek his revenge on you for your little stunt. That one such as you bested him will rot inside him forever. I promised you would vanish. This is for all of us, Martin. Most of all for you. You have no real family here, no prospects. This is a good opportunity for you, a new start. For God’s sake, man, take it.”

  Martin turned his face away from Brandon’s heavy gaze.

  “Lady Justine would want this for you,” Brandon said hoarsely, his hand raking over his throbbing scalp.

  The resignation bloated in Martin’s eyes, and he finally nodded. He shrugged on an old blue wool cloak of Brandon’s that Molly had fetched for him, and he then took the satchel in which there was a loaf of bread, cheese, sausages, and small pies. Brandon handed him a pouch of coins and the letters.

  “Mr. Montclare and Mr. Davidson will take you to Southampton and book passage for you,” Brandon said. “It is a fine place, Jamaica. A beautiful island. You may find it strange, certainly exotic, but it will be an adventure, Martin, a new life.” He put his hands on Martin’s shoulders and squeezed. “You’re a fine young man, and I thank you for defending Lady Graven, for having a mind to her all these years.” He took his hand in his and shook it.

  Martin rubbed at his eyes and climbed out of the carriage after Charles. He walked slowly to the waiting Davidson, who had hired a coach. He stopped suddenly and turned, raising his chin at Brandon as he adjusted the leather strap on his chest over the bulky wool cloak. “You’ll not forget the flowers. You’ll give them to her. You’ll tell her—”

  “I will.”

  “Be good to her, milord. She’s…” He pressed his lips together, his chin trembling.

  Brandon nodded and raised his hand in farewell. He had always felt keen annoyance and stabs of jealousy over Martin, and now he felt only respect for him. Martin had been Justine’s only witness, had protected her secret, had been her steadfast friend. He had appreciated her precious worth long before he had, and Brandon admired him for it.

  Martin slowly turned away, the wool cloak billowing behind him. There on a corner in their quiet village Brandon watched as the gloom of the cold night swallowed a grieving young man from his sight.

  “Brandon?” Justine’s small voice perforated the darkness.

  “Jus?” He got up from his chair. “How do you feel?”

  “Better.” She smiled weakly at him, and her eyes relaxed when they caught his gaze in the glow of the firelight. Brandon leaned over the bed and took her hand.

  “What’s this?” She fingered the pink blossoms, her eyes softening. “They’re lovely.”

  “From Martin. He wanted you to have them.”

  Her clouded eyes darted up at his.

  “He’s left.”

  “Left?”

  “I sent him to Jamaica.”

  “Why?”

  “He attacked William last night. Wouldn’t let him go. We struck a deal so that all this is kept between us without retributions.” Brandon sat on the side of the bed.

  “No retributions? Truly?”

  “Yes, love. I am satisfied on your behalf as per your urgent and repeated requests for peace. Last night’s events were heavy enough, indeed.”

  She studied his taut expression. “There’s more, tell me,” she said.

  “Another time, Jus.”

  “Brandon, please.”

  Brandon frowned and took her hand in his. “I know the truth now. The whole truth. It ended with William trying to shoot me with his pistol, but he killed his father instead. I pushed Martin out of the way, and Charles covered Geoffrey, who had been with his grandfather.”

  “Oh my God!” she said squeezing his fingers. “Whatever William is, he truly loved his father.”

  Brandon rubbed the back of his neck. “Amanda was there too. She knows he’s responsible for this.” Justine’s lips parted as if to speak. “Shh, love. The result is that Amanda and William are humbled in an extreme way, Richard is in a far better place, the child is safe, and Martin is nowhere near any of them and onto a new life. He’s a good man. He deserves a new start. Perhaps you and I can finally start ours without interference at long bloody last.”

  “Ours?” she murmured into the fragrant flowers.

  “Our life together.” He turned over her hand in his and touched his lips to her palm, then her wrist. His grey-green eyes rested on her. “With our child, Lady Graven.”

  “Brandon…”

  “All right, Justine, say it. I’m ready for it now.” He crossed his arms at his chest.

  “There’s no need for—”

  “For what? Go on.”

  “For your kindness.”

  Brandon’s head fell back, and he laughed softly.

  “What is so funny?” Justine winced with pain as she struggled against the headboard. “Why are you laughing at me? We’re having a serious conversation, and you’re laughing?”

  “I see my Mistress of Supreme Self-Control has returned.”

  “What?” Her brows knit together and she planted her good arm into the bed attempting to lift herself higher, but it was useless. “Brandon, you’re not listening to what I have to say.” She fell back on the pillows once again.

  “No, Justine, you’re the one not listening—to me or to yourself.” He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. “I’m not going to let you finish this ridiculous denial you’ve conjured in your head. I cannot bear it, and I swear if you go on I’ll either laugh or explode in a rage. So let’s leave it out, shall we? I’ll explain myself once more.

  “I love you. It’s not kindness or obligation, it’s bloody love. It’s all the times you’ve held my hand and helped me walk the straight and narrow. All the times you’ve stood with me through the drama of the past months. You bathed me, dressed me, fed me, put up with my temper and my mania. Made me laugh, worked beside me day and night. Poured me a glass of brandy when I didn’t deserve it, and then another and another. It’s the passion I feel for you in the middle of the night in our bed when I reach for you, and you press tightly against me.” He let out a breath, and her gaze darted down to their hands.

  “Oh Jus, it’s any time of day when you give me that half-smile. Even when you’re mad at me, and your eyes get all fiery and you stomp away, and then you come stomping right back to try to get the last word in.” A grin curled the edges of his lips as the sweet pressure of her fingers squeezing his hand warmed his skin.

  “But—”

  “No.” His thumb stroked the inside of her wrist as he tilted his head at her. “Justine, please. I know that William lied to me about Martin. I know what he did to you, forcing himself on you. I know.”

  Justine blanched, her
gaze dropping down to the delicate flowers in her hand.

  “They were trying to force you to marry me,” he whispered. “And you had refused?”

  She nodded.

  “So he assaulted you.”

  “He was so angry with me. He—”

  “He humiliated you, hurt you in the worst possible way.”

  All the miserable, horrible cards were face up on the table now. She could finally be free of it. Be free of William, the fear, and all the lies crafted upon more lies. Justine’s grip on the flowers tightened. Her lower lip quivered.

  Brandon’s nostrils flared. “What is it? Tell me.”

  “He told me he was pleased that I could no longer marry properly. That any man in his right mind would always be suspicious of me and eventually turn me out. He had made it so I was only fit to marry you in your mad, half-dead state. That if you were ever to return home and bed me, my…condition would be a humiliation for you.”

  “What a clever little bastard.” Brandon took in a deep breath. “We proved him wrong. We’ve deprived him of that satisfaction, just as you said.” She glanced away, but he turned her face back towards his.

  Brandon’s brow wrinkled. “Let me say this once and for all, Justine. You keep saying you’re not worthy, you’re sullied. That’s not true. You’re stronger than that. You’ve pulled yourself up and walked on after all the things he’s done to you. You’ve faced him since, been in the same room with him, been civil to him in public and alone, carried yourself with dignity. You’ve taken care of yourself, gone out into the world, not scurried away into a hole somewhere and given up. I can only imagine the unbelievable amount of strength that requires.”

  “Brandon—”

  He shook his head. “And do not assume how I feel about it and try to give me an easy excuse to reject you as any other man might. I’m not any other man. I’m the manic egotistical bastard who adores and admires you.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m the man who loves you.”

  Her chin trembled, her eyes were glassy. He bent over and brushed her palm with his lips.

  “You’re not sullied or unclean,” he whispered. “You’re bright and clean. The bright and clean I’ve barely ever known and have always been missing. I’m not letting go of it for anything in the world. You took a risk in bringing me home and living with me. And you were right to enjoy what we have between us, to reach out and grab at life. You are so bloody brave. I want that too. I want to really live. I want us. Together.”