A Risk Worth Taking (6 page)

He moved toward the door, thankful when he was outside in the cool evening air.

He forced one foot in front of the other, weaving from the left to the right. He could still hear the new Marquess of Brentwood’s voice, still hear the man who’d inherited Freddie’s title say what he intended to do to Freddie’s sister.

Take care of Annie. Please.

He reached inside his pocket and tipped the flask to his lips. He took a long drink.

Bloody hell. She was already pawning her mother’s jewelry to put food on the table.

Take care of Annie. Please.

He brushed Freddie’s words aside. He couldn’t take care of her. She wouldn’t be safe anywhere near him.

He picked up his pace, staggering even more in his desperation to escape Freddie’s words. Freddie was dead because of him and his sisters were alone to fend for themselves.

Take care of Annie. Please.

Griff stepped off the walk and into the gutter. He needed to make his way across the narrow cobblestoned street. Needed to get as far away as he could from Waterman’s and the conversation he’d heard between Lord Sheridan and the new Marquess of Brentwood.

“Stop, Griff!” Adam called from behind him.

Griff spun around. He lost his balance and slammed into a pair of horses pulling a carriage down the street.

The piercing screams from the panicked horses shattered the silence around him as he flew through the air. He landed on the ground with the air knocked out of his body. A sharp pain grabbed at his ribs and another shot through his head.

The last thing he saw before the world around him went black was the concerned expression on Adam’s face.

As darkness consumed him he recognized the only emotion that was strong enough to overshadow the pain—that of regret.

Regret because he hadn’t been hurt severely enough to die.

G
riff opened one eye at a time, then slowly closed each one. Last night must have been worse than usual. He hurt like hell this morning. Or afternoon. He wasn’t quite sure which. Thankfully, the drapes were still shut and he didn’t have to face the blinding sun.

He opened his eyes a slit and tried to move his head. The pain was too intense and he quickly closed them.

He needed a drink. With his eyes closed, he reached out his hand to the table beside the bed. His hand came back empty. Where the hell was the bottle he always kept there?

He attempted to open his eyes again, then slowly turned his head. A sharp pain pounded at his temples, causing him to groan. He squeezed his eyes shut and swore a vicious oath, then lay in the comfort of the soft bed without moving. He felt like hell. Like someone had hit him over the head with a club.

He needed that drink.

He forced himself to lift his eyelids and look around the room. Where the hell was he? He certainly wasn’t in his own home. Then he remembered the running horses and Adam leaning over him.

Using more strength than he thought he had in him, he threw off the bedcovers and swung one leg over the
edge of the bed. He needed to find a bottle. He needed a drink before his head split wide open.

He sat upright and clutched his fists into the covers to keep from toppling over. He wore a nightshirt. He hadn’t slept in a bloody nightshirt for years. He let his eyes scan the entire room. There wasn’t a bottle anywhere. His stomach lurched and he thought he was going to be ill.

Damn it to hell! He needed a drink!

By the time he had the nightshirt off and his shirt and breeches on, his hands were trembling so violently he could barely button his breeches. He left his shirt gaping at the neck. He knew he wouldn’t find anything to drink up here. He had to get downstairs.

He staggered across the room and out the door. A heavy film of perspiration covered his forehead before he reached the stairs. By the time he made it to the first floor, his knees felt like pudding beneath him.

“Good morning, Mr. Blackmoor,” Adam’s butler, Fenwick, said from behind him.

Griff clung to the thick, oak column at the bottom of the banister to hold himself steady. “Where’s the earl, Fenwick?”

“In his study, sir. Should I announce you?”

“No.” Griff forced himself to walk across the marble vestibule floor. “I’ll announce myself.”

Griff grabbed the handle on Adam’s study door and flung it open. Adam Blackmoor, Earl of Covington, raised his head and stared at him with a look that was part concern and part disgust. Griff didn’t care. His only thought at the moment was making it to Adam’s well-stocked supply of fine liquors and pouring himself a tall glass of anything that
would numb the pain in his head and stop his hands from shaking. He filled a glass and took several long swallows, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Adam rose and walked to the door. “Fenwick, bring a tray with coffee,” he ordered from the doorway, then closed the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone. The two brothers stared at each other for a moment. “I didn’t expect you to be up so early,” Adam said.

“Just as I didn’t expect to find myself in your home when I woke.”

“Where did you expect to find yourself, Griff? Or do you even care anymore?”

Griff ignored the sarcasm in the accusations and refilled his glass with scotch. After another swallow, he lowered his aching body to a chair beside the fireplace and sat there while Fenwick placed a tray of hot, steaming coffee on the table nearby. Griff clutched the glass of scotch in his hand and leaned back into the chair to wait until Fenwick was gone. “I have decided to go back to the country,” he said when they were alone.

“Why?”

Griff laughed. “You sound disappointed. I thought you would be glad to hear I was leaving London.”

“Well, I’m not. Your problems will follow you no matter where you go. All you will accomplish by hiding in the country is that a greater number of people will be spared seeing what a drunkard you have become.”

Griff felt his temper flare. “I’m hardly a drunkard, Adam.”

“Aren’t you? Just how normal do you think it is to have finished your second glass of scotch before nine in the morning?”

Griff slashed his hand through the air. “When I choose to have a drink is hardly your concern.”

“Then whose is it?”

“Mine! Only mine!”

Griff closed his eyes and took another swallow of liquor to help ease the pain. “I simply wanted you to know I was leaving London.”

“Why the concern now? You haven’t thought to inform me of your whereabouts for the last three months. I’ve searched for you but only discover where you’ve been after reading the scandal sheet each morning to learn about the latest brawl in which you were involved.” Adam walked to the tray and filled a cup with coffee. “I wouldn’t know of your whereabouts now if I hadn’t paid every doorman in every club in London to send for me the moment you showed up at their establishment.”

It seemed Adam was bellowing. His voice boomed louder than Griff’s head could tolerate. Griff lowered his head to his hands, but Adam didn’t stop his ranting.

“You haven’t cared about anyone but yourself for months. Why in bloody hell are you so concerned that I’m informed of your whereabouts now?”

Griff sat back in the chair and took another swallow. “Because I need a favor before I can leave.”

“You need a favor? Don’t tell me you’ve left debts all over London and need me to cover them?”

“No. Money isn’t the problem. It never has been. You know I could never spend what I inherited from Mother’s family, or what you pay me for managing Covington Estate, even if I devoted two lifetimes and more to reckless waste.”

“Then what is it?”

“I need you to sponsor Freddie’s sister into Society.”

Adam’s jaw dropped. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m afraid I am.”

“Why?”

“Because she has no place else to go. Because she’s destitute and has already had to pawn their mother’s jewelry to put food on their table. Because that was the last demand Freddie made of me before he died. To take care of his sister.”

Adam stared at him, his fixed gaze and unyielding stance exemplifying the fortitude of the respected Earl of Covington.

“It was Freddie’s last wish, Adam. I owe him. He would have done it if he’d lived, but he’s dead. And I’m alive.”

“Is that what this is all about? Your drinking and whoring and gambling until you lose all sense of what you’re doing? You feel guilty because you’re alive and Freddie is dead? Because you didn’t die instead of him?”

“Stop it!” Griff bellowed his demand louder than he’d intended. He clutched the side of his head to stop the pain. “I owe Freddie. I owe him my life.”

Griff downed the last of his drink. “Do you honestly think Freddie was shot by some would-be robber as everyone believes? He was not. The assassin’s bullet that killed Freddie was intended for me!”

“How do you know that?”

“That isn’t important. I just do.”

“You can’t be sure,” Adam argued. “It’s been three months. Has there been another attempt since then?”

Griff shook his head.

“Then perhaps it
was
a robbery. If there is truly an assassin out there, why hasn’t he tried to kill you again?”

Griff swept his hand over his damp brow. “I don’t know. Perhaps he will. Perhaps he satisfied his revenge on me by killing my best friend. How should I know?”

Adam paced the room. “So you want me to assume your responsibility to Freddie’s sister and let you go to the country and drink yourself into an early grave? You want Patience and me to fulfill Freddie’s dying wish and let you go scot-free?”

“No. I only want you to provide Freddie’s sister with the cover of respectability. I will cover all her expenses, her wardrobe, and anything else she needs. And you will not have to worry that she will not be snatched up. The generous dowry I intend to provide her will guarantee she’ll attract every eligible male in England.”

Adam shook his head. “She’s a complete stranger to us.”

Griff walked to the liquor decanters and poured himself another drink. Thankfully for Griff, the world had become pleasantly hazy, because his next words were damned difficult to say. “Please, Adam. Just grant this one favor and I’ll never bother you again. I’ll never show my face in London or be an embarrassment to you ever again.”

The two brothers, as similar as night to day, stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Adam walked across the room. With his back to Griff, he stared into the blazing flames in the fireplace.

Griff felt a sense of relief. Adam would help him. He always had. Only this would be the last favor Griff would ever ask of him. He took another swallow as he waited for Adam to answer.

“Very well, Griff. You may move Freddie’s sister into my home. Patience and I will sponsor her into Society.”

“Thank you, Adam,” Griff acknowledged sincerely.

His brother turned to face him. “Under one condition.”

“Anything.”

“From the moment Freddie’s sister steps foot in my house, you will not have another drink.”

Griff stared at him, dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious.”

“That is my offer. Take it or leave it.”

“No.”

“Then find another way to help Freddie’s sister. Sponsor her yourself.”

“You know I can’t! I’m not married. I can’t allow a single woman to reside under my roof. Her reputation would be in shambles before the sun set on the first day. I need you and Patience to help me.”

“Then agree to my condition.”

“Make another condition. Anything.”

“There will be no other condition, Griff. Either you stop drinking completely, or Freddie’s sister can stay in the country until she starves.”

“This is ridiculous! I can stop drinking anytime I want!”

“Then stop right now! Put that glass down and don’t pick up another.”

“No!” Griff had never felt such cold anger, such a violent explosion of his temper. He wanted to hit Adam. To double his fist and slam it into the authoritative expression on his face. Didn’t Adam know Griff’s guilt and grief were too devastating when he was sober? He clutched the glass tighter. “I don’t want to quit.”

“You will if you want the girl to come to London.”

Griff slashed his hand through the air. Bloody hell. He could stop drinking anytime he chose. But he didn’t want to. The pain was too great, the regret too unbearable.

“I’ll get you help. I have a friend, Dr. Samuel Thornton. He’ll help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“You do, Griff.” An even harsher expression darkened Adam’s face. “You aren’t strong enough to do this on your own.”

Griff glared at his brother. Anger raged through his body. “Damn you, Adam. Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“Because you are all the family I have. I’ll not allow you to kill yourself one drink at a time.”

Griff raked his fingers through his hair. “You don’t know. There’s no way you can understand.”

Adam’s face softened ever so slightly. “You can’t protect the world, Griff. You aren’t the cause of everything that goes wrong. You didn’t fire the bullet that killed Freddie, just as you didn’t cause the storm that took Julia and Andrew from you. You aren’t to blame, Griff. Punishing yourself will not bring them back.”