Master of Pleasure (9 page)

Those cool blue eyes grew more subdued. “I’m sorry.”

It was nice to know there were still men in this world who cared enough to be sincere. She still wished she hadn’t given so much of herself to a ‘friend’. Knowing everyone in Shrewsbury would have made her life difficult, she traveled to London to stay with her aunt’s cousin, Mrs. Henderson, until she gave birth. She was supposed to give Jacob over to the church, but when she saw his tiny face and those tiny hands…

She swallowed. “My aunt was angry with my decision to keep Jacob and altogether stopped associating with me. Fortunately, her cousin, Mrs. Henderson, has been very kind. She doesn’t have much, but she ensures we don’t starve. I plan to use the money I make from the position you’re offering to take Jacob to Shrewsbury by summer. That way, my aunt will have no choice but to acknowledge him.”

Lord Brayton held her gaze. “So what about this Ryder?”

She averted her eyes. “He’s known about Jacob for some time but didn’t seem to take an interest in our lives until two weeks ago.”

Lord Brayton stilled his hand against the banister. “Two weeks ago? So are you associating with him now?”

“I wouldn’t call it an association. I haven’t heard from the man since I was pregnant. He appeared at my door fourteen days ago and pretends to have grown a conscience the size of Constantinople. I’m still trying to understand what he wants. It’s rather strange. He is overly focused on my son.”

Lord Brayton dropped his hand away from the banister. “Have him call on me. I’ll do more than stuff a banknote up his nose.”

She snorted. “I appreciate that.”

Realizing they’d been lingering in the stairwell too long, she paused. What was it about this man that made her feel she could talk to him about everything? It was…unexpected. She hadn’t talked to anyone so openly in a very long time. It was nice feeling as if her life mattered to someone other than herself.

She averted her gaze. “We had better get to those scones before they get any harder and we’re forced to use chisels. They’re from Monday.” She turned and finished going up the stairs.

His heavy steps followed her up, informing her that he was far from done with their conversation. He rounded her and faced her. “I will look after you for however long I’m in London. It would be an honor.”

She jerked to a halt and gaped up at him. He was serious. “I’m not looking for a benefactor.”

“I know. But I admire how you chose to take responsibility for your child despite the hardship. It says a lot about you.” There was an arrested expression on his face. “There are extra rooms in the house Mr. Holbrook and I are leasing. You and your son are welcome to take a room. It would be no cost to you.”

Everything about him was so unearthly. She searched his scarred face. “There is no need to feel responsible for me. I am not your responsibility. I am my own.”

His expression remained tight with strain. “You were heinously wronged, Miss Webster. And no one knows more than I how difficult life can be when that happens. I am here to help you. Whatever you require over these next few weeks, it is yours. All you need do is ask.”

She leaned back. “I dare say, with a generous offer like that, we might as well get married.”

He glared. “I don’t appreciate being teased, Miss Webster. I’m being serious.”

Oh save her. If she wasn’t careful, she could end up liking this one far more than she needed to. He wasn’t even trying to beguile her. It was like this was who he was. This. Reserved, gruff but…kind. “Do you always rescue every woman in need?”

He eyed her. “If I have time.” He was serious.

She let out an exasperated laugh but quickly squelched it in an effort to ensure he didn’t think she was so easily entertained. It was no use. She already liked him. It was terrible. Absolutely terrible. She didn’t need this. She was
trying
to get her aunt to talk to her. And getting involved with yet another man would only prolong the bitterness the woman was known for.

“
Leona
?” a male voice echoed from behind them on the stairs.

Leona froze. It was Ryder.

Malcolm didn’t have to be introduced to the gentleman in the stairwell to know that the dark-eyed dandy dressed in a knee-length blue velvet coat and snug black trousers was none other than the Ryder William Blake he and Leona had been earlier discussing. Annoyingly, Malcolm could see the attraction.

This Ryder had good, broad shoulders and was tall and lean, with enough muscle to fill out a satin embroidered waistcoat to the point of stretching. Beneath that expensive top hat, dark thick hair tapered neatly to the man’s collar as if it were trimmed around it that same day. The man’s smoothly shaven face was youthful in appearance and had clearly never seen hardship.

Despite wanting to knock all of the bastard’s teeth out with the back of his elbow given what he already knew of him, Malcolm decided to be cordial. For Leona’s sake. He extended a quick hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Brayton.”

Ryder’s gloved fingers tightened on the bouquet of flowers he held. “I prefer we not complicate this with civilized introductions. You and I both know aristocrats don’t wander around these parts. So whatever your intentions, leave off. She isn’t interested in associating with any men.”

What a self-entitled prick. Malcolm lowered his hand. “Then why are
you
here, Mr. Blake?”

Those dark eyes flared. “Because she and I share a son. Is that a problem? Are you saying you want to take this outside?”

The man had no idea who he was talking to. Years in the Persian navy had made him lethal. Even he didn’t trust his own strength. Not that it kept him from using it. “You want to fight?” Removing his black gloves to ensure he didn’t get any blood on the leather, Malcolm shoved them into the wool of his coat pocket. “Lead the way. Be forewarned I will not be held responsible for whatever happens next. In my opinion, you deserve it.”

Leona set a hand to Malcolm’s chest making him pause. She lifted large green eyes to his. “Please don’t.”

He swallowed, those soulful eyes and that small, trusting hand making his chest squeeze. Unlike most women, she didn’t appear intimidated by his physical breadth or the scar marring his face. She had even invited him to have scones at her table as if he were worthy of that honor. She made him feel like a gentleman. A real gentleman. Something he had always struggled to be in his mind and in his heart. “Do you want me to leave, Miss Webster?”

She shook her head, causing her pinned brunette chignon to sway. “No. But I don’t want you encouraging him, either.”

Malcolm inclined his head, letting her know he was at her command. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” Lowering her hand, she turned to Ryder and narrowed her gaze. “How dare you disrespect a man I wish to invite into my home? You have no right even being here. Have I not made that clear to you the last time you came up to the door? Now leave.”

Ryder pointed at Malcolm’s face with the tips of the red roses he held. “Are you telling me my son is associating with this?
This
? Leona, for God’s sake, someone
clearly
took a blade to his face.”

Malcolm smacked the flowers away, sending petals scattering. “How about I take a blade to yours?”

“Lord Brayton, please. There is no need for threats. Allow me.” Leona pertly pushed her way between them and angled toward Ryder, hardening her tone. “While you insult a man you know nothing about, I wish to assure you, I’m genuinely honored to be in his presence.
Honored
. This gentleman has shown me
far
more respect in the past two days, than you’ve shown me since we were ten, you worthless piece of…
tripe
.”

While Malcolm wasn’t prone to smiling, her attempt to defend him made his mouth quirk. “Now, now, Miss Webster. There is no need to bite his arm off. I can do that myself.”

Ryder lowered the flowers to his side and tapped them against his leg, sending more rose petals fluttering onto the stairwell. “Leona, what is this? Are you and he involved? Is that it?”

Leona folded her arms over her chest, crinkling her flower-patterned dress. “Yes. He makes love to me every afternoon. Do you care to watch?”

Malcolm felt his mouth go dry. He realized the woman was joking but wondered if perhaps she found him attractive enough to consider it. Not that he’d ever give himself permission to do
any
of that. Ever. Setting aside his religious upbringing, he recognized the raw and dangerous power of sexual instinct and that the only power greater than that instinct was that of self-control. Which, of course, was something his brother never understood.

Ryder whipped the flowers down the stairwell. “You haven’t changed a bit. Hell, you might as well be wearing the same gown you wore the night we called on the Duke of Clarence.”

Leona glared. “Go spit on someone else’s life for a change. You’re a married man. Have you no shame coming to my door? I knew you were stupid, but I didn’t realize you were
that
stupid.”

Ryder glared back. “Don’t talk to me about shame. I’m a happily married man.”

“Last I knew, a happily married man doesn’t bring another woman flowers.”

“I was attempting to be a gentleman.”

“You should have tried that seven years ago,” she bit out.

These two were relentless. It reminded him of the angst between his brother and Miss Silverthorn. This was
exactly
why he avoided relationships. It was…messy.

“Leona, I didn’t come here to argue.”

“Then what did you come here for? Go on. Entertain me.”

“I—” Ryder paused, as if realizing Malcolm was still around. He adjusted his coat. “I prefer you and I share in a conversation alone. It’s important we speak. I have a proposition and ask that you join me in my barouche. It won’t take long.”

She squinted. “Join you in your
barouche
? And what? Make the world think you and I are involved? God no. I’d rather be alone with a tavern full of other men and toss whatever is left of my reputation to that. If you have something to say, I suggest you say it now. Or better yet…
leave
. Because I’m not interested in what your piano fingers have to say.”

“If you want me to say it, I’ll say it.” Ryder glared. “Claudia can’t have children. She lost every babe we ever tried to have, including our most recent one. A boy. Which is why I’m here.” Pulling out a folded parchment, Ryder held it out. “I hired a lawyer to reclaim Jacob given he is my rightful son. If you sign this paper, revoking your rights, you’ll get ten thousand pounds and have the ability to see him once a month. If you don’t sign it, my lawyer will file negligence charges against you, given the way my son is living, and I’ll ensure you never see him again. Those are your choices.”

Malcolm’s lips parted. Was he serious?

Snatching the parchment, Leona unfolded it with frantic hands and in between visible breaths, read the words. Lifting her gaze, she stared at Ryder. “You want
my
child because your wife can’t give you what
I
have? And here I thought I couldn’t hate you anymore than I already do.” She bared her teeth and ripped the parchment in half. Mashing it into a ball, she whipped it at Ryder’s head. “
Get out
! Get out before I get arrested for murder!”

Malcolm tensed, more than ready to intervene.

Ryder’s features stilled. “Think of the boy, Leona. What sort of opportunities can you provide for him? What the hell do you plan to turn him into?
A glorified farmer
? Like your father was?”

Leona jumped forward and smacked Ryder, snapping his head sideways. “Better a farmer than a worthless arse like you! My father was a good man.
Nothing
like you!” She smacked him again.

Malcolm didn’t bother to stop her. The son of a tavern hag deserved it.

Ryder grabbed Leona’s wrist and shoved her toward the edge of the stairwell, his top hat tumbling off to the side.

And this is where it stopped.

Malcolm grabbed the man by the coat hard, yanking him off Leona. Snapping a forearm up to that throat, he slammed Ryder against the nearest wall with the weight of his body, causing the walls around them to tremor. Digging his forearm into that linen-knotted throat, Malcolm fiercely met Ryder’s gaze. “Don’t
ever
touch her or go near her again. Or the hands you use to make a living, will be lying on the street where they belong. Do you hear me?”