Scoundrel Ever After (Secrets and Scandals) (24 page)

“She did, but it was due to Gin Jimmy. He wanted me to make sure she died, but I couldn’t do it.” He looked out at the black night, regret swirling in his gut.

Sevrin leaned slightly forward. “You couldn’t kill Lady Aldridge?”

Ethan shook his head. “I tried to save her.” He’d worked to persuade her to leave London, but she’d refused to leave the house she and Aldridge had spent most of their time together in. She’d been devastated by his death last spring. Though Ethan hadn’t caused the earl’s demise, he also hadn’t been able to stop it, which served to bring out every shred of guilt Ethan had worked to bury over the years. It was perhaps this guilt that was driving him to face Bow Street. That, and Audrey. He wanted to deserve her, though he feared he never would.

Sevrin settled back against his chair. “What changed? You were—to use your own word—ruthless, in our dealings with you. I still want to punch you every time I see you.”

Ethan didn’t doubt it. “I wouldn’t try to stop you, despite your deadly hook.” Sevrin had hit him once, and it had been enough for Ethan to want to never be on the receiving end of his fist again.

Sevrin fixed him with a direct stare. “What happened? You were a king—or so it looked to me when you brought me to your den. Why would you want to leave that?”

Ethan laughed, but it sounded empty, even to his own ears. “Everyone licks my feet because they’re afraid. I never know who my friends are.” He couldn’t bear Sevrin’s scrutiny another moment so he studied his whisky. “I don’t have any friends. When you agreed to fight for me, I thought . . . I imagined we might’ve been friends. If things had been different.” He looked up at Sevrin. “I regret what I did to you—and even more what I did to Philippa. Seeing you together . . . your love for each other.” He took a fortifying drink. “I didn’t want to be alone anymore.”

“A criminal with a heart.” There was a touch of something in Sevrin’s voice—disbelief, wonder? “I didn’t know such a thing existed.”

Ethan scowled. “I don’t have a heart, just a growing conscience. I don’t like doing what I have to do. I never really liked doing it, but I didn’t have much of a choice.” He lifted his gaze to Sevrin’s and stiffened his spine. “Besides, I was bloody good at it.”

“There’s the Jagger I know,” Sevrin said softly.

Anger sparked through Ethan. He banged the glass down on the table in front of him, his body quickening into fight mode. “You know
nothing
. I’ve more wealth than I can spend, and I command the respect and admiration of a good many men.”

Sevrin set his glass down also, and he leaned forward, his nostrils flaring. “Do you want that, or do you want to be a gentleman? You can’t have both—at least not the way you’ve made yourself.”

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” Ethan stood as he shouted, fury grinding through him. He went to the window and rested his forehead against the cool glass. It soothed the ragged edges of his temper. He closed his eyes. “I don’t want to be a criminal anymore. Problem is, it won’t let me go.”

“Because of this charge from Bow Street.”

Yes and
. . . “No. The things I’ve had to do since I took Audrey out of London.” He turned from the window and released the anguish stored deep in his bones. “I’ve had to steal. I’ve had to kill. To keep her warm and well and safe.”

Sevrin’s eyes glittered. “That’s not being a criminal. I would do anything to protect Philippa.” He dropped his gaze for a second. “Though I understand feeling guilty. I’ve spent many years battling that emotion and I still wonder if I’ll ever truly defeat it.” He looked up again. “Fortunately, I have Philippa at my side to help me.”

Nothing he said could’ve gutted Ethan more. He turned back to the window. It was ironic that he’d finally found someone he wanted to trust, who he wanted to trust him, and that her importance caused him to commit acts that ensured she never did.

“Are you in love with her?” Sevrin’s question hit Ethan in the back like a dagger.

Ethan tensed, but didn’t turn. He had no idea what romantic love felt like. He’d loved his mother and his father, but in an adoring, childish way. “I don’t know. I don’t love anyone.”

“Not even your brother?”

He’d grown very fond of Jason in the past few weeks. They’d reached a brotherly accord, a kinship Ethan had never imagined, but love? “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You said you stole and killed for Audrey in order to keep her safe. She’s clearly important to you. Would you have done those things if she hadn’t been at stake?”

Ethan tried to think but couldn’t find an answer. He honestly couldn’t imagine being without her now. Consequently, he couldn’t answer the question. So he said the only thing that filled his mind. “I don’t want to leave her.”

Sevrin came to the window and stood a few feet away. “I left Philippa once because I thought it was the right thing to do for her. I made a decision that affected her without discussing it with her first. It was the worst decision I ever made. Thankfully she’s much smarter and braver than I am and came after me.”

What was he saying, that he should talk to Audrey first? Just like he should’ve talked to Jason weeks ago, shared his plan, solicited his aid. But that took trust, something he never gave. Yet he’d have to give it to Audrey if he wanted any kind of future with her. If she’d even have him. “You heard Audrey. She doesn’t want anything more to do with me.”

“Then go back to London and see how leaving her feels. I’m willing to wager you’ll figure it out by the time you hit Plymouth.” Sevrin shot him a look that clearly told him he was an idiot if he left. “Whatever you decide, I promise we’ll keep Miss Cheswick safe.”

Ethan wanted to fix him with his most imperious glare, one that wouldn’t brook any failure, one he used on his men all the time. But he was too overwhelmed with trepidation and uncertainty. All he could manage was to say, “Thank you.”

A
UDREY DISMISSED THE
young maid Philippa had sent to help her prepare for bed. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to have assistance with her clothes and her hair—such as it was. Thankfully, her curls were in much better condition since taking a bath. The maid had brushed the heavy mass until it was nearly dry. It ought to have relaxed Audrey, but she was as tightly wound as she’d been hours ago when she’d left Ethan downstairs.

She’d known he was a criminal, had seen him kill firsthand. However, the things he’d revealed tonight had been far more personal. He’d hurt people she knew and cared about. It made everything he’d done, everything he was, far more real.

A slight rap on her door made her tense even further. She got up from the chair by the fire, her legs feeling like brittle wood, and made her way slowly to the door. “Yes?”

“It’s Philippa. May I come in?”

Audrey opened the door. “Please.”

Philippa offered a warm smile, then came in to give her a swift but strong hug. “How are you?”

“Better after a bath. Thank you for loaning me your maid.” Like Miranda and Fox at Bassett Manor, they kept a relatively small staff and didn’t have a spare ladies’ maid. “And this dressing gown and nightrail, and . . . I could go on, but I’ll stop.”

“Of course.” She closed the door and walked with Audrey into the bedchamber. “Have you given any thought to what you’d like to do?”

“I’m not sure. Can I just stay here forever?” She smiled weakly as she perched on the edge of her bed. “Not really.”

“You could if you wanted to,” Philippa said, sitting beside her. “Will your parents mind?”

Philippa was a good enough friend to know that Audrey’s parents gave little thought to her other than to be disappointed by her failure to attract a husband—a failure her father had been assured of for years, which only made his disappointment both puzzling and frustrating. Would they mind if she disappeared? Given the way they’d stopped her from running to America two years prior, she supposed so. Still, removing herself to quiet spinsterhood in Cornwall might just be acceptable to them. The question was—would it be acceptable to Audrey? It would have to be. The dream she’d had of running away with Ethan was dead.

“Ethan and I pretended we were eloping to America.” She wasn’t sure why she shared this, but her emotions just seemed too great.

Philippa’s eyes widened. “Oh.” Then her gaze narrowed shrewdly. “Is that all it really was, pretend?”

Audrey recalled the kisses they’d shared in his bedchamber, the waltz outside the assembly, the spirited evening with Fox and Miranda. Those had been the happiest two days of her life. “Somewhat.”

“You didn’t know what sort of man he was then.”

Audrey looked at her friend. “I did. But I believed he was trying to change. I still think he is. He doesn’t want to return to his criminal life. Philippa, if you only knew what he was forced to endure. He was left alone to fend for himself at a young age.”

Philippa’s gaze was kind. “I’m sure he’s had a difficult life, and I can’t fault him for trying to change. Lady Jocelyn Carlyle told me something last month when we were in London. We were talking about Lydia and Jason. Jocelyn asked if I knew Mr. Locke—Ethan. The manner in which she asked led me to believe she might know him as I’d known him—as Jagger.”

“And did she?”

“Yes. He’d been involved somehow in a theft ring that had stolen something of Jocelyn’s. Her husband—Lord Carlyle is a former magistrate—helped to recover the item. Apparently Lord Aldridge had been behind the theft. He’d given the piece to his wife, which is how Jocelyn had discovered it. Facing exposure, Aldridge had tried to find a way to avoid any charges against him. However, his criminal cohorts prevented him from going to the authorities by killing him. Jocelyn said she and her husband witnessed the entire thing.”

Audrey inhaled sharply. “How awful.”

Philippa nodded. “Indeed. Jagger was there too, and he stopped the criminal from killing Jocelyn and Carlyle.”

Audrey’s chest expanded. “See, he
is
trying to change.”

“Maybe, but it’s going to be a long while before I’ll forgive him. I can’t forget what he’s done.” She touched Audrey’s hand. “Can you?”

No, but neither could she forget his touch, his kiss, the way he looked at her. All of it was intertwined to make him the complicated gentleman criminal known as Ethan Jagger Locke Lockwood.

Philippa gave her hand a pat and stood. “Sleep on it. Jagger plans to leave in the morning. Audrey, what sort of life would you have had with him?”

Was he really going to leave? Though she’d told him he should—without her—the reality of it cut into her heart. “What sort of life do I have now? I have no idea what awaits me in London. What’s more, I’m not certain I care. I chose to leave with him. I preferred an unknown adventure to known tedium. I had no marriage prospects. My father won’t finance any more Seasons for me. He wants me to become a lady’s companion. He says it’s the best I can do.”

Philippa’s eyes shone with pity. “Oh, Audrey, I had no idea.”

No one did, because Audrey had never shared the true humiliation that was her life. To her parents, especially her father, she was at best a pawn, and at worst, a hindrance. She’d long ago accepted her lot, but that had been when she’d assumed she’d marry and establish herself as someone’s wife and mother. But with no marriage proposal, year after year, that expectation had withered and died. When the blacksmith’s son had told her of his desire to go to America, she’d leapt at the opportunity to reinvent herself in a new place. Her parents had convinced her it had been reckless, though as she’d resumed her stagnant life she’d decided it hadn’t been, not when she truly believed there was nothing beneficial about her life in London. That’s why when the chance came up again—with Ethan—she hadn’t hesitated. And this time she wouldn’t have to go back to her useless existence. Her reputation would be tarnished enough that it would likely be impossible.

Audrey forced a smile, her lips feeling tight and thin. “It’s all right. I’m sure things will work out for the best. They did for you, didn’t they?” As they had for Lydia and Olivia, Audrey’s other dear friends. So many happy endings; it seemed unlikely she would find one too.

With a last empathetic look, Philippa turned and left. Audrey lay back and stared at the canopy overhead. It was hung with a rich, gold velvet, with drapes that pooled on the floor at each post. The bed itself was a massive piece of furniture, rather masculine in its size, but the gold hangings and stitched coverlet gave it a feminine touch. She ran her fingers over the outline of a leaf. Who had worked this thread and when? Had she lived here? Mayhap she’d been a spinster like Audrey would be—doomed to a life alone and without love. Had anyone even missed her after she’d passed? Would anyone miss Audrey?

She didn’t know how long she sat there nursing her maudlin thoughts, but the click of her door opening and closing drew her out of her reverie. “Philippa?”

Ethan moved further into the chamber. “No.”

He prowled like a cat, his booted feet moving without sound. He wore only his shirtsleeves, the collar open at his throat. His dark hair was carelessly rumpled, as if he’d been lying down, but he’d shaved his face, leaving every contour and dimple naked and overwhelmingly attractive. His gray eyes raked her from head to foot with a sense of possession.