Silent Revenge (5 page)

Simon rubbed his hand over his eyes and lifted his mouth in a slight grin at his proud young friend’s loyalty. “Somehow I don’t think you would make a very good donkey.” He filled his glass with the liquid from the new bottle and took a deep swallow. His head fell back on the cushion, and he closed his eyes. “I’m afraid serving me will not count as such a noble achievement for you in this life. You did not realize you would be asked to serve such a weak master.”

“It is only when the evil spirits attack your body that you are weak. In time you will destroy their power.” Sanjay opened the heavy drapes and let the light from the full moon fill the room. “The fever has not come to plague you for a long while, master. Perhaps it has found a more agreeable soul to torment.”

Sanjay placed another log on the fire, and Simon watched the fames dance while he lifted the glass to his mouth. He doubted if he would ever destroy the evil spirits’ power.

Even the strong whiskey he’d been drinking for the past two hours did not have its desired effect. He was becoming numb, but he was not that drunk. He had not forgotten.

He had ridden to Ravenscroft earlier today, most of the way in the rain. He’d entered through the ornate wrought iron gate, no longer shiny and black but tarnished by the weather and lack of care.

He’d turned down the long lane that led to his family home with an odd mix of dread and anticipation. His chest tightened painfully as he stared in dismay at the overgrown lawn riddled with thistles and weeds and broken tree limbs.

His childhood home seemed vacant and forlorn. After taking a deep breath, he’d climbed the seven steps to push open the heavy oak door of the home that had been in his family for almost three hundred years. With slow, leaden steps he’d walked through the empty rooms, each stripped bare of what had for generations belonged to his Northcote ancestors.

The Gainsborough paintings that used to hang above the fireplace and behind the desk in the study were gone, as were the two Reynolds paintings, and a painting by a new artist, Millais. Gone, too, were all but a few items of furniture, each room devoid of everything except one or two of the older, less valuable pieces.

As he walked from room to room, his footsteps echoed on the bare oak floors. Not that many years ago, beautiful Turkish carpets would have softened his steps. Their rich colors and thick texture had transformed the massive architectural wonder into a warm, luxurious home.

The marble statues and Greek vases he was used to seeing in each room were gone, as were the delicately carved tables on which they’d sat.

The silver, the china, the glassware—gone. The jewels—gone. Every drawer, cupboard, and secret hiding place—empty. Every floor and wall stripped naked. Everything. Gone.

The last place Simon forced himself to enter was his mother’s favorite room. The room where her collection of priceless Chinese vases had been displayed with pride—eighteen in all.

Gone. All of them, gone.

Simon took another sip from his glass, then rose from his chair to escape the memory. He braced his hands against the mantle of the fireplace and lowered his head between his outstretched arms.

The fames twisted and turned in mesmerizing configurations, forcing the hazy recesses of his mind to recall the last glimpse of Ravenscroft he’d seen as he’d ridden away. The memory would have to last a lifetime. After today, he would never go back again.

“I should have gone with you to your home, master,” Sanjay said as he stood hidden in the shadows. “Perhaps I could have helped.”

It had taken Simon a long time to accustom himself to knowing the man was with him. Sanjay was always there, even when Simon did not see or hear him.

“I could walk through the empty rooms and the vacant stables, Sanjay. But I could not bring myself to visit the place where my father was buried. He rests in a quiet meadow a short walk from Ravenscroft Manor, next to my mother, but I couldn’t go near it.”

Simon eyed the glass, the ache in his chest tightening with a haunted desolation he could not make go away.

“Do not trouble yourself so, master. Someday your desire to find peace with your father will be stronger than the anger that eats at you.”

Simon shot his friend a cynical smile. “I don’t think there will be enough days in my lifetime for that to happen.”

Sanjay stood in silence, then walked to the door. “Do you desire anything else, master?”

“No. Go to bed. I can manage by myself.”

A knock on the front door, timid at first, then growing louder, interrupted Sanjay on his way out of the room.

“Whoever it is, send them away,” Simon instructed. “I don’t wish to see anyone.”

“Very well.”

Sanjay closed the study door behind him and left Simon alone with his anger. Heaven help him, if his father were here right now, he would be tempted to do what the whole of London was convinced he’d done three years ago. He’d be tempted to kill him for squandering his inheritance. For losing everything he loved.

Simon ground the heel of one hand against his eyes to clear his blurring vision, then heaved his glass into the fames, smashing it into hundreds of slivered pieces.

Bloody hell, but he hated giving up! He hated watching the money-hungry creditors stand in line, prepared to pounce on the few remains of the Northcote estate. All because of his father’s foolishness.

All because of
her
.

He fisted his hands until his knuckles ached, then took in harsh gasps of air to ease the tightening in his chest. It was good she was not here right now either, or he’d wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze until—

“Master.”

Sanjay’s tentative voice brought him out of his nightmare, but left the anger simmering close to the surface. “What?”

“There is a young lady here to see you. She says it is of the utmost importance.”

“Send her away. I don’t wish to see anyone.”

“But I think—”

“I don’t care. Doesn’t this young lady realize the hour? It’s hardly the time to pay a social call, and I’m not interested in anything else she might have in mind.”

“The lady is most insistent, master. I think it would be unwise of you to send her away.”

Simon turned his back to his loyal servant and slammed his fist against the wall. “I said—”

“Please, Lord Northcote. It’s very important that I speak with you.”

Simon turned and glared at the woman with the soft, feminine voice, then bellowed with all his might. “Out!”

He expected her to jump with fright. His booming voice could do that even to grown men, but she did not run. Instead, her eyes flashed with a spark of emotion that wasn’t quite clear. Determination? Desperation? Simon couldn’t tell.

She closed the distance between them as if she didn’t fear him in the least, her steps sure, poised. Then she faced him with a confidence he found irritating.

To his further fury, Sanjay backed out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving him alone with her.

He walked to the table to get another drink. “Who are you?” he asked, filling his glass. He steadied himself against his chair while he waited for her reply. She didn’t answer.

He turned and looked at her, the depth of emotion revealed in her eyes an unreadable confusion. Her eyes were not just dark and mysterious, but a deep blue that defied comprehension. Her skin was clear and radiant. Her lips full and lush. Enticing. Kissable.

He’d seen her before. But where?

He looked closer. Ah, yes. The Stratmore ball.

He shifted his gaze away from her, not wanting to notice the way she looked, but he found himself unable to turn from her for long.

She was not young. Twenty-three. Perhaps twenty-four. Neither was she overly tall, but trim and quite pretty. Even though she tried to hide her softness by stripping her dark hair back from her face and tying it in the most hideous knot Simon had ever seen, she didn’t achieve her goal.

She stood with shoulders braced and a proud lift to her chin. Her regal bearing seemed in contrast to the desperation in her gaze.

His first reaction was a certain curiosity about her, an interest in her. But he quickly squelched that emotion. He just wanted her gone. “I asked your name,” he demanded louder.

“Miss Jessica Stanton, my lord.”

His mind reeled in confusion. That name. Did he know her? Simon studied her more closely, trying to remember if he’d known her or her family. His mind clouded without giving him an answer. Obviously, the liquor was finally taking hold. “What do you want? You shouldn’t be here. Not at this hour. Not alone.”

Her breasts rose as she took a deep breath. “I’ve come to make you a proposition.”

Simon raised his eyebrows and stared at her crisply pleated dress with its dainty lace collar. The gown was not of the latest fashion by far, but worn, practical, nondescript.

“A proposition?” he asked behind the glass he’d lifted to his lips. He couldn’t quite stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Her look was more fitting that of a vicar’s daughter than a woman attempting to seduce him.

He slowly lowered his glass. “How interesting. I’m not accustomed to being propositioned by a woman. It’s usually the other way around.”

Simon watched an appealing scarlet blush darken her cheeks as a blatant look of indignation filled her eyes.

She bulleted him with a determined glare. “Let me assure you that you have made a grave error. The proposition I have come to offer is strictly business. Nothing more.”

He held the mocking grin on his face as he tried to ignore the heat that warmed his blood. “My mistake,” he said, lifting his glass to salute her.

Bloody hell, she was intriguing. She lifted her chin in a defiant manner, as if that simple act allowed her the degree of confidence she needed. Hidden beneath that awful hairstyle and plain gown, she was a beauty waiting to be revealed.

“It is rumored, my lord, that you are in dire need of funds. I have come with an offer that will solve your financial problems.”

Simon felt like he’d been blindsided, her words hitting him like a blow to his pride. Anger fared within him. Damn, James! Damn him for thinking he could trick him into taking enough money to cover his debts.

“For a certain favor,” she continued, “I am willing to give you all the money you will ever need.”

“A favor?”

She looked around nervously and wet her lips. “Perhaps you should sit down while I explain.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable where I am,” he answered, bracing his arm against the back of the leather wing chair. His lack of compliance seemed to leave her at a loss for words. “Who sent you?” Simon demanded.

She looked shocked. She obviously did not think he would catch on to her scheme so quickly.

“Tell me. How much did James pay you for your little charade tonight?”

“James?” She stared at him with a surprised look of wide-eyed innocence. “I was sent by no one. I have come on my own.”

He should have known James would make another attempt to give him the money. After he’d refused his offer last night, his friend had undoubtedly thought of another way to help him. He had found a very willing accomplice who would ask him to perform some minor service for her, for which she would no doubt be so grateful she would reward him handsomely.

Perhaps James thought he had a better chance to get Simon to accept the money if he felt he had earned it. Simon looked at her face. Such an open, honest face. James had been clever in his choice. The woman he’d selected certainly had an appealing look. With the flushed glow to her cheeks and her tiny upturned nose, she was quite pretty.

Simon shook his head to clear it. “And what exactly is the price you demand, my lady?”

For the first time, she looked more than a little uncomfortable. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words died on her lips.

“The favor?” he repeated when she did not answer. “What favor do you desire?”

“Your name.”

Her voice was soft, and Simon strained to hear. When he finally realized what she’d said, he stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown two heads. Bloody hell! What kind of joke was this?

“Get out! Take your twisted scheme to find a husband, and get the hell out of my home.”

He thought he saw a fleeting look of panic in her eyes. A look quickly replaced with determination.

“I cannot. Not until you listen to what I have to say. Please, my lord. Hear me out. That is all I ask.”

Simon glared at her long and hard. There was no mistaking the resolve he saw in her expression.

“You are about to lose your inheritance, Lord Northcote. I have at my disposal all the wealth you will need to pay your creditors, and more.”

Simon knotted his hands into tight fists and held them at his sides. He silently cursed the girl for playing such a cruel joke, Collingsworth for tempting him, and his father for putting him into such a humiliating position. How much more would he have to endure?

She took a step closer. When she spoke, her voice held a hint of desperation. “You would never have another financial worry. All your problems would be solved.”

He leveled a lethal glare in her direction, daring her to stand up to him. She didn’t back down. “Really?” Simon said, slamming his glass on the corner of the marred desk. “And all this money is mine for the taking?” He walked to the fireplace and looked into the brightly dancing fames. “Why do I have a hard time believing that?”

“What did you say?”

He turned toward her. “I asked why I should believe you.”

“Because it’s the truth.”

The way she stared into his face was most unnerving. As if she were evaluating him. Studying his features intimately. Hanging on to his every word.

Simon couldn’t quite believe this was happening. He sat down in his chair and rested an ankle atop the other knee. He was not going to make this easy for her. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to accept her offer. He had not come back to accept charity. Not even from James.

He propped his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers. “Sit down,” he said, indicating a tattered chair on the far side of the room.