That Perfect Someone (13 page)

Chapter Twenty

S
HE HAD A PISTOL
on her,” Ohr said when he returned to the room later that day. “She didn’t try to kill you, did she?”

“Just my sanity, she’s good at threatening that.”

Richard discounted the possibility of Julia’s killing him in the heat of the moment when she was screaming at him, but he knew she could inflict a lot of pain. She was good at delivering pain. But he was certain one of them would kill the other eventually if they were forced to marry. They both got too crazy around each other.

That threat she’d made today, though, had definitely given him pause. She’d said it so bloody dispassionately, as if it were something she was used to doing, paying others to see her will done—just like his father.

He shuddered at the comparison and tried to put Julia Miller out of his mind. She was gone. He’d watched from his window as she galloped down the road, back toward London. He’d be out of the country again soon himself. There was no reason for them ever to cross paths again.

“A pretty girl,” Ohr remarked. “Too bad you two can’t get along.”

Richard snorted. “Beauty means nothing when there’s a little monster hiding under the surface.”

Ohr grinned. “Not so little anymore.”

No, dammit, she definitely wasn’t little anymore. Julia had filled out with some luscious curves. Nothing about the scrawny, enraged child had indicated she would turn into a beauty one day. Not that it would have mattered. They could have become the best of friends and he still wouldn’t have married her, because it was what his father wanted, and he refused to give that bastard any satisfaction at all.

But for a few moments today, too many moments, he’d utterly ignored that conviction, which he’d lived with for most of his life. He’d wanted her. How the hell did
that
happen?

She’d come at him with her claws bared, and with little effort he’d propelled her past him, where she’d fallen onto his bed. He wished to hell it hadn’t occurred to him that it would be easy to keep her nails and her teeth off him by holding her there.

So his body had responded normally. How could it not with her squirming and moving so provocatively beneath him? But he should have realized what was happening and got off her immediately. Instead he’d kissed her and had been inflamed by that even more.

In retrospect it was rather obvious. He could kick himself for not realizing that something like that
could
happen if they started fighting physically the way they used to do when they were children. They were adults now. Sex was bound to get in the way of that sort of angry passion. And it hadn’t just happened to him. She’d kissed him back just as furiously.

But he thrust her from his mind now to ask Ohr, “Did you have any luck?”

“As good as it gets.” Ohr grinned. “I delayed getting back, so he should be arriving any—”

He didn’t finish, just chuckled at the sound of someone knocking at the door and waved a hand toward it. With a laugh of delight, Richard leapt for the door and yanked it open. He was engulfed in a bear hug that he returned wholeheartedly. So many years had passed since he’d seen his family, at least the only member of his family he loved, that such a wealth of emotion filled him, it almost brought tears to his eyes.

“I really didn’t believe your friend,” Charles said with a laugh. “Secret meeting? You actually here? I even got angry that he was getting my hopes up with lies.”

“He did, too,” Ohr put in.

“But I couldn’t
not
come to see for myself. And you’re really home!”

“Not quite,” Richard said, pulling Charles into the room. “But I couldn’t leave England again without visiting you this time. God, it’s good to see you, Charles!”

“And you! But what’s wrong with your face?”

“That’s nothing,” Richard hedged. “I had a little too much to drink and fell facefirst into a brick wall.”

“I know how that is,” Charles admitted with a wince, but then he took a step back to have a full look at Richard and finished with an amazed chuckle. “Forget what century you’re living in? Or is that a wig to disguise you while you’re in the neighborhood?”

Richard grinned and got a tie from his pocket and fastened his hair back. “It’s real and not all that unusual where I’ve been living. But look at you. Not so skinny anymore, eh? Someone feeding you well?”

“Look who’s talking.” Charles chuckled. “I barely recognize you.” Then he added on a sober note, “But it’s easy to eat normally when you’re no longer feeling twisted with turmoil and anxiety that has you puking all the time.”

Richard nodded in understanding. He could recall doing that a few times himself when he’d felt so churned up with impotent fury that had no outlet. But for Charles, the excessive drinking must have added to the difficulty of keeping food down as well. Richard couldn’t recall Charles doing anything other than picking at meals after his marriage. But he definitely remembered him always being drunk.

It wasn’t easy to tell they were brothers, the resemblance was so minimal. Neither of them actually looked like their father, either, though Charles did take after him more, having Milton’s dark brown hair and blue eyes. He even had their father’s stocky frame now that he’d put on weight. He was a few inches shorter than Richard, too. Richard also didn’t take after his mother either, though he’d been told his black hair and green eyes did come from her side of the family.

But since his brother appeared to be standing there sober and had obviously found his appetite again, Richard guessed, “So you gave up the bottle?”

“Yes, but that’s not what gave me peace.”

“Don’t tell me you actually get along with father now?” Richard was joking. No one could get along with that man.

But Charles replied, “He and I have an—understanding, but Candice actually did me a good turn. She died. I’ve been at peace ever since.”

Richard wasn’t expecting that, and just stared for a moment before he replied, “I’ll skip the condolences, if you don’t mind.”

“Please do. Truth be told, I was hard-pressed not to smile at her funeral. But I can’t say that I don’t bless her every day now.”

“For dying?”

“No. For finally gaining me a son. It took three years, which was mostly my fault—I could barely stand to touch her. Her complaining didn’t stop once we repaired to the bedroom, you know. But we found out she was pregnant right after you left.”

“I have a nephew?” Richard said with a beaming smile.

“Yes, Mathew just turned eight, and he’s utterly changed my life. You can’t imagine how fiercely protective I am of him, or how much I love him. I found out just how much when my father-in-law showed up after his daughter’s funeral demanding that I turn Mathew over to him so he could raise him himself.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No, Mathew is actually his only male heir, so the duke was quite serious and determined, even brought his solicitor along to make it legal. Some of the threats he issued, including ruination, were rather nasty. And Father took his side, of course. He’s afraid that offending that old man for any reason will cost us his benevolence. Which is what my marriage to Candice was all about. Father is also in debt to him apparently, so he was furious when I balked and ordered me to comply.”

“Damn, Charles, they took your son from you?”

Charles chuckled. “I can’t blame you for drawing that conclusion. I never did tell Father no before, did I? Like you constantly did?”

When every one of those “refusals” earned Richard a beating, Charles just hadn’t found a good enough reason to suffer that pain. But Richard replied, “You weren’t as stubborn as I was, nor as rebellious.”

“True, at least not until that day.” Charles grinned. “I warned Father to stay out of it. The boy is mine. He gives me the courage I always lacked. As for the duke, he raised his daughter to have the worst disposition I’ve ever encountered in my life, and I told him so. He was
not
going to raise my son to be like her.”

“What happened?”

“I told him I’d take the boy and leave the country so he would never see him again. By the by, you gave me
that
idea.”

“He believed you?”

“Why wouldn’t he? I meant it.”

Richard laughed. “Good for you!”

“And besides, I wasn’t denying him access to Mathew, far from it. I take Mathew to visit him every few weeks. In fact, we were packed to leave for one of those visits today, but then your friend found me, so I postponed the visit until tomorrow. But, suffice it to say, we’ve all decided to forget about that original altercation.”

“Even Father?”

“Father’s attitude changed that day, at least; he no longer tries to force his will on me. You could say he treats me with kid gloves now. I have a feeling you’re responsible for that, too. With one son gone, he’s realized that I could disappear, too. Mathew and I are the link that keeps the duke happy with the Allen family. Father doesn’t want to lose that. So as I said, we have an understanding, unspoken, but there nonetheless, to simply leave each other alone.”

“I’m—incredulous.”

“I’m not,” Ohr put in. “Everyone changes, and nine years is long enough for someone to change.”

Both brothers stared at Ohr, but then Charles chuckled. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. My father is still the tyrant he always has been. He just manages to control his overbearing nature when he’s around my son. Not that I would allow it, but not once has he ever tried to enforce his strict rules on the boy, or interfere with the way I’m raising him. And unlike the way Father treated you and I, Richard, I let Mathew make his own choices, and he makes them logically. He’s such a bright, caring child. He even loves both of his grandfathers, but then oddly enough, they’re both on their best behavior around him.”

Richard found it hard to believe that his father had changed for any reason, even for what sounded purely like self-interest. But the changes in his brother were definitely remarkable. Charles seemed to glow with happiness when he spoke of the boy.

“But enough about me,” Charles said. “Where on earth did you go? Another country? What have you been doing all these years?”

Richard, his eyes sparkling with laughter, glanced at Ohr before he gave his brother the toned-down version: “I became a sailor.”

Charles stared for a moment, then chuckled. “That’s probably the one thing I would never have imagined. You? But you had such a rebellious nature, I was sure you’d gone off to find other battles to fight. At the very least, doing something adventurous.”

Richard laughed. “What makes you think sailing can’t be adventurous? And I’m well pleased with my life. I’ve made such good friends, they’re like family to me now. I always have a place to sleep, food to eat, good companionship, and more women than I can count. What more could I want?”

“Children.”

That was a sobering thought, and of course now that Charles was a proud father, he
would
think of that. But Richard didn’t have to dwell on the matter to come up with an answer.

“I’d rather have children with a woman I love than with one who’s forced on me.”

Charles flinched. “I can’t argue with that. And you’re young. No special lady, though?”

“Yes—but she’s otherwise attached,” Richard mumbled so low that only Ohr heard him and rolled his eyes.

Charles said, “What?”

“I’m glad to know you aren’t still living in hell,” Richard said, changing the subject. “I was actually going to try to talk you into coming away with me, but it sounds like you’re quite content here now.”

“I am. But I’d be even more content if you told me you’re home for good.”

“That isn’t going to happen, and not just because I despise our father. I just found out I can still be roped in by that damned marriage contract he saddled me with. I really thought Julia Miller would have married someone else by now.”

“Father still won’t release her from the contract,” Charles said with a sigh.

“So I heard.”

“You’ve seen her?”

“Not intentionally. We had a run-in.”

“I saw her a few years ago m’self. She turned out to be quite a looker. Are you sure—?”

“You remember how it was with us?” Richard cut in. “It still is. She and I can’t be in the same room without becoming furious at each other. Besides, I refuse to make Father happy by giving him what
he
wants from that match.”

“It’s a shame you and she never got along.”

Richard shrugged. “It just wasn’t meant to be. But she’s taking steps to free us both, so I should warn you, don’t try to stop her.”

“From what?”

“Having me declared dead.”

Charles stared at him, a frown forming on his face. “You’re not joking, are you?”

“No.”

“But that’s—damn, Rich, that’s morbid. Don’t think I like that idea a’tall.”

“You don’t have to like it, just ignore it. Once it’s accomplished, Julia will be free to get on with her life, and I’ll be free to visit you more often.”

That didn’t remove his brother’s frown, but he did nod grudgingly.

Chapter Twenty-one

R
ICHARD DEAD? CHARLES COULDN’T
get the ghastly thought out of his mind on the short ride back to Willow Woods. He’d been reluctant to cut short his visit with Richard. He’d really hated having to say good-bye. But he had to return home before dark or his father might send the servants out looking for him. Richard refused to stay in the area any longer so they could visit again tomorrow.

Charles detested the obstacles that were preventing his brother from really coming home, but the drastic measure that the Miller girl was utilizing to banish one of those obstacles was even more despicable. He was too superstitious to see it as anything other than a prediction, not the simple means to an end, as Richard and the girl did.

At home, he stopped by the earl’s study so Milton would know he was home, and to inform him of his change in plans.

Like the rest of the house, the study had grown shabby over the years because Milton lacked the funds to maintain their home or even keep a full staff of servants anymore. The old brown-and-gold wallpaper in the study was cracked in many places, the large oval rug that covered most of the floor was frayed at the edges. Only one extra chair was in the room. The other two had broken and were never replaced.

It wasn’t as if money didn’t regularly come in. They had good tenants. But Milton had too many old debts to settle and he used a good portion of his income to retire his debt to the duke since he couldn’t stand being indebted to him. He obviously expected Richard’s marriage to settle everything else. It wasn’t going to happen.

Standing in the doorway, Charles said, “I’ll be leaving in the morning for Mathew’s visit with the duke.”

Milton glanced up with an annoyed look from the letter he was writing at his desk. “You were to leave today. Why didn’t you?”

“I lost track of the time” was all Charles said.

It wasn’t a lie. As long as it wasn’t a lie, Charles had no trouble saying it. He wasn’t good at lying, never had been.

Charles started to turn away at the door, but with Julia Miller’s plan still weighing on his mind, he wanted to try a less drastic means to help his brother’s situation.

Before he lost the courage to do so, he said, “I saw the Miller girl recently.” Again, it was not a lie. Two years could be considered recent. “When are you going to release that poor girl from that marriage contract? She’s past the age to marry now, isn’t she?”

Milton set his quill down and gave Charles a hard look. “What does that matter? When Richard comes to his senses, they’ll be married.”

Charles’s expression turned sad. “Do you realize how many years have passed since he left?”

“Of course I know, to the bloody day,” Milton said, getting angry.

It was definitely a sore subject in this house. Since Richard had departed, Charles had never been able to mention Richard to their father without angering him. But for once he had to ignore how uncomfortable that anger could make him feel.

“He’s no longer a boy, Father. If he hasn’t returned by now, he’s not going to. Give it up already, and let that poor girl get on with her life. That contract is useless as it stands.”

“It’s not useless, that’s the beauty of it. The Millers have already offered her dowry and more to get out of it. In five or ten more years I may have to accept that, but not yet.”

“She could just get fed up with all this endless waiting and marry someone else despite the contract, you know.”

Milton actually chuckled. “She won’t. If that were an option, her father would have publicly announced an end to it long ago—before he became incapacitated. A contract means everything in the world of trade, and that’s
the Millers’
world. It’s a matter of their given word. You could even go so far as to say their reputation is on the line. For them to go back on a deal that is so well-known could ruin them.”

“Do you really think that will matter when you’re already ruining her life?”

“I’m doing nothing of the sort.
She’s
already reaped the benefits of being tied to our name, while I’ve reaped nothing yet. The
ton
accept her as one of their own, you know—because she’s bound to us through that contract. Besides,
some
children are actually dutiful and honor the obligations their parents arrange for them.”

Charles had done that. He’d married a foul-tempered woman he couldn’t stand, but not because he honored his father. Nothing about Milton Allen inspired honor, love, or even duty. Charles had done what he’d been told because at that tender age he’d feared this man sitting before him more than anything else.

“Neither of them wanted that match, or have you forgotten that they despised each other?”

Milton snorted. “That was when they were children. When Richard sees her now, he’ll change his tune. She turned out much prettier than expected, didn’t she?” Milton suddenly laughed. “This extra time is actually an advantage, because when he does come home, she’ll be so eager to finally have a husband, she’ll be running to the altar. Old maids are like that, you know.”

Charles felt disgusted by Milton’s heartlessness and his amusement at Julia Miller’s plight. Milton didn’t really care whom he hurt, as long as the money he expected to reap eventually filled his coffers. Richard
had
seen Julia—and still wouldn’t have her. Though, unfortunately, that had much more to do with the earl than it did with the girl.

Charles said stiffly, “He’d have to return for any of that to happen. I gave up hope that he would come home years ago. Why can’t you?”

“Nonsense,” Milton scoffed. “This is actually when Richard is more likely to come home, because enough time has passed that he’ll think the girl is married and no longer an issue.”

“Don’t count on it, Father.
You
were the issue. He won’t come home because of you!”

Milton suddenly frowned, Charles assumed because of his raised tone, until Milton demanded, “Do you know something that I don’t know? Have you seen him, Charles?”

“No—of course not. I—I’ve just been thinking about him more than usual—ever since I saw the Miller girl.”

Charles’s cheeks were flaming now. He turned away before Milton noticed and rushed upstairs.

Milton moved to the doorway and stared after his son’s rapidly departing figure. He was still frowning. He knew Charles. He knew his son was lying. He just found it hard to credit what his gut instinct was telling him. If Richard
was
back in England, wouldn’t he come here to gloat that he was his own man now, beyond Milton’s control? Of course he would.

Milton shook off the feeling. He just wasn’t used to seeing his docile son become so emotional unless it involved Mathew. If anything, Charles had probably been lying about the Miller girl. She must have come to appeal to Charles to convince Milton to hand over that contract, knowing full well she’d have no luck doing so herself. Stupid girl. She should be grateful that he was still holding tight to their connection. She had to know by now how many doors would close in her face without it.

As he turned back into his study, not quite satisfied with the conclusion he’d settled on, he caught sight of Olaf, coming down the hall stuffing a pastry in his mouth, and paused again.

He should probably have got rid of this servant long ago. He really had no use for such brute strength anymore, and a man that size made a rather ridiculous footman, which was all he was good for now. Olaf was the only one left of the three bruisers he’d hired so long ago when Richard had got too old for the switch. But having the men administer punishments might have been a mistake because it had only turned Richard more recalcitrant.

But that brute strength might just be necessary again.

After giving Olaf his orders, he sent a message off to Abel Cantel, the local magistrate, inviting him to dinner. It had been nearly half a year since he’d done so. He didn’t particularly like the fellow. But he’d planned ahead and cultivated a friendship with Abel soon after Richard had disappeared. He’d even gone so far, in the guise of a drunken stupor, of apprising Abel of Richard’s crimes. Abel had told Milton more than once that he’d toss Richard’s arse in jail when he came back. As soon as the earl gave him the word, it would be done. But Milton had found out that Abel had a brother who might be even more useful. But whatever course of action Milton took, Abel gave him options for the day Richard came home, and Milton liked having options.