To Please A Lady (The Seduction Series) (28 page)

“Yes.” Her lashes were drifting down, the laudanum working its magic.

She needed her sleep, yet he couldn’t help prod for more. Never in his life had he expected to feel this full, this complete
with a woman. He needed her agreement, he needed her word that she would stay with him.

“You don’t mind?”

Her lips quirked, her lashes closed. “Better to be ruined than dead, right?”

He smiled this time, somewhat mollified. “Yes.” He only prayed that when they were living in a tiny one-room cottage with dirt floors she still agreed. He brushed back her hair and pressed a kiss to her cool forehead.

“James,” she said softly, startling him. He’d thought she slept.

“What is it, my love?”

She turned her head slightly, nuzzling her lips against the palm of his hand. “I can’t have children.”

He frowned, distressed by her statement. “Just because you haven’t had any doesn’t mean you can’t. I know men blame women, but it could be either—”

She lifted her lids, as if forcing herself to stay awake. He didn’t miss the tears filling her eyes. “No, I can’t, and up until now I thought it was a blessing. I didn’t want children with him. But now… with you…”

He leaned forward and brushed her hair back from her face, attempting to soothe her. Whether it was true or not, he hated to see her so distressed. “Ellie, it might not be you.”

Tears slid down her pale cheeks. “It is. My husband has had bastards with other women. It is me, James, and if you don’t want me anymore, I understand.”

Whether it was true or not, she believed every word. The image of Ellie with a babe in her arms came naturally, and he could barely believe that she was barren. But it didn’t matter to him. Good God, it didn’t matter in the least. “Ellie, I never thought to have children anyway. I only want you.”

She didn’t look comforted, and when a single tear slowly slid down her bruised cheek her pain was almost more than he could stand.

“I mean it.”

“Y… you’re sure?”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. He’d never been so sure in his life. “Yes. Sleep, rest easy, my love.”

“No, there’s something I need to tell you…” Her lashes were drifting down as if they weighed a stone. “Something…”

He gently pulled the covers higher, worried about her condition. Did she not realize she was all he had left? If anything were to happen to Eleanor… He grasped her hands, holding them tight. “You can tell me later.”

She managed to free one hand. “No.”

“Ellie, rest. You need to recover—”

“It’s your sister.” She pushed the covers away and searched his face with her hazy gaze. The determination in her face worried him. “I know you told me not to interfere, but I visited her.”

He stiffened. “What? How?”

She tightened her grip on his hand. “They never got the money or letters.”

“Ellie, what are you saying?”

She took in a deep, trembling breath. “The money and letters Lady Lavender said she would send…”—he had to lean closer to understand her mumbled words—“… she never did.”

Her lashes fell once more, her breathing deep, even. Utter shock held James immobile for good long moment. He felt cold. So bitterly cold. His sister had never received his money. His mother had died in poverty, most likely assuming he had died as well. James swallowed hard over the lump that suddenly clogged his throat. It could be a mistake, some fantastical dream Ellie had produced in her drugged mind. He knew, deep down, it wasn’t.

He stumbled to his feet, nausea rising to his throat. “No,” he whispered. “No.”

He hadn’t sold his soul for nothing. He couldn’t stand to even think of such betrayal. She was wrong… had misunderstood… James’s entire body trembled; the roar of blood rushing to his ears
drowned out any noise but his own harsh breath. He hadn’t heard the door open, but suddenly Patience was in front of him, her lips moving, her worried gaze on him.

“James? What is it?” Patience asked, her voice sounding muffled, strange. “Is Ellie well?”

She left him, rushing to the bed, where she checked Ellie’s pulse. “She never sent the money,” he managed to get past his numb lips. It was true, he knew it to be. His mother, his sister, had practically starved. They’d been no better after he’d left, and in fact were probably worse off.

Patience turned toward him, shaking her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Mr. Smith entered the room slowly, a tray of food in hand. “What do you mean, Mr. McKinnon?”

“Lady Lavender.” James raked his hands through his hair, his fingers trembling so badly he could barely control his hands. Unable to sit still, he paced. “Eleanor said that the money Lady Lavender was supposed to be sending to my mother had never been sent.”

Patience started hesitantly to him. “She was never your friend, James. She never cared. She only wanted to destroy you all.”

The pain of the woman’s betrayal cut deep, so very deep. “You’re saying that she starved my sister, allowed my mother to die, lied to me, and all because of what my father did, or didn’t do?”

Patience nodded. “Yes.”

He sank onto a chair. If Ophelia had set out to seek revenge only on him, James might have been able to forgive her. But she had destroyed his mother, ruined his sister’s chance at happiness. And he had no doubt she would try to ruin whomever he loved.

“Vengeance,” he whispered. “All for revenge. She’s destroyed everything. My hope, my family, my life… all… gone.”

“But not Ellie,” Patience reminded him optimistically. “You still have her, and you can leave, you can run away together. Start anew, James.”

But he knew the truth… it would never end. She would continually hunt him, find ways to hurt his father through them. His gaze went to Ellie. She looked so damn fragile and innocent his heart lurched.

“I can stop this madness.” James went to the chair and picked up his jacket. “I can end it all now, here.”

“James, no!” Patience turned toward her friend. “Mr. Smith, please, stop him!”

James started for the door, feeling oddly calm. He knew what he had to do, and nothing would stop him. Lady Lavender and Lord Beckett must die.

“You can’t live your life for revenge,” Patience said.

“It’s not revenge, it’s merely what needs to be done,” he said, reaching for the door handle.

Patience pressed her hands to her mouth. “Oh, James, don’t, you’ll ruin whatever chance you have left.”

But he was deaf to her words. He looked at Ellie one last time. He would do this for her… for his family. He would end the torment now so neither Lord Beckett nor Lady Lavender could ever hurt anyone again.

Mr. Smith rested his hand on James’s shoulder. “If you kill Lady Beckett’s husband, then you have destroyed your life and given Lady Lavender exactly what she wanted all along.”

Perhaps, but at least Ellie would be free, and at least the world would be free of Ophelia and her vengeful ways. He pulled open the door. “Take care of her, promise. And tell Ellie I… I…”

He couldn’t say the words; it hurt too much. James briefly closed his eyes, ignoring he twist of guilt he felt in his gut. Taking in a deep, trembling breath, he stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him, knowing that if everything went as planned, he would never see Ellie again.

Chapter 15

“Take care of her, promise. And tell Ellie I… I…”

Eleanor could hear James’s voice from far, far away, the words muffled and confusing. James was leaving? Where was he going? She parted her lips, trying to respond, but nothing would come out. The darkness pulled on her, tugging her down… down, promising relief from the pain and torment of life.

The sound of a door shutting broke through the darkness and she had a brief moment of clarity. James had left. He wasn’t coming back. Panic gave her the strength she needed. Eleanor forced her eyes open. She was in a room, a small, plain room. But where?

“You must stop him, Mr. Smith!” a woman cried out desperately in a voice that sounded somewhat familiar.

Eleanor shoved her hands into the bed and sat up, trying to make sense of the situation. The entire room spun as wave after wave of pain rolled over her body in a torrent that sent bile to her throat. Through the fog of despair she realized a man and a young woman she vaguely recognized were standing near a small table. Where the hell was she? Although darkness called, she refused to fade into the shadows until she had answers.

Seeing her, the young woman’s eyes widened in dismay. “Eleanor, no, just lie still.”

Patience… it was Patience at her side. Patience trying to gently shove her back into the bed where she would slip into unconsciousness once more. With a cry, Eleanor shoved the girl’s hands away. Everything came rushing back on bittersweet memories. She’d thought she was going to die, had wanted to. But James… magnificent James had saved her.

“James,” she got out through parched lips, desperate to see him. “Was he here?”

“Yes.” Patience pressed her hand to Ellie’s forehead.

It hadn’t been a dream. Eleanor shoved the girl’s hands away. She had to see James, she must know that he was well. Most importantly, she had to make him see reason. If he killed her husband, he’d end up in jail. Or worse, he might end up dead.

But Patience was holding her back, her firm hands on her shoulders. “You can’t! You’re too ill. Mr. Smith?” She glanced back at a tall, sinewy man with light hair and a hard, unreadable face. “Do tell her that she can’t leave!”

If this Mr. Smith wanted her to rest, Ellie had no doubt he could force her to stay. Eleanor gripped onto Patience’s hands, knowing she had a better chance with this woman than that cold man standing near the fireplace. They’d worked together for days trying to uncover the truth; she could trust this woman. “Please, help me.”

The girl might be as bold as anyone, but Patience’s indecision showed her age. She’d been thrown into a life of sin and debauchery since coming to London. Ellie swore if Patience helped her now, she would never ask her for anything again.

Finally, Patience sighed. “Fine. Only because I worry he’ll end up getting himself killed.”

The relief Ellie felt brought tears to her eyes. She wrapped her arm around Patience and managed to get to her feet. She was wearing a day dress she didn’t recognize, a pretty pink thing most
likely borrowed from Patience. Ellie didn’t feel much of the pain as her broken body moved; the drugs had dulled her senses. She felt nothing. Utterly numb, as if she floated toward the door.

“Mr. Smith, see if you can stop him.” Patience breathed heavily, taking much of Ellie’s weight.

“You’re all mad,” the man muttered as he headed toward the door.

Ignoring him, Eleanor managed to slip her feet into her slippers and walked alongside Patience with painstakingly slow movements. The only one insane was her husband. If he harmed James in any way, she’d kill Lord Beckett herself.

“Eleanor, are you well?” Patience asked as they moved into the hall. “Your face looks utterly fierce and it’s worrying me. You look exactly like my sister, Grace, when she’s set her mind to something and will let nothing get in her way.”

Ellie couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I might like your sister.” She grimaced as her head pounded, making the corridor outside the room fade. “If it eases your mind, then yes, I’m well. Please just hurry.”

She was determined to speak to James. But her body was not her own, her voice mumbled and dull. It was sheer stubbornness and love that kept her going when all she wanted to do was curl up and cry.

“I promise, I’m trying to hurry,” Patience grunted, taking the brunt of her weight as they headed down the steps. “But I worry James has already left.”

“Where was he headed? You must tell me.”

They made it to the common room, where a variety of travelers were seated by the fireplace, warming themselves or dining on the rich and heady stew.

“I fear he’s planning to kill Lord Beckett or Lady Lavender, perhaps both,” Patience whispered.

“No!” Ellie cried out so loudly that they drew more than one curious gaze. She flushed, feeling highly uncomfortable. She
could imagine the sight they made. At this rate her husband would hear about her whereabouts in a matter of hours. Eleanor ignored the attention and focused on the door. Just a few more steps. Just a few more…

“We will find him.” She chanted the mantra. She had to believe; hope was all she had left. Patience reached for the door and pulled it wide. A gust of cool air billowed into the room, fluttering the curtains and Eleanor’s dress. The air felt wonderful against her bruised and fevered skin. There, in the middle of the dark courtyard, she saw James’s familiar form, Mr. Smith at his side.

“Thank God,” she whispered, her knees going weak in relief.

“Just a bit more,” Patience murmured reassuringly.

As if sensing her sudden presence, James turned toward them. “What the hell is she doing out here?” It wasn’t exactly the reunion she’d been hoping for. “You’ll injure yourself even more.”

“I need to speak with him—help me get closer.”

Patience nodded. “You’ll be better than any of us at talking him out of this.”

Eleanor would have thanked the woman if she hadn’t been too bloody tired. Together, they made it down the front stoop and into the muddy garden. It was still dark, but the lanterns and torchlight around the patch of dirt that claimed to be a lawn gave the area enough light. It was only as she reached James and saw the despair in his gaze that she realized he wasn’t alone.

Three men sat on horseback behind him, a wagon close by.

“Eleanor,” James hissed, his gaze frantic. “Go back inside.”

“James McKinnon,” the largest man called out. “You’re wanted for attempted murder of one Lord Beckett, as well as the abduction of his wife.”

“No,” Eleanor cried.

Mr. Smith rushed to her side, taking her arm none too gently. “Hush, you’ll make things worse.”

She struggled to get away from his tight hold, anger and desperation clashing within. “I hardly see how they can get worse!”

“If you do not be silent,” Mr. Smith muttered. “Then she will know how much you both care about each other and use it against him.”