Whisper To Me of Love (30 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Whisper To Me of Love
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Royce grimaced and took a large swallow. “I know,” he replied levelly, “but from that outraged look upon your face and the crusading set of your jaw, I have the lowering opinion that I am going to need some, er, reinforcements.”
“You knew who she was right from the beginning, didn't you?” Zachary demanded hotly.
“Well, let's just say that I had a strong suspicion she was a byblow of the Earl's,” Royce admitted easily, but there was a watchful expression in his eyes.
“And it doesn't bother you,” Zachary asked explosively, an indignant look on his handsome face, “that you have taken as your mistress a young woman who is the daughter of an Earl?”

Bastard
daughter,” Royce said thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on the amber liquid in the bottom of his glass.
“What difference does
that
make?” Zachary nearly howled with outrage. “It's obvious she's a St. Audries—even if she was born on the wrong side of the blanket.”
“Yes, she is the Earl's daughter—and what a wonderful way of living he gave to her, condemning her to life in the gutter with thieves, murderers, and whores as her nearest companions, letting her have to steal and thieve for the very bread she ate.” Royce gave an ugly laugh. “Oh, yes, her fine father did nobly by her, didn't he?” He swallowed another drink of whiskey. Defiance clear in the arrogant set of his tawny head, Royce growled, “At least with me, I know that she is reasonably safe from hanging at Tyburn, and I know that she sleeps in comfort and not in some filthy, vermin-infested hovel! I know that she is clothed and fed, and”—his mouth twisted—“except for my presence in her bed, she is not in constant danger of being raped or savaged by any brute who might cross her path!” Daring Zachary to contradict him, he glared at his cousin and said fiercely, “At least I keep her
safe
—something that bastard father of hers never did!”
There was such deep emotion, such passionate feeling, in Royce's voice that Zachary stared at him, an arrested expression on his face, as the most amazing thought flitted through his brain. The answer to Royce's out-of-character behavior these past weeks had been there right in front of him the entire time and he hadn't even seen it, Zachary thought, amazed. He gave his older cousin another considering glance, wondering how long it would be before the truth became obvious even to someone as stubborn and blind as Royce. A funny little smile suddenly tugged at the corners of his mouth, and in a surprisingly meek tone of voice, Zachary said, “Yes, of course. You're absolutely right. I don't know why I didn't look at it in that particular light until now.”
Suspiciously, Royce regarded him. “You're not going to lecture me? No comment about how morally wrong it is?”
Zachary shook his head. “Not my place,” he said firmly. “I should never have brought the subject up in the first place.”
“Well, thank God for that!” Royce said ungraciously, and tossed off the remainder of his whiskey. Under his breath he muttered, “Don't you think it bothers me, too? ... Under different circumstances, if she had been his legitimate child, instead of being at daggers drawn with St. Audries, I might be suing for the hand of his daughter in marriage!”
“Ah, so the wind
is
blowing in that direction,” Zachary said with a great deal of satisfaction.
Royce gritted his teeth and flung him a furious look. “No, the wind doesn't blow in
that
direction!” he snarled, plainly affronted by Zachary's comment. “Marriage with her doesn't even enter the question, and don't be filling your head with some nonsensical romantic notion that hasn't a cat's chance in hell of coming true—she is my
mistress,
and that is all she'll ever be'”
“If you say so,” Zachary murmured dulcetly, and yawning hugely, cutting off Royce's vehement rejoinder, he said sleepily, “I think that I shall follow Morgana's lead and seek out my own bed. It has been a very long night.”
It
had
been a very long night, but after Zachary departed from his room, Royce had no desire to return to his bed. Scowling, he poured himself another glass of whiskey and, sipping it more sedately this time, wandered aimlessly around his elegantly appointed bedchamber, deliberately keeping his thoughts away from the subject of Morgana Fowler. Fortunately the one-eyed man's attack on him made that a relatively easy task and he found himself reliving those violent moments in the darkness.
Despite everything he had learned about the one-eyed man, even George's confirmation of his actual existence, there had been a tiny part of Royce that had been just a little skeptical about the extent of the one-eyed man's powers. He wasn't skeptical anymore; Steadham was obviously in the man's clutches, and George had definitely substantiated that the creature did, in fact, exist. But tonight ... A shiver went down Royce's spine. Tonight the one-eyed man himself had deliberately tried to kill him. It was a highly unsettling thought.
Not that he had not faced the possibility of death before—the dueling field was not foreign to him; he had fought several duels and won, his marksmanship and expert swordplay well known—but this was different. There was something twisted and ugly about it, something dark and treacherous, something that had nothing to do with saving one's honor or reacting to an insufferable insult. Tonight had been an attempt at cold-blooded murder, and if he had not been awake, if he had been sleeping soundly ... He took another long swallow of his whiskey. If fate had not been on his side tonight, he would be dead.
It was interesting, though, he mused slowly, that the one-eyed man himself had come to kill him and had not sent one of his minions. Why? From what little he knew of the man, it was not his habit to do the nasty work himself—he had all manner of desperate men to do his bidding ... and take the risks—so why had he deviated from his normal procedure? That question bothered Royce quite a bit. It indicated that the one-eyed man was taking a
very
personal interest in this situation, that Royce Manchester had become something more than just a nuisance or an easy mark to be robbed or used in some nefarious manner. No. The one-eyed man wanted him dead. Wanted him dead so strongly that he was willing to do the deed himself, and it was
that
knowledge which Royce found so unsettling.
Of course, it all came back to Morgana. Royce smiled bitterly. Of course. But
why?
he wondered with a frown. Beyond her undoubted loveliness and charm, what made her so important to the one-eyed man? He knew that the one-eyed man had wanted Morgana for his mistress, but that wasn't sufficient reason to run the risks that the man had run tonight. Or was it?
His face tightened and he angrily confronted something that he had never wanted to—if positions were reversed and it was the one-eyed man who held Morgana, Royce grimly acknowledged that he would dare
anything
to get her back. He would tear London apart, brick by brick, until he found her, and he would not hesitate to kill anyone who stood between him and the woman he lov—the woman he
wanted!
Tonight's event made the move to Tunbridge Wells imperative! He must make sure Morgana was safe! After dressing hastily, Royce jerked the velvet bell rope by his bed to summon Chambers.
Chambers appeared at his door almost immediately, a silver tray bearing a silver coffeepot, various oddments, and a china cup in his hands. In the time since he had vacated Royce's rooms, he had dressed for the day and was again his usual correct, impassive self, although there was a warmer look in his gaze when it rested upon his employer. Apparently, Royce thought with amusement, his near brush with death had redeemed him in the butler's eyes.
Sipping appreciatively the hot black coffee Chambers had poured for him, Royce said bluntly, “I'm afraid that last night has changed our plans. We shall begin removal to Tunbridge Wells immediately.”
Chambers nodded his brown head. “Yes, sir. I assumed that such would be the case, and the servants are already packing those things that we will take with us. I spoke with the coachman and he is busy preparing the horses and seeing about any extra vehicles and horses we may need.”
Royce grinned at him over the rim of his gold-trimmed cup. “Chambers, have I told you that you are an inordinately exceptional fellow? I am very glad that my cousin George recommended you and your estimable wife to me!”
A faint pleased blush briefly appeared on the butler's cheek. He bowed low and murmured, “And we, sir, are very happy to serve you.”
Amusement openly glinting in the topaz eyes, Royce couldn't resist teasing. “Even if you disapprove of my relationship with a certain young lady?”
Recovering some of his punctilious manner, Chambers replied loftily, “Sir, it is not for me to question your activities.”
Still smiling, Royce dismissed him, and walking over to a cherry-wood writing table which sat in front of one of the windows, he sat down and began to write a few notes to certain people, informing them of his sudden decision to leave London. He did not tell them why.
It wasn't to be expected that the household could be moved within twenty-four hours, but by that evening, more than half the household staff had already departed for Lime Tree Cottage, and the few who remained were scheduled to depart by no later than noon the next day. Royce had been undecided about sending Spurling down with the first group, and he had finally concluded that he would rather have the man here, where he could keep an eye on him—no use letting him spy out the land any sooner than was necessary! Zachary, Royce, and Morgana would be driving down in Royce's curricle, leaving at first light in the morning.
It had been a very busy day for everyone, and though Morgana, Royce, and Zachary were tense, half-ready for another attack by the one-eyed man, things went smoothly. Royce had remained at home most of the day, mainly because he could not bring himself to entrust Morgana's safety solely to Zachary—much to Zachary's disgust! But it was essential that Royce meet again with Morgana's brothers, and so he had reluctantly torn himself away in the very late afternoon long enough to arrange the signal. As the hour had grown later and the time for the meeting approached, the expression on his handsome face had become darker and more scowling. If he had disliked leaving Morgana alone with only Zachary to guard her during daylight, he disliked it even more once darkness had fallen. He had no choice but to leave her, and after pressing a hard kiss on her mouth and exhorting Zachary for perhaps the hundredth time to keep her safe and to take no chances, he swiftly departed for the meeting with the Fowlers.
Since Della was out for the evening with her new protector, Jacko and Ben were already in the house, comfortably seated in the salon in which they usually met, when he arrived, and wasting little time, Royce instantly brought them up-to-date. The stunned astonishment on both faces and Jacko's disbelieving question, “
Himself?
Are you positive it was the one-eyed man himself?” only confirmed Royce's opinion that the one-eyed man's interest in him was something out of the ordinary. It did not reassure him.
A worried expression in the blue eyes, Ben said slowly, “It's a good thing that you're leaving London in the morning. If he wants you dead bad enough to do it himself, the sooner you are away from here, the better.” Giving Royce a hard look, he asked, “I don't suppose you could leave tonight?”
Royce shook his head decisively. “No. I have no intention of driving on an unfamiliar road in the dark—certainly not a road where an ambush could lurk upon every curve! In the house, at least, I can take precautions, but in the open countryside at night ...”
Jacko nodded his head in agreement. “He's right, Ben. Tomorrow will be soon enough. Now, where exactly is this Lime Tree Cottage? We'll want to see Pip before we sail.”
His expression thoughtful, Royce regarded them for a long moment. At their last meeting together, on the day Della had explained to Royce that Jasper Simonds was now her new protector, Royce had told the Fowler brothers all about Steadham and also informed them that he had made arrangements for them to sail for America on the seventeenth of July. He had also made it abundantly clear that Morgana would be staying with him in England, which had provoked quite an argument between the three men. Jacko and Ben might have accepted him as their sister's lover and protector, and they might have been grateful for what he was doing for them, but they were uneasy about leaving her behind, and it was only when Royce had finally convinced them that he sincerely intended to bring her to America with him when he set sail in the fall that they fell in with his plans. They still were not happy with the fact that Morgana was to remain behind, but they had become resigned to it. Or had they? Royce wondered as he continued to study them.
Jacko must have suspected what he was thinking, because he suddenly grinned and murmured, “Guvnor, if we wanted to snatch her from you, there would be nothing you could do to stop us—we know every precaution you have taken. And don't forget she's our sister; she would help us rather than fight against us as she would the one-eyed man.” Sobering, he added more seriously, “We settled things between us last week when we agreed to leave her in your care.... All we want is a chance to say good-bye to her before we sail. You wouldn't deny us that, would you?”

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