“Sweet Jesus, she was strangled? My daughter wasstrangled? In your home? What kind of a monster are you?” Whitney flew from his seat, his face going from white to red in an instant. “How dare you put Clara in danger? If ever there was a man deserving of a beating, it is you, Lord Ravenscroft. I’d punch you in your smug, lordly face now if I didn’t fear that I couldn’t stop, and I’ve no wish for my children and wife to see me cast to gaol for your murder.”
Julian rose as well, grimly accepting every last drop of the anger Clara’s father spewed at him. He deserved it all and more. “I can assure you, Whitney, that no one loathes me more than I loathe myself. I never, not in my wildest imaginings, not for one second, believed my wife was in danger. I don’t have an inkling who is behind all this or why, but after last night, I’m determined to remove everyone I love from harm. That’s why I’m here now, to beg you to take in Clara and my sisters both as expeditiously as possible.”
“Everyone you love?” Whitney sneered. “Don’t expect me to believe you’re capable of such an emotion, my lord. Do me the favor of ceasing to maintain your pretense of caring for my daughter. She is and always has been worthy of far more than a man who’s whored himself for half theton. She confessed the truth of your union to me, and I know it for the hogwash it is.”
So Clara had revealed the truth to her father. It startled him to realize she had done so and had never said a word to him about it. What else could she have said to her father? he wondered. And what was her motivation for telling him?
He couldn’t think about any of that now, though, could he? For the moment, he needed to focus on what was the most important task: securing safety for Clara and his sisters by their distance from him. “In that we are very much in accord. Clara is worthy of a far better man than I, and that’s why I’m setting her free. Look, I don’t expect you to believe a word I say, Whitney. But it may surprise you to discover that your opinion isn’t the arbiter of my finer emotions.”
Whitney scowled, striking his desk with his fist with enough violence to make pen and papers dance about. “Nothing surprises me, Ravenscroft. Particularly when it comes to fortune hunting vultures who prey on innocent, good-hearted girls like my Clara. She may be foolish enough to fancy herself in love with you, but I see you for the blackguard you are. You don’t fool me, goddamn your hide.”
Clara fancied herself in love with him? Something inside him, some stupid hope he couldn’t seem to quell, rose to the surface. “Clara said she loves me?”
Whitney’s eyes narrowed. “Of course she did. The girl lives with her head in the clouds. She’s too much like her mother, easily swayed by a handsome face. I all but begged her to come with me and she wouldn’t leave your sorry arse. Much good it did her. Nearly murdered in her own bed. Jesus, I’m of half a mind to kill you myself, earl or no, and beat whoever’s after you to the punch.”
His heart ached in his chest, ached to think that she felt what he did, this bone-deep connection, this all-consuming desire to be one with her and protect her. He wanted to be the only man who ever touched her, to make her his forever. But perhaps she was just a dream sent to taunt him, to prove to him how contemptible he was, how what he needed the most would forever remain beyond his reach.
Something inside him, raw and true, broke free in that moment. He met Whitney’s glare without flinching. “Believe whatever you like of me, Mr. Whitney, but know this: I love Clara. I don’t deserve her. I never have and I never will. She’s good and smart and caring and brave. She swept into my life with the force of a bloody summer thunderstorm, and I’ve relished every second I’ve been in her presence.”
He paused, warming to his cause before continuing. “I love her and I want her safe and happy. I want her on a ship bound for Virginia as soon as possible—that’s what she’s wanted all along, and she ought to be far enough away from me and whatever faces me there. I want her to have the life she’s dreamed of. As for my sisters, I hope that they can stay in your home until I can be certain that whoever wants me dead would not come after them as well. I ask you all this as one man who loves Clara to another.”
Whitney stared at him wordlessly, appearing to take his measure. “My God,” he said at last. “I must be losing my mind, for I’m almost persuaded to believe you.”
“Believe me,” he said fiercely. “I’ve never met as fine a woman as Clara. I’ll do anything to protect her, even if it means giving her up forever. I want her safe more than anything. I’m no good for her, and I never will be.”
The fight seemed to seep from Whitney’s body. “I don’t like you, Lord Ravenscroft.”
The feeling was fairly mutual. “You don’t need to like me. We have the same goal: keeping Clara safe. She isn’t safe with me. I was too damn stupid to realize it, but I won’t make the same mistake again.”
Clara’s father sighed, and it was the sigh of a man who felt every one of his years in his very joints. “She won’t leave you easily, you know. When Clara is determined, Lord help anyone who stands in her way.”
Julian nodded. “She’s too stubborn for her own good. That’s why I’m enlisting your help, sir. I know she won’t listen to me alone.”
Whitney inclined his head in acknowledgment. “You seem to know my daughter well, Lord Ravenscroft. I begin to think I may have misjudged you.”
Ah, how ironic. On any other day, he would have appreciated the change of tides. It seemed that Jesse Whitney was realizing that he wasn’t the only man in the world capable of loving his daughter. Indeed, the usual rancor that had underscored their every conversation had dissipated.
Even so, never let it be said that he couldn’t own his faults. “You didn’t. I’m not worthy of your daughter, sir. My reputation is as black as you think and then some. But I love her with everything in me. And the thought of anything happening to her…I can’t bear it. Help me, please.”
“You needn’t beg, man.” Whitney skirted the desk and delivered an awkward clap on his back, the first show of anything other than enmity between them. “I’ll be happy to welcome her and your sisters into my home. And if I’ve any say in the matter, she’ll be Virginia bound by this time tomorrow.”
Thank God. The assurance left him feeling hollow and shattered. In less than a day, Clara would be sailing away from him. But by God, at least she would still be alive.
“Thank you, Mr. Whitney.” Relief coursed over him, blunting the soul-sick dread that threatened to overwhelm. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some other matters that require my attention.”
The biggest matter of them all was uncovering who was behind the attempts on his and Clara’s lives and getting retribution. More and more, he couldn’t seem to keep one name from swirling through the murk of his thoughts.
Lottie.
And if she was somehow behind all this, there’d be hell to pay.
he faint strains of light emerged through the window dressing,piercing the depths of Clara’s slumber and forcing her to wake. She rolled over, stretching, her body singing still with pleasure. She fully expected to find her husband at her side. The bed was empty and cool to the touch, counterpane carefully drawn tight to the pillow as if to suggest he’d never even been there at all.
But he had been there, and a niggling sense of foreboding settled in her gut that he was not there any longer. Aware of an unprecedented amount of footsteps sounding in the hall outside and doors opening and closing, she rose with grim intent, determined to find out what was happening.
Her dressing gown awaited her, neatly laid out on a chair by the bed. Had he done that? It was difficult indeed to imagine the Earl of Ravenscroft collecting her dressing gown and laying it out for her like a lady’s maid. She threw it over herself, belting it with care, and made her way to the door joining their chambers.
The door had splintered from his effort to break it down the night before, and it no longer closed properly. She would need to see to its repair, of course. The abundance of footfalls in the halls and the broken door were the least of her concerns, however, and that much became apparent when she stepped over the threshold to find a most unexpected tableau unfolding before her.
