“He was a madman.”
“Don’t. Say. That.”
“I still have scars on my back from all the times he whipped me.” Blayne had been but five years old the first time his father had meted out discipline. And Seamus had simply stood there and watched. To say there was no love lost between them would be an understatement.
“Ye were weak and in need of toughening up.”
“It seems like it worked then, wouldnae ye say?”
When Seamus said nothing, Blayne resolved to ignore him as much as possible during the four days he expected the ride to take. There was little for them to discuss. Blayne knew he’d acted abominably when he’d struck down his father. He should have called for help instead, or at the very least hit Bruce somewhere less likely to harm him. And the fact was that if Bruce had lived, he probably would have gotten away with killing Mr. Roberts. After all, the man had been in his wife’s bed, completely naked, from what Blayne recalled. Considering Bruce’s status and connections, the incident would in all likelihood have been swept under a rug, never to be spoken of again.
Blayne tried to place himself in Seamus’s position for a moment. Would he have behaved in a similar fashion had their roles been reversed? Unlikely, but in a strange way Blayne understood the man. He could not fault him for looking up to his older brother, or for trying to avenge his death. It was just damned inconvenient for Blayne – destructive to his plans for the future. In all likelihood it would be his end.
Blindly, he watched the countryside roll by. If only he’d come clean with Charlotte sooner. At least then she’d know his side of the story. He dared not even consider what she might be thinking. Not that it mattered. She was much better off without him and that was an undeniable fact.
It was extraordinarily difficult for Charlotte to quiet her nerves. She was agitated, worried, and very convinced the carriage was not moving nearly as fast as it could. In fact, she was beginning to contemplate the idea of hiring a horse for herself at the next posting inn so she could tear along the road at full speed. At least then, she might stand a chance of catching up with a carriage that had gained a six hour advantage by the time she’d been ready for departure.
An involuntary chuckle vibrated through her at the thought of what she would look like riding astride with her skirts bunched around her legs. Somehow, since meeting Blayne for the very first time, her life had strayed with greater degree from what was considered proper and taken on a guise more suited to one of her stories. Good grief! She’d hired a man whom she’d promptly turned into a fake fiancé, made a deal with a businessman, gotten compromised, engaged, and jilted by a would-be murderer whom she now intended to save. It was too fantastical a tale by half. If she penned it, people would call it ridiculous.
“What’s so amusing?” Marcus asked.
She shook her head, glanced at Daisy who slept by her side, and said, “Things don’t always turn out as one would expect, do they?”
“Not at all,” he murmured. “I certainly never imagined being stripped of my title and becoming a social pariah. We peers are raised in such comfort, we don’t even know how to appreciate what we have.”
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to remind you of all you have lost.”
The edge of his mouth curved. “In a way, it’s been a blessing. Not the part about my father, mind you, but rather being forced to make my own way in the world. Inheriting wealth is easy – accumulating it on your own, that’s something to be admired.”
“So you respect the working class?”
“I respect anyone who can improve their situation through honest means.” Marcus stretched out his legs and leaned back against his own corner. “That’s not to say every tradesman or laborer deserves respect, but then again, neither does every peer. If I’ve learnt anything in recent years, it’s that even those who walk among us as if they’re beyond reproach can be guilty of horrible crimes.”
“You refer to your father?”
“Who else? Unlike Blayne who killed his father by accident while attempting to save his mother, my father went to Windham House with every intention of killing the duke. Most of the staff was at church that day, but an unfortunate maid perished too. Guthrie himself barely escaped after my father set the place ablaze in an effort to cover up what he’d done.”
“I can’t even fathom such cruelty.”
“Of course you can’t, because you’re a good and decent person.”
“A good and decent person who’d like to run Blayne’s uncle through with a sword.”
Marcus grinned. “There’s nothing wrong with having bloodthirsty thoughts as long as you don’t follow through on them.”
“Of course.” Charlotte bit her lip while contemplating their journey and the goal they hoped to accomplish. They would soon have to stop for the night. After that, they would have three more days of travel before they reached their destination. “I do hope Blayne’s mother is still alive.”
“There’s no guarantee after nearly twenty years, but let’s stay positive.”
“Right now, the one thing working in our favor is surprise. Seamus doesn’t know we’re coming or that we plan on defending Blayne.” After arguing back and forth with Guthrie, Charlotte had eventually accepted the funds he’d provided for legal representation. As he’d pointed out, now was not the time to be prideful. Of course, he’d been completely correct.
“I’m thinking Seamus will be living at the family home,” Charlotte said when they stopped four days later on the city’s outskirts. Due to their late departure from London, it had taken them one day longer than she’d have liked to reach their destination. Stretching her legs while trying to gather her thoughts in preparation for battle, Charlotte paced about while Marcus leaned one shoulder against a nearby tree. “According to Guthrie’s account of what happened, he lived there when the incident took place, so it makes sense for him to still be in residence.”
“Unless he was merely visiting. Or the house has since been sold. Or—”
“Yes, yes, there are other alternatives, of course. I just don’t want to show up and come face to face with him, that’s all.”
“So what’s your plan?”
