Chapter 41
forty-one
When Tristan opened his eyes, the pink light of dawn lit the room. Effie slept next to him, curled into a ball under the quilt. Despite his tight situation, he smiled at her beautiful face as she breathed softly. Her long eyelashes fanned over her cheeks.
He blinked the sleep away. His wrist and ankles were still tied. His arm was numb, and his fingers were a bit swollen. Aside from that, the bloody twitch bothering him was silent as if he’d just returned from the ring.
“Tristan. Oh, my goodness.” She bolted upright, rubbing her eyes. Her hair was dishevelled, falling in messy curls on her shoulders. “I fell asleep and left you tied down. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry.”
“It’s terrible. You must be sore.” She undid the knots in two simple moves.
The moment the rope released its bite on his flesh, warmth flooded him. Invisible needles stung his limbs as blood flowed again. He opened and closed his fingers, grimacing at the pain.
“I’m so sorry.” She rubbed his hand. “I thought you wouldn’t have slept, thus neither would I. Instead, we both fell asleep.”
He stared at her flushed cheeks, dishevelled hair, and wrinkled gown. He would give anything to wake up every day like that with her at his side. Maybe not exactly like that.
“I’m so proud of you.” She held his hand against her chest.
He caressed her jaw with his knuckles. “Thank you.”
She gave him a shy smile that melted his heart. “You did the hardest part. How do you feel?”
“I think the need will come back to claim me, but now I know I can defeat it. But I tell you, it wasn’t a pleasant evening.”
She rested her head on his chest. “If the urge returns, I’ll share the moment with you.”
He hugged her, ignoring the pain of his numb limbs coming to life again. “I owe you my life.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“I’m not. Without you, it was a matter of time before something happened to me.
Without you, I wouldn’t have apologised to Harris and James for how I treated them, and I wouldn’t have told Rowan how much I cared about him.
I would have died in The Octagon. Will you marry me even if your father doesn’t want me as his son?
” He hadn’t realised how frightened he was of her answer until that moment.
In his arrogance, he’d taken for granted she would have married him, no matter what. But she loved her family, and her father was an important figure for her. She might ask him to wait until her father came around or reject his proposal altogether.
She kissed his cheek, her eyes glistening. “I’m sure that once Papa realises you have nothing to do with this new attack on him, he’ll agree.”
Not the answer he wanted.
“But what if he doesn’t bless our marriage even after that?” He caressed her back, wishing he could take her away and marry her now.
She tilted her head towards him. “Yes, I would marry you. I love you, Tristan.”
He hugged her. “I was afraid you would say no.”
“I don’t care if the world is against us.”
“So, am I better than Mr. Barry the pig?”
She giggled. “A true champion.”
He laughed, his pulse spiking for once in happiness. Now he was sure he could beat any urge he had.
But before that, he would prove his innocence and make sure she had the happiness she deserved.
When Effie returned home, a valid story to explain her prolonged absence wasn’t clear yet in her mind. She could claim the horse’s illness had been a delicate one, but her father wouldn’t fall for such a silly lie.
There was the chance he hadn’t been informed of the fact she hadn’t slept at home.
Before leaving Tristan’s house, she’d refreshed herself, and the housekeeper had brushed her gown.
She would pretend to have woken up early and taken a walk.
Or she could tell the truth, so he would have no choice but to agree to her marriage, but wasn’t that vile?
She exhaled when Doyle opened the door.
“My lady.” He took her coat and seemed about to say something, but he closed his mouth.
She sniffed the air. The smell of kippers and freshly baked bread coming from the dining room was missing.
“Is my father up?”
“He is, my lady.” He sounded strained. “But he didn’t have breakfast. In fact, His Lordship didn’t sleep much.”
She stiffened. He had to be furious with her. He must have waited for her all night, worried about her. Truth was the best choice, then. She would deal with the consequences of his wrath. Besides, she’d told Tristan she would be with him against the world, and she would keep her promise.
“His Lordship is in his study, my lady,” Doyle said before going down the corridor.
The last time she’d been so worried about seeing Papa had been when she was thirteen and had saved a fox from being killed by him during a hunting party.
She’d told him he was a barbarian, and he’d told her she was a spoilt girl.
Then he’d apologised and promised her he would never hunt foxes again.
She doubted their current argument would end so well.
Loud voices came from the study. Maids ran from one corner of the corridor to the other, whispering.
She stopped one of them. “What happened?”
“Something serious, my lady. His Lordship is quite preoccupied.”
Effie paused before approaching the study, her hands clammy.
“How did this happen?” Papa asked.
“It’s not that difficult, only a matter of money.” That was Lowe.
They talked over each other, and she didn’t understand what they were discussing although the situation seemed a repeat of what had happened weeks ago.
“…damn Montcrest.” The thud of a fist against the desk came.
Tristan? She was about to knock on the door when it was flung open.
Papa came out and stopped in front of her. His hair was unkempt, and stubble darkened his chin.
He gave her a long glance, narrowing his eyes. “You were with him, weren’t you?”
“What is going on? Why didn’t you sleep?”
“It’s him. Montcrest.” He breathed hard. “He’s started trying to destroy me again. He’s taking over everything, hiding behind anonymous buyers. Someone says Lord Vaughan is helping him.”
She regained her composure, feeling guilty she was relieved Papa’s wrath wasn’t directed at her. “No, it’s not possible. Tristan is innocent, and I’m sure Lord Vaughan is, too.”
Lowe exited the study, carrying a leather bag under his arm. He looked like he’d spent the night up, too. “We’re ready, my lord.”
“I’ll be ready in a minute.” Papa waited for Lowe to leave. “Tell me the truth.”
She tilted her chin up. So be it. “He was sick, and I wanted to help him. And that’s all. Nothing untoward happened, and I’m absolutely sure he isn’t attacking you.”
“Nothing untoward—” He fell silent and squeezed a fist. “If I weren’t so worried about the disaster happening to us, we would have another conversation. You truly disappointed me.”
Not this again.
“I’m telling the truth. Nothing happened, and Tristan isn’t attacking you.”
“How can you be so sure?” He raised his voice.
“Because he gave me his word.”
He snorted a laugh. “Of course, we must trust the word of a liar. He’s exactly like his father and grandfather.”
“You don’t know him!”
“I know enough!” He paused, only to suck in a breath. “He’s an ungrateful, conniving scoundrel, just like his father, and you shall never marry him.”
“Try me.” She matched his tone.
“My lord?” Lowe called from the entry hall.
“We’ll talk about him later.” He walked away, staggering a little.
She stood in the middle of the corridor, stunned and shaking now that the confrontation was over.
Tristan would never lie to her. He’d promised.
He wouldn’t. And he’d spent the night shivering in bed although that didn’t mean anything.
The whole attack on Papa could have been orchestrated by him without him leaving his house. But she didn’t believe he was guilty.
She walked to her bedroom and sat on the bed, her legs shaking. Barking came from the hallway, and voices drifted. She sagged her shoulders, wondering what was next.
“My lady.” A maid dropped a quick curtsy. “Lady Vaughan wishes to see you.”
Oh, well. She waved a hand in agreement.
“Do you want to see her in the drawing room, my lady?”
“No, please ask Lady Vaughan to come here. I’m tired.” Effie blew out a long breath.
She didn’t have patience for Jane, but after what Papa had said about Lord Vaughan, she believed Jane might have some information.
Jane entered slowly as if walking on her tiptoes. Her hair was styled in a simple chignon, instead of the usual complicated braid. No pendants or plush silk sash adorned her plain dark gown.
Instant worry got Effie. “Is Turi all right?” She sat upright.
Jane lowered her gaze. “Yes. I didn’t come here to talk about Turi.”
“I think I know why you’re here.” She gestured at the stuffed chair.
“Are you angry with me?” Jane asked, ignoring the seat.
“No. Truly. Only tired.”
Jane perched on the chair, looking like a scolded schoolgirl.
“People are saying John is helping Montcrest do some financial tricks to ruin people, and that I’m their accomplice because I was seen entering Montcrest’s house.
” She sniffled. “I promise we aren’t doing anything.
We would never hurt you or your family. Those rumours are lies. ”
“Oh, Jane. I never thought you were attacking us.” She hugged Jane, holding her tightly.
“We would never do that. I don’t understand how people could be so cruel.”
She released her friend. “Rumours are cruel. They start like a breeze and turn into a hurricane, destroying everything in their path.”
“You’re right.” Jane let out a sob, and Effie held her hand without saying anything. Jane had already heard enough.
“I’m glad you don’t believe the rumours.” Jane wiped her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. “That taught me a lesson, didn’t it? I’ll be quiet from now on. No more meddling with gossip. I’m sorry for having been unbearable the last time we spoke.”
“Forgiven, forgotten, and I wasn’t nice, either.”
“And I hope you’ll let me help you organise your wedding.” Tears hung in Jane’s eyelashes. “I was wrong to doubt Montcrest solely on rumours. But I trust you. If you like him, then he must be a truly exceptional gentleman.”
“He is.” She hugged her friend again, laughing with her.
The best way to protect Jane was to find who was attacking Papa, and she knew how to do that.
After Jane left, Effie washed and changed, getting ready to see Tristan again. He understood financial tricks better than anyone.
He could have easily instructed someone to do the dirty work for him, but she refused to believe that.
When she was ready and went downstairs, the house was quiet, but a tall stack of letters was piled on the sorting table in the entry hall, and the stuffy air pressed against her chest.
A sickening lump of worry crawled up her throat. Whoever was attacking her father had started slowly, only to unleash their full wrath now. But Tristan was innocent.
She didn’t bother with a cab or a carriage and hurried along the pavement, ruining all the work her maid had done with her hair, but she needed the walk to clear her head.
Harris wasn’t even surprised to see her again. He took her coat, beaming at her. “His Lordship is in his study.”
“Thank you, Harris.”
“My lady,” he said when she started walking. “Thank you for taking care of him. He looks tired, but his spirits are better than yesterday. I’m hopeful.”
“I do care about him very much.”
“So do I, my lady.” His happiness was palpable.
She knocked on the study door with a trembling hand.
Tristan stood up from his chair and flashed a bright smile that caused her to hitch a breath. He was pale with dark circles around his eyes, but aside from that, confidence radiated from him as usual with a sweetness that was new to him.
“What a surprise. I didn’t expect you so soon. You make my day perfect.” He opened his arms, and she ran to him, suddenly desperate for his comforting hug.
He hugged her and scattered kisses on her face. “Is something the matter?”
She inched away from him to see his face. “Papa. Someone is attacking him again. I don’t understand much of it, but he’s convinced it’s you.”
His arms stiffened around her. “No. I promised you I wouldn’t do it, and I kept my promise. Whoever is doing it isn’t me. Did you think it was me?”
“I trust you. No, I couldn’t believe it was you, but you might have an idea of who it is.”
“Does your father have enemies? His role in the Aldersgate bombing might have reached other ears.”
She stepped back from him, tired of the same argument. “He didn’t have any involvement. He isn’t a murderer.”
“You know what I mean.” He held up a hand.
She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know what to think.”
“I’ve already started asking questions to understand who is behind the attack.”
“Have you?”
“Your father told me about his problem the last time we spoke. I want to find the culprit.” He took her chin gently. “What matters is that you believe me. I swear I don’t have anything to do with your father’s troubles.”
“I believe you.”
He took her face and gave her a soul-searching kiss that made her forget what she was doing.
The kiss was an act of reclamation and gratitude for having believed him.
She shivered as desire ignited so easily within her.
The kiss became faster until they were running their hands over each other’s bodies.
The sound of footsteps made them stop with a jolt.
She laughed. “It’s easy to forget where I am when you kiss me.”
“It’s the same for me. I’ll bring news soon.” He kissed her lips again with a sweet, soft kiss that was a stark contrast to his previous one.
But that was Tristan. He could be both gentle and ruthless, and she loved both sides of him.