Chapter Sixteen
Rhys paced in front of Matthew’s desk. His leg ached.
Hell, everything still ached, but less so than yesterday, thanks to the stuff Violet had spread on him.
Fuck, having her fingers rubbing the salve across his skin had been heaven.
But her touch had only made him crave more, like a shot of liquor, spreading warmth through his chest and promising absolution if he only continued to consume.
That’s why he didn’t drink, and why he had chosen to be celibate.
Temptation led to obsession. It was a weakness he couldn’t afford.
He rubbed the center of his chest. Focus.
“Walter needs to be taught another lesson. What the fuck was he thinking, sending his guys after me in broad daylight?”
“More of a lesson than you killing two of his best blokes?” Matthew replied. “I think you sent a pretty clear message.”
Rhys whirled around to face his oldest friend. “You didn’t see that filthy bastard pressing her up against the wall, touching her, scaring her.” Violet had been frozen with fear, tears spilling from her eyes. He tugged a hand through his hair.
“Who? Frank?”
“No, some skinny bastard. Frank called him off before I could kill him for touching her.”
Matthew’s lips twitched. “I have never seen you so worked up. Normally, your anger is cold as ice. It’s this woman. Violet Sommerset.”
Rhys blew out a long breath and slumped into a chair across from Matthew. It was about Violet. Walter and his boys could go fuck themselves for all he cared. But seeing Violet manhandled and frightened had made him absolutely feral.
“She has really gotten under your skin, hasn’t she?” Matthew grinned.
“Why are you smiling, asshole?” Rhys glared.
He shrugged. “Never thought I’d see the day is all.”
Rhys brooded. “Her husband is hurting her.”
Matthew straightened, his expression darkening. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“Violet is trying to keep him away by finding something she can use to blackmail her father-in-law. I have been asked to find out what dirty deeds the duke is up to, so our paths crossed, and we found our goals to be the same. The trouble is, you’re right.
She has gotten to me with her fragile ‘damsel in distress’ routine.
” He ran a hand down over his face. “That’s unfair.
It’s not a routine. She is a fucking damsel in distress. She’s pregnant, to boot.”
“Fuck.” His friend’s low curse said it all. Matthew leaned forward. “We could hide her here. Keep her safe. I hid Stella here successfully from Jonas for a year.”
Rhys considered it. “I don’t think it’s the same. Violet is far more recognizable than Stella was and you have plenty of toffs attending to the club these days since Hartwick started coming by. Someone is bound to recognize her. Unless we lock her away, if she’d even let us.”
“You could always take care of the problem, discreetly, of course.” Matthew raised his eyebrows.
“I already promised her I wouldn’t kill him.
Bad enough she had to see what I did to those guys in the alley.
Fuck, I thought I was done with this kind of thing.
” Retirement was feeling harder and harder.
There would always be old enemies lurking in the shadows.
Would he ever be able to just live his life like a normal person? Run his businesses, have some peace?
“Hell yes, you can be done with violence. We didn’t work so hard to leave the gang behind and build something good for ourselves for nothing.
If you want to be done, then you can be.
Listen, life is dangerous, bad things happen, but by and large, you can choose your path.
” Matthew stared at him with serious eyes. “Even you, my brother.”
Rhys nodded. He didn’t have the words to tell Matthew how much it meant to hear that from him.
Matthew had found a woman that he loved, and in order to keep her and her son safe, he’d had to face his past and his evil brother.
Matthew knew what it was to fight for the life you want.
Rhys sighed. He couldn’t help but feel that he had committed far too many bad deeds to ever deserve the kind of happiness his friend had found.
His soul was far too black to be redeemed by the love of a good woman and all that other fairy-tale bullshit.
“The way to help Violet is to get rid of that husband of hers. The father is the key to controlling the son. I need to figure out what the hell Lavensham is up to. The only thing I was told was that I am the only one who can stop him.” Bloody Fleming and his goddamn deathbed wish.
“Lord Fleming was a friend of Lavensham. If he thought he needed to be stopped, then it must be bad. All those in their boyhood club usually protected each other’s secrets. ”
“We should’ve asked Elizabeth for help already. She is like a bloodhound when it comes to ferreting out information,” Matthew said.
Matthew was right. As the editor of her own newspaper, Elizabeth excelled at information gathering. Rhys nodded.
“I’ll talk to her tonight after dinner,” Matthew said.
“I have spoken with Hartwick, but he burned that damn book of secrets that our father kept. Bloody do-gooder.”
“What about Violet’s father?” Matthew asked. “He is one of Lavensham’s circle. Maybe he knows something.”
True, Violet had mentioned that her father hadn’t been willing to support her, but Rhys hadn’t pushed her to elaborate at the time. Perhaps she knew something that could lead them in the right direction. Or perhaps he should just pay a visit to Violet’s father.
*
Rhys stepped through the French doors and into the man’s study. Blackpool sat in a large armchair in front of the fire. He looked pensive as he sipped from a glass of liquor in his hand. Rhys cleared his throat.
Violet’s father startled. “Who’s there?”
Rhys stepped forward into the firelight. “I wondered if I could ask you a few questions, Lord Blackpool?”
Blackpool rose to his feet. “What are you doing in my house? Who are you?”
“I am someone investigating the Duke of Lavensham. You know the man well. Can you shed some light on his behaviors?”
“Why would I help you?” Blackpool scoffed.
“Because I was asked to investigate by Lord Fleming. He wanted me to stop Lavensham. But Fleming died before he could share the details.”
Violet’s father sat back down with a sigh. “Truly? Fleming was worried? He always was the best of us. Tried hard to keep the others in line.” He ran a hand down his face. “Couldn’t stop what happened to Hartwick and his boy, though.”
Rhys stiffened at the mention of what happened to his father and half brother.
“Stupid, rash decisions. Lavensham always was the worst of all.” Blackpool studied him. “I recognize you. You came and took the bodies away after the duel. I never forget a face.”
Rhys nodded. “Yes.”
“Your face reminds me of someone, but I can’t place it.”
“Hartwick was my father.”
“No, you don’t look like a Hartwick. Don’t have the bone structure.” Blackpool’s eyes narrowed. “Are you Lilly’s son? That’s who you look like.”
Rhys had no response to Blackpool’s certainty that he didn’t look like Hartwick. And his mother was none of Blackpool’s fucking business. “I’m here to learn about Lavensham.”
Blackpool studied him. “I don’t know anything that Lavensham is doing that is untoward. He and I are not exactly on the best terms of late.” He picked up his glass and took a gulp.
“Because of Violet?”
The glass in his hand boggled. “What do you know about my daughter?”
“I know that her husband is hurting her. That you have failed to protect her.” Rhys clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to rail at her father. He pushed his anger back. That was not what he was here for. He needed information about Lavensham.
Her father crumpled in his chair. His head hung low. Then he straightened his spine and threw back the rest of his drink. “I honestly don’t know anything that Lavensham is doing these days. You have to understand, Lavensham hasn’t always been the best of friends, but he makes a far worse enemy.”
His instincts said that Blackpool knew more than he was willing to say.
But he didn’t doubt the man’s fear of Lavensham.
“See if you can find out anything. You have the ability to get close to him. Fleming wasn’t concerned for nothing.
He wouldn’t have asked me to step in unless it was bad.
That’s what I do best—solve bad situations. ”
Rhys turned and walked out the way he came in.
The cold night air hit him in the face, further cooling his temper.
He strode across the small back garden. Thoughts of Violet filled his mind.
Perhaps he would stop in and check that she was all right.
He wouldn’t wake her. He stopped mid-stride.
What was he doing? This need to see her, to touch her, to protect her was out of hand.
She wasn’t his. She never would be. He turned down the street and set out for home.