Chapter Thirty-Six
Cassandra gulped down a full glass of brandy, wiped her thumb over her lips, and promptly said, “More.”
Seth allowed her to take a small sip of his. At her swallow, he put a fingertip to the rim of the glass and lowered it.
“Slow,” he said, taking the drink from her to have a generous swig of it himself.
The liquor burned a path to his stomach, warmed his chest, and provided a fuzzy lightness that he too craved more of.
On a plush velvet sofa, surrounded by the familiar red walls of Lord Bolderwood’s sitting room, bone-weary and spent, it would be too easy to drink himself into a stupor, as Cassandra seemed intent on.
Instead, he placed his half-full glass on the tea-table in front of them and glanced over to their companion.
“You’re being quiet, Cooper,” Seth prodded.
Cooper sat in a leather upholstered chair beside them, his unfocused eyes trained on the untouched snifter of brandy in his hands.
His nose scrunched. “I still smell blood.”
Seth did too, in his clothes and in Cassandra’s hair. He would help her bathe after they finished speaking to Adrian. Cassandra reached for his glass of brandy again and drank half of it.
If she hasn’t passed out by the time he arrives.
Adrian had his hands full at General Martin’s manor.
After showing Cooper to the hedge maze, Trevor had rushed back to find Seth’s other brother.
Adrian had arrived at the same moment that Sir Reginald took his last breath.
Taking charge of the situation, he escorted Seth, Cassandra, and Cooper past screaming aristocrats, loaded them into a carriage, and ordered the driver to take them to Lord Bolderwood’s townhouse, where they were to wait for his return.
Still draped in his coat and in a fit of nerves, Cassandra held onto Seth with bruising force until they got to Lord Bolderwood’s, only parting from him to have a drink. Her breathing finally eased when the alcohol took effect. As it did, his worry for her lessened and shifted to Cooper.
He had seen the same look on young soldiers. Taking a life ruptures a person deep in their core. This night would shape every one of Cooper’s actions, change the lens through which he saw the world, and there was no telling what that shift would bring.
“I don’t know if I feel anything at all,” Cooper said blankly. “Is that normal? No, don’t answer that. I don’t think there’s a normal response that one can have after they’ve killed a man.”
“He wasn’t going to stop,” Seth said. “If you hadn’t shot him, I would have. You did the right thing.”
“I know I did the right thing. It was him or Cassandra… he was mad. It wasn’t a difficult choice to make.
But… I put him down like a dog.” Cooper’s hands shook.
“And I don’t feel regret. Does that make me evil?
No, don’t answer that either.” He took a sip of brandy, then returned to staring at the glass.
“Somehow, I expected I would feel… I don’t know, something. ”
Seth felt a storm of emotions, all tangling and blurring together.
His primary concern was Cassandra, who had finished his glass of brandy during his conversation with Cooper.
She hiccuped and burrowed closer into his chest, and the resounding relief that she was alive brought tears to his eyes.
As he held her, a lingering fear rent his heart into unsteady tempos, spiking and plummeting, not knowing the consequences of the actions taken to keep her alive.
“I don’t feel anything either,” Cassandra slurred, her eyes fluttered closed. “Warm.”
“That’s the brandy, love. It wears off,” Seth kissed her brow. “You’ll feel different in the morning. Worse if you don’t stop now.” He faced Cooper. “Your numbness will wear off, too.”
Seth jumped when a sharp rap sounded on the door, and he relaxed when he saw Adrian. Pristine in his suit, hair slicked back, he had a minuscule furrow to his brow that he wore whenever he faced a particularly tedious task. In an uncharacteristic show of emotion, he came into the room and sighed.
“Sir Reginald Thomas is dead.”
“I know he’s dead, Blackmoor, I shot him!” Cooper snapped. Cassandra flinched at his tone. “What does that mean for me? I killed a man tonight.” Running a shaking hand through his hair, he whispered, “Will I hang for it tomorrow?”
“No,” Adrian said at once.
“You say that with such certainty.” Seth frowned. “Bishop will demand justice, he’ll accuse us all of murder.”
Adrian gave an unaffected shrug with one shoulder. “It’ll amount to nothing. Tomorrow you’ll make a statement to the magistrate claiming self-defense, and I’ll do the rest.”
“That simple?” Cooper asked. “I’m officially a member of the Hollingsworth family, hm? I can murder someone, and you can make it go away?” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that?”
“All I do is make things clean, Lord Lincolnshire. You acted in self-defense. It’s my job to ensure there’s no question of that,” Adrian said.
“I’ll have witnesses, but I doubt I’ll need them.
Sir Reginald kept an extensive journal stating his intentions to take Mrs. Reeves’ life.
It will be found in his study tomorrow morning. ”
Seth quirked a brow. “Is that journal being written as we speak?”
“Of course not.” Adrian glared at him. “And it’s best if you don’t inquire further.”
“This is just another day in the office for you, isn’t it, Blackmoor?” Cooper tossed back his brandy, squinted, and pointed past Adrian. “You… in the shadows beyond the door. Come into the light.”
With a mop of brown hair and a downcast face, Trevor toed into the room. His watery eyes leaked onto tear-splotched cheeks, and he stood at attention. His mouth moved open and then closed.
He looked at Cassandra and sobbed, “I failed you.”
Cassandra rushed to him. Tripping over her skirts, she all but toppled the boy over to wrap him in a firm embrace. “No, my darling boy. You saved me.” She shushed him, but Trevor only cried harder. “You were so brave… you did everything right. Dry your tears. That’s a good boy.”
Seth stood and guided them back to the sofa.
Cassandra wrapped a blanket around herself and Trevor, and whispered soothing words in his hair as the boy continued to weep.
Until that moment, Seth hadn’t pieced together why Trevor had been there that night.
Or in their lives to begin with. A boy that came from nowhere that would not take no for an answer, who wrote extensive letters on his dining room table to his—
Seth glowered at Adrian. “You wouldn’t be ‘Ma,’ would you?”
Cassandra’s head snapped to Adrian’s, and she froze him to the spot with the strength of her fury.
“It was you. You were the one who told him to defend me with his life. Seth would have never given that order,” she said through gritted teeth.
“This is your ‘security’? You should be ashamed of yourself, Adrian! Trevor is fourteen years old. He should be in school! Or at home, enjoying his childhood. He shouldn’t be spying on my household, stalking madmen around balls, and sacrificing himself at gunpoint! ”
Chastised, Adrian tried to speak, but Cassandra cut him off. “You clearly can’t be trusted with him, so I’m taking him off your hands. He’s mine now.”
“Wait.” Adrian blinked. “He’s what?”
If Trevor kept following Adrian’s path, he would arrive at the same destination that Seth had, or he might not arrive at all. Adrian may have planted Trevor in their lives, but he was theirs now—Seth’s and Cassandra’s—and they would raise him right.
“I believe what my wife means to say, Lord Blackmoor, is that you’ll be releasing Trevor from your employ into our care. We’ll take over from here.” Seth smirked. “And it’s best if you don’t argue further.”
At Cassandra’s glare, Adrian averted his gaze and said, “Very well.”
Trevor’s lip quivered when he met Seth’s eyes. “I’m not a good valet.”
“Trevor, I’m not hiring you as a valet, I’m offering you a home. As far as employment, we’ll find something constructive for you to do,” Seth promised. “It never hurts to have someone around that’s handy with a pair of pincers.”
“I’ll be useful, I swear it.” Trevor rubbed his fists into his eyes. “I know how to use most tools. Chisels. Saws. Hammers.” He sniffed. “I’m really good with hammers.”
Turning green, Seth shot a pointed look at Adrian. “The less I know the better.”
Adrian nodded. “Indeed.”
“What a family,” Cooper said, and finished the last of his brandy.
Hours later, after the initial shock wore off, Cassandra fell asleep in Seth’s lap.
Having caught up with his sister in his own cups, Cooper excused himself, stating the need to reflect.
Seth ordered Trevor to find a bed and sleep in it.
Drunk and snoring, Cassandra anchored Seth to the sofa.
His legs had long since fallen asleep, and she couldn’t have been comfortable in that dress or curled in a ball as she was, but he didn’t want to move her.
Not when she slept so soundly.
What would the next week bring? Would he wake to her screams in the middle of the night? Hold her while she battled with demons he couldn’t see? And what of him? Would this haunt him, adding another nightmare to his rotation?
Would either of them get a good night’s sleep again?
Not knowing the answers, Seth covered Cassandra with a borrowed blanket and let her rest. After they spoke with the magistrate in the morning, Seth didn’t want to bring Cassandra back to their townhouse, to whatever fallout was to occur.
He could see it now—endless gossip, constant knocking on his door, newspapers profiting from their pain.
He wanted to leave London entirely.
During the night, Seth thought of how difficult it would be for Cassandra to come to terms with what happened to them. After an experience like that, they would both need fresh air, clear nights, and peace. Lord Bolderwood had him over a barrel with his contract, so they couldn’t leave.
But they couldn’t stay.