Chapter Thirty
A deline flinched. The fury on Malcolm’s brother’s face was frightening. But Malcolm looked equally furious, and she feared the two brothers might begin to fight again. She gripped his hand hard in warning.
Malcolm sighed instead of exploding. “Well, her father is who we are running from, or rather the thugs he sent after her and those artifacts, so I guess nothing would fucking surprise me at this point.” He ran a hand through his tousled hair. “But before we share what led us here, I need you to tell me why the hell you are alive. You owe me that much.”
Paul nodded. Marielle sat on one settee and patted the spot next to her. Her husband crossed to sit beside her. Then she turned to her cousins. “Jacob, Hank, retourner au travail. Finish supervising the haul. You’ve heard this tale before.”
The two men nodded. As they opened the door to leave, Mrs. Ford returned, pushing a cart with a silver tea set and a basket full of sliced bread. The smell of fresh bread made Adeline’s stomach growl. She tugged Malcolm’s hand and led him to the second settee. They sat facing his brother and Marielle.
Tea was set out on the low table between them. Since there was no hostess, Adeline took it upon herself to pour a cup for everyone. She took a piece of bread, slathered it with butter and what looked like strawberry jam, and passed it to Malcolm. “Eat something.” Then she made herself an identical piece. “Thank you, Mrs. Ford. This smells heavenly.”
“Enjoy.” Mrs. Ford pushed the cart back out the door before closing it behind her.
Paul took a swallow of tea and then began to speak. “You have to understand that after everyone died, I had a lot of trouble coming to terms with becoming the Marquess of Kingsbury. Everyone was calling on me, and inviting me to things. I was no longer simply a boy at university but a peer of the realm. It all went to my head very quickly. And it was all a welcome distraction from my grief.” He paused to take in a deep breath.
“Looking back, I realize gambling had already become a problem. I was wagering in games at Oxford, wasting all the pin money father gave me. But then I had access to all of the money. And all these invitations—to private games and exclusive rooms at the hells—began rolling in. My compulsion to wager got out of control.”
Adeline thought about her father and how his gambling had led him to care about little else, not even his own family’s well-being. “My father is the same. His gambling is the reason he bartered me to Lord Bellamy for money to pay off his debts. It is why he wants those stolen artifacts back so badly.” She pointed to the bag. “He cares about gambling more than his own family.”
Paul’s eyebrows rose at her outburst.
She lowered her eyes to her lap. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“It’s true, the gaming took over my life. The thrill of the next wager, the drama, the win was all I could think about. Then, the Duke of Lavensham invited me to a private game at his home. Several of father’s friends were there, including Lord Griffen and Lord Rawlings. They said he had been part of their regular games and how much they missed him. I felt so special to be included, to be taking father’s spot. But the gaming was deep, far deeper than I had played before. I lost great sums. But I always went back thinking I could win it all back, that I belonged at that table. When I owed more than I could cover was when Rawlings and Lavensham first asked to use the cove.”
“Use the cove for what?” Malcolm asked.
“For bringing in their smuggled brandy and silks.” Paul let out a bitter chuckle. “You must remember it was still wartime, and no French goods were coming into Britain. And foolish me could not see how well I played into their hands. They already had the connections in place. Father had been turning a blind eye to the smuggling for years as a favor to his friends. I’m sure he was getting a percentage as remuneration, but they thought, why pay a percentage to the boy when we have him on the ropes with so much money owed? Of course, none of this occurred to me at the time.”
She was horrified at the manipulation that her father and his friends had carried out. “How old were you?” she asked.
“Nineteen,” Paul replied.
Adeline rose and paced to the window, her stomach churning.
“Darling, are you all right?” Malcolm asked.
She whirled around. “No, I am not all right. Is there no end to my father’s villainy? Murder, thievery, manipulation of young men barely out of adolescence for his own gain?” She knew her voice was too loud; the backs of her eyes burned with tears. “I am never going back. I don’t care anymore about the scandal.”
Malcolm held out his hand. “You will never be under his roof again. I promise.”
She crossed back and let him fold her into his arms. He kissed her temple.
“Sorry,” she mumbled again. “Please tell us the rest.”
Paul stared at her for a long moment before he resumed his tale. “I got to a point where I was so desperate, so disgusted with myself. I couldn’t see any way out of debt. The income from the estate barely made a dent in what I owed. I was ducking collection men. Couldn’t find a way out. And then one night, after trying to drink myself to death, I took a knife and did this.” He shoved up his sleeves and showed them two long scars, one on each arm, that ran from wrist to almost his elbow.
“Christ, Paul. What were you thinking?” Malcolm exclaimed.
“I wasn’t thinking! I was lost and desperate and stupid. So so stupid. My valet found me and called Dr. Howser. Do you remember Dr. Howser?”
Malcolm nodded his head.
“He was the family physician for our whole lives,” Paul explained. “He stitched me up. Saved my life. But I didn’t want to be saved. I begged him to let me die. In the end, he did. He told the staff I had bled out, and he transported my body to his clinic to prepare for burial. Against my wishes, he nursed me back to health.
“In the end, I believe he told everyone that I had some disease that had caused me to go insane and that he had burned my body to prevent the contagion from spreading. He knew I desperately needed a fresh start. He paid for my transport on a ship to France.” Paul looked lovingly at his wife. “I arrived there with no money, a lost soul in mind and spirit. Marielle saved me. She got me a job with her father’s gang. Slowly, I came back to life as someone new, a different version of me.”
“And you left me behind. Alone.” Malcolm’s jaw clenched.
The arm he had wrapped around her shoulders also tightened as though he needed her as an anchor against his churning emotions.
“I know. I am so sorry. I was entirely self-absorbed, drowning in problems of my own making. And I am ashamed to say that I didn’t think about you at all but know this. I have thought about you often since and with plenty of regret. I hope you can forgive me someday.”
“I don’t know.” Malcolm leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. His head hung low. “I missed you so fucking much.” He rose abruptly and stalked out of the room.
Paul slumped back, his expression distraught.
Adeline felt sorry for him. He had made mistakes that perhaps could not be forgiven. But she had a feeling Malcolm would come around eventually. If she had learned one thing about Malcolm, it was that he had a huge capacity for love. Not that she would tell Paul her thoughts; he deserved any discomfort that Malcolm dished out.
She stood. “Perhaps you can come back later?”
Marielle nodded and slid her hand into her husband’s.
Adeline turned to go find her gallant in distress.