Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Cordell didn’t think that he would be fortunate enough to capture the villain, but when he spied the edge of a dark cloak fading into the shadows, he immediately gave chase.
He burst into another path of the Dark Walks and effectively frightened a couple nearly half to death.
No doubt the wild, crazed look in his expression was mostly to blame for the woman’s shocked gasp and their subsequent haste.
A thorough search proved to be fruitless and although Cordell was angry at himself for allowing the cretin to slip through his grasp yet again, as he began to retrace his steps, he happened to notice something lying on the ground.
He walked over and picked up a discarded mask.
While he didn’t usually concern himself with such inconsequential objects because they could be obtained at ease at many places in London, he clutched this item in his grasp because he knew it belonged to him.
“This is not over,” Cordell vowed to himself as he made his way out of the Gardens and found the viscount’s carriage.
After he climbed inside, he saw Lord Alton sitting next to Aislynn and attempting to offer some form of friendly comfort.
She was hugging herself and seemed to have trouble meeting his gaze when he joined them.
No doubt she was expecting him to be angry about her deception.
He would be lying if he said he wasn’t upset about it but he was more thankful that she was unharmed and safe.
“He got away,” he announced, reading the unspoken query in the viscount’s gaze. He held up the mask. “But I got this.” He clenched the mask in his grasp and held it up.
He saw Aislynn shudder visibly, although her eyes were sparks of green fury when they lit on the item before she turned away. “It is his,” she confirmed harshly.
Cordell was not surprised by her hostility, considering the heartache the man had already put her through, but when Alton leaned forward and explained some of the shocking things that the man had said to her, Cordell wanted to go back to the Gardens and tear them apart until he found the bastard.
“I will not let him get away with this.”
“I cannot blame you for your animosity,” the viscount agreed. “His actions are reprehensible. I would double my efforts to find another match. There has to be something I have yet to discover in the slope of the handwriting.”
“The man we are dealing with is calculated, cunning. He did not leave this behind by accident. He was sending a message.” Cordell clenched his jaw, furious at the situation, but more concerned for Aislynn with her quiet solitude near the corner of the carriage.
When they arrived at his townhouse, he wasn’t about to give her the option to return to Spades. It was too dangerous to let her out of his sight. He needed to be assured of her safety. Thankfully, this was one quarrel that he did not have to undertake.
“I do not want to go back to Spades.”
“I did not expect you to,” Cordell returned. He exited the carriage and held out a hand to her. She accepted it and stood on the pavement next to him. “Thank you for everything, Lord Alton. I owe you a debt.”
Aislynn reached into her bodice and handed him back the money she had borrowed. “I am glad I did not have need of these funds after all.”
With a slight smile, the viscount accepted the offering. “I would have considered it money well spent if it might have done any true good.” With a farewell incline of his head, he shut the door and his carriage set off into the night.
“I feel as though I could sleep for a week,” Aislynn murmured at Cordell’s side. “And yet, I am not certain I shall be able to rest at all.”
“I think we could both use a drink.”
He led her toward his study where he poured them each a bracing splash of brandy. He downed his almost immediately and was impressed when she did the same. She gave a slight cough. “Thank you,” she rasped. She held out her glass to him. “I’ll have another if you do not mind.”
“Not at all,” he returned softly.
He pressed the requested refill in her hand and together they sat down on the settee. He noticed that she took a bit more time sipping from her glass. However, it was the faraway look in her eyes that hit him hardest.
“Why did you not come to me, Aislynn?” he wondered aloud. “Do you feel you cannot trust me?”
“No. It is nothing like that.” She exhaled heavily. “I did not want to add to your personal burdens.”
He frowned lightly. “My only concern is for you. That is all that matters to me.”
He had been staring at the floor, holding his glass in one hand, but he glanced up when she reached out and grasped his free hand.
“I am more concerned about you, Cordell.” Tears shone in her gaze.
“Tonight was nothing more than the deranged musings of a cold-blooded killer. The idea that you could be anything like him tears me apart inside.”
Cordell could feel himself tense. “Madness runs in my blood. I told you that my maternal uncle suffers from melancholy but it is nothing compared to what my father did all those years ago. I cannot escape that tainted heritage.”
“You do not have to.”
He tilted his head to the side in confusion.
She got to her feet and set her glass aside.
“Come with me.” She pulled on his arm and he had no choice but to set down his drink and follow her lead.
She led the way out of the study and up the stairs to the second flood landing.
His heart was pounding, wondering if she was going to take him to her chamber.
Instead, his stomach plummeted when he realized she had stopped at his door. “Open it.”
His first instinct was to refuse, to shut her out of the horrific nightmare of his existence.
Still, he found himself reaching for the key in his vest pocket, always kept close at hand.
He tried to keep his hands from shaking visibly as he inserted the key into the lock and turned it.
Following the click, he grabbed hold of the knob and hesitated before he made his wrist give a slight turn.
* * *
Aislynn was not sure how to prepare herself for what lay beyond Cordell’s private domain.
The muted, dark tones were not unexpected, as they gave the interior a masculine appearance.
There was a wardrobe, washstand, and dressing table, but that was where any similarities ended to any other bedchamber.
There were restraints that hung all around the bed.
Rope and various implements of confinement—leather straps with buckles and padded muffs—were present on the sides of the coverlet and around the four posts of the massive bed.
A pristine, white straitjacket was folded neatly on the bedside table, as if lying in wait until the day it would be used, rather than if it might be needed.
“You actually sleep in here?” Aislynn whispered.
“I do.”
“Why?”
He moved forward and lifted his hand and touched one of the posts. “To remind me of what awaits me in the future.”
Aislynn didn’t like the sound of that. “You speak as if it is a certainty.”
“I feel that it is. Some of the best physicians have claimed the very same.” He slowly turned to face her. “There are too many variables against me to ignore the truth.”
She shook her head. “No. I do not believe that.”
“You may not want to accept it but as you can see, I have already prepared for the eventuality. At least I have made preparations to be here than at an asylum where some of the treatments are too inhumane. I have questioned the use of ice baths, denied food, and other methods of stricture but my concerns are generally ignored in favor of a physician’s ruling.
They believe such methods are effective in treating the illness, but I cannot find I agree.
In my observations, it seems to make the patients worse, more agitated.
” He reached out and touched one of the cuffs.
“I have decided that I shall be better off served here where my personal physician can oversee my care. We have a long-standing relationship. He treated me when I had my first episode and recovered my facilities at my uncle’s house. I trust in his judgement.”
Aislynn was feeling sick. “All of this is not you. I do not understand why you cannot accept that just because your father had problems that he could not overcome, that you might be the same. You would deny yourself a life of happiness and contentment by worrying when you might error again. But you do not seem to realize the great possibility that all of this is for nothing.” She waved a hand to encompass the room.
He offered her a slight smile. “I understand if you cannot accept my future, but I was told by my physician that the odds are not favorable.” He reached out and cupped her cheek with his palm.
“I wanted to spare you this horror if I could. But at least now you know why I held myself back from any other woman before now.” He shook his head slowly.
“But with you, I cannot seem to control myself. Sometimes I wonder if the madness is already descending upon me.”
“I do not believe it is madness,” she countered. Covering his hand with hers, she leaned into the embrace. “I understand that love can feel like a version of madness but that does not mean anyone is undeserving of it.”
“Love.” He gave a light snort. “Do you think that is all that ails me when it comes to you?”
She offered a soft smile. “I cannot say what you feel in your heart. All I can say for sure is that the man I met tonight is the one who is mad and you are nothing like him.”