Chapter 11
David was going to throttle whoever had woken him up from the soundest sleep he’d had in years by banging on his bedroom door.
The scent of lemon and bergamot stole over him as he rolled to his side. Clarissa. He reached for her only to find rumpled blankets. What the deuce?
“David, openthedoor! Itzimportant!”
Hell and damnation. Charles was foxed again. And where had Clarissa gone? He hoped Charles hadn’t seen her.
“Shut up and go away,” he yelled at the door, pulling the covers over his head.
“Damnit, David! Effingham stole yr wife. Fortheluvofgod, wake up!”
What did Charles just say?
David bolted out of bed like a rifle shot and opened the door. “What is God’s name are you talking about?” He grabbed Charles by the collar with both hands.
Charles made a face. “Pfft. Yourrnekked.”
Frowning, David looked down. So he was. “I don’t care. What the devil did you say about Effingham stealing my wife?”
“Took her away. Sezz he married err first.”
“What.” David’s stomach plunged. Dear God. What a fool he’d been.
“Hazzapaper frumacurate. Secret wedding, so he sezz.”
“Christ.” Had she been lying to him this whole time?
“Shesezzitsa lie.”
Of course, she would. Oh, why had he ever trusted her?
But then what would she gain from marrying David if she had truly married Effingham first?
He was far too angry to sort this out, but one thing was certain.
He was going to get her back. Whether she had betrayed him or been betrayed by Effingham, she was his to protect.
That ass couldn’t have her, no matter what papers he might have had from the church.
He let Charles go. “Give me a moment to get dressed, and I’ll go after her. I assume they went to Effingham’s townhouse?”
“Dunno.”
Useless saucebox. “I’ll start there. Go get a cup of coffee. You’re coming with me, and I need you sober.”
With a nod, Charles stumbled off toward the staircase.
As David dressed as hurriedly as possible, he couldn’t shake the sense that this was all too familiar.
The night Laura had died, Charles had woken him up in much the same manner, telling him that she’d fled with the footman.
A storm was raging outside, and by the time he found them, it was too late.
The carriage had overturned on an outcropping at a particularly perilous bend in the road, and its occupants lay broken and limp on the rocks below.
He knew in his heart of hearts that she was dead before he got to her, but he had to be completely certain.
He scrambled down the slippery rocks to find her utterly still, one arm bent at an impossible angle, and her head bleeding out on a sharp stone.
The horror of that image would stay with him for the rest of his life.
As he buttoned his shirt, a new image superimposed itself.
Now it was Clarissa lying dead on the rocks.
It was absurd to think she would meet the same fate.
It wasn’t even raining out, and they were in the middle of London, not in the countryside with winding roads and treacherous bluffs.
But the dread that something terrible had happened to her would not leave him.
Nor would his heartbreak that she was gone.
Perhaps she was innocent in all of this.
He wanted that. Good God how he wanted it!
But the fear that she fled his company just as Laura had wouldn’t leave him in peace.
It all seemed too good to be true. Clarissa’s affection was more than he had ever deserved, and it only made sense that she would realize that and bestow it on another.
There was no time to dwell on such things, though. He had to act swiftly, or Effingham would find a way to take her beyond his reach.
Not bothering with a waistcoat, he shrugged on his coat and stormed out of his room.
At the foot of the stairs, he paused to ask the under butler on watch to ready his carriage.
Then he stomped off to his study for his pistol and went in search of Charles.
He found him in the kitchen looking remarkably revived with a cup of coffee in his hand.
Cook looked none-too-pleased to be up at that hour, scowling at Charles and shaking her head. But she didn’t say a word.
“Bring your coffee. We’re leaving.”
When Charles didn’t move, he grabbed his brother’s sleeve and pulled, dragging him from his seat.
“Now wait just a moment. You’re making me spill everywhere,” Charles sputtered.
“Clarissa is in danger, and I have no time for this. You can drink it in the carriage.” Every moment of delay coiled the tension in his chest tighter.
“I’m sure the carriage isn’t ready yet, and I just need a moment.” Charles had a point. Readying the carriage took time, and there wasn’t a thing David could do about it. So he paced behind his brother, watching him sip with agonizing slowness.
As soon as Charles drained the last drop, David clapped him on the shoulder. “Let us be off. We’ve no time to spare.”
Fortunately, the carriage was pulling up as the two of them rushed out the front door. The ride to Effingham’s seemed to take an eternity, even though the streets were nearly empty and the driver was driving the team as fast as he dared.
How was he going to gain entrance? Effingham’s staff would certainly turn them away, and while he was willing to threaten Effingham himself with violence, he had no desire to terrify innocent bystanders. Perhaps his brother could help.
“Charles, how can we get him to let us inside?” It irked him to ask for his brother’s assistance, but what choice did he have?
“Slip his butler a fiver, and he’ll let you right in. Effingham hasn’t exactly been paying his servants on time as of late.”
“Thank you. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”
Charles chuckled. “Not likely. I rather enjoy being the family scapegrace. But when you’re miserable, you make everyone around you miserable too. I’m merely acting out of self-interest.”
David took a long, hard look at his brother. Charles’s rueful smile failed to hide a touch of fondness in his bloodshot gaze. “Does she make you happy?” Charles’s question made David’s insides churn.
The fact of the matter was that she did, but he was so unaccustomed to the sensation that it made him want to flee to the hills. And the fear of losing that precious connection almost overwhelmed the connection itself.
Charles reached out and touched his shoulder. “She isn’t Laura. Knowing Effingham, I doubt Clarissa left willingly. In fact, I’d bet my life on it. Not that my life is worth much.” He paused. “She was angry. Magnificent woman.”
Were David’s thoughts so plainly written on his face? “I know it isn’t the same, but I can’t help thinking that she…that I drove her to… that he…” No matter how he tried to phrase it, he couldn’t bring himself to put words to his worst fears.
“You aren’t the easiest man to get along with. I should know. But this mess was not of your making. Nor was Laura, for that matter. I know you blame yourself for driving her away, but she wasn’t well. It was plain to everyone but you that she was fleeing her own haunted mind, not your marriage.”
David pressed his face into his hands. The last thing he wanted to do right now was revisit the dreadful demise of his first marriage.
But Charles wasn’t wrong. After she had Timothy, everything changed.
She was a different person. All the sunshine left her, and she slipped deeper and deeper into doldrums that refused to lift.
She’d been changeable before they wed, but after she became a mother, her behavior grew increasingly erratic until she ran away that fateful night.
He’d tried. God knew he’d done everything in his power to draw her out, but there wasn’t a thing he could do that would lift her from her misery. But what if the problem was him, and now he’d driven Clarissa away?
No, he refused to wallow in self-pity. That villainous wretch couldn’t have her. He had to save her at all costs. “How much farther?” He peered out the window at the dark streets.
“He’s just around the corner up there.” Charles pointed. “So pull yourself together and go rescue your lady love. You deserve a bit of happiness in your life. God knows someone in this wretched family does.”
It moved him more than he could say to have his brother standing by his side in his moment of need. “You deserve it too, you know. Someday, happiness might come along and surprise you.”
Charles shook his head. “Some of Lady Clarissa’s barmy optimism must have rubbed off on you. I’m a hopeless cause, and you know it. Don’t think that just because I’m standing by you in your hour of need that I’m ready to reform my wicked ways.”
“You promise you’re not going to switch sides on me the moment I walk through Effingham’s door?” David didn’t want to believe the worst of his brother, especially when he was being kind for once, but he needed to know.
“Pfft. That wheyfaced git? I’m as loyal to him as he is to me, which is to say not at all. He’s always treated me like dirt on the bottom of his shoe.”
“Then why do you spend time with him?” It made no sense.
“Birds of a feather, as they say… And we’re here.”
The coach jolted to a stop, and David bolted out of the carriage, his gaze on the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of Clarissa, but he saw nothing, even though several of the windows shone brightly despite the late hour.
Shaking his head, he strode up the front steps, with Charles behind him, and banged on the door.
A large, muscular grunt of a man in ill-fitting livery opened the door and scowled. “Go away, or I’ll smash your face in.”
Lovely. David didn’t doubt the man could do it, with those meaty fists. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a fiver, as his brother had advised. “I have business with Effingham, but I have no quarrel with you. Will you let me in?”
A greedy glint appeared in the man’s gaze as he snatched the bill away from David. “A bit of back pay at last.” He opened the door wide. “His lordship is in his study. It’s down the hall to the left. Last door.”
Thank God Charles had been right! Blood pumping, David charged down the hall, pistol drawn. He had no intention of wasting time with small talk. This was war, and he meant to defeat his enemy at all costs.
He threw open the study door to find Effingham lazing casually with his feet up on his desk, a pistol pointed straight at him.
Blood pounded in David’s ears as he leveled his own gun at that loathsome toad.
“Welcome to my humble home, Lord Whitcomb. I’ve been expecting you.” Effingham glanced at Charles, the color leaving his cheeks. “But not you. Go home, Charles. This is none of your affair.”
So he was unnerved by being outnumbered. That was good to know.
“You’ve stolen my sister-in-law, you ass. If you think we’re still friends, you are sorely mistaken.” Charles pulled a pistol from his own coat and leveled it at Effingham, his hand wobbling.
This had gotten out of hand rather quickly. “Charles, I appreciate the show of support, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Effingham narrowed his eyes as he pointed his gun at Charles instead. “You idiot. You don’t even know how to use that thing. Drop it.”
Charles pressed his lips together in a thin line. “I do so.” And, Good God, he pulled the trigger.
They all froze at the click.
Nothing happened.
For the love of God, Charles, if you’re going to threaten a man with a gun, check that it’s loaded first!
His brother dropped the gun as if it had burned him and raised his arms in the air.
Effingham’s triumphant grin made Whitcomb’s stomach twist. “Lord Whitcomb, I would appreciate it if you would vacate the premises. or I’ll blow a hole in your stupid brother.
And don’t bother coming back for Clarissa.
She came willingly, and she’s mine by law.
I have the papers right here.” He pushed them toward David with his free hand.
David didn’t dare take his eyes off Effingham. “I have no interest in your forgeries.”
“They aren’t forged. The curate at St. Albans will swear to everything written there. And you’ll see Clarissa’s signature at the bottom just beside mine. Take a moment and look. I promise not to shoot.”
Effingham unfolded the papers, and David couldn’t stop himself from glancing down.
And there was Clarissa’s signature, unmistakable on the page.
He’d watched her sign their own marriage license earlier that very day.
He couldn’t help but smile at all the unnecessary flourishes and curlicues she added.
But the sight of that signature now filled him with dread and outrage.
It was Laura all over again. He’d gone and fallen in love only to have his heart dashed on the rocks. At least Clarissa was safe. She hadn’t fallen off a cliff to her death. If he never saw her again, at least he could take comfort in that.
The sound of breaking glass made them all look up, and then a woman’s scream pierced the night. “Help! Please, I need help!”
David’s heart stopped. Dear God! Clarissa!