Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Tilly wiped at her nose and sniffed back her tears. She wished to be home. She wished to have Ethan tucked safely into the tightest hug.

But damn it all, what a horrible wicked man!

She raced down the hallway to her room, then slipped inside as she fumbled with the latch.

He pounded at her door.

"Go away, Roger."

"Do not cause a scene," he said, his voice a low menacing growl. "Open this door."

Drat, the latch was stuck.

She threw her weight against it as he pushed it open. In the commotion, she heard a snap as he pushed the door into her back, and she stumbled to the floor. Tilly grasped her nose, gasping as she felt warm blood trickle through her fingers.

"Stand up," he ordered.

Tilly scrambled backward, pushing to her feet and ducking around him to escape. "You can't be in my room, Roger. You can't…"

"You acted like a whore tonight. You try so hard to keep your reputation perfect when you and I both know the truth and now they do, too. They all know and so will London soon."

"I have only ever done what you asked of me."

"No, not everything." He hauled her back, gripping her hair in his hand and whipping her head around to face him.

She bit back a scream, pain shooting down her neck.

"Not everything, but let me make this incredibly clear. You are disgusting. You haven't an ounce of talent, and I am tired of carrying you for the rest of London. No, I will let you fail now. I will enjoy every second of your downfall. Women like you do not deserve happiness."

He reached back and slapped her across her face. She stumbled away, then raced out of the room even though everything blurred before her, and she struggled to focus her vision. Dots flashed in front of her eyes as she raced forward, nearly tripping over her skirts.

She must find him. He would allow her to stay for a moment until she could gather herself.

Drawing up to Henry's door, she wiped at her face, as she gasped and struggled to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding against her chest, and her nose was still bleeding, and now the left side of her face throbbed. She knocked against the door, trying her best to be quiet, to not fall apart.

All she wished was to disappear.

Henry grumbled from inside.

She knocked once more. If he didn't answer the door quickly, another houseguest might discover her in the hallway.

Henry opened the door with his shirt unbuttoned, his tall body shadowing the doorway as she stared at him, struggling to stay calm.

Words froze on her tongue, and she waited for anything to happen before Henry reached for her and hauled her into his room, throwing his arm around her shoulder and drawing her close. Once inside, he stepped back and scanned her body, his eyes filling with rage.

"Please," she whispered, trembling. "I need only a moment. I don't wish to disturb you."

"You will never bother me, Tilly. I need to know one thing."

She nodded, tears brimming at her eyes as she gulped down another breath.

"Are you well enough for me to leave for a moment?"

"No, no, Henry. You can't. You mustn't."

His face softened for a moment. "I wish only to talk. Stay here."

Henry tore out of the room, eating up the hallway with an angry march. It took a moment for Tilly to catch up.

Henry strode by the largest library, then stopped, turning around to storm into the room. Roger spun from his spot beside the fireplace in time for Henry to march up and grab him by the shirt and shove him against the wall.

"You don't get to touch her like that," he snarled. "And you won't ever again, understand?"

Roger laughed, glancing over Henry's shoulder to study Tilly. "I was right. Leave you alone for two days and you've lifted your skirts for this man?"

Tilly closed her eyes, shame washing over her. She never should have fetched Henry; she should have never spent time with him. And yet not doing so wasn't possible.

"You have no business with her anymore." Henry shoved Roger back against the wall one more time, none too gently.

Roger laughed, urging Henry on.

"Soon, all of London will know what a whore you are, Tilly Brennan."

Henry reached back and punched Roger.

"Bloody hell," Roger grumbled, stumbling back a step.

"Shut your mouth, Haskett."

Tilly rushed forward, grabbing Henry's shirt to drag him back. There was no need for him to be involved in this trouble. It would do no good.

But it was no use. Roger ducked around her, shoving her away with his arm and grabbed Henry's shirt. They both landed with a thud.

"What's going on here?" the duke asked, rushing into the room and closing the door behind him. "I don't want any trouble…"

He paused as soon as he saw her. "Miss Brennan!"

Roger and Henry continued to wrestle on the ground like a pair of snarling dogs until the duke broke them apart.

"Enough!"

The room fell silent.

"I don't know what has happened, but we will all sort it out… like gentlemen," the duke said, stabbing a finger into Roger's chest. "And Miss Brennan, I will ring for a maid to bring you back to your rooms and help you."

"No, I can see myself back, please."

Henry threw out his hand, waving at the door, desperation burning in his dark eyes. "No, she can't leave."

It felt as if the air was caught in her lungs, and she was drowning. She didn't wish to make a scene, and she certainly didn't wish to upset Henry.

The duke approached Henry, studying him for a moment. "I will see that she is safe?—"

"You can't take her away…"

"I'm not," the duke replied coolly. "Only, you and I have matters to discuss. I assure you, Miss Brennan will be taken care of, and we can see her after we are done talking."

A maid entered, fetching Tilly.

"Annie, can you also ask Mr. Greenwald to meet me in my office with the document?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

Tilly glanced over her shoulder as she stepped outside the room. Henry, bloody and panting for breath, pacing as if he were a caged lion. Desperate to touch her. And she understood.

She understood all of it, and she didn't wish to be parted from him either.

Henry followed Mr. Haskett and the duke to the duke's office, his body still vibrating with anger. Why did he ever think of leaving her alone with him?

Once inside, the duke closed the door and stood before Henry and Mr. Haskett, crossing his arms.

"I need to know what happened. And I need the truth. I don't tolerate this kind of behavior from house guests, and a woman was injured."

Mr. Haskett turned his head and spit on the carpet. The duke's jaw ticked.

"I think I'm beginning to understand. Mr. Haskett, what happened?"

Henry worried his lip and rocked on the side of his boot soles, balancing, trying to tip his world back into focus. Only ten minutes prior, Tilly had stood before him, blood covering her face and sobbing. He never wished to see it again.

And the man responsible stood beside him. An arrogant arse. He was lucky to still be breathing.

"Devlin," the duke urged.

Henry rolled his attention back toward the duke. "I answered my door to Miss Brennan who was sobbing, and her nose was bleeding, possibly broken."

"How did that happen, Mr. Haskett?" the duke asked.

"I don't have to tell you anything," he replied with a nervous lick of his lips.

"You don't. But if you wish to leave this house without being torn from limb to limb by Devlin here, I suggest you start talking."

"She is my actress, Duke."

"It's Your Grace if you value your neck. And last I checked, stage managers don't own their actors. Explain how she ended up in her condition."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise," Henry growled.

The man snickered. "Her condition, Your Grace? Listen, she was a little too friendly with the earl, and she and I were having a discussion."

"Words don't usually involve broken noses."

"She bloody ran away and hid. The door whacked her face."

"Saying I believe you, which I don't, that doesn't explain the handprint across her face."

"Why are you assuming it's mine?"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Henry clenched and unclenched his bruised hand. The cad had a thick skull in more ways than one. "Listen, Miss Brennan came to my room to seek assistance, so I located Mr. Haskett, and we threw a few punches because I will never tolerate violence against women." He turned his head, pointing his words to the disgusting excuse of a man, "And I don't care if you're the bloody King of England, I won't allow it."

There was a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," the duke called, never turning his back away. "Oh good, thank you for coming, Mr. Greenwald."

Henry felt something shift within him when Stephen stormed in, glaring at Mr. Haskett.

"I need some assistance here, Greenwald. Mr. Haskett will be leaving us. I will see that he's escorted from the premises after we discuss a few matters."

"You damn well will not be escorting me anywhere. I did nothing wrong."

"Miss Brennan's face suggests otherwise. And we haven't talked about the embezzlement claims yet…"

At that, the color drained from Mr. Haskett's face.

"You and I will talk later, but"—he turned to address Henry directly—"let me assure the earl here that you will be leaving Haddington Court and London almost as quickly as you arrive. And you won't be seeking out any retribution against Miss Brennan. It's my theater now."

Stephen approached with papers for Mr. Haskett to sign.

"Sign this."

"I won't sign anything."

The duke pointed toward the papers. "You will, so you can either do it yourself or I can help. This is a contract that transfers your share of the theater to me."

Mr. Haskett scoffed. "You have no proof."

At that, Stephen produced a box of papers. "We have plenty."

"Your luggage has been packed, and Greenwald here will escort you back to London. If any of us hear a whisper of what happened here, I will hand over the documents I have from Lord Garvey that detail the extent of your embezzlement, and I will personally send the Bow Street Runners after you. I know several patrons of that theater who have been generous in the past and will not be pleased to learn of your activities."

Mr. Haskett cursed under his breath, glaring at Henry. "She's nothing but another Irish whore?—"

Henry's vision faded to black, and he was sure he was about to knock Mr. Haskett out before he realized Stephen was holding him back.

The duke headed to the door and called out softly into the hallway. Two tall footmen entered. "They will see you loaded into the carriage, and Greenwald will be riding along with you. If anything happens to Greenwald, you better consider throwing yourself into the Thames because I won't stop until I see justice served."

After they left, Henry stood there with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He gathered he wasn't much older than the duke, yet it felt as if he had been called into the school master's office once again.

"Embezzlement?"

"The arse is one of the most crooked men in London. And I have proof."

"Very well."

"Devlin?"

Henry shrugged. He hated the name. It didn't fit him, but he didn't have the option to grow into it now. He was the Earl Devlin, and he had just dragged himself into a scandal with Tilly because he couldn't control his temper.

It had never happened before.

But he had never been in love with Tilly before.

"He may have broken her damn nose. I apologize for losing my head. It is completely out of character for me. I am sorry for the imposition."

"Stop." The duke walked over to his sideboard and poured two glasses of scotch. He handed one to Henry. "Well done." He waited a minute, looking out into the room before he leaned back against his desk and crossed his ankles. "My father treated my mother that way, and on the bad nights, me as well. I vowed never to tolerate it as I grew older."

Henry silently sipped the scotch. The liquid burned the cut by his lip. "I need to marry her now," he whispered finally.

The duke set his glass down on his desk. "Yes. That is what is required of us, those of us with honor anyhow. I don't know you very well, but Stephen promised me you are an excellent barrister. And I could use some advice."

"I'm not sure…"

"Even dukes find trouble, especially those of us who had a bit of a wild streak before the old man died."

"It's a complicated matter. One that might require another visit now that I will help coordinate your wedding."

The office door opened, and Tilly was led back inside. Her face had been roughly washed up, but there was still blood dried by her nose. Everything within him ached to hold her, to ensure nothing like that would happen again, but there would be time for that.

"Mr. Haskett is presently being escorted back to London where he will be assisted in leaving the city. I now own the theater. And I will be facilitating your wedding to Lord Devlin, Miss Brennan."

Tilly's eyes widened in shock. "No, can't we somehow keep it quiet? I can't marry the earl."

Henry's heart sank. He downed the rest of his scotch and set it on the desk, straightening. "I realize this is not ideal, but it is the best way I can protect you."

"No, you don't understand. Even if we marry, Roger has a secret that can destroy me and my entire family. And I will not see you involved. I never wished… I only needed a moment's escape. I didn't mean for everyone to become involved. But now that he has been embarrassed, Roger will see that I won't act in London again."

"We can help," the duke said. "If you can trust us, tell us the secret, we will ensure that no harm comes of it."

Tilly braced her hands on her stomach, shaking her head. "I can't… I mean, I have never once confessed it. It's much too risky. Roger only knows because he overheard me speaking with my sister, and he has been blackmailing me for months now."

Henry approached Tilly, grabbing her hands in his. He bent down and whispered, "Tell us, Tilly. Let me keep you safe."

She glanced up, tears in her eyes. "You will hate me."

He shook his head. "Not possible."

"I vow never to speak of it to a soul, Miss Brennan," the duke said from behind him.

"I have a son."

Henry's body stiffened. He had expected nearly everything except that.

"I fell in love with an older man in Dublin. He was an actor, but once I was with child, he left me. I've raised my son here in London under the guise of my youngest brother, but he is mine. And Roger threatened to leak that to the gossip rags, knowing I would have to flee the city. He knew how precious my reputation was to me."

"A son," the duke repeated. "I can help. First, let's see you two married, and we will keep the marriage a secret until Mr. Haskett is out of London…"

The duke continued, but Henry was too distracted watching shame wash over Tilly's face. She couldn't look him in the eye, and he didn't like that one bit.

"What's his name?" His voice was rough from yelling at Mr. Haskett.

"Hmm?" Then she finally looked up, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly, righting the world. There, that was what he had been looking for. Her smile. Her hands held in his. Her beautiful eyes, clear. "Ethan."

Ethan.

"How old is he?"

"He's five."

Five years, well before London. Not that it mattered. It didn't to him. "I don't hate you. I don't believe that to ever be possible."

"We hardly know one another."

"I look forward to correcting that."

"Henry, this is ridiculous. We cannot marry. You are Earl Devlin now. You wish to marry a London actress?"

"I want to marry Matilda Brennan. You could be a fisherwoman for all I care."

She laughed, wiping at her tears.

The duke approached and clapped his hand on Henry's shoulder. "See that Miss Brennan is looked after tonight. I will arrange for a small wedding by Christmas. Rest assured that your secret is safe with me. Good evening."

Tilly and Henry left the duke alone in his office.

And Henry left betrothed, with a stepson he had yet to meet.

Tilly didn't dare glance back as she walked to her rooms with Henry on her heels. She couldn't stomach what would come once they found peace behind closed doors.

Embarrassment and shame twisted inside of her chest as she dragged in another breath.

She had needed help, and Henry had answered without wanting anything in return. But now they would both pay for her decision and would be married by Christmas. He didn't wish for her to be his bride. He couldn't.

And now he knew of Ethan and her past.

"I am sorry," she said, clearing her throat as he shut the door behind them. Tilly circled the middle of her room and threw her arms out to her side, hanging her head. "I am not sure where to start…"

Henry reluctantly released the doorknob and dropped his hand to his side. His knuckles were bruised, and there was a cut by his mouth.

Tilly had done this to him, wrecked him. And now she had crashed into his life and tore that apart as well. Eventually, he would resent her and boredom would set in, and she would wither away while he installed mistresses around London.

"Look at me, sweet."

Even his voice was rough. It cracked at the same time she felt her heart rip in two. She loved him, but now it was too late. They would never truly know what could have been because of this evening.

"Tilly." Henry approached, stopping short at her feet.

She refused to look up, knowing full well she would tumble into those dark eyes of his and forget for a moment the evening they had just shared. "You must hate me. I understand. I hate myself."

Henry bumped his fist gently under her chin, drawing her gaze up to meet his. "I love you. And I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you because I see in your gorgeous eyes that you don't believe me. And that's well enough. But you should know I am nothing, if not consistent, at being excellent at everything I do. That now includes being your husband."

"I didn't wish for this to happen. I wasn't thinking. I knew I had to run away and my mind?—"

" Ssh ." He slipped his other hand behind her neck, cradling her as if she were some delicate doll about to shatter. She certainly felt that way.

"You don't love me. You don't know me."

"I fell in love with you the same way we met, all at once. Yes, it is madness, and I can't explain it. And you will soon learn that it is one of my least favorite things in this world. But I also know I can't explain what is between you and me, sweet. And I don't wish to name it. Only to tell you that I love you."

"I am a ruined woman. I am an actress, Henry! You can't marry me. I have ruined you. Something is sure to reach the gossip rags of London about this evening…"

"Mr. Greenwald is excellent at his job. The duke meant every word he said about running Roger out of London."

"My brothers and sisters… Ethan." She clamped her eyes shut and sobbed. "Roger is the most undesirable human, and he has controlled me these past few months after overhearing me speak to my older sister, Imogen, about my son."

Henry's arms wrapped around her, drawing her in for an embrace. But instead of fighting against it, she melted into his body willingly.

"I think I love you, too, Henry. And now we are both in a mess."

"Not a mess, love, no. I didn't truly wish to spend Christmas alone anyhow."

She chuckled, sniffing back her tears. "We become engaged, and now you have a sense of humor."

He drew back enough for her to notice a small grin on his lips. "I didn't before?"

"You?" She wiped her tears and looked up at him, his face puffy and bruised. "I know you must care about me because you don't seem to care for anyone else."

"What are you saying, Miss Brennan?"

She clucked, fluttering her fingers over the poor state of his handsome face. "You are a grump."

He laughed, drawing her head close to place a kiss on her cheek. They remained in each other's arms, silent.

"Come sit on the bed. Those cuts should be washed."

He struck a match, illuminating the room.

She was shaking, and he noticed, slowly drawing her hand up to his mouth and he kissing it.

"Marry me," he said earnestly before kissing her.