15. Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Of all the places to be recovering from a gunshot, Buckland Hall was certainly not the worst. There was plenty of space, lovely grounds, and servants to care for his every need. Living in a row house by himself, with only a maid and a cook in his employ, Rowland was not accustomed to a butler, footmen, and multiple maids flittering about. There was also Sybil, who changed the dressings on his shoulder regularly, and was carefully getting his arm back to full mobility. He had the soreness to prove it.
Worst of all, was Iris. The woman was the epitome of a mother hen when it came to his recovery. Even without nursing knowledge, she would oversee anytime Sybil was tending to him, asking questions about what was normal and what things meant. Sybil was astonishingly patient with her. Rowland would have dismissed her from the room in seconds. The only exception being this morning in the library, because Iris had an appointment in town with a contractor about the schoolhouse.
“It’ll be a couple weeks before you’re completely back to normal, but you’re healing nicely after a week,” Sybil said as she applied fresh bandages.
“That’s good news,” he replied. “I wanted to thank you for spending this time here and helping me. I know it wasn’t easy to be without your children, and dealing with Iris underfoot the whole time.”
She smiled. “Lady Iris has a bigger heart than you think. You should have seen her with me after Titanic .”
“What happened?”
“I’d gotten a bump on my head because of her ex-husband, and during the sinking, a nasty case of hypothermia. I passed out somewhere between taking refuge on a capsized lifeboat and getting rescued. I woke up aboard Carpathia , with Charles and Iris there with me. Charles had to work since he was the highest ranking officer to survive, but Iris never left my side. Not even to sleep. And after I woke up, she was with me until I was on my feet again.”
“Jesus, that must have been annoying.”
Truthfully, he found it touching as well. Iris, behind that steely exterior, had kindness in her heart. And dedication. But it made sense, given what he knew about their relationship.
“That’s how she is when she cares,” Sybil said after a chuckle.
“She certainly cares for you.”
“She cares for you too, Mr. Sinclair.” She tied off the bandage and met his gaze. “She wouldn’t fret over you if she didn’t.”
“Is that why she told me we should strictly be business partners?” he said with a barely contained scoff.
Sybil stopped. “She said that?”
“Yes. Before I got shot. We were talking about—” he stopped himself, unsure how much Sybil knew.
“She told me about kissing you,” she said, as if reading his mind.
“She’s changed her tune since then.”
Sybil’s mouth turned down, and her eyes slid over to the window. “You must understand, Mr. Sinclair. Iris—same as anyone—wants to be loved. But her whole life, she’s only been a means to an end for the people around her. Even her family. It’s difficult for her to trust.”
“I had hoped I made it clear I don’t need anything from her.”
“She knows. You treat her like an equal, which is also something she wants.”
“Then what do I do?”
“You must be patient. It’s going to take time and consistency to get her to believe that it’s truly your character, and not a front you’ve put up until you’ve got what you want.”
He frowned. “Was Lewis kind when he first met her?”
“Yes. He showered her with gifts and compliments. Now, Iris still wasn’t enthusiastic about the match because he was much older and she knew she was being married off to save the estate. But Lewis didn’t seem like the worst option. Until they were married and he became someone else.”
Rowland let out an annoyed hum. Upon meeting Lewis, he did understand Iris’s hesitation. He wished he could undo the damage done to her. Iris was like a grand home battered by a wicked storm. She may have a fresh coat of paint on, but there were still cracks in the walls.
“I should have cut the bastard when I had the chance,” he muttered.
“I can’t say I blame you,” Sybil replied.
“Sybil, I’m shocked!” he said, feigning clutching pearls. “A sweet girl like you approves of violence like that?”
She giggled. “That man tried to kill me, I don’t have much sympathy for any misfortune that comes his way.”
“That’s right, fair enough.”
“Anyway…” she trailed off. “Can I be honest with you, Mr. Sinclair?”
“Certainly. And while you’re at it, you can call me Rowland.”
“Rowland,” she said with a smile. “I think you’re already softening Iris, so keep it up. Eventually, she’ll come around and see that with the right man, marriage can be absolutely wonderful.”
“I dunno. If your example can’t convince her, what will?” he teased.
She grinned. “Iris often remarks that seeing me and Charles sometimes weakens her resolve.”
“Ah, there is hope!”
“There is!” she insisted through a giggle. “Don’t give up on her yet. The woman underneath the armor is a real treasure.”
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll take your word for it.”
***
The dank smell of the Yorkshire jail made Rowland wrinkle his nose. The officer led him to the cell farthest from the door, where the air was coldest and no light could reach. Behind the iron bars, the shooter from the party lifted his head. He still wore his poorly tailored suit, but it was caked with dirt, matching the smudges on his face. His dark eyes flicked toward the sling around Rowland’s neck and he smirked.
“You’re a terrible shot,” Rowland said.
The smile vanished. “Fuck you.”
Rowland ignored him and faced the officer. “Leave us a moment.”
The officer blinked. “I can’t, it’s not allowed.”
Rowland stopped him with a handful of cash. “No harm will come to him. Leave us to talk in private.”
The officer glanced between them, snatched the money, and pocketed it, whistling as he made his way back down the corridor. Rowland faced his attacker again.
“So, Bishop Goddard thinks without me there’d be no Crimson Devils, does he?” he said.
He’d been thinking about it since it happened. Bishop must understand that he would lose the numbers game—the Devils were in charge of every gang in the city. To send a lone shooter to take him out, he must be under the impression that the whole operation would fall apart without Rowland. But Rowland had taken steps to prevent that from the moment he returned from France. Ezra was trained to take his place, with Jo moving up to be second in command. And everyone after that knew their roles.
“You are the brains behind everything, aren’t you?” the shooter asked.
Rowland lit a cigarette. “What’s your name, son?”
“Declan.”
“Well, Declan, I don’t know how Bishop operates, but if he thinks taking me out solves the problem of the Crimson Devils, he’s even stupider than I thought.”
“How dare you!”
“You see, we’re more than just some street gang,” Rowland cut across him. “We’re in Parliament, we’re in business, we’re even in law enforcement.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t—”
“And we’re going global, too. By this time next year, I’ll have clubs in Boston and New York. The year after that, we’ll be set up in Mexico and Brazil. After that, who knows? We’ll expand as far as we want, getting richer and richer until we have the kind of money most people only dream about. Do you know why I’m telling you all this, Declan?”
“Because you’re going to kill me?”
“No. Because you’re not important.”
Declan drew back slowly, steel in his glare. “Our cause is important.”
“Oh, I know all about the problems in Ireland. It’s Bishop’s great excuse for attacking me, right? He thinks I sold weapons to the IRA?”
“You did!”
“I did not, but you all keep telling yourselves that if it makes you feel righteous.” He took a long drag of his cigarette. “I don’t give a fuck about the squabbles between Catholics and Protestants. The only thing I do give a fuck about is keeping my city. And Liverpool is my fucking city. You lot keep this up, and you won’t like how it ends.”
The sneer that turned Declan’s lips up set Rowland’s teeth on edge. “Oh, there’s more you give a fuck about, Sinclair. I saw it the other night.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The woman. The pretty blonde one you spent most of the evening with.”
Rowland kept his face neutral, but a lion inside his heart let out a furious roar.
“She’s a business associate,” he said.
“She’s a woman .”
“I have plenty of women business associates. Just ask your friend who tried to force himself on Lizzie.”
Declan blinked. “What?”
“Oh, that’s right,” Rowland said theatrically, tapping his palm against his forehead. “You can’t ask him anything. He’s dead.”
“She’s a whore, it’s her job to—”
“That’s right, it is her job , which means he has to pay .”
“Why bother protecting women like them?”
“It pays. They give us a cut of their profits to keep them safe.”
The women didn’t know that Rowland set that money aside to pay their bail when they got arrested or any court fees that came along. Rowland wouldn’t dream of keeping it for himself.
“But that woman isn’t one of them, is she?” Declan said. “She’s an earl’s sister. A lady.”
“What’s your point?”
“You can’t hide it, Sinclair. I saw it that night and I see it now in your eyes. You care for her.”
Rowland flicked his cigarette away and snuffed it out under his boot. “All right, you want the truth?”
Declan nodded.
“She’s collateral. Her brother’s in debt to me, and I told him I’d cut his debt in half if I could fuck his sister.”
Declan blinked. “But you looked so taken with her.”
“It’s a talent of mine,” Rowland said with a wicked grin. “I make every woman I take to bed feel like she’s the only one. The more I make her believe, the less resistance I get.”
The words were acid in his mouth, but he couldn’t let this man believe that Iris was important to him and risk her getting caught up in this.
Declan jerked his chin up. “You’re not that good an actor.”
“No need to be insulting now. If you don’t believe me, ask the Germans we took prisoner. I gave them cigarettes before I shot them.”
“Jesus…” Declan murmured.
“Oh, he won’t help you now, Declan. You’re safe as long as you’re behind those bars, but the moment you are released, you’ll be at no one’s mercy but mine.”
“I’ll go back to Liverpool a hero.” Declan’s trembling lips betrayed his worry .
“I wouldn’t count on making it back to Liverpool.” He held out his silver cigarette case to Declan. “Cigarette?”
Declan shook his head.
“Your loss,” Rowland said with a shrug.
With that, he turned and headed for the door, confident his point was made. He’d have to send a telegram to Ezra to investigate Bishop Goddard’s plans to spring Declan free. The Devils would be there to disrupt it.