Chapter Nine

Four weeks later

"I see that you have finally decided to return home. I thought I'd need to seek a divorce on the grounds of abandonment. Or perhaps bring suit against your sister and her... paramour... for alienation of affection."

Hettie looked down at her gloved hands. She didn't cower. She didn't apologize or try to placate him. The silence grew, stretching between them as she tugged the leather gloves off, one finger at a time. Slowly. As if there was no rush to do anything.

"There is no affection for them to alienate," she finally said. "You despise me... but not nearly so much as I despise you."

His face purpled with rage. "You will not speak to me—"

"I will," she said, her voice calm, cold, and commanding. "I am through being tormented by you. You will not strike me. You will not harangue me. You will not browbeat and belittle me. Because if you do, I shall tell everyone the awful truth."

"What truth is that?"

"That you are a drunken sot, riddled with pox, unable to perform your husbandly duties, and you were perfectly willing to let my abductors murder me to save you the embarrassment that would have ensued when I sought an annulment... and before you think to bully me into submission, you should know that there is a new footman in the house right now. An associate of Mr. Carrow's. I have but to shout, and he will come to my aid. And if you think to dismiss him, know that Mr. Carrow will not be at all pleased."

"You mean to let that criminal taint our home?"

At that, Hettie laughed. "This home is already tainted. It's tainted with your wickedness and dissipation. It's tainted with my bitterness and disillusionment. I have a proposition for you, Arthur. And if you have an iota of good sense, you will accept. I will continue to live here with you. In public, I will be a dutiful and loving wife—and you will be a loving and devoted husband. In private, we shall do our best to avoid one another at all costs. I will stay out of your way, and you will stay well out of mine. In exchange, you get my silence. And you get Mr. Carrow's silence and continued goodwill."

"And what do you get out of this? Other than not having to feel the weight of my hand for being an insolent baggage?"

"I get to be Lady Ernsdale. I get to maintain my position in society and to preserve what dignity I still possess. Take the offer, Arthur. Neither of us wishes to have our names further dragged through the mud," Hettie said reasonably. "We will both sleep in this house, but in terms of having a marriage, or any sort of interaction with one another—it's just unnecessary."

He stared at her for a long moment, his lip curled in a sneer. "Fine. Do what you will. So will I. But your sister and her husband will not enter this house. They will not darken my door. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly, Arthur. I daresay they will be relieved to know they are not welcomed by you. Should I feel the need to see my sister, I will simply visit with her in her own home. And while we're on the subject of relatives: Simon. Simon will not be permitted here again."

Arthur's face darkened. "Simon? What the devil do you care if he comes around?"

"I simply don't like him," Hettie answered. "He walks through this house as if it were already his, as if everything in it somehow belongs to him already. I can't believe I'm more offended by his behavior than you are!"

Arthur's temper settled then. "He's a presumptuous arse. Never did like the boy. It will be no great loss not to have him toadying to me while sizing up his inheritance."

"Excellent. Then we have an agreement. We simply avoid one another as much as possible. Good day, Arthur. I'm going upstairs to take care of some correspondence." With that, Hettie sailed out of the drawing room and made her way up the stairs.

It wasn't until she was inside her own room that she finally drew a breath. Leaning back against the door, she felt positively weak. She'd done it. She'd faced him down, made her bargain, and had the means within the household to enforce it. Arthur would not dare to risk incurring Vincent's wrath again.

Moments later, Foster entered along with the footman, who carried her bags. She was in a house filled with servants whose only loyalty was to the man she'd married. Those two were the only allies she possessed.

"Well, we're in it now, for better or worse," Hettie mused.

"You were very brave, m'lady," Foster said.

The footman, a youngish man with sandy hair and a broad, handsome face grinned. "Indeed, my lady. It was a joy to see. Don't much care for his lordship."

No. No one did. Arthur had lived his whole life alienating others. "Thank you both. I know returning to this house is the last thing you wished to do, Foster. And as for you, James, thank you. Thank you for agreeing to reside in his miserable place to preserve my safety. I am well aware of what you are sacrificing."

James cast his adoring gaze on her maid. "It's not so much a sacrifice. I'm happy to be here for you both."

Well, that was an interesting development, Hettie thought. At least someone's romantic interests seemed to be going well.

*

Simon Dagliesh stood in the center of his ransacked rooms at the Albany and felt a frisson of fear snaking up his spine. He was not alone in the rooms. Two men stood in the shadowy recesses while a third man, large and imposing, was seated on the one upright piece of furniture that remained.

"Mr. Dagliesh... you have been a very difficult man to track down," Ardmore said. "One might think you were trying to avoid me."

"I've had many obligations, sir. I would never purposely attempt to avoid you," Simon said, his tone falsely obsequious.

Ardmore drummed his fingers on the tabletop. It was the only sound in the room, and it seemed to stretch on endlessly as he weighed the pitifully thin excuse that had just been lobbed his way. At long last, his fingers stilled and he spoke. "Ah, well that is a relief. One might have thought it had something to do with the truly extraordinary amount of money that you owe me. You do remember that you owe me money, don't you, Mr. Dagliesh?"

"Certainly, I remember. And I am making great inroads into securing the means to repay you in full," Simon replied.

"That is an excellent bit of news. But I'm afraid I require more than simply your word. I need to be convinced of your sincerity," Ardmore continued. And then he raised his hand, signaling to the two men in the shadows to step forward.

They were, in a word, bruisers. They were massive, and from their scarred knuckles, their profession was quite obvious. And Simon knew that he was going to have to do something drastic. They'd kill him otherwise. Or simply make him pray for death.

The first one grabbed him by the front of his shirt, shaking him not unlike a rag doll. When he crumpled to the floor, the second man stepped forward and kicked him in the ribs with booted feet. Any attempt to get up from the floor was met with slaps or punches. Only when he lay there perfectly still, completely submissive, did they halt.

"So unpleasant," Ardmore said. "It brings me no pleasure to see you punished so. If only, Simon, there was some way you could return my investment so that I would not have to do these terrible things to you."

One of Ardmore's goons reached for him again, and Simon pleaded. "No. No more. I beg of you. There is a way. There is a way!"

Ardmore stayed his henchman with a flick of his wrist. "I'm listening, Simon."

"I will inherit everything from my uncle when he dies," Simon rushed out quickly.

"When," Ardmore said. "When he dies. But I don't know when that will be. I could well shuffle off into the great beyond before he does. No. I need something more definite than that."

"And you'll get it. I do not mean to wait around for natural causes to solve this problem," Simon explained. "But it's only been two weeks since his wife's abduction and rescue... to act against him now? There is too much attention on both my uncle and Lady Ernsdale. Once the gossip has died down, then my uncle will meet with some sort of accident or tragic event that will result in his death."

Ardmore raised his hand once more, and the two men stepped back, giving Simon enough space to actually draw breath. They obeyed him like trained hounds. It was terrifying.

"Two months. That should be an adequate amount of time for interest in your uncle and his marital woes to have died down. Two months, and you will have everything you owe me, plus ten percent interest, delivered on a silver platter... or you'll be begging for mercy as your very blood drains from your body. Do you understand, Mr. Dagliesh? No more reprieves. No more concessions or extensions. This is your last chance."

Simon watched as Ardmore rose and exited his chamber. The two men followed. Even when he was alone, he did not immediately move to get off the floor. He wasn't certain he'd be able to, not without casting up his accounts. So he lay there, contemplating how he might manage to end his uncle's miserable life. There was no question he'd do it. His very survival depended upon it.