Page 12 of The Lady Confesses
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.
Chapter Ten
Hettie was seatedin Honoria’s drawing room. Spread out on the table before them were ledgers and correspondence as they tackled their various charitable obligations. It had been two weeks since she’d returned to Arthur’s home, but she’d found herself spending several afternoons each week with her sister. It was to the point where Hettie feared she was becoming a burden. After all, Honoria and Mr. Carrow were newly married. They intended to leave London soon to visit his country estate. What would she do when there was no safe harbor for her?
Of course, she knew that provisions would be made and they were only going to be gone for a week. Vincent would do what was necessary to ensure her continued safety until their return. But it wasn’t that which she feared. It was the loneliness that threatened to engulf her. And that was not her sister’s burden to carry. If anyone deserved to focus only on their own happiness for a time, it was certainly Honoria.
“The hospital is requesting additional funding,” Hettie said, reviewing the last letter. “Unfortunately, we have exhausted every potential donor. But perhaps we could do some sort of event? An auction or a conscripted party? Though, I daresay we are neither of us in a position to host such a thing. Is there someone else we could enlist to do so?”
Honoria sighed. “I don’t know. Possibly. I’ll have to give it some thought and send out some inquiries.”
“I’ll do the same.”
“Hettie, are you . . . are you well?”
Hettie met her sister’s concerned gaze. “I’m perfectly fine, Honoria. Why do you ask?”
“You do not seem quite yourself. You have been so quiet and subdued. I understand, of course, that you went through something quite traumatic, and I cannot imagine that it would not have some lingering effect. I worry that there is more to it, however. Perhaps more to do with Mr. Ettinger than with your abduction... or is it Ernsdale? Is he making your life there a misery?”
Shaking her head, Hettie took her sister’s hand. “You are very sweet to worry after me so. But no, strangely enough, Arthur and I have reached a truce of sorts. I stay out of his way, and he stays out of mine. Occasionally we dine together, speaking the bare minimum of words to one another, and then we go our separate ways. We have settled into a society marriage... perfect from the outside but cold and lonely within. Not that I’d want anything else with Arthur.”
“But you do want more for yourself,” Honoria guessed. “Perhaps with a very large, broad-shouldered, handsome former Bow Street Runner of humble origins who has an overabundance of pride and stupidity?”
Hettie pursed her lips in displeasure. “Is it really so obvious? And I have no notion why I ought to still be mooning over him. It was one night. Only one.”
“Yes, but one night where you saw one another both at your best and your worst. It complicates matters when you have a bond forged in fear and danger.”
She wasn’t wrong, Hettie thought. Her very survival, the very fact that she was still alive and well to have a conversation with her sister was due to Joss Ettinger. And despite his rejection of her that morning, she couldn’t forget the way he’d looked at herin the darkness or the almost reverent way he’d touched her. Those remembered pleasures were her only company at present. “Perhaps that is it. Over time, as I continue to heal and recover from all that I went through, that bond may become lessened. It certainly hasn’t been an issue for him. I’ve neither heard from him nor seen him since. And it doesn’t matter. I’m not free anyway, am I? At the end of the day, I’ll still be Arthur’s wife. Perhaps when he is gone, then I will find a man to love me the way your Vincent loves you.”
“I want that for you. I didn’t know how much I needed that until we found one another. And it isn’t that I wasn’t content or that I didn’t feel like I had a purpose in life. But contentment is not happiness,” Honoria said wistfully. “And you should have happiness.”
Hettie felt those words reverberate within her. Honoria wasn’t wrong. But wanting something to be did not make it so. Getting to her feet, she gathered her things. “We are becoming a maudlin mess. I should go before we both wind up in tears.”
As she turned to exit, the drawing room doors opened and Vincent walked in. But it was the man beside him who made her halt. Joss Ettinger stood there. Their gazes locked, and Hettie would swear that the very air crackled between them.
“Lady Ernsdale,” he said, his tone stiff and cold. “You are looking well.”
Hettie forced a polite smile to her lips. “Thank you, Mr. Ettinger. I am well. Quite well. Good day.” With a nod to Vincent and to her sister, she then simply walked out as she completely ignored the fact that she could not properly expand her lungs and that her knees were shaking.
*
Joss watched herwalk out, and it took everything he had in him not to go after her. He wanted to chase her down, pull her into his arms and kiss her till they were both utterly senseless with it. But he had no idea how such an advance would be welcomed. Likely, it would not. He’d made his choice, for better or worse, and his cold treatment of her would not be easily forgiven. Hettie was a woman with a great deal of pride. It was one of the many things he admired about her.
“Excuse me,” Honoria said. “I’m going to see my sister off.” Then she sailed from the room, leaving him alone with the Hound.
