Page 70 of Daring the Forbidden Earl
His friend approached from the carriage that had come to a standstill a short distance down the dock front. He had returned to Bow Street after bringing the ship’s doctor, so he could relay messages between Denninson and those at the warehouse.
“I cannot say,” Mark replied. “It looks rather like butchery to me, but Hugh is still breathing. Is all well at Bow Street?”
Liam nodded. “Denninson had Lord Dresday trussed up like a prize ham. I believe the Baron will be taken down to the cells in due course, charged with the crime of dueling, racketeering, and making an attempt on the life of an Earl.” He paused. “Denninson thought it best to leave Hugh’s name out of the situation, for your sake.”
“I must offer him my gratitude for that,” Mark said quietly, for despite Hugh’s transgressions against Johanna, he could not help but feel sorry for the half-brother he had never known.
He just wanted to create a better life for his beloved and his unborn child, so they would not have to suffer the same impoverished fate that he endured.
Liam gave a low whistle. “All this time, Lord Dresday wanted to preserve his reputation, and now he has destroyed it of his own accord.”
“Is there supposed to be some justice in that?” Mark cast a sideways glance at his friend, knowing he was trying to cheer him up.
Liam gave Mark’s shoulder a squeeze. “I daresay there is.”
“The most troubling part is, I do not know whom to hold responsible.” Mark chewed the inside of his cheek, struggling to hold back a fresh bout of tears. “If my grandfather had allowed my mother to marry my uncle, they would have been happy. I would not exist, but they would have been happy. If my mother had not continued her affair, she would not have died of a broken heart. If my father had allowed Hugh to be part of our family, she would not have died like that either, and Hugh would not have struggled. And if Lord Dresday had not been greedy and deceitful, forcing Hugh to reconsider his prospects, none of this would have happened. Hugh would not have needed money from me.”
Liam smiled. “I cannot answer that for you, and I doubt you will ever find a satisfying answer for it, either. Well, with everyone but Lord Dresday. He is guilty as sin, though maybe he would not have fired his pistol if Miss Steele had not lied about you.” He shrugged. “This is a tangled knot, indeed, and I do not think you should seek to unravel it just yet.”
At that moment, Johanna came outside, helping Lizzie along. The poor young woman looked ghoulish, her face deathly pale, and her eyes rubbed raw from crying. Immediately, Mark feared the worst.
“Is Hugh…?” He trailed off, not daring to finish the sentence.
Johanna shook her head. “He is holding onto life, my love, but I thought it prudent to take Lizzie somewhere safe, so she may rest awhile. All of this stress and strain is not good for the child.” She smiled. “I thought I might take her to my apartments.”
Mark nodded. “I will bring news, should anything change.”
He watched the two women leave and felt a bittersweet appreciation for his own beloved. Once upon a time, he had thought her to be a cold, unfeeling harpy who he could not be in the same room with, without it descending into an argument. Now, he did not know how he had ever existed without her. Nor did he want to find out.
They might not have succeeded in traveling to Gretna Green to pledge themselves to one another, but that did not matter to him at present. Instead, it had been a terrifying day, filled with panic and despair, but it had also served as a rather potent lesson.
I vow I will not make the same mistakes as those who have gone before me,.I will love Johanna with everything I possess, loving her more with each day until it is our last.
For that, he realized, was the only way to find true happiness.
Chapter Forty-Two
Afortnight after the events in the warehouse, Johanna and Mark found themselves at Roberts Orphanage. It had been Johanna’s suggestion, as a possible way for Mark to put the troubles of the past to rest. Ever since that day, he had gone round and round in circles, trying to figure out what was the truth and what was not. But, really, there was only one way to find out.
“What did you say the name was?” Mrs. Roberts smoothed a wayward strand of hair out of her face.
Johanna cleared her throat. “Hugh Snow, or Hugh Carlton. We do not know which name he might have been given when he came here.”
Mrs. Roberts went to a large bookshelf on the far right side of her office, and drew her index finger down the spines of several enormous ledgers. Johanna could hardly believe that so many children had come through these doors, to find sanctuary, unless some of the ledgers served a different purpose: inventories, accounts, that sort of thing.
“Ah, here we are.” Mrs. Roberts plucked a vast tome from one of the upper shelves and brought it back over to her writing desk. Licking the pad of her finger, she flicked through the yellowed pages until she came to a particular entry. “I remember him now. A bitterly sad child. He used to sit by the gates, waiting for someone to come for him. A furious temper, too, though I imagine it served him well as a prizefighter.”
Mark roused himself and laced his fingers through Johanna’s for support. “Were there any letters? Hugh spoke of correspondence from his mother and father, and gifts that were left by the latter.”
Hugh himself was presently recuperating at Mark’s townhouse, with Lizzie forever at his side. A terrible fever had taken hold of him a week ago, and everyone had feared he might not survive. But he was a fighter in more ways than one, and the fever had broken just yesterday, allowing the household to breathe more easily. Still, Hugh was not yet out of danger.
“Oh yes, there were plenty of both, though it is not strictly permitted.” Mrs. Roberts pulled out a sheaf of flattened letters. “That must be why I remember him so vividly, for it was an unusual situation. We do not normally take children who have both parents living, but his father paid a handsome sum for him to remain here.”
Mark held out his hand. “May I see the letters?”
“Again, it is not strictly permitted, but I suppose there is no harm as you are both patrons of this orphanage… and poor Mr. Snow is no longer with us.” Mrs. Roberts offered a sorrowful smile and handed the letters over. “Indeed, I suppose you would be considered his next of kin, if you would like to keep them?”
“May I?” Mark looked as though he had been the one to receive a gift.
