A Wicked Deception

By Karolyn Cairns

Book 2 The Wicked Series
Six months have passed since the Countess of Iverleigh went to the gallows for her crimes against Catherine's family. Much has changed. Nicholas' past comes back with a vengeance as he pursues the men who tormented him as a child. To the detriment of his happiness, he seeks to destroy them all.
Catherine tries to recall the love and faith of the man she married and ignore her growing awareness to her former lover, Gabriel St. Armand, the Earl of Iverleigh. Torn apart by lies and illicit deceptions once, they discover each other again with bitter consequences. Catherine must make a choice once more and resist the man who adores her. A tragic turn makes being with Gabriel again a very real possibility. Haunted by a promise to the man she loved, she vowed to leave London and Gabriel. The Earl offers marriage now with heart in hand, upsetting her intentions. But first, she is determined to begin their life with no secrets between them. She learns firsthand how unforgiving her former lover can be when he refuses to accept the truth.The men who ripped her husband's life apart are now after her. The assassin and crime lord Caspian Roth is back keeping watch over her, appealing to her every desire through his music and passion. Time runs out as he seeks to save her from unseen dangers, a madman's obsession, and ghosts who will not die in this sequel to A Wicked Proposition. The curtain has gone up and the cast is poised to act out the revenge Nicholas has set in motion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karolyn Cairns
• Release date: Apr 2, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476465456

Karolyn Cairns

Karolyn Cairns-Black lives in West Virginia with her husband Adam and three rescue dogs. She's busy at work. Its been a great year. She just wrapped up the fifth and sixth installment of The Wicked series in two parts, both available now.The follow up novels in The Viking Horde series are underway. Collin and Meghera's story titled A Viking's Heart is in works, the third in the series. The fourth installment about Joran and Allisande's son Storm is finished, to be published on the heels of A Viking's Heart. Two more novels are intended about their daughters Star and Wynter.Karolyn also writes suspense thrillers under the pen name KJ Black. The Gift Horse, her second novel was a finalist winner in the Greenlight Award Contest.Karolyn enjoys reviews and comments from her readers. She thanks you for all your encouragement and support!

Book preview

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A WICKED DECEPTION

By Karolyn Cairns

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright by Karolyn Cairns 2012

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Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the staff at Smashwords for their tireless efforts to promote authors. I would also like to thank my family for their continued support and encouragement for my pursuits in writing.

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This book is dedicated to my mother Sharon Sharrard, an avid reader and my biggest fan.

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and didn’t purchase it, or it wasn’t purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Prologue

1811 London

The man sat outside the house for hours. Nicholas Van Ryker sat up in the coach, fatigued from his nightly ritual. He thought of the lies he gave his wife of where he went and gritted his teeth. The damage he did was reflected daily in the contempt that grew in her eyes.

The questions and doubts mounted each day. He imagined those beautiful green eyes would narrow in disgust if she knew the truth of his past. He vowed she would never learn of it. It was his own secret shame to bear; not hers. Nicholas saw the wagon arrive. Eyes filled with deadly resolve as he got out of the coach. He went around back of the two-story nondescript building. The dagger he held glittered in the moonlight. He tucked it into his waistband. He knew the way in the dark better than the light. He leaned against the wall of the building, hearing music within and feminine laughter.

Nicholas’s heart beat so loud it was all he heard. He peered around the corner. The burly man backed the wagon up to the cellar door. His lips tightened when he saw the young boy within the cage, moonlight outlining his small, unmoving frame. A mist fell over his eyes, red and filled with wrath.

Rage flared in his nostrils, hearing the ditty the man hummed under his breath. Herbert hadn’t lost his touch. He shivered in disgust as he watched him lumber down from his perch. Herbert the Pervert was one of the most successful flesh peddlers in the area. He was also the source of many nightmares for its children. Parents used threats of him to ensure their children’s best behavior.

The boy in the cage could be no more than ten. Bound and beaten into submission by the flesh peddler; he was stuffed into the cage and delivered here. Herbert was older now and slower. His meaty arms still hefted the cage well though. He swung it off the back of the wagon and set it to the ground with a definitive thump.

Nicholas walked up behind him quietly, dagger drawn. His blue eyes glowed with an unholy light when he held the knife at the man’s throat. His arm wrapped around Herbert’s neck tightly as he struggled.

We meet again, Herbert, Nicholas whispered at his ear, eyes glued to the back door as he dragged him into the shadows. He forced the man to walk to the rear of the property. Herbert could do nothing but go, feeling the blade digging into his throat. He tried in vain to appeal to the man, sobbing as he was forced to his knees. The full moon shone above as Herbert pled his case, blubbering.

I’ll give ye whatever I get for the boy; I swear it! he cried, sobbing. Please, jus’ let me get me coin for ‘im, an’ ye kin ‘ave it all!

That won’t be necessary, Herbert. You won’t be selling children anymore; not where you’re going! Nicholas Van Ryker snarled. His face hardened with hatred as he swung the blade. The flash of the dagger was lightening fast. Herbert didn’t see it coming.

Herbert gurgled then, eyes wide as his hands flew to his neck. Nicholas slit the man’s throat from ear to ear, standing back to kick him away. Herbert collapsed face forward at his boots. He gasped in a strangled manner and held his throat, blood spraying through his grimy hands as he writhed upon the ground. He lay still after several moments.

Nicholas watched him die without expression or pleasure. He drew up short when he heard the boy weeping nearby. Leaning down, he wiped his blade across the dead man’s back. He walked over to the cage, crouched to see the solemn, tear-streaked little face within. The boy stared back at him, eyes wide with terror.

Nicholas reached between the bars, not surprised the boy bit at him like an animal. He drew back chuckling. He saw the boy’s hardened demeanor, a necessary prerequisite for the horrors of living on these streets. You can thank me by staying away from scum like him in the future, boy, he whispered as he opened the cage, watching the street urchin bolt. The little boy didn’t look back as he ran away. Nicholas left as quietly as he arrived, sticking to the shadows as he made his way to the nearby coach.

Once inside, he rapped upon the ceiling and it moved off. He sighed as he felt himself trembling. Hands clenched to think he’d been too merciful on the flesh peddler, not made him suffer enough. There are more like Herbert, he thought miserably with a sigh. He couldn’t kill them all.

He looked out the window of the coach waiting for the satisfaction to come. It didn’t come. Just the memories came, and with them the pain

Herbert bought him over twenty years ago. His mother sold him in desperation for ten pounds. Penny long lost her looks to drink and sent her only child to purloin coins for their living. Nicholas was an able pick pocket but some days were leaner than most. It was Christmas Eve when he arrived home to their shack, hungry and cold, and without coins for her.

Penny craved the drink more than life; loved it more than her fatherless child. She wanted her shaking to stop when she sought out the flesh peddler. Herbert came for him then. He cringed and forced away the memory of being dragged away crying, begging his mother to keep him. His last glimpse of her was seeing her stagger off in the direction of the gin cart.

Nicholas remembered the trip to the house that night. Once there, he was tossed into a cage in the cellar. The other children regarded him with hollow stares. Terror filled him when the woman arrived and paid Herbert.

The Madame of the brothel leaned down, her cloying perfume making him gag. He took a step back. She laughed, her hard gaze assessing his value. He shrank from the predatory look in her dark eyes.

This one will do nicely, Herbert. A pity you couldn’t get one smaller. You know how he likes the little ones.

The flesh peddler took his bag of coins, mumbling under his breath. I took wot oi’ could get.

The Madame nodded and left the cellars. Herbert made his way out, leaving him there. Rattling the cage; the boy shook it hard. Breathing raggedly from his exertions, he threw himself against the cage door.

Ye make all that noise an’ they’ll ‘urt ye, a little voice told him from the cage next to him.

Nicholas stared into the gloom and saw a little girl sitting amidst the straw, her blue eyes meeting his with a sad look. I’m gettin’ out o’ ‘ere, he informed her with a scowl as he barreled into the cage door again, drawing snickers from the other children.

The girl shook her head. There’s no way out o’ ‘ere. Ye keep makin’ all that noise an’ they’ll come back and ‘urt ye.

Who are ye talkin’ about? Nicholas demanded in annoyance, blue eyes fierce. Wot is this place?

Ye be in a fancy house. The man that buys us comes here, she replied quietly. Ye ‘ave to be quiet now or they’ll ‘urt ye. The big one named Lester likes ‘urtin’ us.

Nicholas went quiet, seeing the stark truth in her pale face. He was forced to live in the filthy cage. He had straw to lie upon and a slop bucket in the corner. They were fed once a day. The Madame wouldn’t waste more on them; saying they wouldn’t live long enough to starve. She was right.

Nicholas remembered Bessie more than the others. The little girl in the cage next to his gave him a reason to live in those dark days. Her advice saved his life when Herbert dragged him down there.

Don’t ye make a sound when they comes for ye one o’ these nights, Nicky, she told him after they became fast friends. Jus’ let’em ‘ave their fun wit’ ye. Ye stay quiet an’ they’ll leave ye be.

Nicholas recalled he had no idea what she talked about then. She held his hand after the first time he was taken upstairs in the fancy house. He came back sobbing in agony. Without her talking to him that night, whispering consolingly to him, he didn’t think he would have survived it.

Bessie lived there longer than the other children. One night she never returned after being delivered to one of Madame Devereaux’s clients. Nicholas knew she was dead. He waited all night for her. He sobbed in anguish as he sat in his cage; waiting for the day he would not return.

The nobles who paid for her were known for their brutality. All the children in the cellar feared them. The killing of a child wasn’t uncommon after a night in their clutches. Some died in their cages later. Herbert would stuff them into a barrel and take them away for the Madame.

He wept when she was led away; knowing she went to those animals. He could still see her angelic face as she smiled back at him in the dim cellar.

See ye in the mornin’ Nicky, she whispered as Lester dragged her out of the cage.

She never came back.

Many more never came back. He memorized their names while he waited for his turn. It was a means to keep him occupied as he huddled in his cage. His conscious mind rejected what was done to him each time he was led away; turning on and off at will to survive.

His chance to escape came one night. He didn’t hesitate to take it. The maid who saw to their needs forgot she was dealing with pickpockets and thieves. Nicholas snatched the keys jingling at her waist before she finished her task of feeding and watering them. He waited for her to return to the kitchens and let himself out of his cage.

Nicholas unlocked the cages holding the others, urging them to run. They would not. He begged them then; cried for them to come with him. He could see by their vacant expressions they no longer cared what was done to them anymore.

Nicholas ran to the cellar door. It was unlocked in Herbert’s haste to leave with another barrel. He flung the door wide and ran into the cold night. He ran as fast as his small legs could carry him. Naked and bleeding, he was driven to get as far away as he could from the horror of the cellar.

Nicholas ran until he was exhausted. He found himself at the docks. Breathing raggedly and coughing uncontrollably; he looked about. The docks were deserted and only a few ships were berthed there.

He found himself standing at the edge; staring down into the murky black water lapping against the sides of the dock. He wanted to die at that moment. That was when he heard a booming voice from above.

If you’re going to jump its best not to think of it, boy; else you lose your nerve, Oran Van Ryker advised in amusement, looking down from the bow of his ship as he smoked his pipe. But if it’s work you want; let’s find you some clothes and come aboard. I need a new cabin boy. The old one ran off. What do you say, lad?

Nicholas looked up at the giant blond sea captain leaning over the rail. He saw no signs of any lecherous intent. He glared up at him defiantly. His young face was hardened with his misery. Ye touch me an’ I’ll kill ye! he snarled, fist raised, blue eyes narrowed.

Oran heard the threats and saw only the bruised, broken spirit of the boy. He jumped down and approached, seeing the way the boy flinched away from him; cowered despite his brave words. He took off his great coat and put it around the little boy’s narrow shoulders; not surprised when he shrank away.

His pewter grey eyes flared with anger when he saw the way the boy was brutalized; old and new bruises upon his face; fresh cuts and bite marks on his body. The sea captain gave little thought and grabbed the boy up, despite his fierce struggles, and carried him aboard. He dodged kicks and hurled abuse.

You’re hired, boy, Oran announced as he deposited him onto the deck. The little boy looked about for a place to hide; scurrying behind a rain barrel nearby. If you’re hungry follow me, lad. I’m too damned old to chase you, he called over his shoulder. Let’s see what Tulley left us before he hit the taverns, shall we?

Nicholas smiled fondly as he remembered how he fought the man in those days; disbelieving in any kindness shown him. He was fed, clothed, and protected by the gruff seaman those months he sailed with him.

Oran soon decided his new cabin boy needed the stability of a home. Nicholas took to the life of a sailor. He was often found dangling in the rigging like a monkey. Oran thought it best Nicholas went to live with his other sons at his home in Norway.

Nicholas argued it, wanting to be a sailor like him. Oran refused and dragged him to the large estate; arguing he needed to be educated first.

Once there, he was introduced to the man’s five strapping sons. All older and bigger than him; they glared at Nicholas as their father brought him into their home. Oran’s wife died in childbed five years before bearing their only daughter. The little girl lived only three days longer than her mother. They were reared by servants now while their father was away.

They all five took turns tormenting him when Oran went back to sea. Soon Nicholas was tackling the oldest named Thor to the floor; hitting him so hard he was left alone by the rest. They soon grew to call him brother.

Oran adopted him and he remained at his home. They never spoke of what happened to him until the night he died. He was sixteen when Oran died that winter in Norway after a long bought of illness.

Thor was now the head of the family business at twenty-three; smuggling in earnest after the French Revolution. Eric, the second oldest at twenty-one, was also manning his own ship.

Thane was away at school then. When he learned of his father’s illness, he came home from the university. When his father died, he never returned and joined the family business.

Dane took it the hardest and hid away in his mother’s garret painting. His works lined the halls of the Van Ryker estate, each so provoking it was a wonder he never studied in Paris. Dane soon took up a ship with his brothers when he ran out of walls to fill.

Gareth was the baby of the five brothers and a year older than Nicholas. He was white-faced with dread when he stepped out of his father’s room that night. All of them were unable to conceive the man they worshiped was dying.

Nicholas was the last to see him before those wise pewter eyes closed forever. He listened to his father’s last words, heard his sage advice, and wished he could do as he asked.

Let it go, Nicky, Oran begged him then, his fever-ravaged words falling on deaf ears. The old man sat up in bed; seeing the demons reflected within his adopted son’s eyes and fell back, sighing in dread. Nicholas never listened to the only man he called Father. He was determined to make his fortune and return to destroy the men who hurt him.

Nicholas tried to forget. Catherine’s love made him believe he could put the past where it lived. He cringed within his soul when the nightmares came back. No amount of her love would cleanse it from him. It lived like a dark thing within him, buried and waiting.

The thirst for vengeance grew unquenchable after discovering the damning list. Thomas Sullivan’s secret drawer opened up a Pandora’s Box revealing the names of those he sought. He was looking for evidence to prove the imposter and Lady Iverleigh were involved in a plot against his wife. He didn’t expect to find the list.

The imposter who posed as Edward Thornton thought to pick up where Clarice left off. He took to blackmailing her rich and powerful clientele. All Thomas Sullivan did was poke a stick at them until they circled the brothel. When Yvetta, Clarice’s predecessor, went missing; Nicholas knew the nobles were involved. When young Lord Seaton was found floating face down in the Thames; he was sure of it.

The birth of his son Devlin brought him joy and the nightmares from his youth. The discovery of the twisted noblemen’s identities gave him new purpose. He followed them and watched them, waiting to end their miserable lives.

The Duke of Rudd, Lord Francis Wingate, carefully hid his penchant for boys from his peers. One of the richest and most influential men in England; he didn’t fear discovery. The man and his three cronies shared the same pastimes. They thought themselves safe until Nicholas came forward with his knowledge of the list. Now he bided his time to see what Rudd would do.

Clarice Devereaux provided them their entertainments for years, but grew weary of dumping dead children. When inquiries from the authorities began the mount; the Madame found a way to make it worth her time. They paid to keep her silence.

In the end, her foul greed was her downfall. They no longer wished to pay. Clarice died in her office one night. They said her heart gave out. Nicholas suspected she’d been poisoned, though he couldn’t be sure who did the deed. The contents of her safe were gone, stolen by Thomas Sullivan.

Sullivan looked for the diary he’d lost one night while entertained by one of her women. He’d erred in leaving his satchel unattended, letting it fall into Clarice’s hands. Then she blackmailed Lilly with its secrets. The Countess of Iverleigh was determined to get the diary back by any means.

Neither of them could have known what hell they unleashed when Sullivan took the list. The names on the list were old and powerful ones. They didn’t want their secrets known. Had Sullivan not been shot by another; he was on borrowed time the moment he took it.

Twenty years hadn’t changed much. Clarice Devereaux was older and harder than granite. She never recognized him as the boy he once was when he came back. He was there to enjoy her women then, but he had another motive too. She never saw the contempt in his gaze as he looked about her establishment. She never suspected he’d been the one to sneak to her cellars and let the children out of the cages.

Those acts satisfied his need to do something about the evil he knew existed there. He was to find it wasn’t enough. He knew he should put it all behind him. The demons from those days would destroy him. The thought of Lord Rudd and the others harming another child fuelled his renewed hatred. He wouldn’t stop until the four men were dead. Then, he hoped for the nightmares to end.

Chapter One

The key grated in the lock. Catherine sat up from dozing in the chair, sighing in annoyance as she struggled to get up. She was very pregnant and not in the best of moods. She was irritated at her clumsiness in these last weeks.

It was late. He was out all night again. The continued fear he strayed from their marriage dogged her steps when she heard the front door open. She gazed up at the mantle clock with a glare. Three o’clock in the morning! He’d better not use the lame excuse he couldn’t sleep again to explain his absence from their bed.

Her green eyes flared as she went into the foyer, surprising him as he quietly snapped the door shut behind him. He stared at her; his handsome face devoid of emotion. She walked near, dreading to smell a whore’s perfume upon him.

She looked up at him and he flinched from the hurt he saw in her face. The lovely planes were taut with anger and worry. How different things were now? The last six months their marriage had taken a drastic turn; his nighttime activities the source of many heated exchange. A house that once rang with laughter and love now stung with bitter words muffled behind closed doors.

Where have you been? she demanded quietly as her blood began to boil. And do not lie to me again, Nicholas! I’m not a fool! You disappear from our bed every night and come home at these ungodly hours! At least have the decency not to lie about it. You’ve found another woman; it’s obvious enough to me!

Nicholas glared down at his tiny, very-pregnant wife. He stepped away and would have passed her. She grabbed his coat sleeve and stayed him.

No you don’t! Don’t you walk away from me! You will tell me the truth or you can turn around and leave. I won’t have it! she cried, eyes filling with tears of rage. Seeing his hesitation; she took it for guilt. She stepped back, her hand covering her quivering mouth. Nicholas reached for her but she flung his hand away. No! Don’t touch me! So much for you loving me forever; you rotten, lying bastard! she cried bitterly and backed away from him. He watched her cry and said nothing.

I know you’ll believe what you will, Catherine. It’s far from what you’re thinking, he told her wearily, voice tight with anger as she continued to sob. I haven’t been with another goddamn woman! I want no other! He reached out to snatch her to him. I can’t tell you where I go, so don’t ask it. You must trust me on this.

I’m your wife, she snapped back, glaring up at him with her hands on her hips. If you can’t tell me what’s going on after everything that’s happened to us; then you don’t love me at all.

It doesn’t concern you, Catherine, he flung back, blue eyes filled with resentment. Go to bed and leave me be. I won’t be set upon by you with your damned accusations anymore. If you wish to believe me with another; than do so. I weary of your nagging. I remind you; I’m not the one who goes to see their old lover every day, so cease with your constant needling of me! he shouted and set her away from him.

Catherine blinked in hurt. She gazed up at the man she loved more than life in desolation and fled the foyer. Tears blinded her as she made her way to their room.

~ ~ ~

Nicholas watched her and didn’t follow as she took the stairs as fast as her condition allowed. He cursed as he heard their door slam to the bedroom above, knowing it would be locked to him this night. He set aside his cloak and cursed again under his breath and went to his study, pouring a brandy and flung himself into a chair. He lit the lamps and a cheroot, shaking in frustrated rage. He raked a hand through his unruly ebony mane, eyes narrowed.

The scene replayed itself often. He knew the damage he did to his marriage. It was starting to show. Catherine thought him unfaithful. She was insecure in the advanced stage of her pregnancy. She thought him too weak to wait until after the child was born. He could see her torment and knew her pain.

He closed his eyes in sorrow. Six months passed since Lilly was put to death for her crimes against his wife; a reminder of everything they fought for then. He was letting it slip away now with his need for vengeance.

The Countess of Iverleigh was dead; hung for her many crimes and misdeeds. They should be happy, awaiting the birth of their third child, not squabbling daily as they often did. He knew unless he finished this business with Lord Rudd and the others, there would be no coming back to what they had.

Catherine no longer trusted him. It was obvious. He could see it in her eyes. Who could blame her? Every night he was out hunting the men who tortured him as a child; looking for them in places he knew only from his nightmares. Each night he came home to see the love dwindling in her gaze when he refused to tell her the truth.

Nicholas was reminded each day what he had to lose when she went to see her son at Lord Iverleigh’s residence. He knew Gabriel still loved her. A part of her would always love him too.

They didn’t speak of it; pretended it wasn’t there. With trouble in his marriage, it was the last place he wanted his wife. He knew Gabriel well. If Catherine gave him the least sign; he would take her from him forever.

What he did now was madness. He risked the woman he loved to punish these men from his past. Every day brought him closer to killing them and closer to losing her.

He tossed back the brandy and poured another, too depressed to do anything than drink away his pain. He longed for Tieghan’s sage wisdom, knowing the giant would tell him what to do. His old friend had his own troubles. He searched for Elise Sinclair with little luck these last six months.

Trouble greeted his brothers when they went way home the year before; their wives to be exact. Honest to their own detriment; the brothers confessed their activities while here to Claire and Natalia. He delayed answering all the letters that came from his family members now. He glowered at the letter from Thor.

It thanked him in a sarcastic tone for all he’d done to keep Eric and Dane out of mischief while they stayed in London. The pair was feuding with their wives the year before and sought sanctuary at Clarice’s brothel.

Then there was the letter from Natalia; Eric’s estranged wife. She was threatening to kill his brother before she came looking for him. Claire, Dane’s wife, wrote that her husband was never visiting him again. Gwynn wrote one word in the middle of the page; one he dare not repeat. Right down the line; he was harassed by them all.

Nicholas was besieged with nagging at every turn. He flung the letters to the floor. He had enough of his own troubles. He was losing his wife. He poured another drink as he spied the unopened letter from his brother Gareth, refusing to open it.

Lately, all he received was blame from those he loved. He could do nothing to please anyone. He stared in self-loathing at his reflection in the crystal glass. Everything seemed pointless of late.

~ ~ ~

Catherine woke with puffy eyes and a wounded spirit. She got up, lips tight at the argument she had with Nicholas the night before. He refused to tell her what he was involved in. Her concern for him was growing every day.

He rarely slept, drank brandy by the crateful, and lied to her constantly. She no longer believed a word he said to her. She knew whatever kept him out every night was driving the wedge between them now.

She knew her husband wasn’t unfaithful; convinced by the depth of his love. Whatever he hid from her, it tormented him as nothing had before. He was strangely quiet, no longer jesting. He was moody and smiled little. He changed so drastically from the man she married; she sought out the Earl’s advice recently due to her concerns.

Gabriel and Nicholas had a strained friendship these days. They both decided being cordial for her sake was the better course than fighting over her. Gabriel was little help in discovering what was wrong with Nicholas. Her husband still heaped his affections upon the children and her brothers. With her, he was distant and closed.

At night he was beset with nightmares so violent she feared he would harm her and the child. She withdrew to the divan many nights to avoid his hands and feet from lashing out at her. Upon questioning him in the morning, she received nothing but his cool, emotionless stare and tight-lipped refusal to disclose the source of the night terrors.

She dressed in a loose morning dress of pale yellow chiffon, tying her raven curls back with a yellow ribbon. She went to the nursery first. Her one-year old son Devlin dozed in his crib. Brionne was up and wreaking havoc with her toys. The impish three year-old saw her at once. She giggled and ran to her.

Catherine hugged the little girl and picked her up, kissing the top of her unruly mop of ebony curls. She closed her eyes as she held her once-lost daughter. She tried to remember the devotion of the man who returned the child to her; willed herself to trust him now. Whatever her husband was up to, she was going to get to the bottom of it.

Their nanny Mrs. Gates arrived to see to the children’s breakfast. The former midwife who delivered Brionne and Giles stayed on after Lilly’s trial and execution. She was a godsend and regaled Catherine with all she missed of Brionne’s babyhood. Catherine appreciated it, but nothing could give her back the first two years she lost with her twin son and daughter.

They never told Gabriel the truth of what happened the night his son was born. To look at Brionne was to acknowledge she was very much her father’s daughter. The fact she was Gile’s twin sister produced more questions both wished to answer.

Gabriel would never forgive the indiscretion. Nicholas refused to tell him, fearing he would keep Giles from her. They maintained the child was adopted. All suspected she was one of Nicholas’s bastards and Catherine didn’t know. What they all thought was better than the truth. Even Catherine had trouble conceiving how it was possible she bore two children by two different men. None would believe it, but it was true. Certainly Lord Iverleigh would hold it against them now.

Gabriel had come around much the last months in allowing her unlimited time with their son. That could change in an instant, she knew. She had no rights to Giles, only those he gave her.

It pained her to know the world believed her sister Lilly gave birth to him. Gabriel refused to bastardize his son even if the truth came out during his wife’s trial. He was stubborn Giles would remain his heir and wouldn’t listen to reason.

Catherine went below to seek out her husband. She was told by the butler Hennessey he was locked in his study. She glared as she approached the door, knocking sharp upon it.

She stared in shock as he flung open the door, quailing from the stench of liquor and cigars emanating from the room. She looked up into the angry, red-rimmed eyes of her husband and stalked past him.

We need to talk, Nicholas. This has gone on long enough, she informed him in a firm voice, meeting his gaze and seeing his pain. He stood against the door frame, lips twisted into a bitter smile. He shut the door behind her. She saw the empty bottles on his desk and the letters flung upon the floor. She took a seat at the desk, eyeing him in reproach as he took a seat across from her. I know you’re involved in something you won’t speak of. I will ask you again to trust me to tell me all or I’m taking the children and going to Dunleavy Hall. I won’t live like this any longer.

You’re leaving me? His blue eyes narrowed. He cursed and flung her a look of resentment.

I won’t live in a house without trust, she told him and leaned forward, her face flushed in anger. I won’t live with a man who stays out all evening and drinks himself into a stupor each night. If this is the way it is to be then I won’t watch you destroy yourself.

Well said, wife, what happened to the ‘for better or for worse’ in your vows? he asked mockingly, his face taut. You go nowhere, Catherine. I won’t allow you to leave me.

I didn’t ask you, Nicholas! she snapped. And just so you know; when things got better, you made them worse with your nightly carousing! Don’t blame me if I refuse to put up with it any longer! You’re free to do whatever you wish, and needn’t lie to anyone anymore!

Nicholas longed to explain his actions. She had no reason to worry. The thought of her horror stayed his tongue. No, he couldn’t tell her. The horrors of his early life weren’t fit for her ears. Despite knowing what she thought of his late-night activities, he preferred for her to think the worst. That was better than the truth.

Catherine saw his hesitation as he remained silent and tears filled her eyes. She rose from his desk, glaring down at him. When you decide you want to play husband again; I will be at Dunleavy Hall, she whispered in fury and stalked from the room, slamming the door behind her.

He flinched from the sound. His shoulders sagged as he realized how far he’d pushed her. She meant what she said. Even as close to having their child as she was, she would leave him and take the children.

Nicholas buried his face in his hands. He knew if he didn’t do something he would lose his wife. In the end, in his fear; he let her go.

He watched the following week as the wagons were loaded to take his extended family to The Orion. Tulley, the ship’s cook and his long-time friend, sailed in his stead. He wouldn’t allow her to make the crossing into Ireland without Tulley and his wife aboard. Mrs. Bingham married Tulley finally. Martha Tulley glared at him as she approached, her steely gaze sliding over him in disdain.

So, you’re just going to let your wife walk out on you, are you Captain? she inquired, adjusting her spectacles, obvious anger shining in her gaze.You’re acting like the biggest ass in the world. Are you aware of it?

Very much so, dear Martha, pray do not remind me. My wife has every day the last six months, he bit back. Martha had always been his staunchest supporter. Not anymore. Even she ran out of excuses for him. She no longer sang his praises, but remained tight-lipped, eyes narrowed with disapproval.

I hope whatever you’re doing is worth losing everything, Captain. You have a made a muck of things, Martha pointed out with a wistful look as the trunks and bags were loaded. They watched as the Dunleavy children were put in the coaches, along with the two nurses for Devlin and Brionne. Last chance Captain. What do you say? Stop this now. You lose it all and for what?

It is better they go, Nicholas snapped as he turned away on the porch. He regretted his words when he saw his wife’s former teacher gasp, a look of dismay in her eyes.

I knew it, she whispered in fury. I told Mr. Tulley you were involved with another woman. I hope she gives you the pox; you damned rotter! She stomped away to join her husband, looking back at him with a scathing look he flinched from. Even Martha turned on him.

Nicholas smiled with much effort as he waved to his children and Catherine’s brothers. His wife’s desolate look hit him like a punch to his gut. He fought the urge to go to her as she was assisted into the coach, her wounded eyes never leaving his.

Nicholas broke from the pain he saw there, refused to meet her eyes, still angry at her leaving him. He watched as the two coaches drew away from the curb and longed to chase them. He watched until they turned at the end of his street. Then they were gone.

Nicholas went back inside, feeling as though he’d been kicked in the chest. He knew it was best his family leave. The silence in his home was ominous as he stood in the foyer. He lost her. He felt the dam open up with the misery he’d long held at bay, washing over him in waves that soon would drown him.

Chapter Two

Gabriel St. Armand arrived at Nicholas’s residence at midday. The cryptic message he received from Catherine before her departure nagged at him. She left for Ireland after the last visit with their son and gave him a feeling something was amiss. That was weeks ago.

He frowned and knocked upon the door. After several minutes delay, Hennessey answered. The normally staid butler had a wild look. He appeared relieved to see him, ushering him inside, his lined-face filled with worry.

Where is he?Gabriel stalked into the foyer, looking about for signs of Nicholas.

He’s in the study, Lord Iverleigh. Please, my lord, you must hurry! He is in a terrible way this time!Hennessey cried in distress. I would have sent for Maggie but he said he would take his sword to me if I did.

Gabriel entered the study and blanched from the sight of Nicholas, laying sprawled facedown upon the floor. Broken glass was everywhere. He saw empty bottles of brandy littering the floor, startled to see a bottle of laudanum near his head. He came forward and reached down to slap his friend’s ghostly pale face. When Nicholas didn’t stir, he checked for signs of breathing and gazed up at Hennessey in dismay.

Send for a doctor and hurry!

Hennessey took off at a dead run. When he returned; he brought help with him. They moved Nicholas’s unconscious body upstairs to his room. Dr. Wells arrived within a half hour. The man set about pouring some vile agent down Nicholas’s throat immediately.

Gabriel watched it all before he cringed and turned away as a tube was inserted into his friend’s stomach. He heard the harsh gagging sounds as Nicholas retched violently into a bucket at the side of his bed. It continued for some time until the doctor assured him Nicholas would live. The laudanum was purged and he slept now.

Dr. Wells took his leave. Gabriel sat at the bedside, his gaze sad as he looked at what became of Catherine’s husband. Nicholas was a mere shadow of the man he once was. Dark circles were under his eyes. He’d grown far too thin; not even bothered to bathe or shave in the weeks since his wife left for Ireland.

Gabriel was grim when he sent a messenger to his residence to inform his staff he was staying on here for a few days. He sat with his friend, worrying over him when he failed to wake up after three days. The doctor assured him it was normal. He was sleeping; the best thing for him now.

Nicholas was fitful as he slept. The dreams hounded him unmercifully, unmindful of the strong arms that held him down. He cried out in his dreams, begging for the hands that hurt him to stop. The leering faces of the men who unleashed their torment upon him taunted his unconsciousness. He screamed in agony, the sound making Gabriel tense as he listened to him begging to die as he thrashed and cried in the