Tempting Fate Page 20

  “He’s recovering… for now. It was all quite terrible for him.” Reginal sidled closer to her. “It’s nearly impossible to afford his upkeep now, without his inheritance. He might have to go back.”

  Swamped with grief for siblings she’d never met, Felicity rushed to the bookshelf and retrieved the Bible, flipping through the gold-leaf pages to retract the deed. “I can give you Fairhaven. For that matter, I can give you Cresthaven if you want it. You can name your sum, if only…” She searched her mind for a solution. “If you’ll relinquish the guardianship of my siblings to me.”

  He laughed as his pistol appeared, wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye. “Why would I settle for a sum, when I can have the entire thing?”

  Panic threatened to overwhelm her as her limbs went numb. “I-If that gun goes off in this neighborhood, the bobbies come running. There’s no getting away with this.”

  “You think I haven’t considered everything?” he smirked.

  She cast desperately about for another threat. “Also… Mercy and Raphael will be here any moment.”

  “I already have men lying in wait at the door.” He pulled paperwork from his pocket. “You’re going to marry me, Felicity Goode; whether it’s before or after you die is your decision.”

  “You didn’t bring enough men,” came Gabriel’s throaty growl from the doorway.

  “I brought plenty, it seems,” Reginald remonstrated, gesturing to the three men who kept the monstrous gangster at bay.

  Felicity did her best to draw Reginald’s focus away from Gabriel. He’d already been shot once defending her, she couldn’t allow that again. “You know Chief Inspector Carlton Morley will never let this hold. You don’t understand the dynamics of this family. We’re very close. They’ll know any sort of marriage is a sham. They’ll fight you in court. They’ll find you out and see you hanged for murder.”

  “You’re not going to live long enough to hang.” Gabriel’s threat was so feral, she almost believed him.

  “Come again?” With a snap of Reginald’s fingers, the garrote tightened once more, cutting off Gabriel’s ability to speak.

  To add insult to injury, the man on his right moved to block the doorway. Hauling a hammer-sized fist back, he punched Gabriel hard enough to crack his head to the side.

  He barely blinked, merely turned his head back to stare at the man with lips pressed tightly closed.

  Reginald resumed his threats. “I will dismantle this undeserving dynasty built by a man who broke his word to us. Starting with you and your twin, and working my way up to the top of Scotland Yard. Then all of this will go to the rightful family…” He swept his arms to encompass the entirety of Cresthaven Place. “Or…” He looked at her out of the sides of his eyes, revealing whites tinged a disgusting shade of yellow.

  “Or what?” Felicity couldn’t stop herself from asking, though she was certain she would detest his response.

  “Or… You marry me in earnest. And what’s yours becomes mine.”

  “It won’t work,” she informed him. “The will stipulates I have to marry above a viscount.”

  “There are ways around such stipulations.” Reaching out, he drew a finger across Felicity’s jaw, then traced the edge of her collar down the line of her throat.

  In that moment, Gabriel Sauvageau spit a mouthful of blood into the eyes of the man who’d struck him, then snapped his head back to break the nose of the man with the death grip on the garrote.

  Reginald swiveled around, but before he leveled his pistol at Gabriel, Felicity seized his cane from his left hand and struck out at the wrist with which he held the weapon.

  A few well-placed elbows saw Gabriel freed, and when he dipped to gather the knife from the floor, he turned to her, swiping a drop of red from the corner of his mouth.

  “Turn away, mon coeur,” he said, his eyes dark with a strange amalgamation of regret and anticipation as he advanced on Reginald, kicking away the pistol.

  Felicity obeyed. She dashed around the desk to Emmaline, who collapsed against her. They clung to each other, staring into the fireplace, not once looking back even as terrible sounds reached them.

  Felicity didn’t have to ask why he’d directed her not to look.

  He didn’t want her to see all the blood he spilt.

  Chapter 16

  In a matter of hours, it was as if no one had died in the house.

  Felicity realized that when one had a gangster, a surgeon, and a chief inspector in one’s family, one never had to worry about divesting oneself of bodies.

  On pure chance, Raphael and Mercy had returned moments after the violence, having forgotten Mercy’s case notebook.

  Gabriel had barely helped Felicity and Emmaline navigate the carnage and collapse into the parlor, when her brother-in-law strode onto the scene looking like the devil’s own butler, one hand gripping his lapel like a chuffed politician. “I say, mon frere, do you have any idea why I was forced to kill two men at the courtyard door?”

  Mercy was much less collected as she shoved past the Sauvageau brothers and dashed to her side. “Dear God! Felicity, Mrs. Winterton, are you all right?”

  Astonished that she’d held together this long, Felicity began to quake with bone-deep shudders. And still, she was able to turn and take the freezing fingers of the woman sitting beside her. “Mercy, meet Emmaline, our sister.”

  After a flurry of action in the middle of which Emmaline and Felicity sat leaning on each other, siblings and spouses were called upon, and arrangements, both legal and otherwise, cleared their house of all evidence of violence.

  Now Felicity sat surrounded by her family, squirming beneath their expectant regard.

  Everyone had a strong drink in their hands, including herself. Morley and Prudence stood by the fireplace, helping themselves to whisky brought by a subdued Mr. Bartholomew.

  Titus, who’d once shoveled the coal used to light said fireplace, pulled a comfortable chair in front of it, and settled his very pregnant wife, Honoria, into it. Propping her swollen feet on a stool and covering her lap with a blanket, he hovered protectively, attentive to any need that might arise.

  Mercy sat on the other side of Emmaline, and Raphael hitched one leg against the armrest next to her, half-leaning, half-sitting as he sipped a glass of red wine.

  As per usual, Gabriel— who took up the most room— lurked in the shadows by the doorway, silent and grim as a reaper.

  Felicity found herself afraid he would slip away if she didn’t keep checking on him. He’d changed his clothing, securing his collar very high to his chin, concealing what she was certain to be an ugly line around his throat.

  She wanted to see it. To make Titus examine it.

  She wanted him to look at her.

  Nora, the eldest, was doing her best to digest the story by asking Emmaline gentle questions. “So, this Sir Reginald… He was your mother’s brother, and not a blood relative of ours at all.”

  Emmaline nodded, sipping some hot tea splashed with brandy. “He is— was— a monster. He consistently threatened my brother. Our brother, who is a kind and tender soul. He dragged me this morning from the hospital with threats against not only him but Rosaline, as well. You see, he had… unnatural affections toward her. And Father did nothing.”

  “He was not a man who cared for the comfort or happiness of his children,” Honoria said around a tight swallow, remembering, no doubt, that he’d callously married her off to a violent, criminal viscount.

  Emmaline nodded her head in agreement, lips pinched against both physical and emotional pain. “Our father provided us extraordinarily little upkeep after he found out about Emmett’s… proclivities. He left instructions for us to find people to marry and care for us. Uncle Reginald had been leaching off Mother ever since she’d fallen ill with the cancer, pretending to the world that he was the one helping us.”

  “Why did he decide to call you Mrs. Winterton?” Honoria placed an idle hand on her round belly, her ebony brows
drawn together. “Are you married?”

  “No, but I am ruined,” she answered honestly, her pale cheeks regaining some color in the semblance of a blush. “There was a… proposal— it doesn’t matter— Father decided that if I was Mrs. Winterton, it lent me respectability and people who even noticed me would be too polite to inquire whether I was a widow or estranged.” She let out a beleaguered sigh.

  “It is such an injustice that we are slaves to the whims of such men as these,” Mercy said vehemently, glaring at everyone in the room guilty of claiming the opposite sex. “I’m glad you are rid of this Reginald. And our father, all told, he treated you most abominably.”

  Emmaline shook her head with an incredulous expression while she self-consciously did her best to tuck her unruly hair back into the knot it wanted to escape. “I can’t apologize enough to you all. I wish I could fix the damage I’ve done. Especially to you, Felicity, for the danger I brought to your door.”

  Setting her teacup down with a clatter, she grasped Felicity’s hands and held her gaze with one comprised of tears and trepidation. “Thank you for being kind. I understand if you want to throw me out with the rest of the rubbish, but I wanted you to know that you are one of the best people I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing, and I will always be grateful for the times we shared.”

  When she would have pulled her hands away, Felicity gripped them tighter. “You’re not rubbish. You’re family.”

  Everyone made gentle noises of agreement, which caused the tears gathered in Emmaline’s auburn lashes to spill over onto her cheeks. “I suppose I need to return to Fairhaven and inform Rose and Emmett that they are free… finally free.” The word produced a watery smile.

  “Tell them you are all part of the Goode family now,” Felicity said, a decision firmly solidifying in her mind. “And bring Emmett here, of course, so that he might take his seat as the Master of Cresthaven and the proprietor of father’s shipping empire.”

  At that, everyone started talking at once.

  “Let’s not be hasty—”

  “We’ve never even met—”

  “What are you going to do if you give away everything—”

  “Felicity, perhaps we should discuss this before you—”

  Putting up a hand, she waited until they’d fell into an astounded silence. “There’s nothing to discuss, I am quite resolved. If I failed to marry into nobility, Father made unerringly clear that I get nothing and the next in line gets everything. However, if Reginald did one thing, it was to bring to this house evidence of an heir. A true heir. All this should have been his in the first place.”

  “It does not seem right that you end up with nothing to your name,” Raphael noted, playing his role as the devil’s advocate. “I think we are well aware that evidence can disappear.”

  “Yes, but the truth does not,” Felicity stated firmly. “And I don’t have nothing, I have all of you.” She squeezed Emmaline’s hand. “And more, besides.”

  “You can stay with us, of course,” Titus offered. “Nora would be so glad of the company, especially once the child arrives.”

  “Or she lives around the corner with us,” Prudence interjected. “Caro and Lottie already adore her, and there’s decidedly less blood at our estate than in the hospital. And room for a garden out back.”

  Mercy snorted. “If you are not taken in by our sisters’ obvious ploys to turn you into the spinster aunt who helps them wrangle their unruly children, you are welcome aboard the yacht with Rafe and me. We can have the adventures we always planned.” Smiling brilliantly, her twin twinkled mischievous eyes at her sisters, confident she’d won Felicity’s favor.

  “Or you can stay in your home,” Emmaline murmured, with her heart shining in her eyes. “I think you would love being here with family… If Emmett is to be the patriarch, I assure you there is no brother dearer than he is. He will revel in his duty to dote on and care for you.”

  “No.” The one deep, cutting syllable sliced through the swell of love and sentiment in the room as Gabriel stepped from the shadows, his features set as if ready to do battle.

  “She is mine. I will care for her.”

  Chapter 17

  Gabriel’s teeth slammed shut after inadvertently speaking the words that his heart had shoved into his throat and out of his mouth.

  Peace erupted into chaos again as three men surged to their feet, and as if with one mind, created a line of muscle and masculine challenge between where Gabriel stood and Felicity’s chaise.

  Even his brother took an uneasy stance against him, scrutinizing him with the eyes of someone who knew all of his sins.

  He couldn’t blame any of them, they’d just cleaned up the corpses he’d left strewn about the house.

  For her.

  Their shoulders blocked her perfect features from view, and he wanted more than anything to see her response.

  God, he hadn’t even asked her what she wanted. He’d just claimed her like some bloody barbarian marauder claimed his spoils of war.

  But she had to know she was so much more than that.

  Sharing a bed was a great deal different than sharing a life, and the mention of it that morning had been hanging like the sword of Damocles over his head all day.

  Because he’d wanted it so much, and knew she’d made other decisions already.

  They’d never spoken of what a future between them might look like… but he’d been in love with her since the first night she’d reluctantly assisted Honoria Goode with the clandestine mission that’d brought them into each other’s lives.

  Raphael had also been struck by Mercy at the beginning, but Gabriel…

  He’d been devastated by Felicity.

  She’d been his in his heart, his imagination, his every decision since that day.

  He knew it was pathetic, and he didn’t give a dusty fuck.

  He lived and died by her word.

  Raphael stepped forward, his eyes both cautious and contrite. “Gabriel… you cannot just announce that—”

  “Let him speak.” Felicity shouldered through Titus and Morley, attracting all attention in the room.

  A spark ignited in his chest. One he’d thought had been extinguished forever.

  Hope.

  In that moment, everyone else in the room disappeared.

  “Felicity. Even though I lied to you about my name, I was honest when I said I’d only known violence. I’d thought people were only capable of malice and greed, cruelty and guile.”

  Lifting a hand, he caressed her cheek with the backs of his scarred knuckles. “But your goodness— your light— it beckons me. It humbles me. It makes me want to twist myself into you. To tear the parts of myself away that offend you and see them crushed beneath the heel of your boot so that I might weave something better into my tattered soul.”

  Her mouth dropped open, but he forged ahead, needing to spill his entire heart before she either accepted or condemned him.

  “I’m in love with you,” he blurted. “I wish I could undo all the evil that I’ve done for your sake. I have been a liar and a thief. I am a bastard in every sense of the word. But my feelings for you are the truest thing in me. They are… the sweetest, most tender kind of violence because they have broken me down and shattered everything I thought was the truth.

  “I know I said that you were mine but… I don’t want to possess you.” He held up his hand. “No, that’s not true. I can’t help but ache to make you mine. Because you are mine. Even if you decide that this isn’t to be. My heart. My body. My protection. My life. It’s yours. I am yours. Even if you gave your future to another. You are still mine, because you are a part of me. The only part of me I can stand.”

  When he looked up, she was not the only Goode sister with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  She covered his hand with hers, turning her cheek into his palm and pressing a gentle kiss to the pads beneath his fingers. “Gabriel. Your past doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care what man you were. On
ly the one you are now. The one you will choose to be.”

  He stepped closer, his eagerness too apparent. “I could be good, if you taught me how.”

  “She’s the only Goode sister who actually deserves the designation,” one of the men said in a caustic tone.

  Prudence slapped her husband’s arm and a chuckle washed the room of some of its gravitas.

  Gabriel gathered her hands in his own, and did something he’d never done for man nor God in his entire life.

  He knelt. “Marry me? I have no title to offer you—”

  “But he’s as rich as Midas,” Raphael interjected helpfully.

  Gabriel shot his brother a withering look. “If you do not mind that I cannot make you a lady, that we will belong in very few ballrooms, I’ll do my best to give you a good life. I’ll treat you like a queen. I’ll worship you like a goddess. Even though I am broken, I—”

  Felicity astonished him by sinking down with him. “You are not broken… you are beautiful,” she insisted. “You have become everything to me in such a short time, my entire world seems filled with you.” Her lashes swept down as he held his breath, waiting for the answer she seemed ready to give.

  “I… only feel safe when I’m with you. But I don’t need you to worship me, Gabriel, I don’t want to fall off this pedestal I’m on. Because, I’m the broken one. And I have no real reason to be. My fretting will drive you mad, if my snoring doesn’t first. I have those fits— those spasms of helpless terror that make no sense and reduce me to nothing without warning. My greatest enemy is often my own mind, the one thing you can’t protect me from.”

  “But I can,” he interjected. “I will. I will hold you when you’re terrified. I’ll remind you that you’re safe. I’ll help you battle your nightmares, and I’ll dig in the garden next to you until they abate. I’ll face the world when you cannot. Because, Felicity, the only thing I fear is living a life without you in it.”