The Husband Plot Page 21

  “Where is Miss Hathorne?” Lisbeth asked. Almost as soon as she did, Mary came down the stairs herself.

  “Lisbeth! Where on earth have you been?” Her tone was cavalier until she got close enough to spy the mud on Lisbeth’s nightgown. “What happened to you?”

  Adrian’s hand flew to the small of Lisbeth’s back. “You didn’t know Lisbeth was missing?”

  “Missing?” Any color drained from Mary’s cheeks. “I thought it strange you didn’t come down for breakfast, but I thought perhaps you were overtired. Hannah only just told me she hasn’t seen you at all this morning.”

  “What about you? Did you disappear at all last night?” Adrian might as well have heaved the question at Mary, with all the intensity in his voice, and she backed up as if he had.

  “I…”

  Lisbeth knew what Mary did not want to admit: she had snuck up to Suzy’s quarters. Lisbeth tugged on Adrian’s arm, both for his attention and to silently beg him to calm down. “They thought they had Mary because I was in her bed. We were awake late talking, and she wanted my company as she fell asleep. I fell asleep too. When I woke, Mary had just left…for a snack in the kitchen, I suppose…and then the men entered and took me.”

  “Took you?” Mary whispered. “You were kidnapped?”

  Lisbeth wished she could spare Mary the truth, but it was the least her sister-in-law deserved. “Lord Brabourne wanted to take you to Gretna Green for an elopement.”

  Mary wrapped her arms around herself. “Where is he now?”

  “Lost in the countryside, I presume,” Adrian said. Dropping his hand from Lisbeth’s waist, he approached Mary. Slowly – almost as if afraid – he drew her into a hug. “I’m sorry, Mary. I should have listened to you.”

  From behind Lisbeth, Robert asked, “If Mary didn’t know anything had happened, how did Adkins come to know that someone had been kidnapped, and why did he think it was Mary?”

  Lisbeth wished she could spare them all from this next truth. “Mr. Adkins informed Brabourne that Mary did not want to marry him. Brabourne told me himself. Adkins provided them with how to get into the house and which bedroom to go into.”

  “He wanted a tip for telling us,” Adrian said. This time, his voice shook with a dangerous anger. “He thought he could work both sides for money.”

  Ford, who had been standing by the door the whole time, let out a discreet ahem. “Permit me to mention that Mr. Adkins removed himself from the household this morning. I suspect you will find him at the Horseman’s Arms on Cortland Street.”

  Lisbeth felt the look between Adrian and Robert, the one forged in steel. Adrian touched his hand to her shoulder. “Do you mind if I go?”

  For once, she didn’t mind not being involved. “Go. I’ll have Mrs. Siswell fix a breakfast for when you get back.”

  Adrian gave her one last smile – just a twitch of the lips, really – before charging off with Robert. Lisbeth whispered a little prayer to safeguard them before allowing Mary to draw her upstairs.

  “You must be exhausted,” Mary chattered, leading Lisbeth to her proper bedchamber. “How horrifying. It makes my stomach turn. Kidnapped out of your own house! Were you terrified? I’ll call for Hannah. You’ll want a hot bath, won’t you? Perhaps some chocolate, too.”

  “I rested in the carriage.” Except now that Lisbeth stood still in the cocoon of her rooms, her every muscle trembled with exhaustion. Mary sat her near the fireplace and rang the velvet bellpull for Hannah.

  “Let Hannah see to you. She knows best. I expect her to report that you followed her every order.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Lisbeth teased. That seemed to be the last of her energy. Through fuzzy eyes, she watched Hannah approach with a fresh nightgown. A hot towel scrubbed her skin, followed by creamy rose-scented lotion. Then someone guided her to the bed and tucked her under the heavenly-soft sheets.

  This wasn’t a dreamless sleep. First, Lord Brabourne leered at her with that gleaming pistol held to his own jaw. Then, she had transformed into Mary, and she couldn’t free her hand from something, and when she looked down, she saw her wrist clenched in an iron shackle emblazoned in raised, red letters: Hathorne. Now it was her own hand again, and the cuff melted from iron to gold, but it still read Hathorne. She tugged and tugged at it, but it wouldn’t come off. She was about to scream when two slender fingers pressed the seam of the shackle, and it slid off like discarded silk.

  Still foggy from the dream, Lisbeth batted her eyes open to see Adrian standing above her. His knuckles drifted across her exposed arm. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Did you find Adkins?” Her voice came out scratchy from sleep.

  “Yes, and he is now safely tucked away in Newgate Prison.” Adrian slipped his fingers between hers. His skin was cool. “We need to tell His Grace what happened. I wanted to make sure you had not perished of shock.”

  Lisbeth sat up. “I want to go with you. It is a family discussion.”

  Adrian was silent for a moment. His expression was shuttered with his mask, but Lisbeth spied a little emotion in his eyes as they looked at every part of her face but her own gaze. Six weeks ago, she would have raged at him for being so reluctant to respond. Now, knowing that a thousand calculations of fear were stopping him, her heart swelled.

  Tipping onto her knees, Lisbeth linked her fingers around the back of his neck and kissed him. They hadn’t kissed in days. She had almost forgotten the way he tasted always of Ceylon tea.

  Adrian palmed her bum, locking her hips against his stomach. He growled, a back of the throat exhalation that vibrated all the way through her tongue. His hands roved upwards, claiming her breasts with rough kneads, and then down to catch the hem of her nightdress. He backed away from her kiss long enough to pull the gown over her head.

  Lisbeth had not yet grown inured to being naked before her husband. Her skin tingled with delicious, hot desire as she watched his green eyes rake over every inch of bared flesh. She lay back on the mattress, spreading her legs, and relished in how eagerly he climbed on top of her.

  They kissed with more urgency now, as if the energy behind their locking lips would save the world. Lisbeth pushed off Adrian’s jacket, untied his cravat, unbuttoned his waistcoat and then his shirt, all while tasting the heat of his tongue. He raised away from her for another moment, discarding the rest of his clothes, and then she saw nothing but the muscles rippling beneath his skin and the proud, thick cock twitching in anticipation.

  Oh, she had missed this.

  Adrian rested on his elbows above her. His breath was hot and fast against her neck. He stared at her, still, until she thought he would never move again. Now she was the one to growl, launching her legs to wrap around his waist, pulling his cock inside her with a slick, satisfying jerk.

  He gasped a little. Lisbeth giggled, rocking her hips faster and faster. Adrian joined in too, so she could feel him deep inside in hot, swift, teasing strokes. They usually lingered over sex, stretching it into an hour of orgasms, but now they fucked as if they were stealing time. Their bodies fused in sweat and desire. Their rhythm increased to a frenzy. The bed creaked in chorus. And then Adrian cried out in release. Watching his face puddle with satisfaction – knowing that she was the reason he felt such ecstasy – rushed Lisbeth to her own climax, a rolling happiness that pulled him even closer.

  They curled against each other. Lisbeth had missed disappearing into the cave of Adrian’s embrace, where nothing mattered but him. Where nothing threatened except the idea that they might not do this again soon enough.

  A pang of sorrow shot through her heart. “What am I going to do when you go to Jamaica?”

  She hadn’t even realized she spoke it aloud until Adrian responded, “What am I going to do when you stay in London?”

  He held her for a moment longer, but the air between them had changed. His arms were more tense, and Lisbeth almost held her breath, not sure what to say next. Then Adrian rolled away. He started collecting his clot
hes. “Of course you should come with us to tell Their Graces what happened last night. Will you be ready within the hour?”

  Lisbeth felt she was agreeing to something more than a timeline when she said yes. But she watched Adrian disappear into his bedchamber, and she couldn’t think of anything to say that would call him back.

  Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Adrian had spent almost the whole day out of doors, yet he didn’t notice the sunshine or the summery warmth to the air until his grandparents received them in the garden. They sat amidst the duchess’s prize tulips, on chairs carried out by the servants along with trays of cold meats, fresh scones, and lemonade from freshly-arrived Sicilian lemons. A fat bumblebee buzzed about their glasses until the duke shooed it away.

  Adrian placed himself between Mary and Lisbeth. When he’d left Lisbeth in her bedroom, she had looked a woman thoroughly rutted, with hair frizzing in every direction and delicious red patches about her lips. Now she looked almost virginal in a pale yellow muslin day dress frothing with lace about the hem. Her hair had been tamed and curled into a perfectly respectable coiffure.

  Adrian wished they hadn’t had to cut short their interlude that afternoon. He wished he had a better answer than matching his own fears to hers.

  For her part, Mary wore a long-sleeved gown that looked far too warm for the afternoon. She sat almost perfectly still, and even her lips were pale.

  “Now, what is this all about?” his grandfather asked, looking first at Robert and then at Adrian.

  Robert, as always, spoke first. “It’s about Lord Brabourne. I’m afraid he has revealed himself to be unsuitable for marriage.”

  “Unsuitable for marriage!” Adrian couldn’t help but balk at the phrasing. “He is unsuitable for honorable life. He kidnapped Lisbeth, thinking she was Mary, to elope in Gretna Green. It is only because my valet – who orchestrated the whole plot – alerted Robert and me that we were able to stop him from…” Adrian hadn’t yet let himself contemplate what Brabourne would have done had they not interrupted.

  “He had just decided to place me on a tea clipper to Bangkok,” Lisbeth volunteered. She almost smiled after, as if it were funny.

  Adrian’s grandparents had two opposite reactions: the duchess paled while the duke turned red as a lobster. “Why should he need to elope?” the duke growled. “The wedding is scheduled for June. The invitations have already been sent.”

  Adrian looked to Mary, who was staring at the ground. Then he sensed Lisbeth opening her mouth, and he placed a hand over hers to silence her. “Mary does not wish to marry Lord Brabourne. We have been making plans for an alternative.”

  His grandmother wilted further into her chair. The duke’s knuckles went white from gripping his cane. “What alternative could there be? The marriage contract is signed.”

  Adrian studied his grandfather. He had spent so much energy molding himself into the perfect grandson, memorizing every appropriate response and wearing the best outfits and never placing a foot out of line. But the duke had yet to react to the fact that Adrian’s wife had been kidnapped from her own house.

  “Mary will always be welcome in my household,” Adrian said. “In England or Jamaica or wherever else. She need not marry anyone.”

  The duchess had collected herself enough to sit up, and she placed a palm on her husband’s arm as if to reel him in. “Of course she won’t marry Lord Brabourne now. We will cut all ties with him.”

  His grandfather still glared at him. “The Hathorne name will be dragged through the scandal sheets.”

  “A small sacrifice for my sister to be safe from a monster.”

  Mary stirred beside him. “What upsets Your Grace? That your family was threatened, or that Adrian and I dared disagree with you?”

  “If you had not disagreed with me, the family would not have been threatened!” The duke knocked his cane against the flagstone terrace to emphasize his point.

  “I beg to differ, Your Grace.” Lisbeth somehow managed to make this sound demure as a debutante refusing a dance. “If we had not disagreed, Mary would be wedded forever to a man who stoops to kidnapping and murder.”

  Robert had been silent this whole time. Now, he leaned forward. “Grandpapa, I’m sure you can see it is better this way. Let Adrian see to Mary. Every family deserves a little scandal, and if that is our only one, I’d say we’re getting away lucky.”

  The duke shook his head. “You are being naïve, Robert. Only one scandal?”

  Adrian didn’t know what his grandfather referred to until his grandmother said sharply, “Adrian is our beloved grandson.”

  “That doesn’t stop him from being a scandal, any more than if he’d been born on the wrong side of the blanket.” The duke looked at Adrian now with the soft, watery blue eyes that Adrian had so long associated with kindness. “This will make things worse for you, not better.”

  Too much had been said already. Too much had happened. Adrian didn’t know how to sort his heart from his brain from his gut reactions. But something crystallized for him that made it easy for him to decide what to say next.

  “This is nothing compared to what I plan to do once I inherit Inglewilde Plantations. I’m going to free all our slaves.”

  Mary gasped. Robert swiveled to stare at him as if he’d lost two heads. And his grandparents – his grandparents didn’t look as if they’d heard.

  “Are you mad?” Robert might as well have shouted this. “We will lose all our profits if we have to pay for labor.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “You’ll start an insurrection,” Robert continued. “All the slaves on the island will want their freedom. They’ll revolt, like they did in Haiti, and all our friends will lose their livelihoods, if not their lives.”

  Adrian lifted his shoulders. “Slaves are human souls no different from me or you. They deserve their freedom, no matter the consequences to us.”

  He looked to his grandfather, bracing for a reaction. He might be thrown out. He might be expelled from the family. They might even write to his father to take his inheritance away. Adrian might have risked everything by confessing his heart.

  He didn’t regret it, not yet.

  The duke sank back in his chair. “You will be the most hated man in the British Empire.”

  “A small price to pay.”

  “Your children…” The duchess’s eyes darted to Lisbeth. Even when she didn’t finish her sentence, Adrian knew what she meant. He was cutting his children from any future in the higher echelons of English society.

  Lisbeth smiled. She was gorgeous in the sun, beaming with pride. “If we are blessed with children, they will know the pride of choosing the right action over the expedient or greedy one.”

  It was in that moment, watching Lisbeth say the most extraordinary things in the tone of an ordinary wife, that Adrian knew he could never leave her behind. He couldn’t spend his life on one side of an ocean knowing she was on the other, charming everyone but him. He couldn’t exist a single day without seeing her, without basking in her determination and her empathy and her plucky cheer. He loved her.

  “Will you come with me to Jamaica?” he asked, even though he knew the conversation was better saved for a moment alone. He couldn’t last another second without knowing her answer.

  Lisbeth blinked at him, her brown eyes bright and her pink lips suspended in surprise. Then she smiled, teeth and all. She tucked her gloved hand in his. “I thought you would never ask.”

  Adrian almost kissed her. Instead, he stood. “Your Graces, Robert, I should take my leave. Please know you are my cherished family, and you always will be. Mary, if you would like, you are welcome to stay with us indefinitely, but I also understand if you prefer to stay here.”

  Mary rose. She was beaming almost as much as Lisbeth. “I’m coming with you.”

  And so, with his wife and his sister on either arm, Adrian strolled out of Berkwell House on a perfect, sunny afternoon.

  Thirty
Three

  Chapter Thirty Three

  In the summer heat, Lisbeth could smell the docks a mile before the carriage deposited her at the wharf. The July sun had been shining at full intensity for almost two weeks already, heating every cobblestone within an inch of its life and liberating every stench of sewage, seaweed, and sweat. She couldn’t imagine a more suffocating heat, yet she knew at the other end of her voyage, she would be introduced to a climate that would consider this winter.

  The past few months had disappeared in a flurry at Upper Norton Street. After Adrian had declared his intentions to his family, he had decided they should sail to Jamaica sooner rather than later. That meant ordering new clothes, packing trunks of books, writing letters of recommendation for the staff, and soaking up as much time with her parents as she could. She and Mrs. Siswell had only just finished closing up the house an hour before Lisbeth climbed into the last English carriage she would see for the next few years.

  They were sailing on the newest pride of Hathorne Shipping. They had christened it at a small ceremony the previous week, where the only Hathornes in attendance were Adrian, Mary, and Lisbeth. It was a beautiful three-masted sailing ship with a painted mermaid rising on its helm. Mary had been given the honor of naming it, and now it bore The Suzy in carved, gilded letters.

  Standing on the wharf, Lisbeth’s stomach flipped in anticipation. She had never been on a ship for a single day, so much as the seventy days the captain predicted for their journey to Kingston. Since May, all she had read were travelogues: Captain Cook’s journals from the Far East, Lady Craven’s record of her trip to Crimea, and George Forester’s A Voyage Around the World. She expected subpar food, hammocks for beds, and surprise storms. Then, too, there might be fevers or bowel cramps that swept the ship. Or, once she got to Jamaica, she might catch one of the hundred swamp diseases that infamously killed white women as soon as they docked.