He thought about Rothschild’s wife and her mesmerizing eyes. How had he managed to marry such a strong woman? Or rather, how had she found herself roped into such an apparently loveless marriage? He’d had to suppress his laughter when Edmund spoke of her. He wove large tales about how she threatened to kill him. Of course, it wasn’t at all funny that she felt the need to murder her husband, but it amused him that she was so diligent–and strong. He smiled at the secretive grin in her picture. Perhaps the murder attempts were her secret.
His own smile faded as he thought of how the drunk must treat her. It made life seem unfair. Kane hoped the man wasn’t as nasty to his wife as he was to the hired help. Kane had broken up two fistfights just in the last few days thanks to Rothschild’s drunken rampages. He apparently didn’t care who he fought as long as they “knew their place.” It bothered Kane. It was difficult to watch lives torn apart when he’d known abuse as a child. Still, he would bide his time and make sure the dark-haired beauty was safe.
He turned over on his side and stared out through the window, out into the night. The night’s nothingness stared back at him and into his mind. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, trying to dispel the woman’s magic smile. Unconsciously, his fingers drifted under the pillow and rested on the envelope holding her picture.
It was only then he could rest.
* * * *
The doorbell rang loud enough to wake Kane from a deep sleep. He glanced to the clock to see it was barely three in the morning. He pulled on his pants and, not bothering with a shirt, descended the stairs two at a time. In the faint glow of moon filling his foyer, he saw the beige envelope peeking out from under the door and knew immediately there wouldn’t be a visitor. This was business. He picked the envelope up and returned upstairs. Lying on the bed, he slid his finger under the wax seal, cracked it open, and unfolded the heavy parchment.
Kane,
A family who has lost their daughter to a couple in Barbados has approached me, seeking help. You will find information on her whereabouts enclosed in this message. Please review and reply.
Sincerely,
Colonel Cuthbert
British Royal Army, India Division
Kane unfolded the parchment one more time to find the information. As he read, his brows furrowing in concern, he tossed the papers to the side and rose from the bed to prepare for a long trip. He could not let the girl wait any longer than she already had. While he buttoned his starched white shirt, he thought of the woman’s picture under his pillow. An unfamiliar pang coursed through his chest as he thought of leaving. What a strange feeling it was, caring for someone he’d never met beyond a photograph and skewed glimpses of her life through her alcoholic husband.
He grabbed his duffel bag and packed quickly. Looking at the clock again, he gauged how long it would take to get out of town and how long it would take to return. Kane shook his head, amazed at his own frivolity. He had to clear this lady from his mind. He finished packing, threw the duffel over his shoulder, and bounded down the stairs and out the door.
Chapter 6
Miriam stood in her dining room and wondered if it were possible to poison someone and get away with it. Indexing her saffron measurements in her head, she took the soup dish from her cook and placed it on the table before her husband. She remained at his side silently until dismissed like a servant. One day, she thought to herself, it would be different. She would be out from under his thumb, and would run away to another country and change her name. It was a daydream, of course, but she had to rely on something to get her through the rough times. Her husband was a fickle, mean bastard with no heart. She recalled the horror of feeling auctioned off to a count with barely a square foot to his name.
Though he did have money at one point, when they’d wed–for it took care of her dowry, letting her parents finally be rid of her. Since then Edmund had gambled and drank away all their income, even the title, leaving them with only her odd jobs keeping them afloat. He’d eventually turned his bad moods on her, striking her when no one was around, though he’d never remember it in the morning. Thankful he only hit below the chin. She was able to hide her bruises by wearing high-collared dresses. She endured not only the bluntness of his fist, but of his tongue and attitude. Edmund practically sprouted Satan’s horns when he drank–which was always–and cast nasty names and insults her way. She never took it lying down. Miriam gave as good as she got.
She kept the worst part of her treatment to herself.
Instead, Miriam waited patiently for the day she would be free of him. Glancing around the room with barely a candle lit to light the meal, Miriam felt the dark paneled walls close in as she stared down at his soured, haggard face.
There were no flowery words to describe her hatred for the man. She had made attempts on his life before. She just hadn’t completed the job–yet. There would be no hell spared for him in the afterlife, she was quite sure. If she’d felt she could ask for help from her friends or even from Colonel Cuthbert, she would have. She mentally took inventory of her failed attempts on his life. Hanging, choking, stairs–you name it, she’d tried it, with the exception of poison and weaponry. She put it away in her mental To Be Determined file and focused on her husband’s slurping.
“Sit, woman.”
She managed to restrain herself from literally leaning down and chewing off his ear, and sat to his right at the table. The serving maid brought her soup and placed it on the table. Miriam smiled, thanked her and began to eat.
“You treat the servants with too much courtesy. They’re servants.”
“They are human and deserve some sort of modicum of respect,” she responded. Her husband grunted and continued to slurp.
“If you’re determined to treat them as our equals, perhaps you should sleep with them instead of here with me.”
“Oh dear, don’t tease me. I don’t know if I could handle the excitement,” Miriam replied sweetly.
Mr. Rothschild stood and yanked her up by her arm. “You will not mock me in my own home, woman,” he growled.
“Keep up with your idle threats, dear, for your days are already numbered.” She had no reason to fear him. He’d never hit her in front of the servants before, and she doubted he had the intestinal fortitude to start now. There would be witnesses, which simply couldn’t be. They would talk, and then other people would talk. The only reason she stayed was for a roof over her head, and the opportunity to make his life as miserable as hers had been over the last decade. She promised every night he would die a slow and painful death, and she meant every word.
“Dare you threaten me, woman?” His breath was as horrid as his attitude, yet Miriam smiled as sweetly as possible.
“It’s not a threat, Edmund. It’s a fact of your life. You’ll never know when it will happen but it will–mark my words. Scotland Yard will not investigate the death of a habitually violent, drunken sot who’s in jail as much as he is out. They might even shake my hand for service to the community.”
Edmund dropped her arm. He sat down in his chair and stared at her while he finished his soup.
Miriam stood still, returning the stare with a smile. “You will get your due, Edmund Rothschild.”
She turned and left him alone in the dining room.
Chapter 7
“Have you found anything else about what those two women were doing?” Baron Willoughby asked Mr. Dashing as they entered the club the next night.
“Not a clue–though I did have an interesting encounter with Jillian Johnsworth yesterday in the park.”
“Do tell,” Silas said, ordering a drink from the waitress who seated them.