Sutton's Seduction (The Sinful Suttons 4)

“Because it was one of yours who did it,” Jasper answered. “Ralph Staines is the name. Seems Abe was tupping his wife on the sly and the poor cull only found out when he discovered them in his own bed. He didn’t take kindly to being cuckolded. Mrs. Staines came to us and blew the gab.”

“Staines hasn’t been to work at the hell in days,” Bradley said, his expression twisting into a combination of grief and rage. “That bleeding bastard. I’ll kill him myself.”

“You’ll have to find him first,” Jasper said wryly. “According to Mrs. Staines, her husband fled shortly after attempting to cover up his crimes, fearing discovery and reprisal. Mrs. Staines is under my protection for the same reason.”

“You give me your word this is the truth, Sutton?” Bradley demanded.

“You have all our words,” Hart said.

“It is the truth of what happened, Bradley,” Jasper added calmly. “Now, we are going to take the lady and we are going to go. But be warned. The next time you bring a fight to The Sinner’s Palace, it ain’t going to end well for you.”

The warning in his tone was deadly and clear.

Bradley nodded. “Aye.”

An uncontrollable shudder wracked through her. The men surrounding her were lethal, and she was only now, in the safety of Hart’s arms, beginning to realize the depth of the danger she had been in.

“It is over,” Hart said softly in her ear. “You’ve nothing to fear now, Em.”

She huddled closer, pressing her ear to the steady thumping of his heart. And for a moment, she allowed herself to believe him.

* * *

Hart and Emmawere finally ensconced in the carriage that would return them to The Sinner’s Palace. But as he settled on the bench at her side, he could not deny the atmosphere between them had shifted. He found himself thankful his brothers had given him the opportunity for privacy. Something was wrong.

He seized her hands in his, fury lancing him anew as he took in the reddened skin where the ropes had bit into her tender flesh. “When I see this, I want to bleeding kill Billy and John Bradley.”

“It shall heal,” she said quietly, an undercurrent of emotion he could not define in her voice.

“That ain’t the point,” he growled, frustration and anger rising. He was a man who believed in fairness. Being denied the ability to make amends for what had happened to Emma was eating him alive. “It never should’ve bleeding happened, that Bradley scum taking you as they did. I’m sorry, love.”

When he had seen her being shoved into old man Bradley’s office earlier, the urge to tear Billy Bradley apart with his own two hands had been sudden and strong. It had required all the restraint he had possessed not to lunge. If his brothers had not been present for cooler heads to prevail, Christ knew what would have happened. Thank heavens Mrs. Staines had gone to Jasper with the truth of what had happened to Abe Bradley.

“I wish you would not do that.” Emma tugged her wrists from his grasp, her blue gaze laden with reproach and hurt.

He allowed his hands to fall uselessly to his lap, though the need to touch her, to reassure himself she was safe and here, in the carriage with him, was strong. He did not think his heart had ceased racing since the moment he had learned she had been taken.

“Do what?” he asked her.

“Act as if you care for me.”

A sudden rush of shame smote him. “I do care for you, Em. I love you.”

She shook her head, her lips compressed. “Do not say that, I beg you.”

He suspected he knew the reason for her sudden reticence. This was not how he had envisioned their conversation transpiring, her battered and bruised, her hems and slippers muddied and torn, as they rocked over the pitted alleyways of the East End. But it had to be done.

“Why were you in the alley?” he asked.

She sighed, the sound heavy, as the carriage bearing them hit a particularly large and unforgiving rut. “I overheard you speaking with your brothers.”

Floating hell.That was what he had been afraid of.

“How much did you hear?”

“Please don’t make me speak of it now,” she said, staring at her hands in her lap, nary a trace to be found of the brave woman who had so defiantly stood up to not just the Bradleys but to him as well.

He had done that, he realized. He was responsible for her sadness.

“We must speak of it.” He reached for her face, cupping her soft cheek as tenderly as he could muster, bringing her gaze to his. “Look at me, Em. I can’t bear to see you like this.”

Anger flashed in her sky-blue eyes. “Why should my suffering affect you? I am just a pawn in your game of revenge, am I not?”

There was some of the avenging fire she had exhibited earlier. Pride welled within him. She had been through so bleeding much over these last few days, and she had weathered it all with grace and kindness. He had done nothing to deserve her love, but he was fiendishly glad for it.

Supposing it was still his.

“I must beg your forgiveness,” he said, trying to find a way to explain what he had done and why. “When I forged my plan, it was before I had ever met you. How could I have known you are an angel who would steal my heart and make it her own?”

He stroked her cheek, admiring the elegant aristocratic line of her bone, the softness of her skin. She did not jerk away from his touch, and her lack of repudiation gave him hope.

“Do not lie to me, Hart.” Tears shimmered in her eyes, threatening to spill.

How he hated himself.