Shameless (The House of Rohan 4)

But Brandon Rohan, sodden with drink and dazed with drugs, sat in his chair, staring dully at the ornate blade the Grand Master had had forged for just this occasion, and said, “No. Absolutely not. Not ever,” in tones so clear he might not have recently imbibed impressive amounts.

The Grand Master wasn’t one easily dissuaded, though, and he simply kept feeding the stuff into his unwilling proxy. All to no avail. He eventually passed out, the flat, monosyllabic word still on his lips. “No. ”

It was no matter. He would never know the difference. He’d had his servants cart Brandon Rohan’s unconscious body to an opium den in the worst section of the east end rookeries—he wouldn’t be found for days, if he was even found alive at all. His men had instructions to smear blood all over Rohan’s cassock and tuck the blood-stained knife beneath him. As always he’d been prescient enough to have two made. Rohan would awake and be convince

d he’d committed the murder he’d refused to do. The Grand Master’s only regret was that he wouldn’t be there to witness the man’s horror.

But he had his own job to do. The cassocks decreed by the Heavenly Host were indistinguishable, and the hoods and cowls assured complete anonymity. All he needed to do was copy Brandon Rohan’s dragging gait and everyone would recognize the crippled war hero committing the crime.

Truly, he’d planned it so well he astonished even himself. A quiet giggle escaped, and he slapped his hand over his mouth lest someone hear him. But the only noise was from the trussed form of Lady Carstairs, and he had plans for her.

Very specific plans.

32

Never let it be said, thought Benedick Rohan, that sitting around waiting was any less heroic than charging into battle. It was a damned sight harder. He was trapped in his house, with his meddlesome, far too acute younger sister and her blackguard of a husband, and he didn’t dare leave. Eating alone in his room was too childish to be contemplated, so he had no choice but to sit at table with the Scorpion and the woman he’d abducted and forced into marriage, and while nothing could induce him to be pleasant, there was simply a limit to how much boredom he could withstand.

One way to alleviate that boredom was to fleece his brother-in-law out of every penny he had on him. Not that Lucien de Malheur wasn’t a practiced gambler, but when it came to faro there were few who could beat a Rohan. Miranda reluctantly served as banker, more as a means to keep them from killing each other than an interest in the game, but the play was alarmingly even, probably because Miranda’s husband cheated. The winnings went back and forth, well into the early hours of the morning when once more Benedick consumed far more brandy than was good for him, but this time when he retired to bed he was too drunk and too weary to want to kill the Scorpion.

He woke late, suddenly alert. He dressed hastily, even shaving himself rather than waiting for Richmond to make his appearance, and by the time he was downstairs he’d decided that, wise or not, he couldn’t wait in the house any longer. He was going out looking, and be damned to the consequences.

Author: Anne Stuart

But Lucien sat at his dining room table, drinking coffee and looking perturbed, and Miranda paced the floor. Her face, when she saw him, was far from reassuring, but at least there was news.

“They’ve found him!” she cried. “In some wretched hovel, and if it hadn’t been for Lucien’s connections, he probably wouldn’t have been found until the middle of next week. If he’d even been found alive. ”

Benedick felt his heart sink. “Where is he now?”

“They’re bringing him,” Lucien said, sounding equally grave. “He’s not in the best of shape, and my men have orders to be discreet, so it’s taking a bit of time…”

“Not in the best of shape?” his wife interrupted him. “He was in an opium den, Lucien! Unconscious, and no one could rouse him. Wearing a monk’s robe and covered in blood. ” She started pacing again.

Not good, Benedick thought, but he gave Miranda a reassuring nod. “At least he’s found. That’s the first step. As for the blood, granted, that’s not a good sign. But the actual ritual is set for tonight, so at least we know he’s not going to be any part of that particular foulness. We may need to call a doctor to attend him…”

“I’ve already sent word,” the Scorpion interrupted, looking grim. “If my information is reliable, and I have no doubt that it is, he’s in very bad shape, indeed. With luck the doctor will be here before Brandon arrives home. ”

“Dr. Tunbridge seldom comes out that promptly…”

“I summoned my doctor, not yours, Rohan,” the Scorpion said coolly. “He’s more capable of dealing with this kind of situation. I doubt old Tunbridge has ever seen a case of opium poisoning. ”

It would have made things so much better if he could have simply slammed his fist into Lucien de Malheur’s face, Benedick thought fondly, keeping his hands clenched at his sides. Except for what it would do to Miranda, who was already looking far more distressed than a woman in her condition ought to.

She must have picked up on his hostility, for she shot him a quelling glance. “Don’t you dare. ”

He opened his fists and held them up in a sign of surrender. “I’ll behave. Things are bad enough already. ”

It seemed to take forever. The Scorpion was right, the doctor did arrive before Brandon, but at least he didn’t look like the shady quack Benedick was anticipating. Miranda kept herself busy by ordering the preparation of a sick room, sending servants running up and down the stairs, while Benedick took a chair as far away as he could from his brother-in-law, drumming his fingers silently and waiting.

He lifted his head when he heard Miranda come back into the room with tears streaming down her face, and his panic erupted. “What’s happened? Have you heard something?”

His wretched brother-in-law stood at the same time. “Is he back, my love?”

She nodded. “The doctor is examining him right now. But it’s bad, Lucien. Very, very bad. He’s covered with blood, and he was found with a bloody knife, and he won’t wake up. ”

“I didn’t even hear them bring him in!” Benedick protested, irrationally furious.

“Because they brought him in the back way,” Lucien said in the tones reserved for an idiot. “If he’s involved in murder we’re going to have to be very discreet. Unless you prefer to have your brother hauled off to jail?”