Viscount of Vice (Lords of Scandal 4) - Page 42

Abernath, if Grace understood the story correctly, had cheated on her fiancé, the Duke of Darlington. He’d ended the engagement but the countess had been pregnant and married the Count of Abernath out of necessity.

“Likes me?” Lady Abernath lowered the knife a bit. “I’m not foolish enough to believe that.”

Grace swallowed a lump while fisting up her skirts with her free hand. Perhaps she should have stayed silent. While stolen away, she was at least in one piece and she’d prefer to remain that way. She took a long breath. “Diana takes on the world with a strength and fight I could never imagine. Sometimes it’s a great asset, other times, it makes her life infinitely more difficult. I suppose like is the wrong word. Kinship might be the better choice.”

Abernath slumped back against her seat, the dagger dropping to her knee. “That does sound as though it could be true.” Her face was frighteningly pale. “Can I tell you something?”

Grace leaned forward. “Of course.” Her breath was coming in short gasps and her eyes widened but she kept her voice calm.

Abernath looked out the window. “I’m dying.”

Her confession sent Grace back in her seat. “I beg your pardon?”

“Not even Crusher knows.” And she nodded toward the front of the carriage. Grace could only assume he was the frightening driver.

“Are you shivering?” Grace asked, her gaze narrowing.

“Never you mind,” Abernath snapped. “Daring owes me for what he did to my life.”

The woman was vacillating wildly, which made Grace more afraid than any other part of this experience. Her insides churned with fear as she pressed back into her seat. She held out her hands in front of her, making soft shushing noises. “I understand. He hurt you.”

Abernath nodded. Then, amazingly, she set the blade to the side and began pulling off her gloves. Grace sat silently transfixed, wondering what might be happening.

The moment the first glove came off, Grace had to gulp down her cry. Abernath’s hands were covered in angry welts. “Oh dear,” she whispered, not sure what else to say. She looked into the woman’s eyes, which were glassy and unfocused. “Do they hurt?”

Slowly Abernath leaned forward, holding herself as she rocked. “Try to understand,” she whispered. “They went away and now, they’ve come back.” The woman shook like a leaf. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone, not you and not your sisters, but men won’t help me. Men are the problem, not the solution. Even my son—” She stopped. “I’ve never had female friends but I need someone to aid me now.”

Grace swallowed. “Men are the problem? Sometimes I think I know what you mean.” She thought back to her fight with Bad. She didn’t understand it at all. First, he wasn’t that handsome. His nose was crooked and his skin was craggy. Well, he was dark and mysterious, and there was something powerful in his every movement and gesture, a confidence that seemed to radiate from within. Like he could handle anything.

But truly handsome, he wasn’t. And she’d thought that meant she wasn’t really interested in his attention. That was to say, she liked almost all attention but it didn’t need to be his.

And he’d been attentive, if she were honest. But that was more because his friends had required him to be so. And perhaps that bothered her too. He should be spending time with her because he wanted to. She was attractive. Some even called her beautiful, and she was fun, she tried to be. But he’d yelled at her today, called her spoiled and selfish and…and she’d give anything to see his hard, dark face right now. Because if he were here, he’d surely make her feel as though everything was all right.

And then she could smack him for making her storm off like that.

“You haven’t had a life like mine. I can see it in the sweet expression on your face. Your father, he was kind to you and I bet he didn’t take advantage…” Her voice trailed off as she pressed her welted hands together. “Sometimes I think they’ve driven me mad. Or perhaps it’s whatever is inside me causing this.” And she held up her hands again.

Grace licked her dry lips. “You’re not mad. Just…desperate.” The woman was completely insane but again, it didn’t seem prudent to say so. Then she swallowed. “So, you’re worried you won’t be with us for long. I understand. What do you need my help with?”

Abernath scooted forward, her eyes wide and wild. “Announce that Daring owns a share of the Den of Sin club. Force him to be public about his dual life. Then he can know some of my pain.”

Grace took a deep breath. She’d heard of Abernath’s affliction before, though she didn’t know the name. The welts were thought to be caused by a weak constitution, especially when they were accompanied with madness. Was that the reason the woman was so unstable or was it her past? “I understand. He hurt you and now you want to make him pay.” Her heart hammered in her chest. Was there any point in reasoning with a suffering woman? “But I’d like to ask you a question. Besides your personal satisfaction do you have another goal in mind with your plan? Is there something you hope to accomplish?”

Abernath gave her a sidelong glance. “I…” She pressed her hands together and then winced, setting them in her lap. “I need money.”

Grace started to frown but then caught herself. Money? That wasn’t madness, that was greed. While less dangerous it was somehow less satisfying as well. “So, you want me to help you blackmail the Duke for money?”

Abernath’s face twisted. “I want you to help me provide a future for my son.”

Grace’s stomach dropped. When Abernath had kidnapped her sister, the house had caught on fire. Abernath had fled, leaving an ill-kept child in the house. Her sister and her new husband had adopted the child knowing he could never return to Abernath. Now the crazy woman wanted to provide for him? Grace couldn’t believe it was true.

* * *

Benjamin Styles, as he’d been called the first twenty years of his life, rode the horse he’d absconded from a passerby as fast as the tired animal would go, which was not all that fast. The Baron of Baderness—it still amazed him that he’d acquired that title—hadn’t seen the carriage he’d been chasing in almost an hour.

His stomach clenched in fear. He couldn’t lose Grace now. How could he ever go home and face her family, his friends, if he lost the woman he’d been assigned to protect? How could he face himself?

Leaning out over the animal’s neck, he urged the beast to go faster. He prided himself in being a man of honor. Even in a world often mad with greed and lust, he tried to hold his head above all the riff raff and conduct himself in a manner befitting his title.

Tags: Tammy Andresen Lords of Scandal Historical
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