Forsaking the Prize (The Wild Randalls 2)

“Bars on the windows. I cannot imagine why no one escaped,” Tobias muttered darkly.

Merrow ignored the comment. “One died just a few minutes ago. I’m here to see what’s to be done for the last. Where is he?”

She glanced down and blinked as she discovered Seventeen had covered his head again. Lord Merrow came closer and a grimace crossed his features. “Oh, him. He’s uninjured it seems?”

“Yes, thankfully,” Blythe replied. “What will you do with him, my lord?”

“God knows where I’ll put him, but something should be done. Can’t very well neglect to provide his board and lodgings since they’ve been fully paid for in advance.”

Blythe did not like the sound of that indifferent fate for Seventeen. “What do you mean, fully paid for?”

“Families often pay quite heavily to have an irrational relation sequestered for the term of their natural lives. My father had arrangements with many great families. I believe this man is one of those cases.”

Tobias cleared his throat. “So no one will be coming forward to claim the man that was saved?”

Merrow shrugged. “Most likely the family will wish he’d perished in the flames.”

Seventeen whimpered softly.

Blythe bit her lip and then let it go. “Tell them he died.”

“Excuse me?”

“Tell them Seventeen burned in the fire. I’ll take responsibility for him.”

Lord Merrow gaped at her. “My lady, have you lost your mind? You cannot control a man who has spent his life imprisoned amongst other madmen. They are not trained monkeys to be put on display.”

“Nevertheless, I wish to accept the responsibility. He’ll be better off with me than left to your questionable care. Look at him. He’s skin and bones and terrified of you.”

Merrow had the grace to look guilty. “I cannot stand around and make sure each man was properly fed. I have responsibilities elsewhere. Surely you understand.”

“No, I don’t. It is clear that you didn’t have the time to take more than the family’s money. He stays with me. Do you know any particulars from before he arrived at Skepington?”

“No. Just his name. Seventeen. All the records are lost to the flames.” Merrow’s expression darkened. “Very well, you may take your pet home with you, but don’t come crying to me when he murders everyone around you. Who knows what goes on in his mind?”

Merrow took his leave and Blythe let out a relieved breath when she couldn’t hear his footfalls any more. “Thank goodness that is over and done with.”

She knelt beside Seventeen. “Would you mind very much if I took care of you, sir?”

Seventeen lifted his head and his mouth curved into a small smile. “As much as I should like to accept the honor of submitting to your care, madam, I feel my brother might have some objections to such a proposal.” His gaze lifted to look over her shoulder. “You were correct earlier in the evening. She is an angel among the unworthy.”

Tobias pushed past her, caught Seventeen by the shoulders. “What did you just say? What brother?”

Seventeen glanced between them. “I may be a trifle befuddled, but I had thought you had referred to her earlier as your wife?”

“She’s not my wife,” Tobias said softly.

Seventeen grunted. “I could swear that I heard her called Mrs. Randall several times and you do seem inordinately fond on holding her in your arms. I would have claimed it a near absolute truth that she was yours. The fire must have muddled my mind.”

Tobias’ frown returned. “A near absolute truth?”

“Yes, surely. Ninety nine percent certain,” Seventeen said, voice cracking before he coughed.

Blythe’s heart raced as she realized Seventeen spoke in mathematical terms. Hadn’t Tobias said something about Oliver doing the same? But this man was old, or at least appeared so to her eyes. “What is your real name, sir?”

He shook himself. “Seventeen.”

Tobias frowned. “That isn’t your name at all. Who sent you to Skepington Hall?”