Lord Sinister (Secrets & Scandals Book 3) (2 page)

She waited for an hour.  Two.  Four…

He never came.

CHAPTER 1

New York

March 9, 1819

With a trembling hand, Amelia cleared the thin layer of snow from the gray granite slab.  Frigid, calloused fingers with a line of dirt under each short nail jutted out of the finger holes of the soiled brown gloves she had knitted October before last.  The backs of her eyes pricked as she read the name on the grave. 
Rupert Thomas Rutland. 
Her eyes moved down to the words she had inscribed on the stone and gave a wobbly smile. 
A gifted medical doctor and a good friend. 
She had sold her ruby and pearl hairbrush and mirror set to pay for the monument, but it had been worth it.  Dr. Rutland’s nephew, Peter, didn’t wish to buy so much as a wooden cross.

“Oh, Dr. Rutland,” she whispered, “you’ve been gone a whole year and I still miss you.”  Recalling his kind, brown eyes and shaggy gray hair he never had time to get trimmed, she swallowed the lump of tears clogging her throat.  “You were ever so kind to me.”  She bit her lip to keep her chin from quivering.  “If it hadn’t been for you, I would have died.  Alex and I both.”  A tear leaped from her bottom lid and skidded a warm path down her cheek.  “And now I must say good-bye,” she choked.

She bowed her head.  The thought of never visiting the dear man’s grave again filled her with misery.  Removing her only handkerchief, she swiped away the tears she couldn’t keep in.  Dr. Rutland had saved her from starving ten years ago, saved her again when her son was born.  He had taught her everything he knew about healing people.  The kind old doctor had given her a home, a job, and friendship.  She had loved him as if he were her father.  To be sure, the man had treated her with more love and affection than Royce Jamison ever had.

And now, she had the chance to make a new life.  A chance she could not pass up.

She released a weary sigh.  “The sewing factory just isn’t paying enough, and none of the doctors here want a woman assistant.  I hate the thought of leaving you.”  Those cursed tears threatened to resurface.  “I must return to England and take the governess position offered to me.”

Amelia went still after speaking those words.  When she had accepted the offer, her only consideration had been taking care of her son.  Mr. Giles said he would pay her an astounding forty-five guineas per year.  She wouldn’t have to worry about feeding Alex his next meal or being able to buy him a coat when the weather turned cold.  Of course she had accepted immediately.  She’d never have another opportunity like that.

Only now, she realized she would have to return to England.  She closed her eyes.  There could only be one reason the thought of returning to her birth country would bother her so much.  Julian.  And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t forget a single thing about him.  The softness of his dark hair between her fingers.  The way his eyes lit up just before he smiled.  The feel of his lips sending sparks down her body in every direction as soon as they touched hers. 

A little shiver raced down her back at the possibility of seeing him again.  She popped open her eyes and shook her head, calling herself a fool.  The likelihood she would ever see or speak to Lord Julian Westland, Marquess of Amersleigh, son of the Duke of Kenbrook, was remote at best.  She wouldn’t be attending any of those fashionable balls and galas, and he certainly wouldn’t be anywhere near a nursery attending the lessons of small children.  No, indeed.

Chiding herself for giving that man any thought at all, she focused back on Dr. Rutland’s grave.  After pressing a kiss to her fingers, then touching them to the cold granite, she whispered a prayer along with her final good-bye.

Wiping her tears away, she turned from the grave and started back.  But as she hurried away from the grand brick homes with the pretty gardens and neatly cut box hedges, toward the crowded, filthy buildings and garbage lined streets, her thoughts strayed to her return to England.  And the tiniest chance of seeing Julian again.  Her heart quivered at the very idea.  She frowned and her steps slowed.  The man had ruined her whole life.  If, by some miracle, she did happen to see him again, why, she’d make his pretty ears bleed from a tirade he would not soon forget.

A shock of cold wetness on her right foot startled Amelia from her thoughts.  She gasped and looked down, then groaned.  She stood in the center of a muddy puddle, the frigid liquid seeping into the hole she had worn through the sole of her only pair of shoes.

Chiding herself for not paying attention to where she was going, she scrambled out of the murky water, and came face-to-face with a skinny boy not much older than her son, Alex.  She started to greet the child, but her smile fled when he withdrew a rusty old knife from his tattered coat pocket and pointed it an inch from her chest.

“What are you waiting for, Bart, grab her,” the boy ordered to someone standing behind her.

Still reeling from the sight of the knife, Amelia didn’t react to those words.  And not until iron-like hands gripped her arms and yanked them back behind her did she understand their meaning.  Pain tore through her shoulders, forcing a cry from her lips.

“I got her, Vinnie,” Bart said, his voice deeper than the one standing before her.

Her head spun with pain as she forced the question from her lips.  “What is it you want?”

The boy before her grinned, exposing two rows of yellow, crooked teeth.  “Empty your pockets, wench, and I might let you live.”  He waved the filthy blade before her nose.

Black dots danced in her vision.  “I-I can’t move.”

“Ease up a bit, Bart.  But only a bit, mind.”

As the agony in her shoulders and arms subsided and feeling returned to her hands, Amelia dragged in deep gulps of air.  Her sight cleared.  One of her arms had been freed, the other still held in a grip of steel.  She felt around her inside coat pocket and carefully removed the small purse, leaving the two boarding passes behind.  “Here, this is all I have.”  She tossed it down to his scuffed, muddy boots.

Vinnie snatched up the purse, opened it, and frowned.  He lifted his head and pierced her with a dubious glare.  “This ain’t what that fancy man gave you earlier.”

She gasped.  “You’ve been following me?”

The boy pocketed the pitifully low sum of her last wages from the factory and nodded.  He held out his hand and wiggled his grimy fingers. “That’s right.  Now give ‘em over.”

Snapping her mouth shut, she shook her head.  She would not hand over her and Alex’s chance to leave this place and have a better life.  Forty-five guineas a year.  She shook her head again.  “I will not.”

Vinnie sighed and nodded to the man behind her.

A sharp pain erupted within her skull, so intense, it filled her stomach with nausea.  Sounds muffled as she crashed to her knees.  The world spun.  Then a thick cocoon of coal-black nothingness swallowed her up.

****

“Mama, can you hear me?”

Alex sounded frightened.  Amelia struggled to open her eyes.  Why was she having so much trouble moving?

“Mama?”

A dull ache beat in the back of her head.  She cracked open her eyes.  The dark, fuzzy form hovering over her materialized into her son.  “Alex.”

Relief filled his light gray eyes and he smiled.  “Thank God you’re all right.”

The incident with the two ruffians rushed into her mind and she lifted her hand to check her pockets.  Realizing her coat was gone, she spoke to her son.  “My coat, where is my coat?”

Alex brought her the threadbare piece of wool folded on top of the small trunk holding the sum of their possessions.  She murmured a thank you while searching every pocket for two scraps of paper—the two tickets aboard a ship leaving the next day for England.  The only two things in the whole world that would secure their future.

And they were gone.

Bitter frustration rose up her throat and spilled into her mouth.  She squeezed her eyes closed.  Now what?  After accepting the governess position that Englishman, Mr. Giles, had offered her last week, she quit her job at the factory then told her landlord she would be moving.  The man had been grateful since they were behind on the rent.  It saved him from throwing her out, he’d confessed.  Then today, after a final meeting with Mr. Giles to receive the boarding tickets, she had walked to the cemetery…and was robbed mere feet from the steps to her apartment.

“Mama, are you all right?”

Amelia opened her eyes and focused on her son.  So very handsome.  She loved him more than anything on earth.  Even though he looked exactly like his father.

That last thought brought a pain to her heart, but she forced a smile anyway.  “Yes, dearest, I am well.  I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about how we are getting to England without a boarding pass?” he asked.

Amelia swallowed hard.  Sometimes her son’s intelligence and maturity frightened her.  “That’s right,” she answered calmly, hoping he’d not discern the fear growing heavy in her breast.  Then a thought occurred.  “Alex, how did I get up here?  And how did you know about the tickets?”

Fury sprang into his eyes.  “Mrs. McNealy was walking home when she saw what happened.  She ran for help but the scoundrels had already left by the time Mr. McNealy, Tom and Patrick arrived.  They carried you up here.”

She nodded, thinking she’d go and thank their neighbors as soon as her head stopped throbbing.

A knock sounded and Alex turned to answer the door.  He returned with their landlord, and a tight ball of dread rose up to stick in Amelia’s throat.  “Mr. Wilks.”  She tried to sit up.  “Can I get you something?  Tea?”

“No, no,” he answered quickly, waving his hand for her to remain seated.  He glanced around uncomfortably.  “I heard what happened.”

That surprised her.  “Why, Mr. Wilks, I don’t know what to say.  You’ve come to see how I fare?”

He looked aghast for a moment, then shook his gray-streaked head.  “No, that’s not why I’ve come.”  He took a deep breath and continued.  “I already have this place rented, you see.  And they’ve paid me two months in advance.  So…”

When his voice trailed off, Amelia finished the sentence, her voice deadpan.  “So Alex and I must leave even though we now have nowhere else to go.”  She sighed, relaxing back against the couch’s threadbare cushion.  Perhaps she could beg her job back at the factory. That still left them with no home.  Maybe the new renters weren’t quite ready to move into the apartment.  She might have a little time to find somewhere else to live.  “When?”

He adjusted the twinkling diamond ring on the little finger of his right hand.  “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!”  Amelia sat up so fast the room spun.  She blinked until her dizziness subsided then glanced to Alex.  He stood near the window, arms crossed, jaw locked, staring out.  She turned back to Mr. Wilks and lowered her voice.  “Please, can we at least…”

The man started wagging his head before she could even finish.  She gnashed her teeth together, part of her wanting to roar every curse word she ever heard at the man, the other part wanting to bawl like a baby.  She did neither.  Instead, she plastered an insincere smile on her lips and wished him good-day.

When the door closed behind Mr. Wilks, Amelia turned to her son.  He hadn’t moved an eyelash.  She bit the inside of her cheek, wishing he hadn’t been present to witness their eviction.

Stiffly, he turned from the window, his eyes seething.  “I’m going out for a walk.”  He stomped toward the door.

“Alexander,” she called out.  When he halted, she continued.  “Please, be careful.  And don’t be too long.”

He nodded once without turning and left.

Adjusting the scarf his mother had knitted him last month for his ninth birthday, Alex marched down the street.  God, how he wished he were older!  Old enough to take care of his mother.  He hated that she worked so hard and got so little in return.  He hated seeing the fear in her eyes, hearing it in her voice.  Hated that in a year’s time, his mother had sold nearly everything she’d accumulated in the past ten years just to make ends meet.  Oh, why did Dr. Rutland have to die?

Alex moved faster as memories of the kind, old doctor filled his mind.  The man had been just like a grandfather to him, hiding sweets and other goodies in his coat pockets.  His mother was always smiling then, too.

Tears welled up in his eyes and he shook his head, refusing to let them fall down his face like some baby.  He started to run, wanting to escape the sadness pressing down on him.  Pumping his arms, his feet flying over the mud-crusted road, he didn’t slow until the odor of dead fish and ocean brine filled the air and the bustling quay came into sight.  Whenever he was troubled, Alex always came to the dock.  The thought of sailing on one of those large ships, leaving his troubles on land as he headed out into the adventurous unknown, appealed to him.  And, of course, because of the stars.

Gazing at the small pinpoints of light scattered across the night sky was one of the few things that brought him joy.  He could name every constellation and all seven planets.  His dream of becoming a great astronomer, even greater than Galileo, burned like the sun in his heart.  And then reality would come crashing down on him, shattering his dreams like a stone into a thin glass pane.  How could his mother afford to send him to school when she couldn’t even afford to feed them?