Hero
He saw his grandson.
Hero considered those words as his coach rattled over the cobblestone streets. He'd been wandering aimlessly through London for more than two hours trying to settle his thoughts.
He'd left the affair shortly after Josephine and he had returned to the ballroom. He saw no reason to stay. He suspected no other lady would dance with him, but more than that he had no desire to dance with anyone other than Josephine. And he'd not further risk her reputation by having a second waltz. He'd already placed her reputation at risk with one dance and a turn about the garden. Why was she willing to risk so much simply to see that he was accepted?
Friendship? God knew he'd risked everything-including his life-for his friends. They'd risked no less than that for him. But Josephine-what did she gain? If he spent any more time in her company, no decent man would take her to wife.
Tonight she'd done away with the purpose for their association. For some reason, she'd decided the bloke wasn't worth killing. Hero supposed he should be grateful he'd not taken her at her word that first night and done the gent in.
Still, he was bothered by her change of heart. She wasn't a mindless chit, and she was certainly no one's fool. If she thought someone needed killing, he most likely did. And there was still the matter of the man who was following her. He needed to have a word with Jim, but first he wanted to see Mabel.
The coach came to a halt outside O'Reilly's, and Hero alighted. He went through the front door. No tension reverberated here as it had at Avendale's. But then this was his home, this was where he belonged. Hunter approached him.
"Hero-"
Hero held up his hand. "Not now."
He was a man with a purpose. He opened the door to the backrooms and went down the hallway to the room where he knew he'd find Mabel. She was hard at work on her books. He rapped on the doorjamb. She looked up and grinned at him. As always, her smile warmed him as nothing else did.
"Aren't you dressed rather fancily?"
"I attended a ball hosted by the Duchess of Avendale," he said.
"I didn't think you were one to attend the aristocracy's affairs."
"I thought it time I begin making the way clear for us."
She looked down at the ledgers. "So we'll be attending balls?"
"I think you'll enjoy them. There's gaiety and lovely gowns. Food and drink and people."
"Yes, lots of people I'll not know."
"You'll come to know them. And best of all, we shall dance." He strolled into the room and held out his hand. "Dance with me now."
She snapped her head up. "Are you daft?"
"Probably. But I want very desperately to dance with you."
"But there's no music-"
"I can hum."
Whatever was wrong with him? Why was this need to dance with her so strong?
Laughing sweetly, she rose. "Very well."
She came around her desk. "As I recall, I'm supposed to stand on your toes."
He chuckled. It was the way the old gent had danced with her. He'd seen that they had lessons, so many lessons. Why did Mabel feel as though she needed more now? Surely she'd not forgotten everything they'd been taught.
"The movements are the same but you keep your feet on the floor." He placed one of her hands on his shoulder, took the other in his, settled his free hand on her waist.
He began to hum the tune that had been playing while he'd danced with Josephine. And he moved Mabel in rhythm to his horrendous humming. The space was small. He couldn't sweep her across the area, but it was enough.
With Mabel in his arms, his body didn't tighten, his mind didn't bring forth carnal images. He told himself it was because when he looked down on her, all he saw was buttons and cloth. When he looked down on Josephine, an entirely different portrait emerged. He saw clearly the swell of her breasts, the gentle slope of her throat. He saw her smile. The joy reflected in her blue eyes.
He stopped waltzing and very subtlety drew Mabel a fraction nearer. He cradled her chin as though it was made of the finest porcelain, as though it could so easily shatter. He watched as her eyes widened slightly, as her tongue darted out to dampen her lower lip. He felt a pleasant thrumming low in his belly.
He lowered his head, her eyes slid closed, and he, very gently, brushed his lips over hers, before drawing back.
"There, that wasn't so bad was it?" he asked.
Nor was it particularly satisfying, but that would come in time, as she became more familiar with the physical nature of men.
She shook her head. "No, not at all."
"I adore you."
"I know."
He stroked his thumb over her bottom lip. He should want to lean back in for another kiss. Lord knew he could never seem to get enough of the taste of Josephine. And yet what he and Mabel had shared seemed to be quite...adequate.
Adequete. Not passionate, not fiery, not all-consuming.
Civilized. Not barbaric, not beastly, not untamed.
Proper. Not scandalous, not to be whispered about, not disgraceful.
"What's wrong?" Mabel asked.
And he realized he was scowling, his brow furrowed so deeply he was going to give himself another one of his blinding headaches.
Shaking his head, he released her and stepped back. "Nothing. Nothing at all."
But something was terribly wrong, because he was doubting his affection for Mabel, something he'd never done.
"Was Josephine at the ball?" Mabel asked.
"She was."
"Did you dance with her?"
He turned away slightly. "I did."
Why did he feel guilty? It wasn't as though he'd bedded her. It had been an innocent dance. But it hadn't felt innocent.
"What was she wearing?"
"What all ladies wear. A ball gown."
"You'd make a horrendous society writer." Mabel returned to her chair behind her desk. "I'll wager she looked beautiful."
"I'll not take you up on that wager as she always looks beautiful."
"Why has she not married, do you think?"
"Because she is too opinionated, willful, argumentative. A man wants peace in his household, and with her, a man would never find peace."
"So you think marriage to me would be peaceful?"
"I do."
"And that's what you want? Peace?"
"I want contentment."
"Do you find me boring?"
"Of course not."
"Sometimes I wonder, sometimes I fear that I am. I sit here with all these numbers, and they seem so unexciting."
"Nothing about you is unexciting. I look forward to the time we spend together." He sat in the chair across from her. "There just seems to be so little of it of late."
As though to punctuate his words a rap on the door sounded. Hero glanced over his shoulder to see Jim standing uncertainly in the doorway. "Didn't mean to interrupt, but Hunter said he couldn't get your attention earlier, and I've got something I thought you might be interested in."
"What is it?" Hero asked.
"The man who's been following Lady Josephine."
Hero's heart slammed against his ribs and everything else suddenly seemed unimportant. "Where is he?"
Jim jerked his head to the side. "Hunter's office."
Hero hurried out of the room. "How did you find him?"
"Lady Josephine was running around like an insane woman this morning, taking care of the things for the ball she was hosting tonight." Jim stepped into the room and pointed at a battered man with dark hair sitting in a chair, working the brim of his hat. "Mr. Evans here could barely keep up with her."
Hunter's burly footman had obviously been keeping guard. He nodded once and discreetly left the room, closing the door behind him.
"He's been ever so cooperative since he spent a few hours in gaol," Jim explained.
"Abuse of power is wot it was. Locking me up when I ain't done nuffin' wrong."
Hero sat on the edge of Hunter's desk, studying the man. "Do you know who I am?"
"Hero Fiennes Tiffin," the man fairly spit.
"Do you know that I've killed a man?"
"So have I. It's not that hard to do."
"My point, dear fellow, is that I'm fond of Lady Josephine and I don't like that blackguards such as yourself are following her."
"I never 'urt 'er."
"That's the only reason you're still breathing. I want answers and if I don't get them, I won't be nearly as gentle as Scotland Yard. Have I made myself clear?"
Evans swallowed, nodded. He was a bully, and bullies were easy to put in their place.
"Why did you follow her?" Hero asked.
"I was paid to."
"By whom?"
"Fancy gent."
"Who?"
"Don't know his name. He hired a bunch of us."
"Hired a bunch of you to do what?"
He lifted his shoulders in the way a man would to avoid a blow. "Follow people around."
"Come on, mate," Jim said, his voice riffed with authority. "Tell his lordship everything without him having to ask all the questions."
"What people exactly were you following?" Hero asked.
"The Lady Josephine, loike 'e said,"-he pointed to Jim-"a duchess, and you."
"Which duchess were you following?"
"Dunno. I didn't follow 'er. Me mate followed 'er. I know she was the gent's wife; he thought she was up to no good."
"Why did he have you follow Lady Josephine?"
"Dunno. Just wanted to know where she went, who she met, wot she did. So I told 'im. Mostly borin' stuff, shoppin' and the loike."
"There, you see?" Jim asked. "I'm not the only one who thought she was boring."
Hero jerked his head around and glared at Jim.
Jim held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry. But I felt a need to point it out."
Hero turned his attention back to Evans. "Are you one of the gents who attacked me one night?"
The man's cap almost disappeared in his large hands he was wringing it so hard. It was answer enough for Hero.
"Were you supposed to kill me?"
Evans gave a brusque nod.
"And Lady Josephine?"
Evans's head came up, his eyes round. "No, I swear. Didn't know she was even there 'til she popped outta the coach. I didn't follow 'er at noight, 'er being a lady and all. I figured she was already abed."
"Did you tell your employer?"
Evans shook his head quickly. "'E was mad enuf that we didn't get the job done proper. Didn't want to borrow no more trouble."
"Where did you meet him?"
"Nowhere in particular. 'E always found us."
"And you don't know who he is?"
"Sorry, mate."
"Yes, I'll just bet you are." Hero considered what he knew. Nothing made sense. Something was missing. Why would he follow a duchess? And which duchess? "The duchess you were following-did you ever see her with Lady Josephine?"
"Almost every day. They were tighter than two peas in a pod."
"You didn't think that was worth mentioning?"
The man shrugged.
"If they were together, only one of you needed to follow them, but two of you were still getting paid, right?" Jim asked.
Evans sighed and nodded as if he were a child caught pilfering a cookie. But Hero had greater concerns on his mind. He eased off the desk, walked to Jim, and said in a low voice, "Josephine spends a good deal of time with the Duchess of Avendale. Have you seen her in the company of any other duchess?"
Jim shook his head. "If I had, I would have told you before now."
"Makes no sense. Why would Avendale-"
The door opened and Hunter strode in, extending a piece of paper. "This just came for you."
Hero took it. The seal was broken. "You looked at it."
"I needed to know if it was as urgent as the man who delivered it claimed."
Hero scowled at him, then unfolded the note. His stomach dropped to the floor.
I need you at Avendale's.
Bring Dr. Graves.
Quickly.
-J
Trigger Warning:
Domestic violence and sexual abuse.
Hero had left Jim to see to Evans and headed to Avendale's, with a quick stop by Bill's residence to alert him that his services were needed. Bill had come in his own conveyance so he wouldn't be dependent upon Hero for transportation. Mabel had come along as well. Hero hadn't known what to expect, but had feared the worst. He'd almost fallen to his knees with relief when he'd realized it was the duchess and not Josephine who needed Bill's services.
Now Hero sat on a bench beside Josephine outside the Duchess of Avendale's bedchamber. He'd caught only a glimpse of her before Bill had ushered everyone except Mabel out of the room. If Hero hadn't known who she was because of Josephine's concern for her, he'd have never recognized her as the duchess.
"The name you'd have eventually given to me, if you'd not changed your mind this evening-would it have belonged to Avendale?" he asked quietly.
With tears welling in her eyes, Josephine nodded.
"I assume this isn't the first time he's taken his fists to his wife."
Taken his fists to her, then fled. No doubt to O'Reilly's.
Josephine shook her head. "But it's the worst. And it's my fault. He was unhappy that you were in his residence. I should have known better. He's such a controlling beast. Amelia has to account for every minute of every day. And your name wasn't on the guest list, but I wanted to dance with you on a ballroom floor. How stupid and selfish. I should have lied and told you he'd taken my virtue and then this matter would be done."
"It's not an easy thing to live with a lie, Josephine." He knew that truth well enough.
"Do you think it is an easy thing to know you are responsible for your friend's death?"
"She's not dead yet. Don't give up on her so easily. Bill is very good at what he does."
"Two of Avendale's wives have died. I shall never forgive myself if Amelia does as well. Because I was a coward and waited. As much as I wanted the deed done, I began to worry about how I would feel afterward, how I'd live with myself. And now look what's happened to her."
"Josephine, it's not your fault."
"It is. As I explained."
"What did you do, sweetheart? You sent out an invitation to a person he'd not anticipated. I killed a man and no one took a fist to me." He put his arm around her, drew her near, and pressed a kiss to her temple. "His punishment doesn't fit your crime."
Josephine
Josephine took such comfort from Hero's nearness. From the moment that Amelia's lady's maid had shown up at Josephine's residence weeping, Josephine had feared the worst, and she'd not hesitated to send for Hero, for herself more so than Amelia. She knew she could draw from his strength. Knew she would find comfort in his presence.
"How many stab wounds would it take to kill a person?" she asked.
"One if you do it right. But using a knife makes it very personal, Josephine."
"A pistol would be better then."
"Only if you're a very good marksman."
She moved out from beneath his arm and shored up her courage. "Can you teach me to be a good marksman?"
"I could. But I see no need. I'll take care of this matter."
He took her hand, rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, then circled it over the back of her hand. It felt so lovely, so tender, so reassuring.
"I thought you were a beast," she said quietly.
"Closer to the devil, don't you think?"
Ah, yes, the Devil Earl. She couldn't recall the last time she'd thought of him in those terms. "Why did you kill the man you did?"
"Because he hurt Mabel."
Josephine tried to remember when everything had taken place.
"She would have been a child at the time."
"Indeed, she was, and in spite of the life she'd led, up until that moment, she was a very sweet and innocent child."
"Have you killed anyone else?"
He slowly shook his head.
"But you'll kill Avendale?"
He gave one brusque nod.
"Will you be able to live with it?"
With his thumb, he wiped the tears from her cheek. "That's for me to worry about."
"You said I was asking you to give up the last of your soul."
"There's only a small bit left. Giving it up will be no hardship."
But she feared it would be a great hardship, that it would change him irrevocably into a man she could no longer love. Oh, dear Lord, when had she fallen in love with him? Had there been a precise moment or had it been simply an accumulation of many?
"It was easier for me to ask you do this before I knew you," she said.
"And it's easier for me to do now because I know you better."
The bedchamber door opened. A somber Dr. Graves and Mabel stepped out. Josephine came to her feet, expecting the worst.
"She's going to recover, but she's going to require a lot of care," Dr. Graves said. "She's been terribly abused in very personal ways."
Josephine nodded. Amelia had been conscious for a while, in pain, suffering, weeping over the atrocities her husband had made her endure: raping her, beating her, striving to break her spirit. She feared he'd succeeded with the last. "I can see after her."
Hero urged everyone closer. "Can she travel?"
Dr. Graves widened his eyes. "Not far, not far at all."
"She doesn't have to go far." Hero sighed. "Avendale has been having Josephine followed. He's also responsible for the attack on us that night."
"What?" Josephine asked. "How do you know all this?"
"Jim caught one of the ruffians he hired to follow you. We were discussing the matter with him when I received your missive. Avendale must be dealt with but not here, not in London, where he may have resources of which I'm not aware. My plan is this. We will lead people to believe that we are taking the duchess to my country estate. You should come with us, Josephine. Avendale will come to you first, searching for his wife."
"But my father-"
"He'll be watched. No harm will come to him."
She believed him, absolutely without question.
"We'll do a switch," he continued, "take the ladies to your residence, Bill, where you and Lady Josephine can look after the duchess. I shall travel on to Heatherwood. Avendale is sure to follow me there if we leave enough clues. At which time, I shall put the matter to rights."
"What about Whit?" Josephine asked.
Graves looked at her. "Who's Whit?"
"Avendale's heir," Hero responded before she could. "We'll bring the lad with us. I suggest we move quickly. Bill, can you help me prepare the duchess for travel?"
"Yes, certainly."
"Josephine, you get the lad," Hero said. "Remember, we want it to look as though we're all going to the country."
Josephine nodded, her mind racing.
"Good girl," he said, just before he quickly disappeared into Amelia's bedchamber with the doctor.
"I'll help you get the lad," Mabel said. "We want to talk loudly as we move through the house about our going to Heatherwood."
Josephine grabbed her arm. "Hero is going to face Avendale alone."
"It would seem so, yes."
"I can't let him go alone, Mabel. I brought him into this mess."
"He's not going to put others at risk. It's not his way. He won't let you go with him if that's what you're thinking."
"I'll not give him a choice. Will you look after Amelia for me?"
"Josephine-"
"I've come to care for him, Mabel. I'm no threat to you. I know you hold his heart, but I can't bear the thought of him facing Avendale alone. I know there will be little I can do except to stand by him, but stand by him I must. Can you understand?"
"Have you considered your reputation if you go through with this madness? If you travel with him alone?"
"Who will know that I have gone if we simply say that I am with you and Amelia? His servants shan't know who I am. They'll think I'm some trollop. My name need never be associated with him." Reaching out, she squeezed Mabel's hand. "Do you really want him to face this alone?"
Mabel shook her head. "No, I'd planned to go with him, actually. But you're right. You're the better choice. I'll take care of Amelia and you take care of Hero." She squeezed Josephine's hand so hard that Josephine nearly cried out. "Don't leave him alone, especially at night. For some reason, he doesn't do well at Heatherwood. Avendale won't be the only demon he'll face."
Josephine detected an urging in Mabel's voice, saw an understanding in her eyes, that was giving Josephine permission for something beyond what they were discussing, but before she could ask for confirmation, she heard the door to the bedchamber opening.
"You get Whit," Mabel said. "I'm going to travel with Bill to his residence so all is ready when Hero feels it's safe."
Josephine nodded and headed down the hallway to the nursery. There was so much to get done, and for this plan to work, they needed to get everything in place before Avendale returned home.
Things moved at a rapid pace. Josephine found Amelia's lady's maid and instructed her to pack a small bag of clothing for the duchess, that she was going to Hero's country estate to recover. Then Josephine packed a smaller bag for Whit. While servants put the bags into Hero's waiting coach, she woke Whit and carried the small boy outside. Hero joined her there, carrying Amelia bundled in blankets.
Now he held Amelia on his lap, trying to provide an extra buffer between her and the rattling coach. Periodically, Amelia groaned and Whit sniffled.
They'd stopped at Josephine's residence, and she'd stuffed a simple dress, nightclothes, and undergarments into a satchel for herself. Then she'd gone to see her father. He'd been awake, or at least his eyes had been open.
"Mia's been hurt. She's going to the country to recuperate, and I'm going with her. Please don't worry. I'll be fine. And I'll be back in a few days." She'd kissed him on the forehead. "Don't go while I'm gone."
She'd left instructions for his care with her servants-not that they truly needed any. They'd been taking care of him for longer than a year now.
Now Josephine slipped her finger beneath the coach curtain and peered out. She could see tenement houses. "How certain are you of your plan?"
"As certain as I can be," Hero said.
The coach came to an abrupt halt. The door opened. Dr. Graves was standing there. After Hero shifted Amelia into his arms, Graves turned away. Then Mabel was in the doorway, holding her hand out to Whit.
Hero turned to the boy. "Don't be afraid. They're going to take care of you and you're going to take care of your mother. Do you understand?"
The boy nodded.
"Good lad." Hero ushered him to the doorway where Mabel took him in her arms. She looked at Josephine, gave a barely discernible nod, and moved away.
And then the footman was there, holding out his hand to Josephine. She took a deep breath, released it. "I'm going with you."
"Don't be daft," Hero said.
She reached out, grabbed the door handle, and slammed the door closed -almost nipping the footman in the process. She settled back, hands folded primly. "I'm not going to allow you to face him alone."
"For fucks sake, Josephine, he's not going to be in a good mood."
"I don't care."
"I'm likely to do things to him of which you will not approve."
"Do you honestly think, after seeing what he did to my friend, that there is anything you could do to him of which I wouldn't approve?"
"Your reputation-"
"The servants here all believe that Amelia is traveling with us. As for the servants at your estate, I assume they'll be discreet. As far as I can determine, Avendale is the only one who might cause us any problem, and I assume you'll deal with him."
"I should toss you over my shoulder-"
"And kiss my bare bottom? You don't frighten me, Hero Fiennes Tiffin. You wouldn't harm a woman if your life depended on it. Unlike Avendale who would strike his wife simply because he didn't fancy the color of her gown. I'm not staying behind."
He cursed soundly, signaled his footman, and a few seconds later, the coach sprang forward.
"You're the most irritating woman I've ever had the misfortune to know," he ground out. Then he shifted, took her hands, and pressed his mouth to her bare knuckles. "And the most courageous."
"If I were so courageous, I'd have never involved you."
He moved until he was sitting beside her and had her nestled against his side. "It should have never fallen to you to see to the matter to begin with."
"She's my dearest friend in all the world."
"We will do what we can to salvage your reputation."
"I care only that Avendale is dealt with. What are your plans for him?"
"I need some answers from him. Depending on what they are, I may try to reason with him."
"And if he'll not provide the answers or be reasoned with?"
"Heatherwood is a rather large estate. A man can easily get lost and never be found."