Silent Revenge Page 4

  Simon eyed the glass, the ache in his chest tightening with a haunted desolation he could not make go away.

  “Do not trouble yourself so, master. Someday your desire to find peace with your father will be stronger than the anger that eats at you.”

  Simon shot his friend a cynical smile. “I don’t think there will be enough days in my lifetime for that to happen.”

  Sanjay stood in silence, then walked to the door. “Do you desire anything else, master?”

  “No. Go to bed. I can manage by myself.”

  A knock on the front door, timid at first, then growing louder, interrupted Sanjay on his way out of the room.

  “Whoever it is, send them away,” Simon instructed. “I don’t wish to see anyone.”

  “Very well.”

  Sanjay closed the study door behind him and left Simon alone with his anger. Heaven help him, if his father were here right now, he would be tempted to do what the whole of London was convinced he’d done three years ago. He’d be tempted to kill him for squandering his inheritance. For losing everything he loved.

  Simon ground the heel of one hand against his eyes to clear his blurring vision, then heaved his glass into the fames, smashing it into hundreds of slivered pieces.

  Bloody hell, but he hated giving up! He hated watching the money-hungry creditors stand in line, prepared to pounce on the few remains of the Northcote estate. All because of his father’s foolishness.

  All because of her.

  He fisted his hands until his knuckles ached, then took in harsh gasps of air to ease the tightening in his chest. It was good she was not here right now either, or he’d wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze until—

  “Master.”

  Sanjay’s tentative voice brought him out of his nightmare, but left the anger simmering close to the surface. “What?”

  “There is a young lady here to see you. She says it is of the utmost importance.”

  “Send her away. I don’t wish to see anyone.”

  “But I think—”

  “I don’t care. Doesn’t this young lady realize the hour? It’s hardly the time to pay a social call, and I’m not interested in anything else she might have in mind.”

  “The lady is most insistent, master. I think it would be unwise of you to send her away.”

  Simon turned his back to his loyal servant and slammed his fist against the wall. “I said—”

  “Please, Lord Northcote. It’s very important that I speak with you.”

  Simon turned and glared at the woman with the soft, feminine voice, then bellowed with all his might. “Out!”

  He expected her to jump with fright. His booming voice could do that even to grown men, but she did not run. Instead, her eyes flashed with a spark of emotion that wasn’t quite clear. Determination? Desperation? Simon couldn’t tell.

  She closed the distance between them as if she didn’t fear him in the least, her steps sure, poised. Then she faced him with a confidence he found irritating.

  To his further fury, Sanjay backed out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving him alone with her.

  He walked to the table to get another drink. “Who are you?” he asked, filling his glass. He steadied himself against his chair while he waited for her reply. She didn’t answer.

  He turned and looked at her, the depth of emotion revealed in her eyes an unreadable confusion. Her eyes were not just dark and mysterious, but a deep blue that defied comprehension. Her skin was clear and radiant. Her lips full and lush. Enticing. Kissable.

  He’d seen her before. But where?

  He looked closer. Ah, yes. The Stratmore ball.

  He shifted his gaze away from her, not wanting to notice the way she looked, but he found himself unable to turn from her for long.

  She was not young. Twenty-three. Perhaps twenty-four. Neither was she overly tall, but trim and quite pretty. Even though she tried to hide her softness by stripping her dark hair back from her face and tying it in the most hideous knot Simon had ever seen, she didn’t achieve her goal.

  She stood with shoulders braced and a proud lift to her chin. Her regal bearing seemed in contrast to the desperation in her gaze.

  His first reaction was a certain curiosity about her, an interest in her. But he quickly squelched that emotion. He just wanted her gone. “I asked your name,” he demanded louder.

  “Miss Jessica Stanton, my lord.”

  His mind reeled in confusion. That name. Did he know her? Simon studied her more closely, trying to remember if he’d known her or her family. His mind clouded without giving him an answer. Obviously, the liquor was finally taking hold. “What do you want? You shouldn’t be here. Not at this hour. Not alone.”

  Her breasts rose as she took a deep breath. “I’ve come to make you a proposition.”

  Simon raised his eyebrows and stared at her crisply pleated dress with its dainty lace collar. The gown was not of the latest fashion by far, but worn, practical, nondescript.

  “A proposition?” he asked behind the glass he’d lifted to his lips. He couldn’t quite stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Her look was more fitting that of a vicar’s daughter than a woman attempting to seduce him.

  He slowly lowered his glass. “How interesting. I’m not accustomed to being propositioned by a woman. It’s usually the other way around.”

  Simon watched an appealing scarlet blush darken her cheeks as a blatant look of indignation filled her eyes.

  She bulleted him with a determined glare. “Let me assure you that you have made a grave error. The proposition I have come to offer is strictly business. Nothing more.”

  He held the mocking grin on his face as he tried to ignore the heat that warmed his blood. “My mistake,” he said, lifting his glass to salute her.

  Bloody hell, she was intriguing. She lifted her chin in a defiant manner, as if that simple act allowed her the degree of confidence she needed. Hidden beneath that awful hairstyle and plain gown, she was a beauty waiting to be revealed.

  “It is rumored, my lord, that you are in dire need of funds. I have come with an offer that will solve your financial problems.”

  Simon felt like he’d been blindsided, her words hitting him like a blow to his pride. Anger fared within him. Damn, James! Damn him for thinking he could trick him into taking enough money to cover his debts.

  “For a certain favor,” she continued, “I am willing to give you all the money you will ever need.”

  “A favor?”

  She looked around nervously and wet her lips. “Perhaps you should sit down while I explain.”

  “I’m perfectly comfortable where I am,” he answered, bracing his arm against the back of the leather wing chair. His lack of compliance seemed to leave her at a loss for words. “Who sent you?” Simon demanded.

  She looked shocked. She obviously did not think he would catch on to her scheme so quickly.

  “Tell me. How much did James pay you for your little charade tonight?”

  “James?” She stared at him with a surprised look of wide-eyed innocence. “I was sent by no one. I have come on my own.”

  He should have known James would make another attempt to give him the money. After he’d refused his offer last night, his friend had undoubtedly thought of another way to help him. He had found a very willing accomplice who would ask him to perform some minor service for her, for which she would no doubt be so grateful she would reward him handsomely.

  Perhaps James thought he had a better chance to get Simon to accept the money if he felt he had earned it. Simon looked at her face. Such an open, honest face. James had been clever in his choice. The woman he’d selected certainly had an appealing look. With the flushed glow to her cheeks and her tiny upturned nose, she was quite pretty.

  Simon shook his head to clear it. “And what exactly is the price you demand, my lady?”

  For the first time, she looked more than a little uncomfortable. She opened her mouth to sp
eak, but the words died on her lips.

  “The favor?” he repeated when she did not answer. “What favor do you desire?”

  “Your name.”

  Her voice was soft, and Simon strained to hear. When he finally realized what she’d said, he stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown two heads. Bloody hell! What kind of joke was this?

  “Get out! Take your twisted scheme to find a husband, and get the hell out of my home.”

  He thought he saw a fleeting look of panic in her eyes. A look quickly replaced with determination.

  “I cannot. Not until you listen to what I have to say. Please, my lord. Hear me out. That is all I ask.”

  Simon glared at her long and hard. There was no mistaking the resolve he saw in her expression.

  “You are about to lose your inheritance, Lord Northcote. I have at my disposal all the wealth you will need to pay your creditors, and more.”

  Simon knotted his hands into tight fists and held them at his sides. He silently cursed the girl for playing such a cruel joke, Collingsworth for tempting him, and his father for putting him into such a humiliating position. How much more would he have to endure?

  She took a step closer. When she spoke, her voice held a hint of desperation. “You would never have another financial worry. All your problems would be solved.”

  He leveled a lethal glare in her direction, daring her to stand up to him. She didn’t back down. “Really?” Simon said, slamming his glass on the corner of the marred desk. “And all this money is mine for the taking?” He walked to the fireplace and looked into the brightly dancing fames. “Why do I have a hard time believing that?”

  “What did you say?”

  He turned toward her. “I asked why I should believe you.”

  “Because it’s the truth.”

  The way she stared into his face was most unnerving. As if she were evaluating him. Studying his features intimately. Hanging on to his every word.

  Simon couldn’t quite believe this was happening. He sat down in his chair and rested an ankle atop the other knee. He was not going to make this easy for her. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to accept her offer. He had not come back to accept charity. Not even from James.

  He propped his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers. “Sit down,” he said, indicating a tattered chair on the far side of the room.

  The girl walked to the chair and pushed it so near him their knees almost touched.

  She seemed confident enough, and yet, he swore her hands shook as she placed them in her lap.

  “You wish to sit this close to me?” he said with a deliberately provocative smile. He would let her play this out.

  “I…I would like to sit where I can see you clearly,” she said, and her voice trembled.

  “Very well, Miss Stanton. Is there anything else you wish to offer me?”

  She stared at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Anything else? I’m afraid I don’t understand. What else do you need?”

  Simon stood and leaned forward. He touched his hand to the soft skin on her face, then skimmed his fingers down her throat, then moved downward. “Perhaps your company for the night? Was that part of your bargain?”

  She slapped him.

  Before he knew what had happened, she reached out with amazing speed and smacked him hard on the side of his face.

  Simon pulled back and watched her eyes open in alarm. Her hand few to her mouth to cover a muffled cry when she realized what she’d just done.

  “I guess not,” he said with a shrug. “’Tis a shame.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut as if to block out the sight of him watching her. In the glowing candlelight, he could see the scarlet coloring of her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  The words seemed sincere, but her voice sounded harsh, barely believable.

  Simon sat back in his chair and smiled. Somehow he wasn’t convinced she regretted slapping him. He gave her time to compose herself, waiting for her to recover and look at him. “And how much money did you come to offer, Miss Stanton? I will wager it’s just enough to cover my debts and pay off all my creditors with perhaps a little left over to get me by until I can get back on my feet. Am I correct?”

  “I do not know, my lord,” she said, the defiant gleam back in her eyes. “I have no idea how much you are in debt. I only know how much money I have to give you.”

  The girl lifted her hand to reach into the small reticule hanging from a cord around her wrist. He heard her breathe a heavy sigh as she lifted out a folded piece of paper from her cloth bag.

  “I’m quite sure it will be enough,” she said, holding on to the note she’d taken from her bag.

  “Yes. I’m sure it will be enough.” Simon watched her intently as he fingered the three-cornered tear in his leather chair. For a moment he thought she wouldn’t give him the paper. “May I see how much my friend thinks it will take to cover my debts?”

  She hesitated another second, then placed the folded paper in his hands. Simon opened it and stared at the number at the bottom of the page.

  He looked again. Then blinked and looked once more.

  He glared at the woman who gave the harmless impression of innocence, then in a blinding rage, crumpled the paper and threw it to the floor. “Bloody hell, woman!”

  Simon bolted from his chair and towered over her. “Is this a joke? What kind of fool do you think I am?”

  Her eyes grew wide with alarm, and this time her trembling was unmistakable.

  She jumped from the chair and reached down to pick up the paper, then clutched it to her breast.

  At least she had the common sense to get away from him. He wanted to strangle her.

  “I want to know who put you up to this and why!” His gaze raked over her, from her plain clothes and lack of jewels, to the frayed cuffs on her gown. How did she expect him to believe she possessed that kind of money, looking like she did? “Look at you. You barely look able to feed yourself. And that dress.” He stopped long enough to look at the confusion written on her face. “Well?”

  “I’m sorry. What did you—”

  “I want you to go back and tell whoever sent you that I didn’t fall for your scheme.” Simon tightened his fingers around the corners of the chair where she’d been sitting. “Did you honestly think I would believe your lies?”

  He watched as a look of desperation filled her eyes. “Answer me, dammit!”

  “I’m telling you, it’s the truth. The money is mine, and I’m willing to give it to you if only you will—”

  “Will what, woman?”

  “If only you will—”

  She stared at him with an unblinking gaze and swallowed harshly. “Marry me,” she whispered in a voice so soft he barely heard her.

  He stepped back from her as if her nearness offended him, and stared at her in abject disbelief.

  When he could stand her look of desperation no longer, Simon turned away from her. Who would dare to play such a cruel trick on him? Surely not James? Rosalind? The thought that it might be Rosalind turned his stomach, and he swallowed the bile that threatened to choke him.

  “Get out.”

  He didn’t wait to see if she moved. With his back to her, he braced his arms against the mantle. The logs in the fireplace crackled with a soothing, comforting sound, so opposite the rage and turmoil boiling within him.

  “You don’t understand, my lord. Please, turn around so I can talk to you.”

  He clutched his fingers tight against the mantle and gritted his teeth. He couldn’t bear to look at her. “Did you honestly think your little scheme would work?” he whispered.

  “Please, sir. You must look at me.”

  “Did James know you were going to try to force marriage on me? Or was that your own idea?”

  “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “Do you have any idea how cruel your little joke is?”

  “Look at me.”

 
“Do you?”

  “Look at me!”

  “Answer me, woman.”

  “You must look at me!”

  “Damn it! Answer me!”

  Simon spun around to face her. In two long strides he reached her. “Bloody hell, woman,” he shouted, holding her firmly at arm’s length. “I said, answer me! What is the matter with you? Are you deaf?”

  She stood rigid before him, her expression pale and frozen with shock. Simon stared at her for a long, tense moment, then dropped his hands from her shoulders and let his arms fall limply to his side.

  “Bloody hell. You are.”

  Chapter 4

  Jessica swallowed against the lump in her throat and answered the horrified expression on the Earl of Northcote’s face with a determined glare of her own.

  She would never get used to that look.

  “If you are truly deaf, how do you know what I’m saying?”

  “I can read your lips. As long as you face me when you speak, I know what you are saying.”

  She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders, bracing herself to battle his prejudice, his disgust. She could not fail. She was far too desperate to let him intimidate her.

  She studied his face closely. Such a fierce look in his eyes. Such…

  She looked again, expecting to recognize a loathing expression, the repulsion she usually saw, but she saw neither. What she read was his explosive anger. A mistrust that bordered on betrayal.

  This was worse than the look she would encounter if society ever found out. Heaven help her. He was the most formidable man she’d ever seen.

  The perfect man to face Colin.

  The earl paced back and forth near the fireplace as if he needed the movement to clear his confusion. Or to control his anger. “Sit down,” he ordered, pointing to the chair. The hard look in his eyes said that refusing to comply was not an option.

  Jessica sat in the chair and waited while he searched for another glass to replace the one he’d smashed against the wall. When he couldn’t find one, he tipped the bottle and drank, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The fames behind him outlined his powerful physique, emphasizing his long, muscular legs and the massive width of his shoulders. Heaven help her but he was intimidating.