Chapter Nineteen

 

The doctor spoke to Phillip in the hallway outside of James’ bedroom, apparently unwilling to involve the ‘delicate sensibilities’ of the women in the matter. “I’ve slowed the bleeding and applied a poultice. It’s a prick, or even a small stab wound but…without seeing the weapon I cannot ascertain how deep or what damage he might have sustained.” The doctor cleared his throat. “No one has found the source of it?”

Phillip shook his head. “The women were unarmed. A quick search revealed nothing. Not even a pair of sewing scissors.”

“Well, he’s certainly well enough for conversation and the constable is eager to get to the bottom of things, so I shall give him leave to do so.”

“Thank you, Doctor Greene.”

The man nodded solemnly. “It’s a sordid business this.”

“Sickening, sir.”

Phillip waited outside the door to try to summon his own control. Fury hummed through him and the desire to stride through the door and murder James was palpable enough to make breathing a struggle.

There was no question of James’ guilt in the attack. Caught in the act, the women’s injuries and his own mumbled admission that “it was a weakness” of his. Pepper had been ice cold in her terror but he didn’t think he would ever be able to forget the sight of Serena. Bloodied and bruised though eerily calm at James’ feet, his fist pulled back to strike her again.

He’d have run into the room if Pepper hadn’t thrown herself against him, hysterically crying for them to save her mistress. He had never felt so helpless and so numb with rage.

No. That wasn’t true. The sensation was eerily familiar though the circumstances were altogether different. No. No similarities at all. Except for—Raven Wells.

Phillip closed his eyes as everything began to turn. He fought it the way a lunatic fights the invisible hands that pull at his skin. For there was nothing to doubt. James was guilty. The horrible scene was over.

Except a part of him couldn’t stop looking at Serena and wondering what her part had truly been. He didn’t want to fall into the trap of the past and lose her in a blind cloud of suspicion.

But there she’d been. Proud and calm in the middle of pure chaos, and Phillip’s instincts sang in alarm. Lady Serena Wellcott had been in command where one least expected it and anyone who’d missed it was a fool.

Enough. She is innocent and no one but James is to blame.

Phillip returned inside James’ bedroom, leaving the door open. James was sitting in bed like a petulant toddler.

“God, what an unthinkable fuss over a piece of tart!” James barked.

Phillip strode over to the bed, giving in to the icy fury filling his chest. He’d hauled his cousin’s husband up by his nightshirt and began to shake him like a ragdoll before James realized his mistake. “You, worthless animal!”

James fought back weakly, blubbering. “Warrick! I…I am a gentleman! The maid swore she liked it rough and I was intrigued. I acted only to spare Delilah—a man’s appetites are—I am….”

Phillip shoved him back on the bed in disgust then moved to yank on the bellpull. “Shut up, James! Stop talking or I swear to God, I will beat you senseless!”

The constable came quickly with two local strong men at his back. What Phillip didn’t expect was to see Lady Serena Wellcott and Delilah also coming into the meeting. The bruise over Serena’s eye had bloomed into a dark purple and her cheek was swollen but she was defiantly beautiful, holding his cousin’s hand.

“Where is the maid in question?” the constable asked.

“She is resting in the blue bedroom. The doctor gave her a sleeping draught but if you need to question her, it can be arranged later,” Serena said without emotion. “I am Lady Serena Wellcott, her mistress, and I was the one who interrupted the assault only to be…struck by Mr. Osborne.”

“Let’s not trouble the girl as yet but hear your side of it, Lady Wellcott.”

A quick recounting of the morning’s events was made and then Delilah added her voice to the fray. Phillip listened in amazed admiration at her courage.

“I have learned that this is not his first violent act in this house, Mr. Preston,” Delilah said softly, her voice also level and strong. “My housekeeper made notes at my request to recall an accounting of the maids who have suffered and left our service as a result. I am sure those girls will testify to the worst of it.”

“When did you ask her for these notes, Mrs. Osborne?” the constable asked.

“Just yesterday. Lady Wellcott’s maid, Pepper, confided that she was afraid of my husband and I was inspired to make inquiries. I am ashamed my instincts were so slow to understand why we have lost so many young women from our service.”

“Delilah!” James roared. “This is—a ridiculous conspiracy!”

Every eye turned toward him and it was clear that the only thing ‘ridiculous’ in the room was James Osborne clutching his bleeding bandaged balls and braying about his innocence.

“Here are Mrs. Watson’s notes,” Delilah held out a folded paper to the constable. “I am sad to say that I have read over them and can verify their accuracy… I fear it is a chilling and true accounting.”

“Think of the scandal, Delilah!” James moaned. “What are you saying?”

Lady Wellcott sighed and stepped forward to touch her friend’s shoulder. “He does have an unsettling point. The scandal will affect you all—even your unborn child, Mrs. Osborne.”

Phillip gasped at the revelation, instantly gripped by joy and sadness for Delilah. God, how long has she prayed for a child? And now to be faced with this mess? But he was also set back on his heels at the unexpected twist of Serena cautioning against exposure. Surely the best revenge is seeing James tarred and feathered for his assault?

“What do you wish to do, Lady Wellcott? Mrs. Osborne?” the constable asked. “If he is charged with these crimes, it cannot be kept from the locals and from the papers.”

“If I may,” Serena spoke again, “perhaps now is the time to strike an agreement. I’d advised Mrs. Osborne that I would be amenable to a compromise but only if her husband agrees to it.”

Delilah looked at her husband, her gentle shy spirit giving way to a woman infused with fury. “My husband will sign over the running of the house and holdings to me, he will leave this house shortly thereafter and he will leave England before the week is out. James has always had a fondness for the west.”

“I will not be thrown out of my own house!” James protested.

“Then you can be hauled out and rot in prison or be shipped off to Australia in exile,” Delilah countered calmly. “But make no mistake, James. You will not live here with me.”

“Delilah!”

“I am sparing you a divorce only because I don’t want to rob our child of his legacy and I am offering you your freedom, James. You will leave. Leave and never come back! If you do, then be aware that the constable will retain that record of your transgressions. Only prison and ruin will greet you if you return.”

Phillip clenched his jaw but said nothing. He wasn’t entirely sure that it would be legally binding, the notes of a housekeeper years after crimes had been committed or even the testimony of his victims if a judge refused to hear them, but it was clear that James had no sense of it to argue. And of the recent attack, there’s no question at all, and that’s the noose he won’t climb out of.

“If you agree to everything immediately and sign the legal paperwork directly, then I am offering to send a small stipend to assist with your expenses.” Delilah held up a hand before he could protest the word “small”. “Fight me and I will give you nothing, not one penny.”

“Delilah! I’m a man! Surely all this fuss over—“

Delilah turned to the constable. “The youngest girl on that list was twelve. These are not hardened women of the street. These were good girls who came to our service entrusted by their families to make better lives for themselves and—“

“Very well! Very well! I will…go.”

Lady Wellcott took Delilah’s arm. “We’ll draw up the paperwork to ensure that Mrs. Osborne has her due and her child is acknowledged as the heir. Mr. Osborne can sign them before the sun sets.”

“Mr. Preston,” Delilah said to the constable. “Please. Stay until the papers are signed if you can and then see that Mr. Osborne is safely escorted to the mail coach.”

“Yes, ma’am. With a glad heart,” the constable said and the men retreated to the hallway.

“I’ll meet you in the study downstairs,” Serena said. “We can draft the agreement and have it ready by the time the solicitor arrives.” She turned to Phillip. “Will you witness it when the time comes, Sir Warrick?”

He nodded. “If it protects Delilah…”

James growled from the bed. “Traitors and thieves! All of you!”

Phillip shook his head. “You’ll leave with your reputation intact and a chance for a new life, James. It is more than you deserve, God help you.”

But why do I have the sinking feeling that you’ve only begun to pay for your sins, James. Because that was so much tidier and painless than—than Lady Serena Wellcott’s gaze promised when she was looking at you.

You, James, are screwed.