The Baron to Break, page 9
Barrow licked his lips. He knew this moment was important. His future was on the line. With the money Tinderwell had promised him, he intended to leave England forever, start a new life. “We know that Robinson saved her from thieves, even brought her to his mother to protect her.”
A muscle in Tinderwell’s jaw ticked. “I’m not sure that was an asset and not a move I anticipated either.”
Barrow stilled, the other man wasn’t normally so candid. That was good. “Why do you think he stopped to see Matilda then?”
“Either he was desperate, or he truly doesn’t care about his mother’s claws. Which is a possibility. He’s lived with them his entire life. A mother who’d hatch a plot like that against her own son…”
Lucius leaned forward, truly interested. He knew that Tinderwell and Baroness Robinson were lovers, he’d gleaned that much from the beginning. She’d been the one to suggest that Emily would make a good bride for Tinderwell.
Because as much as she likely wanted Tinderwell for herself, both of them were in need of funds.
The man had overleveraged himself in his many business endeavors. But did the baroness know of the fixation Tinderwell had developed for Emily? The plan was that Tinderwell and the baroness share the funds from Emily’s dowry once the wedding happened. But in his estimation, Tinderwell was not a man to share with anyone. Not that he’d ask his employer as much. He knew better than that.
Barrow let out the smallest sigh. Curiosity was a devilish creature but one he’d like to satisfy none the less.
Tinderwell leaned forward then, his eyes two dangerous glints of grey in the shadowed room. “She’s beautiful beyond compare, or she was, Matilda, and she’s got a real mind for plotting but there isn’t much that is warm about that woman.”
“How did she know her son would try and take Emily?” he asked. He’d been wondering about that detail of late. And much as he shouldn’t ask, he couldn’t quite keep the question off his lips.
Tinderwell sat back in his chair, a half-smile on his lips. “That’s not her plot against her son. That is an unhappy coincidence.”
Barrow’s eyes widened. “I see.” He nodded, realizing there was so much more he didn’t know. “What does her plot with the baron involve then?”
Tinderwell shook his head. “It’s not for me to share.”
“I understand but…” Barrow raised one finger. “I think the way to draw Emily out is to use Baron Robinson as bait. He’s saved her, she might come to his rescue.”
Tinderwell shook his head, giving Barrow a dark grimace. “She’s too fragile for that. You, Barrow, have no understanding of human nature.”
His brows drew down into a confused slash. “I beg your pardon?”
But rather than answer, Tinderwell stubbed out his cheroot and then rose up, circling the desk. “You’re also not particularly good at your job. You’ve bungled this entire affair.”
He stood, his chin notching up, even as unease settled in his belly. “That isn’t true. I successfully negotiated many deals—”
“Any solicitor can do that,” Tinderwell said and then, without warning, Tinderwell’s large, vice like hands shot out and wrapped about his neck.
The other man was taller, stronger, harder, and his fingers squeezed, cutting off the air to his lungs. Her scratched at the other man’s hands, attempting to free himself but Tinderwell was stronger in every way.
“You know too much,” Tinderwell growled as spots began to appear in front of Barrow’s eyes. “And you’re too stupid to do anything useful with all that information.”
He was sinking. Sinking.
And then the world went black.
The trip back to London was less eventful and somehow more exhausting than the trip north had been.
Jacob hadn’t slept properly in days, didn’t have Emily tucked into his side while he travelled. Tired and irritable, he arrived in London making his way directly to Barrow’s office.
He’d have to clean out his room at Madame Chamberlain’s establishment eventually. He couldn’t live there. Not anymore.
Which was absurd. He didn’t even know how Emily felt about him. They’d only kissed once, but something inside him had shifted.
He didn’t want some surface exchange, didn’t wish to be on the fringe. He realized that he’d distanced himself from everyone, formed no attachments. He had an excellent outer skin. It deflected nearly any barb, but he’d stopped allowing people close.
And he didn’t want to be that man anymore.
Hell, the rest of the world could hang but there was one person that he wanted to bare himself to…Emily.
If she’d have him. He’d prove to her that he was worth her trouble.
With that in mind, he swung down from his horse, tying it to the post outside of Barrow’s office.
Jacob’s plan was to tell Barrow that he knew he’d lied. And that he knew the solicitor had been in contact with his mother. Jacob would squeeze the truth out of the man one way or the other.
It was early yet, but testing the door, he found it unlocked.
Stepping inside the waiting room, he paused. The air felt…wrong.
Stale. Heavy. He blew out through his nose, pulling a pistol from his waistband. Slowly, he moved deeper into the space, noting that the door to the small office was open. But he didn’t even have to step into the room to know what was wrong. From out behind the desk, he saw a pair of legs spread out at odd angles.
His eyes briefly closed as he realized that Mr. Barrow was dead.
The man would provide no answers and a whole lot more problems. He didn’t go in any further, didn’t look at a single detail.
Instead, he turned about and left, heading straight to Scotland Yard.
It took several hours to finish speaking with constables, and by the time he returned to Emily’s home, he was exhausted. But another inspector came to the house to ask him specific details about his cheroots of all things.
He opened his case, holding it out to the investigator. The other man, Inspector Tromley, studied the contents of the case for several seconds before pulled a stud of a cheroot from his pocket, holding it up to Jacob’s. “Different,” he grunted.
Jacob tried not to roll his eyes. “Explain.”
The man stuck the other cheroot back in this pocket. “It was in the tray across the desk. Could be the killer’s.”
Jacob didn’t bother to argue that it could have been from any client the day before.
“Tell me again why you were there at Barrow’s office, my lord.” Tromley gave him a once over glance.
He sighed. He’d been asked this question three times at least. “My intended is his client. Miss Emily Cranston. He was helping to settle her parent’s estate…the viscount and viscountess passed recently.” He knew the lie of Emily being his intended was hemming them both in. But this was murder…and he was in the middle of it.
“And were you happy with his services?”
No. Not in the least, but he wasn’t very well going to say that. “She’d hardly begun to retain them. I escorted her and her aunt to the country and then came back to learn the details from Mister Barrow. That’s when I found him.”
The man gave a nod, appearing satisfied. “Of course. My apologies and thank you for your cooperation.” The inspector finally rose and after saying his goodbyes, left.
Jacob had shared most of the information he’d learned with the family’s butler, needing to explain why he’d returned and why he needed to, once again, go through the baron’s intimate papers.
But he hadn’t been in the man’s office more than a quarter hour when a knock sounded at the door.
The butler appeared. “My lord, a Lord Tinderwell is here.”
“Tinderwell?” The name sounded familiar. It tickled at some memory.
“A former suitor of Miss Cranston’s,” he frowned.
“Tell me more.”
“Third son of a marquess, and a merchant.” The butler stepped closer into the room. “His interest in Miss Cranston was keen but…” The man looked up at the ceiling.
Jacob rose from his seat. “Go ahead, Michaels. Now isn’t the time to hold anything back.”
“I don’t like the man,” the butler said in a rush of air. “He’s hard, arrogant and…” The other man stopped. “I’m glad you’re here, my lord.”
Jacob gave a quick nod. At least someone was. “Thank you.”
The butler exited the room and returned minutes later with Lord Tinderwell.
Jacob rose, the hard, scoffing look on the other man’s face instantly making Jacob dislike him. This was a man they’d considered marrying to Emily? He’d never allow a man like this to touch her, get anywhere near her.
“Robinson,” Tinderwell growled. “We finally meet.”
Finally? What the hell did that mean? “A pleasure. I’m sure.”
The man came in and sat down without an invitation. “I see you’ve made yourself at home.”
Jacob ignored the barb. “And you. Do you visit often?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I came to check on Miss Cranston. With her loss…”
“I didn’t see you at the funeral.”
Hard grey eyes stared back at him. “Where is Emily? I’d like to see her.”
Something uncomfortable unfurled inside him, his fingertips tingling. “With her aunt in the country.”
“Hmmm,” the other man said and then he pulled his cheroot case from his vest pocket, flipping open the lid and pulling a cheroot out. “Is that really true?”
Jacob recognized the size, texture, and color of the wrapping. It was the exact same kind as the one the inspector had just showed him.
His eyes zeroed in on the cheroot and then flicked his gaze back to Tinderwell. “I’ll answer your question if you answer one of mine.”
“All right.” The other man lit the cheroot in the fire then brought it to his lips, inhaling a long drag.
“How long have you known my mother?”
Tinderwell coughed on the smoke and then banging on his chest as he stood. “I beg your pardon.”
“You, Barrow, my mother.” Jacob said, closing his fingers around his short sword. “How long?”
He didn’t really care. The way the man’s eyes dilated was confirmation enough.
There was a flash of silver a second before Tinderwell let a knife go, the blade flying through the air. Jacob jerked to the side but not quick enough and the blade sliced into his upper arm.
He ignored the burning pain as he pulled out his short sword and leapt across the desk. Tinderwell was already sprinting toward the door, but Jacob was a much younger man, and he gave Tinderwell a hard shove just as he made it to the opening.
The man stumbled across the hall, crashing into the far wall as Jacob pounced on him. “You’ll never touch her,” he snarled as he landed a punch right into the man’s nose.
“Your mother?” Tinderwell grunted. “I’ve touched her plenty.”
Jacob hit him again, square in the gut, causing the other man to double over. He was older but he was tough, and he was up in a moment, catching Jacob with a right hook that had him seeing stars.
He crashed into the wall, giving his head a shake as he tried to clear it. When he straightened, Tinderwell was gone.
Blood poured down his arm, but he strode toward the front of the house, catching sight of Tinderwell’s carriage as the driver snapped the reins. Red and gold, the vehicle flashed in the sun as it pulled away.
Jacob had found the missing piece.
His mother had taken a lover. The same man who’d been courting Emily. He didn’t need Tinderwell to confirm the details to know it was true. Barrow had lied to him about Emily being poor to scare him off, and when that hadn’t worked, Barrow was now dead and Tinderwell was trying to find Emily.
Jacob knew one thing for certain. He’d die before he let that man touch her. And as for his mother…
She was going to pay.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Five miserable days had passed since Jacob had left. He hadn’t even said goodbye. And while it was wonderful to see Aubrey, Emily found herself crying most of the time. All the grief she’d stored up seemed to now be leaking out of her eyes.
Which, in the last twelve hours, had finally dried up.
It was the loss of her parents, the worry for her brother, but also, and she was best at admitting this in the dark of the night when she lay in her bed, she missed Jacob. Desperately.
The way his hand felt on her back, the way her body fit into his. The way he made her feel breathless and safe all at the same time.
Because of him, she longed for things she’d never wanted before.
Her hands trembled as she sat in the front sitting room, staring out the window. When would he come back?
And what would their relationship be when he did?
Something about him being gone, she’d admitted to herself that she did want to be with him. Despite knowing he didn’t want to marry, she allowed herself to acknowledge this wasn’t just about learning herself.
He made her feel things no one had before.
He’d saved her time and again, gone out of his way to help her, and somehow, he still treated her like a grown woman, a competent adult, and that mattered to her.
Not that it changed anything if he didn’t wish to wed her if he didn’t feel the same. That latter part was important.
But he’d been clear that he didn’t see his future with any woman. Her heart gave a few sick beats in her chest.
“Emily?” Aubrey’s voice called from the door. She turned to her friend, a small but genuine smile gracing her lips as she rose to cross the room to her friend.
“Aubrey,” she said as she reached her friend, the two women wrapping each other in a hug.
“It’s nice to see you out of your room,” Aubrey whispered close to her ear. “I was beginning to worry.”
“I just needed some time to grieve,” she replied, swallowing down a lump. She’d cried her heart out, but it was time to put those tears aside. She needed to focus on her future.
“I understand.” Aubrey gave her another squeeze before she pulled back, looking at Emily. “You’ve been through so much.”
Emily had always admired her friend. Aubrey was one of the strongest people she knew. “I know your circumstances have always worked against you. What I’ve been through is nothing.”
“Stop that,” Aubrey held her upper arms, giving them a squeeze. “What you’ve been through would break many and here you are, standing strong.”
Emily shook her head, somehow, more tears shimmering in her eyes. “Not that strong. I’m trying. But without Jacob…”
Aubrey’s hands stilled. “He’s done a great deal for you.”
“He has,” Emily whispered. “But he hasn’t done those things for me, he did them for Ash.”
A small frown creased Aubrey’s brow. “Are you certain?”
Emily looked away, staring at the intricate pattern on the wall. “He has said as much.”
“Take this from a woman who misread the signals from a man, he doesn’t touch you like a man who doesn’t care. In fact, he touches you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth.”
“But…” She let Aubrey go and twisted her hands together. He had kissed her, held her close all those hours in the carriage.
“I told Nick all sorts of things…” Aubrey held Emily’s hands in hers. “Because I wasn’t ready for the feelings he brought out in me.”
Emily looked back at her friend. Aubrey had been involved in her own mystery when Nick had courted her. “Tell me.”
“I told him I didn’t want to marry, and I’d meant it at the time. I’d worked so hard for independence and my parents hadn’t exactly taught me much about what a healthy marriage looked like.”
Truer words had never been spoken. Aubrey’s parents had never even married. “Jacob’s mother is awful.”
Aubrey nodded. “I can see why he’s taken with you then because I don’t know a warmer, kinder person than you.”
Emily’s throat worked around a lump of emotion, but it wasn’t sadness she felt this time. Gratitude filled her words. “Thank you.”
“He might need time.” Aubrey leaned closer. “But if you really care about him, don’t give up just yet. You need him but if I’m not mistaken, he needs you too.”
Could that be true? “What would he need me for?”
Aubrey shook her head. “Don’t you know, Emily? You’re the sort of person who brings out the best in the people around her.”
Appreciation swelled in her chest. “You are the best friend.”
“No, actually, you are.” Aubrey laughed then. “And Lord Robinson would be lucky to have you.”
She hoped that was true. Hugging her arms about her middle, she crossed the room once again, looking back out the window. This time, it was less watching and more just thinking.
Should she tell Jacob how she felt? Did she just give him space to breathe?
As her thoughts swirled, a loan horseman appeared on the massive drive that led up to Aubrey and Nick’s home. She stopped, staring, her arms dropping to her side.
The rider drew closer and with a strangled cry, she realized that it was Jacob.
“What is it?” Aubrey asked, rushing to her side.
“He’s back,” she answered and without any further explanation, she lifted her skirts and sprinted out of the room.
She had so much to say, so much she wished to know, but most of all, she just wished to wrap her arms about him and hold her close. Was that still allowed?
She’d find out after she looked into his eyes…
Jacob rode slowly up the drive, every muscle in his body aching. The slash in his arm throbbed, likely because rather than rest and treat the gash, he’d been riding for the last two days. He’d hardly slept, he’d barely eaten.
But he’d needed to come back to Emily.
Touch her, hold her close, and know that she was all right. He’d told himself any number of times that she was fine. And logically, he believed the words. Nick would not allow anything to harm her, she was well protected behind his walls.
