Page 84 of The Rebellious Lady and the Phantom Lord
“Not stole. He loaned it. A most practical man, the marquis. He said I should return in disguise, learn the truth of my sister’s death, kill my enemies, and be done with it, then get on with my life.” The matter of fact way James said this chilled Phaedra’s heart. He continued, “I suppose I was fortunate Ewan was already dead. The rest of the world appears to have forgotten James Lethington, but he would have recognized me. That only left your grandfather. With him, I took a great risk by appearing as the marquis. But Weylin had only ever set eyes upon me once, on the night of the murder, and I suppose he did not expect to see a dead man rise up to haunt him.
“It was an easy matter to arrange chance meetings at his coffeehouse, flatter him with the attentions of that great nobleman, the Marquis de Varnais, and thus insinuate myself into his confidence.”
“And what have you learned?” Phaedra asked. “Have you any definite proof connecting my grandfather to your sister’s death?”
“No,” James admitted, “but I have seen the ruthless manner in which your grandfather deals with other unfortunates. Remember the Wilkins family? I know now that he would have been capable of helping Carleton to dispose of my sister.”
“Oh, James,” Phaedra cried. “On the basis of only suspicion, you would kill my grandfather?”
She thought that if she had been possessed of the strength, she would have seized James by the shoulders, tried to shake this madness from him. “Are you so eager then to stand trial for murder a second time?”
“I’ve learned to be a little more subtle,” James said. “I have been going through Weylin’s business records, his dealings with parliament, seeking something, anything, that could ruin him, but leave him alive to suffer as I have done.”
“And what on earth do you expect to—” She broke off, going cold at the realization. “My God, you’ve already found the way, haven’t you? I gave it to you the morning I told you I was Robin Goodfellow.”
“Yes! Weylin’s own granddaughter the writer of revolutionary essays, loaded with information she gleaned from him. The scandal alone would have brought him down He’d have lost his place in parliament and been ostracized.” James choked with bitterness. “The very thing I’d been looking for! And I cannot use it, because of you!”
“I am sorry to be such a hindrance to your plans,” she said brittlely. “How unfortunate that I ever returned from Bath.”
James swore softly. “Damn it, Phaedra! You know I never meant that. But surely you must see what a cursed irony it is. I find the one woman capable of gifting me with love, with the desire to do more than just exist and she is also the one obstacle to my settling this score, to finally knowing peace.”
“I only see one thing-that you will never find peace this way.”
She planted herself in front of him to stop his pacing. Catching his face between her hands, she pleaded, “James, I beg of you. Let it go. Leave my grandfather alone.”
He forced her hands down. “I didn’t know you harbored such great affection for the old man that you would desire so much to save him.”
“It is not him I want to save, but you. If you could but see your face when you talk of this vengeance. You grow so cold, but your eyes burn as though you were consumed with fever. It frightens me.”
Her words appeared to have no effect. He pulled away from her, his face rigid and remote as he retreated into that dark realm where she had no way to reach him. The sufferings he had endured were enough to have broken most men. It was a testimony to his strength of will that he had survived without descending into madness.
Phaedra loved him far too well to see him hover now on that brink and make no effort to draw him back. In desperation, she followed after him, catching at his sleeve. He did not shake her off, but he seemed more distant than the night she had first met him.
She lowered her voice, trying to infuse more softness and patience into her tone. “James, you have been grievously injured by my grandfather. I admit that, though I still cannot believe he had any responsibility for Julianna’s death. Some recompense is indeed owed you. I simply wish that you could bring yourself to extract a more gentle form of retribution.”
He stared at her, the set of his mouth hard and discouraging. “What do you mean?”
She was not altogether sure herself, but an idea was forming in her mind. Now it took on a crystal clarity that both frightened her and caused her pulse to race with undreamed-of hopes.
“Could not taking his granddaughter away from him be payment enough?”
His stony expression relaxed somewhat, but a frown creased his brow. “I am still not certain what you are suggesting.”
“I am asking you to leave London and forget about ruining my grandfather. In return, I will go away with you.” She made the offer with a defiance that barely masked her fear of his rejection.
James regarded her for a moment in uncomprehending silence. Then he said slowly. “You are offering to come back with me to Canada?”
“To Canada or wherever you choose. To hell itself if that is where you lead me.”
His gaze raked her face as though he did not credit what he was hearing. “You trust me enough to abandon everything you have ever known and to put your very life into my keeping?”
“Aye. I love you enough, even for that.” She kept her voice steady, although she quailed inwardly, certain that in another moment he would smile with scorn, laugh at her. But the light that broke over his face took her breath away. He looked like a prisoner emerging from his dark cell, glimpsing the sun for the first time in years.
“Phaedra!” He crushed her in his arms, sweeping her off her feet.
“Then it would be enough for you?” she breathed.
“Enough!” A sound escaped him, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “It would be a dream. I should have to tread softly for fear of waking.” He drew back to look at her, a shadow of doubt darkening the glow in his eyes. “You truly mean it? You would do this out of love for me and not some sort of sacrifice to spare that obscene old man?”
