Everything I Ever Wanted, page 39
"You have saved yourself," he whispered.
Tears blurred India's vision. Was it true? she wondered. Had she saved herself after all? She thought of the loose floorboard under the bed that she had intended to use on Margrave's skull. Perhaps she could be satisfied with merely being out of his reach, but she doubted it. "I meant to thwack him, you know."
Though South pressed his smile into India's hair, his eyes were cold as they regarded Margrave over the top of her head. "I shouldn't be at all surprised if you still get your chance," he said softly.
India's cheek rubbed against the rough fabric of South's frock coat. Coal dust smudged her pale skin. "He told me you were dead," she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. "I didn't want to believe him. I didn't. But then... it was so long... and I..."
"I know." South breathed deeply of the fragrance of India's hair. "I know."
"You came for me."
"Yes. Always."
"Touching," Margrave said, sarcasm rife in his tone. He jerked his chin in his mother's direction. "Mayhap you find this display natural and more to your liking. He's had her, of course. As soon as she was out of my sight, the little harlot spread her legs for him. Didn't I always say that's what she would do if I wasn't with her? She is not so different than her mother, is she?"
The countess's head snapped up. "That is quite enough. You go too far, Allen."
Margrave's dark eyes narrowed. "I think the laudanum is not so efficacious as you would have had me believe. There is more than a bit of trickery afoot. Tell me about this subterfuge, Mother. Was it something you thought of on your own, or did India persuade you to defy me?"
India turned in South's embrace and faced Margrave. "You will let her be. There is no reason she should answer to you."
Margrave's response was dry. "Is it the presence of your lover that gives you such courage, India? You have not always shown this temerity. I cannot say that I am in any way admiring of it."
India's cheeks flushed with color, but she did not avoid his scornful glance. Holding her hand out to the dowager countess, she said, "We are going now."
The earl took a step toward them, his attention slipping sideways toward his mother. "Shall you tell her, Mother? Or shall I? What sort of feeling will India bear you then? I wonder if she shall love you less or more than I."
"Have off," South said sharply. "Unless you mean to afford me the greatest pleasure of laying you out."
Margrave merely smiled.
India's brows furrowed. Her eyes darted between Margrave and his mother, then to South. "Tell me what?" she asked. "What is it all of you think you know that I do not?"
The earl shrugged and raised his hands with an air of helplessness. "Do you see, Southerton? She is curious. She wants to know."
South shook his head. "India, take the countess out. I will follow shortly."
India understood she was being given a directive. Only minutes ago it had been her intention to do the very thing South was telling her to do. "No," she said. "I will not."
It was Margrave who laughed. "You must admit that she does not fail to amuse," he said to South. "Though I understand you will find it less so since she is now defying you. Tread carefully, Southerton. You may discover that the wrong response will send her flying back into my arms."
"I am in no fear of that," South said. "Even so, India may alight wherever she wishes."
"I am not moving at all," India told them. It was not entirely true. While her intention was to remain firmly rooted where she stood, she felt herself becoming light-headed again. It seemed to her that the room wavered and then she realized it was she. Thrusting out a hand, she refused the attentions of South and Margrave as they each took a step toward her. She pressed three fingers to her temple, managed a deep breath, and found herself grounded again.
"It is because of the opium," Lady Margrave told South. "She has taken little nourishment these past weeks to protect herself from its effects. She warned me of the consequences of such a drastic course, but I do not think she heeded her own advice."
India started to protest that such was not the case, but her effort went unnoticed by everyone in the room. Without signaling his intention in any way, South's long stride put him within striking distance of Margrave. He jabbed sharply at the earl's midsection with his right fist, making Margrave gasp for air and begin to double over. South followed this with a hard left to Margrave's elegantly defined chin. The blow actually lifted the earl off his feet. He landed lightly, but off balance, and stumbled backward. South struck again, jabbing with his right. The breath that Margrave was trying to recover was lost, and his knees folded. He dropped to the floor, grunting softly and clutching his middle.
South stared down at the earl's bowed head and slumped shoulders and wondered if he could trust him to remain there. He felt no particular satisfaction in what he had done, yet knew that he was prepared to do it again. And again.
South's features were without expression, which of itself was telling. The heat of the moment had subsided into a hard, bitter coldness. What was left was more dangerous than what had come before.
Stepping back, South began to turn toward India. He was conscious of her sudden movement, the leap in his direction, but he had no time to understand the reason for it. The blow to his head was delivered with mind-numbing accuracy. He staggered forward into India's outstretched arms. She could not support his weight, and he felt himself falling, folding just as Margrave had, his knees buckling under him. It seemed to happen slowly, as if he were drifting down through black water, buoyant and leaden at the same time.
India dropped to her knees beside South but not in time to stop him from receiving a second blow to his head when it came in hard contact with the floor. She tore off his roughly cut wig and ran her fingers along his scalp, feeling for an open wound while her eyes were raised accusingly in Lady Margrave's direction.
Her hands shaking, the dowager countess stared at what she had wrought. At first she felt no connection to what she saw. The fact that she still held the board she'd removed from under India's bed was in no way relevant to the fact that Southerton had crumpled on the floor at her feet. That India's dark eyes found fault with her did not make sense. Even her son's sardonic chuckle had no impact.
She came to herself suddenly, her mouth opening in horror at what she now understood she'd done. "I'm sorry," she whispered. The words were lost as her nerveless fingers let the board slip between them and thudded to the floor. "I'm so sorry."
Margrave gingerly worked his jaw from side to side. "Your apology is hardly flattering, Mother. One might suppose you meant to use that board on my poor pate." He glanced at India and cocked an eyebrow. "Your idea?"
India ignored him. She cradled South's head in her lap and continued to sift through his thick hair with her fingertips. She felt him stir ever so slightly.
"Of course it was your idea," Margrave went on. "You have been bent on leaving here from the beginning. I do not think you have ever considered Marlhaven your home. Merrimont either."
"They have never been my home," India said quietly.
"That is really too bad of you." Margrave clucked his tongue softly. It was an admonishing affectation he had often used as Mrs. Garrety, and he knew that India would recognize it as such. That she was annoyed by it pleased him. It was proof that she was not as immune to him as she would have him believe. Southerton be damned, he thought.
It was he who had the power to work his way under her skin. "You have always been welcomed here."
India merely shook her head. Even at the outset, she had been more prisoner than guest. It seemed to her that these past weeks Margrave had simply ceased to pretend it had ever been otherwise. She would not sanction his alternative view of the past now.
"It is your home," he said, slowly climbing to his feet. He brushed off the knees of his trousers and straightened the line of his frock coat by pulling on the sleeves. "I mean that." His attention was pulled to his mother, who shuddered with a sob she could not restrain. Margrave snapped, "Have done with it, Mother! Your tears grow tiresome."
The countess made no attempt to swipe at her damp eyes, though she did press her lips together to stop their trembling.
Margrave sighed. "That is a poor effort." He watched his mother's tears begin to flow with renewed vigor. "Sit down! This is intolerable."
As if deflated, the dowager countess sank slowly into a nearby chair. "I'm sorry," she said again. Her words were for India, not her son. "Can you forgive me?"
"Do not speak of it," India said wearily. She lightly brushed South's lean cheek with her knuckles and watched the even rise and fall of his chest. She removed his spectacles. "It is understandable that you would act to protect your son. Indeed, I held out too much hope you could do anything else." Margrave's deep chuckle strained her taut nerves. "Something amuses you, my lord?"
Margrave ignored the sweetness in India's tone that lent it bite. He spoke only to her question. "Certainly I am amused. You have misunderstood Mother. Her apology is not for what she has done in these last few minutes but for what she has done these last twenty-three years." His dark eyes swiveled to his mother. "Is that not correct? It is an apology for a lifetime of wrongs."
Two small creases appeared between India's brows. She searched Lady Margrave's drawn features. The countess avoided her eyes, glancing down at the hands folded in her lap instead. "My lady? What does he mean?"
It was as if Lady Margrave had not heard. She fidgeted with the folds of her gown, smoothing them across her knees, picking at an imaginary loose thread.
Watching her, Margrave shook his head, one corner of his mouth edging upward. "I do not believe she will speak of it, India. I suppose you will have to hear it from me."
Though she was curious, India doubted she would believe anything Margrave had to tell her. She realized belatedly that something of her skepticism must have shown on her face because the earl's slim smile became wry.
"It does present a dilemma, does it not?" he mused aloud. His eyes fell to South. "I suspect you can count on no help from that quarter. Pity. I think he knows rather more than I should have thought anyone could."
"He knows you are responsible for Mr. Kendall's murder."
"Really?"
India dismissed out of hand the amusement she heard in the earl's voice. She knew she had piqued his interest and his concern. She looked down at South's perfectly still features. It had been several minutes since he had last faintly stirred. "Mr. Rutherford's also," she said. "The attempt on Prinny's life as well." Beside her she heard the dowager countess's sharp intake of breath. "You have been found out, my lord. I am no longer the only one who knows what a monster you are."
He laughed outright. "A monster? I am hardly that. The theatre has given you a penchant for melodrama, my dear India."
Lady Margrave pressed one hand to her mouth as if to stifle a second sob. Her face was without color, and her nostrils flared widely as she drew in a steadying breath. She spoke haltingly through her fingers. "Is this true?"
Uncertain to whom she was speaking, or what she wanted to confirm as truth, neither India nor Margrave answered.
The countess's hand fell away from her face. Her voice rose shrilly. "Is this true?!"
India noticed that Margrave actually flinched. His cheeks flushed with high color while his narrow smile remained eerily in place. India reached out to Lady Margrave, laying one hand over hers. "My lady, have a care. You will make yourself ill."
"I am ill." Her eyes implored her son. "Does she speak the truth, Allen? Are you responsible for the attempt on the Prince Regent's life?"
"Mother," he said placatingly, "have you forgotten a man was hanged for the assassination attempt? I have never heard that my name was in any way connected to that sorry bit of business."
Lady Margrave was not pacified. "You have not answered my question. Were you responsible for it?"
Both of Margrave's eyebrows rose at her tone, but he nevertheless answered, "I was not."
"Liar," India said."I do not know the particulars of how it was accomplished, but I know you lie. You thought Prinny wanted to make me his mistress. You have always thought others wanted me. Kendall. Rutherford. You would have liked to kill South at the cottage at Ambermede, but your need to get me away from him was stronger. And Westphal was there. I think you were not prepared to challenge them both."
The countess continued to stare at her son. "She is telling the truth, isn't she? You have done these things."
Margrave was not listening to his mother. "Prinny did want you for his mistress. Do not deny it, India. I saw how he looked at you. I saw how they all looked at you. It never seemed to matter that you were without station or consequence. You drew them to you. Always." He said nothing for a moment. His eyes drifted away from India as he retrieved a memory. "Olmstead," he said quietly. "He wanted you. Mother arranged for your position there knowing all the while that your position would be a reclining one."
Agitated, Lady Margrave came to her feet. "That's a lie. I sent her away for her own protection."
Margrave's mouth twisted. "You sent her away for your protection."
A strangled sound came from the back of the countess's throat.
"You do not deny it, Mother."
"You are without conscience."
"The pot calling the kettle, and all that." He waved one hand, dismissing her, and looked down on India. "Your viscount has been out rather long, India. Perhaps some smelling salts are in order."
India leaned over South protectively. "You will not touch him."
"As you wish. It is a large knot at the back of his head, I collect."
It was, but India did not confirm that was the case. "Neither South nor I require your assistance, my lord."
"You may well speak for yourself. I am not certain Southerton would agree." Margrave bent and picked up the board that his mother had dropped. He turned it over in his hands, idly examining it, then gave it a decisive swing over India's head. He laughed as she instinctively ducked to avoid the blow. The board had not come within six inches of her scalp. "Did that raise a few hairs at the back of your neck, India?"
India lifted her face to him and spoke quietly but distinctly. "You disgust me."
"Oh? More than Olmstead? More than Prinny? You would have me believe they disgusted you as well."
"Stop it," Lady Margrave said. She carefully lowered herself to her knees beside India and searched South's pale face. "What can I do? There must be something. A damp cloth, perhaps, for his forehead."
"Hold him," India told her. "I will get it." There was the small stain of blood on her gown where South's head had lain. She rose and turned toward the commode. Margrave stopped her, placing one hand at the crook of her elbow. "You will allow me to attend to him, my lord."
"Why? I intend to kill him, you know."
India did not flinch from what she saw in his eyes. "And I will see to his comfort until then."
Margrave smiled. "As you wish, India. As always, I can deny you nothing." He let her go, watching her as she poured cool water into the basin and chose a cloth to dampen. She wrung it out, then carried it back to South and handed it to the countess. His mother folded it carefully and laid it across the viscount's brow. Margrave tried to remember if she had ever been so gentle with him. Yes, he thought, she had, but it seemed so very long ago that he could not bring the place or time to mind. Still, he could recall her light touch on his brow, the sweet sound of her lullaby in his ears. She must have loved him once.
The earl set the board down, leaning it against the fireplace, out of reach of his mother. "Does it disturb you, India, that Southerton has accused me of Kendall's murder?"
"No longer." She knelt again. It was not South's hand she sought, but Lady Margrave's. The countess's skin was cool, and her fingers trembled slightly in India's light grasp. "I have had time to accustom myself to the truth of it. At first, I did not want to believe it."
"You championed me?"
"After a fashion."
"You surprise me."
India shrugged. "I did not do it for you. It seemed that if it were true I must bear some of the responsibility. I was not prepared to do that."
"And now?"
"Now I understand that while you did all of the things South says you have, it does not make me guilty."
"Is that what Southerton told you? That you are not culpable?" He did not wait for her to respond. "He's wrong, India. Everything that has been done has been done for you."
"It has been done for you."
"No."
India lifted her face. Her eyes glittered with the strength of her icy condemnation. "Yes," she said. "It has been done for no one but you."
Margrave did not hesitate. He brought the flat of his hand hard across India's cheek. The downward sweep of his palm was swift and powerful. India was knocked sideways. Lady Margrave cried out as India was torn from her, and she caught her son's arm to stop him from delivering a second blow. He shook her off easily.
Not so the second pair of hands that grabbed him.
South brought all the pressure he could to bear and used Margrave's efforts to pull away to help himself rise. Jerked into a sitting position by the earl's wiry strength, South was able to get his feet under him and then stand on his own power. Without signaling his intention, he let Margrave go suddenly. Off balance, Margrave shot backward, falling against the fireplace.
India pulled the countess out of the way as the earl picked up the board and swung it fiercely in South's direction. South jumped back and ducked. The board whistled through the air as it swept just over his head. He charged then, running like a bull at Margrave's midsection, throwing him back against the wall. The board was hurled from the earl's hands and came within a hairsbreadth of hitting his mother. India pushed the countess into a chair and picked up the makeshift weapon just as South plowed his fist into Margrave's belly.
