A Debt Paid in Marriage Read online

‘We all make mistakes.’ He pulled out of her embrace, propping one arm against the mattress to lean hard against it. Guilt and anger shadowed his face, just as it had in the entrance hall the night he’d told her about his late wife’s death. ‘I don’t want to fail you like I failed Arabella.’

  ‘And you won’t.’ Taking his face in her hands, Laura forced his eyes to meet hers, refusing to let him retreat into his pain. ‘You’ve done so many things right, Philip: maintaining your business, managing Halycon House, taking care of Thomas, Jane and me. Look to those and let the rest go, for your happiness and all of ours.’

  She held her breath, waiting for him to trust her as she trusted him. If here, in the middle of the night in his bed, he couldn’t be completely open with her, he might never be.

  Then, at last, the pain faded from his expression. He slid his hand along her cheek and nestled it against the back of her neck. ‘Perhaps some day, with your help, I will be able to.’

  He drew her to him, covering her lips with his. Relief flooded through her and all thoughts of danger faded with the sweep of his tongue across hers. Tonight, he was hers and his past wouldn’t pull him away.

  * * *

  Philip covered her body with his, protecting as much as seducing her. Anger had burned inside him from the moment Mr Jones had told him of Townsend, to the moment he’d entered the stinking air of Mr Walker’s grimy lodgings. It wasn’t danger to himself which fuelled his rage. He’d faced worse and survived. It was Townsend’s threat against Laura and the happiness they’d found together which made Philip seethe.

  His thumb grazed the hard point of one breast through Laura’s chemise and her fingers dug into the muscle of his back. Cupping the full mound in his palm, he slid his other arm around her and pressed her hard against him, lowering them both into the soft sheets. The fears awakened by Townsend’s threat shadowed Philip even as he caressed the tantalising roundness of Laura’s hip and slid the soft cotton from her body. The worry demanded that he pull away and guard his heart. Intoxicated by his need for her, he couldn’t.

  He pressed himself into her, eager for the calming comfort of her soft curves. As they moved together as one, their intimacy and her fierce possession of him swept through Philip. He twined his fingers with hers, raising their hands above her head, both resisting and craving this closeness. She was here now beneath him, but nothing was certain, nothing guaranteed. He kissed her hard, the exquisite taste and heat of her driving back his worries. The word love lingered on the tip of Philip’s tongue as he inhaled her delicate rose scent, but his breath came too hard, his body was too demanding to allow him to free the word. So instead he showed her, grasping her around the waist as her body tightened. She met his frenzied thrusts, drawing him deeper and deeper into her until they both cried out with their release.

  It was a long time before Philip withdrew and settled in beside her. He said nothing as he held her, listening to her short breaths grow longer until it was evident she was asleep. Sleep eluded him and he stared at the folds of the canopy above the bed, refusing to disturb her though he wanted to rise, pace, exercise, do anything to shift the agitation burning a hole in his gut.

  It wasn’t until Laura had shown him the threatening note from Robert Townsend that Philip had realised the depths of his feelings for her. In the past week she’d become more than his wife, but a part of him, a part he could not survive without. With her, he’d been free to put aside the control he’d exerted over himself for so long and enjoy the passion of her body and being. It had lifted him above his past troubles and all the sorrows which had turned him to stone. The feeling hadn’t come at once, but crept over him bit by bit. He’d failed to see it because it had simply become part of his life, like breathing or eating, and just as necessary.

  ‘I love you,’ he whispered, disturbing the fine wisps of brown hair arching over Laura’s face.

  ‘Hmm,’ she murmured against his chest, snuggling closer to him before settling back to sleep.

  He closed his eyes, struggling to join her in rest. He’d been this happy with a woman once before and she’d been ripped from him. He didn’t want to face such torment again. A noise in the garden jerked him from his light sleep and panic loomed before he beat it back. Philip listened, but heard nothing except the faint whinny of a horse in the mews.

  He stroked Laura’s back, drawing from her peace to regain his own. He couldn’t allow his worries to taint his time with her, or make him scurry back to the hardness inside him. He didn’t want to live for ever in that cold, lonely place, but here with Laura and her love. He settled down closer to her and closed his eyes. Laura believed in him and his ability to keep her safe. He would prove himself worthy of her faith.

  * * *

  Loud thuds echoed through the room. Laura raised her head groggily from Philip’s chest, thinking someone must be racing up the stairs and wondered who could be about at this hour. Then the bedroom door rattled on its hinges and Mr Connor’s voice called through the wood.

  ‘Philip, wake up. There’s trouble at the warehouse.’

  Philip flipped back the covers, snatched his banyan from the foot of the bed and flung it on before he cracked open the door.

  Laura clutched the sheets to her, straining to hear. She couldn’t make out the words of their muffled conversation. At last, Philip closed the door, then marched to the grate, lighting a reed and setting it to the candles on the mantel. Orange light filled the room, settling over the smooth skin of Philip’s chest as he slipped off the banyan and made for the clothes laid at the foot of the bed.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ She tugged the sheets up higher over herself, to ward off the chill of fear licking at her.

  ‘There’s a fire at the warehouse where I store collateral.’ He pulled his shirt on over his head, then reached for the breeches. ‘I must see what can be salvaged and ensure the two guards I pay to watch it aren’t hurt.’

  She snatched up her dressing gown from the chair beside the bed, wrapped it around her and pulled the ties tight across her waist. ‘You shouldn’t go. Send your men.’

  ‘They’ll come with me.’ He tugged up his breeches.

  Laura hurried to his side, trying not to panic. ‘What if it’s my uncle who set the fire? What if he’s trying to get you there so he can hurt you?’

  Philip sat in the chair and pulled on his boots. ‘Most likely it was some sailor who was trying to keep warm. It’s happened before, to Mr Charton and Mr Felton.’

  ‘And if it isn’t a sailor?’

  He rose and cupped her face with his large hands. ‘Even if your uncle did it, he was probably drunk at the time. He could barely strike me when he was sober. If he’s inebriated, it should make it easier for Mr Walker to find him.’

  He pressed a sweet kiss to her lips. She laid her hands at his waist, wanting to clutch him to her and not let go. Instead, she believed in his confidence and used it to bolster her own.

  ‘I’ll have my men with me. I’ll be fine.’ He stroked her cheek, revealing only a hint of worry in the gesture. ‘I’ll leave two men with you. While I’m gone, don’t open the door to anyone except me, Mr Connor or my men, do you understand?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Then I must go.’ He pulled on his redingote and hurried to the door.

  Laura followed him out into the hallway. They weren’t the only ones awakened by Mr Connor.

  Jane rubbed her eyes as she staggered out of her room. ‘Philip, what’s wrong?’

  Across the hallway, Laura’s mother watched from her bedroom, her long braid falling out from under her nightcap and over one shoulder.

  Philip took Jane by the shoulders and guided her back to her room, giving her a little push inside. ‘Only some trouble at the warehouse. I won’t be gone long. Go back to bed. All will be well.’

  His fatherly tone settled Jane and she retur
ned to bed with far less resistance than Laura had expected.

  Laura’s mother remained. She wrung the end of the braid with her hands, throwing Laura a silent question with her eyes.

  Philip closed the door to Jane’s room, then made for the stairs. Laura followed, pausing to whisper to her mother, ‘I’ll tell you more once he leaves.’

  ‘I’ll wait up to hear it.’ Her mother faded back inside her room as Laura and Philip hurried downstairs.

  At the foot of the stairs Mr Connor met Philip. ‘The fire company has been summoned. I’ve sent Mr Phelps with most of the men and the cart to try to remove what they can and make sure the guards are all right.’

  ‘There isn’t much there except the bookseller’s stock and the remaining wine from the vintner.’

  ‘The crates will make it easier to remove them, unless the fire has already reached them.’

  ‘Let’s hope it hasn’t.’ Philip looked to the two men flanking the door. ‘Mr Reed, Mr Marsh, stay here and keep an eye on things. I’m not expecting trouble, but be alert.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Rathbone,’ the two men answered in unison.

  With a last, terse look at Laura, Philip strode out to the waiting landau.

  ‘Take care of him, Mr Connor,’ Laura instructed.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll see to it he’s back in your bed by morning.’ With a saucy bow, Justin swung around on one boot and followed Philip out the door.

  Mr Reed swung the door closed and slipped the lock, then both men took up positions on either side.

  Laura made her way back upstairs, eager to put some of her mother’s concerns to rest, though she didn’t know how she’d accomplish such a feat with her own mind a tangle of fretting. She knew she wouldn’t sleep until Philip was safely back home.

  * * *

  Philip stood at the kerb, the heat of the fire warming his face as a roar of flames raced up the east side of his building. Around him were stacked crates of books and barrels of wine his men had managed to save before the flames had overpowered them. His men now stood about, hands on their clubs, keeping an eye on the crowd. They’d been warned about Townsend and were on alert for any additional trouble. Philip might have worked to convince Laura it wasn’t her uncle who’d set the fire, but he had his doubts. So far, there’d been no sign of the drunk. Philip imagined Laura waiting anxiously at home for him to return, the image of her fretting for his safety feeding his anger.

  Nearby, two burly firemen pulled and pushed on the pumps while the rest directed the water from the river into the flames. Dark smoke alternated with white as one plume was extinguished only for another to sprout up nearby. The stench from the foul river water mixed with the acrid smoke filled the air. Philip’s grip tightened on the walking stick he held as he watched the flames lick at the roof. He almost wished Townsend would stagger from the shadows and confront him. The buffoon deserved a beating for the fears he’d raised in Laura.

  Mr Cramner, the stocky fire captain, approached Philip, his face greasy with sweat and soot. ‘The flames are putting up quite a fight, but I don’t think they’ll win, not with the moist air tonight. You’re lucky you got the books and wine out. If those had caught, it might be worse.’

  ‘Good work, Mr Cramner.’

  ‘Fight isn’t over yet, Mr Rathbone.’ He pointed at one of the men manning the pumps and stomped off towards him. ‘Adams, put your back into it. I want the whole damned Thames sucked through there before the other brigade gets here and starts interfering. We don’t want the whole block catching.’

  Justin came to stand beside him, serious for once as the light from the fire wavered over his face. ‘Neither of the guards saw or heard anyone before the fire broke out. Hard to believe Townsend could sober up enough to stagger here and do something like this.’

  ‘Even if he did, by now I’m sure Mr Walker must have found him. I paid him plenty and he’s never failed to find a man before.’

  ‘Mr Rathbone,’ a gruff voice called out over the roar of the flames. ‘Mr Rathbone.’

  Philip and Justin turned to watch Mr Walker push his way through the crowd and hurry over to them.

  ‘Did you find Mr Townsend?’ Philip demanded, eager to know if his plan had worked.

  The press-gang boss shook his head. ‘He doesn’t live in the rooms in Seven Dials any more. I searched all the other places a man like him is likely to turn up, but he was nowhere to be found, not even at Mrs Topp’s. Then I heard about this.’

  He waved his hand at the flames.

  Justin looked to Philip. ‘Where do you think he went?’

  The faint noise Philip had heard earlier from the garden came rushing back to him along with a sickening realisation. ‘Townsend didn’t do this to get me here and strike at me. He did this to pull me away from Laura. I have to get back home.’

  Philip ran for the carriage, Justin close on his heels.

  ‘My house, at once,’ Philip called to the driver as he and Justin jumped inside.

  The carriage took off in fits and starts, men hurrying to shuffle out of the way as the horses danced with agitation at the flames. A cracking noise filled the air, and through the window Philip watched as a portion of the warehouse roof collapsed.

  At last the carriage broke free of the confusion and tore down the dark streets, passing the whores and drunks littering the shadows.

  ‘I should have known. I should have guessed what Townsend was up to.’ Phillip banged his fist against the carriage side.

  ‘Mr Marsh and Mr Reed are there,’ Justin tried to reassure him. ‘They’ll see to it he doesn’t get in.’

  ‘If he got past the warehouse guards, he can get past them.’ The same wrenching fear he’d experienced the morning Arabella had told him she was pregnant choked him again now. He tried to force it away, to keep it from distracting him from whatever needed to be done, but he couldn’t shake free of it.

  He balled his fist over his knees. If Townsend dared to touch Laura or anyone else in his house, he’d kill the man himself.

  * * *

  Laura sat by the window in her mother’s room, the lantern hanging over the doors to the mews just visible beyond the garden wall.

  ‘Watching won’t bring him back any faster,’ her mother reminded her, though she, too, kept glancing out at the darkness beyond the garden gate.

  ‘I know, but I can’t sleep until he’s home safe.’

  ‘You can’t sit up all night worrying either.’

  ‘I won’t. I’ll do the accounts. Do you mind if I bring them in here?’

  ‘Not at all. I’m not likely to sleep any more than you are. I’ll read Jane’s new book.’ She slid the slender tome off the table beside her chair and flipped it open. ‘I like to know what happens before she does so I’m not too shocked by the content.’

  ‘I’ll return in a moment.’ Laura made for her room, eager for the work to take her mind off Philip and what might be happening at the warehouse. Even if the fire wasn’t her uncle’s fault, there were other dangers to threaten Philip: a spreading inferno to trap him and his men perhaps, or a carriage overturned by a spooked horse.

  Laura paused outside her room and took a deep breath, banishing the images of doom threatening to overwhelm her. Everything would be fine and in the morning this would be just another business matter to deal with. Philip was well protected by his men and experience. There was little her drunk, bumbling uncle could do to hurt him.

  Laura pushed open the door, the chill inside cutting through her thin banyan. She hugged the dressing gown tighter to her chest as she went to the window and shoved the sash down to meet the sill. Then she took up the poker next to the fireplace, kneeled down and jabbed at the coals, sparking them back into life.

  The flames danced in the grate as she rose, ready to return the poker to the stand when somethi
ng in the mirror over the fireplace made her heart stop.

  Uncle Robert’s cold, red-rimmed eyes met hers from across the room. ‘Hello, me darling niece.’

  She whirled around, her fingers tightening on the iron. ‘What are you doing here?’

  He pushed away from the dark wall beside the thick bed curtains where he’d been waiting for her. In the light of the fire, she caught the dull nose of a pistol in his hand by his side. ‘I couldn’t miss the chance to congratulate me own flesh and blood on her advantageous marriage.’

  He swept into a mocking bow, staggering a little, in danger of tipping forward on to the carpet before he righted himself.

  ‘Laura, why is it so cold in here?’ Her mother entered the room, then jumped to a halt, the book falling with a thud to the floor at her feet. ‘Robert.’

  He levelled the gun at Laura. ‘Come in and don’t say a word or I’ll shoot your precious daughter and find a less pleasant way to silence you.’

  The older woman hurried to stand behind Laura and the poker which offered them both slim protection.

  ‘Whatever you think you’re doing, you won’t get away with it.’ Laura seethed. ‘Philip’s men are downstairs. They’ll kill you for this.’

  ‘But they ain’t up here, and they ain’t likely to get to me before I send a bullet through you and the poker through your ma’s head.’

  ‘What do you want?’ Laura demanded, determined to remain calm and steady as she knew Philip would. Then, when the moment presented itself, she would be able to give them a fighting chance to escape.

  ‘I want what I’m owed for keeping the two of ya for the last year.’

  ‘We owe you nothing,’ Laura countered, refusing to show an ounce of the fear tightening her hold on the poker. ‘You stole enough from the shop.’

  ‘Don’t think you’re going to cast me out so easily, girl.’ Spittle escaped with the words, a large drop sliding down through the thick grey stubble on his chin. ‘You think you’re so high and mighty, living here with your filthy moneylender, a man who makes his living off the backs of men like me. Tell me, how many weeks did ya both spend planning to ruin me?’