“You can tell me if you’d like, Nick,” she said, still stroking his head. He leaned into her and spoke in a soft, monotonous voice so devoid of emotion that it made her skin crawl. What he described made her sick. And furious.
“I was there again, in that room, her room, and she was there with him, and he was making me watch as he whipped her.”
Gillian felt the blood drain from her face. Dear God, had she been wrong all along about Noble? Was the damning truth to come from the mouth of his own child?
“She screamed and screamed and wouldn’t stop, and neither would the bleeding, and I thought I was going to be sick on the carpet when he started cutting her with a knife. I put my hands over my eyes, but I could still hear her screaming and begging him to stop, but he wouldn’t.”
Gillian clutched his head to her bosom and rocked him, squeezing her eyes closed over her tears. What sort of a monster was Noble? How could he commit such obscene acts, and in front of a child?
“She stopped screaming, so I thought it was all right to look, I thought he was done, but he wasn’t, he had just tied something across her mouth, and tied her arms to the bed. Then he looked at me, and he laughed and laughed and told me to take off my clothes, that he wanted to leave Papa something to remember him by.”
Gillian thought she was going to be sick for a moment, but then Nick’s words struck her. “Papa? Nick, who was the man who was doing…who was doing those bad things?”
Nick shook his head. “I don’t know his name, I just know him. He hurt her.”
Gillian laid her head on his, relief swelling over the fact that Noble was innocent of such heinous crimes. She tightened her arms around the boy. “Was that the end of the dream?”
He shook his head again. “The man made me take off my clothes, and then he started laughing again, and I…” He tried to burrow his head into Gillian. She rubbed his back, overwhelmed by the waves of agonizing torment rolling off him. How could a child survive such a hellish scene?
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wish to, Nick.”
“I wet myself,” he said in a small voice. “Just like a baby, but I couldn’t help it. The man stood over me with the whip and he laughed harder and said how just it was that Papa’s son should be such a weakling.”
“You’re not weakling, Nick. The man was wrong, and you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Papa saw,” he whispered into her neck. “Papa came in and saw me. He saw me crying and he saw that I’d wet myself.”
Gillian’s mind chased around in circles. Noble was there? He saw what happened? How could this be? Why hadn’t he killed this horrible monster who tormented Nick and Elizabeth?
“What did Papa do?”
“He fell down when the man hit him on the head with one of his pistols.” Nick detached himself long enough to stare at Gillian with eyes filled with so much pain she wanted to weep. No child’s eyes should look like that. “I tried to help Papa, but the man picked me up and threw me on top of her, and I was so scared I couldn’t move. I couldn’t move! I tried to help Papa, but I couldn’t move!”
“Shhhh,” she calmed him, holding him close again and stroking his back. “It’s all right, my love, you aren’t to blame for what that man did. No one blames you. Your father knows you tried to help him. He doesn’t blame you.”
Nick went suddenly stiff in her arms. “I couldn’t move, and then the man shot her and there was blood everywhere and…I think I wet myself again.”
“Oh, God,” Gillian moaned, unable to keep the tears hidden now. She rocked the frail body of her son in her arms and wept for him, wept for the hell he had lived through, and wept for Elizabeth, who didn’t deserve to die.
“The man was going to shoot Papa,” Nick whispered so softly Gillian almost didn’t hear it. “He was going to shoot him. Papa wasn’t moving, he couldn’t move, and she was dead and I didn’t know what to do so I threw the candlestick at him, and he didn’t shoot Papa because he shot the wall instead.”
Gillian had a horribly vivid image of what happened that night. “Did the man leave then?”
Nick nodded, and his body sagged against hers. “He left, but she was dead, and I thought Papa might be dead until he started groaning. The man told me not to tell anyone or he’d come back and kill Papa. He told me it would be my fault if Papa died. I don’t want Papa to die.”
Gillian held him, rocking him and murmuring soft, comforting words in his ear until he fell asleep against her. She held him even after he slept, weeping silent tears for all that her brave little son had been through.
“I promise you, Nick,” she whispered to him. “I promise you that your Papa will punish that man. He won’t hurt you again.”
Noble signed his name to the document, blotted it, and handed the thick sheet of paper to his secretary. “You’ll be sure to destroy my prior will?”
“Of course, my lord. May I say, my lord, that I and all the staff hope that you will not need this document in the near future?”
“Thank you, Deveraux, I also trust it will not be needed for a long time.” He and his man of affairs watched as Tremayne witnessed the document. Then Noble glanced at the clock and stretched as he stood. “I believe I will retire for a few hours before I am due to leave.”
“Good night, my lord.”
“Good night.” Noble took the stairs two at a time. He was looking forward to spending the time before he had to leave covering as many items remaining on the list he had created for Gillian as was humanly possible. He was even looking forward to apologizing to her for trying to remove Nick from her care. Apologies did not come easy to him, but he had been wrong. The threat of taking Nick away had hurt his wife deeply.
He paused a moment as the thought snaked through him that he could die at dawn, leaving behind Gillian and Nick. Although he had every confidence in his ability with a pistol, only a fool did not feel fear when facing danger.
“If it’s to be, then so be it,” he muttered to himself as he stalked down the hallway toward his dressing room. That and other grim thoughts raced around in his mind while Tremayne removed his evening clothes. Gillian’s words from earlier in the evening haunted him.
“This duel is simply ridiculous! It is not about a slight done to me or to you,” she had said, her face flushed with anger. Noble thought her eyes were about to spit flames. “This is about your male arrogance, and Lord Carlisle’s arrogance. Neither one of you wants to admit it was a simple misunderstanding, that no insult was done to either of you, except the ones you hurled at each other so publicly in the street. Is your stupid male pride worth dying for, Noble? Is it? Do Nick and I matter so little to you that you would throw away your life on something so trivial?”
He had defended his actions with the standard response about honor, but now, as he thought of what her life would be like without him, of how Nick would grow up without a father, he admitted there was some validity to her opinion.
It was ridiculous. It was about arrogance — his arrogance and pride and nothing more. Gillian had not betrayed him with Lord Carlisle, nor, from all accounts, had Carlisle behaved in an improper manner toward her. The fault for the entire situation lay squarely upon his shoulders.
He thought about this as he splashed water on his face and chest. What was to keep him from sending an apology to Carlisle and backing away from the challenge? It could be done; it was done all the time. He would have to take a little ribbing about the situation, but that would soon die down, and the promise of endless nights lying in his wife’s arms would make even the worst ragging bearable.