“I had no friends who could be of assistance. As for relations,” he said dryly, “that would be your family. The Joslins were the only relatives I had left in the world after my father died. Not that the Viscount had wanted me. He only took me in because your mother insisted.”
She gazed down at her lap. “I’m truly sorry.”
Anthony paused, surprised by the heartfelt sorrow in her voice. Perhaps she did regret betraying him after all.
But he hardened his heart. Marissa had always been able to twist him around her little finger. He wouldn’t let that happen again, not when he was inches away from his vengeance against her and her pig of a brother.
He resumed his pacing. “I made my way to London — some of it on foot, by the way. From Yorkshire.”
She winced, but he kept ruthlessly on.
“I came to Wapping, and to the housekeeper’s brother. He found work for me on the docks. It wasn’t steady, but it gave me enough to rent a garret and to eat. Not often, mind you. And never enough. But I had something else to keep me alive. Something to give me hope that things would get better.”
With a quick step he moved in front of her, reaching out to grasp the back of her chair, caging her in with his body. She gasped and shrank away in startled retreat.
He lowered his head until he could stare directly into those amazing eyes. Her pupils dilated, her breath coming in rapid pants. She smelled sweet, like sugar plums and mint.
“Do you remember your promise to me?” he whispered.
Her lips opened on another gasp, and he watched fascinated as the tip of her pink tongue slipped out to wet her lips. His groin took notice, as did every other part of his body.
Soon, he promised himself. He would take her — body and soul — and slake his never-ending thirst.
“I know you remember,” he breathed, hovering just inches from her pretty mouth.
She ducked, sliding out from under his arms. In a flash, she was by the door to his clerk’s office, her ridiculously large reticule clutched in front of her like a weapon. Which, given how heavy it was, it very well could be.
He let out a reluctant laugh. She had always been as quick as a lark spiralling over a meadow in springtime.
“Obviously, you do remember,” he said. “You made a promise — a vow — that you would never abandon me. That we would never abandon each other. No matter the separation, you would find me, or I, you.” He paused, waiting for a response. But her face was a blank, revealing no emotion. “I waited for you, Marissa. For months. Certain you would find me. I worked like a slave, putting away every shilling I could against that day. I thought that when you finally found me, we would leave England for America, where we could start a new life.”
An acid taste rose in his mouth as he thought of the idiotic boy he had been.
“There was nothing I could do,” she replied in a bleak voice. “Father made sure of that. I didn’t know where to look. What to do. And then …” She trailed off.
“And then you married Sir Richard so you could be the pampered wife of a wealthy baronet, didn’t you? Only four weeks after I was run off like a mangy cur. But I didn’t hear of the wedding until six months later. Six months spent slaving on the docks, going hungry, saving every coin I earned for you — for us.”
The old sense of loss rushed in on him, squeezing his chest with iron bands. Suddenly, he found he had backed her into the corner of the room.
Her back stiff and straight against the wall, Marissa tilted her head to meet his gaze. The coldness in those blue depths thrust leagues of distance between them.
“What would you have me say?” she challenged. “That I’m sorry? Of course I am. More than you’ll ever know. But I can’t do anything about it, nor can I erase the terrible things that happened to you.”
He shrugged, feigning indifference. “No, you can’t, and thank God for it. When I heard you were married and had been for months, I realized what a fool I was. That I meant nothing to you. All those expressions of undying devotion were meaningless — just smoke in the wind.”
This time she did flinch, turning her head away. He waited for her to say something, but her lips remained pressed together in a thin, unforgiving line.
Anger and an odd sense of disappointment pulsed through him. What had he expected? That she would profess her undying love for him? After all these years? Disgusted with himself, he retreated behind his desk and sat.
“Don’t you want to hear the rest of the story?” he asked, affecting a bored voice.
Without a word, she walked to the chair and sat down again. Her weary eyes seemed full of shadows and ghosts.
After a short struggle to repress a stirring of pity, Anthony resumed his tale. “After I learned of your marriage to Sir Richard, I had no more reason to stay in London. I signed up as a deckhand on one of Nightingale’s ships. Oddly enough, I discovered I had an aptitude for the sea, and I moved up quickly. The company made me captain of a frigate by the age of twenty-six — their youngest ever. Nightingale Shipping prospered, especially during the war years. By twenty-nine, I was rich, and able to buy out Thomas Nightingale when he was ready to retire.”
He turned, looking out the window at the sea of masts on the river. “Those beautiful ships are mine,” he said with intense satisfaction. “And Nightingale is one of the finest trading companies in all of England.”
Her soft voice held a wistful note. “You’ve done well, Captain. I’m happy for you.”
He swung around, putting her directly in his sights. “But that’s not the best part, My Lady. As you can imagine, I never forgot what your family did to me. To my regret, your father died before I could settle with him, but your brother will stand in quite nicely. After all, it was he who betrayed us to your father in the first place. Because of him, I lost everything.”
She stiffened, her lovely face now wary. “What do you mean, ‘settle’?”
He smiled, showing his teeth. “You didn’t think I would forgive and forget, did you? I have thought of all of you constantly since I was driven from Joslin Manor. Two years ago, fate and circumstance showed me the way.”
He opened a drawer and pulled out a sheaf of notes, tossing them on to the polished desktop. “Edmund never did have a head for commerce, did he? After your brother came into his inheritance, he invested very poorly, particularly in high-risk trading ventures.”
“Which I’m sure you knew all about,” she interjected in a hard voice.
He bowed his head in silent acknowledgment, enjoying the furious snap in her ice-maiden eyes.“Edmund’s financial bumbling forced him to take out substantial private loans to cover his losses. I won’t trouble you with the details. Suffice it to say that I’m now the sole holder of those notes.”
He waved a negligent hand over the papers on his desk, as if it were not a great matter. As if it had not taken months of horse trading, greasing palms, and one or two carefully applied threats of business reprisals to get his hands on every last note. But it had been worth every shilling, because it gave him what he wanted most — control over Marissa.
She grew still, as understanding dawned. “How much does my brother owe you?” she asked in a hollow voice.
“Fifty thousand pounds.”
She took in a huge breath, working to pull the air into her lungs. Her eyes seemed to blur, as if she couldn’t focus on anything but the thoughts in her head.
Anthony drank in the moment he had worked so long and hard to achieve. Marissa would be his, and she was now beginning to realize it.
A full minute, measured by the casement clock, ticked by. Neither of them broke the silence.
Then she stirred, an alabaster statue coming to life. “You want your revenge against my family for what they did to you.”