How to Be a Proper Lady

Viola frowned. “Why did he come?”

“We are returning to the Indies. We will be sailing from Bristol a week Monday, driving there straight from here.”

“So soon?”

“By the time I return it will have been nearly four months since I departed. Plenty of time for the repairs on the house and outbuildings to have been completed and the new crops sown. I must get back before my steward and his wife grow too comfortable sleeping in the master bedroom.” He smiled.

She could not meet his eyes. Instead she allowed him to tuck her hand into his elbow and went with him to find his family.

Jin reined in his horse at the edge of the bluff. The leathers lay damp against its glistening neck and it blew mist into the sea air. But only one of them had gotten satisfaction from the hard ride.

Breakers beat the beach below, gray and white. Heat thickened the salty breeze, and thunderclouds gathered, rendering the sun’s rays unsteady. Unsteady, just as he felt. Unsteady and thoroughly out of control. Viola had turned him inside out and he did not want it-not the desperate need to be with her, the attachment that was almost violent in its strength. Such attachment could come to nothing. It would come to nothing, as another attachment he’d long ago felt with this strength had come to nothing.

His mother had kept him close, not allowing him beyond the quarters of her personal servants for fear of discovery. But he knew he was hers and that he was loved. A private child by nature, he never shared their secret with the others, and her husband’s anger was commonly known. Even at that young age Jin understood what could happen were the truth discovered.

Then it was discovered, revealed by a fellow servant who saw too much and wished to curry favor with his master. And in an instant she gave him up. Her love had not proved strong enough. In her clear eyes he’d seen pain and grief but had not believed it. Ripped from his world, bound in shackles, and beaten for his defiance, he had readily believed that she did not suffer to see him go.

After that, at any chance he was able, he took out his anger on the world-anger born of a blood-deep panic that there would be nothing else for him no matter how hard he fought. That goodness and peace were not for a soul like his.

Now the panic rolled in him anew. Viola was mistaken in her wishes. Strong-willed, hardheaded, and passionate, with her every word and touch now she offered him that which he could not fathom. Could not trust. Could not accept. Not for her sake. She deserved better. A great deal better than him. And she could have better. She must.

But the truth battered at him that-simply-he feared. He knew every path from this world to hell and back again. He had paved those paths with his deeds and made himself master of them. But he knew nothing of that which now glimmered tantalizingly before him, that other realm. That perfection. And it frightened him.

He had not felt fear in so many years, he had forgotten he could.

Blindly he walked his horse along the cliff, the blustery gray above presaging the storm that would come when the heat rose later in the day, like the heat he found in her. He wanted her sharp tongue and foolish arguments and courageous defiance and sheer lunacy. For years he had been searching for forgiveness from a higher power, imagining that was his single desire: to atone. But now he only wanted her, and he was terrified.

Riding until his horse dropped, however, wouldn’t solve anything. He stroked the animal’s neck, then turned it inland. The outbuildings of Savege Park sprawled amid scrubby trees and hedges set back from the coast, the stable a massive complex of paddocks, stalls, and carriage buildings. Jin entered through the rear of the wing farthest from the comings and goings of guests, dismounted, and pulled off his hat and gloves.

There wasn’t a stable hand in sight. He dragged the saddle and blanket off his horse’s back, then slid the bridle over its ears. The bit jingled as it came from between the animal’s teeth. When it quieted, he heard the sound.

Prickling heat spread in his belly.

Muffled sound. Not the muffled scuff of hooves in straw or an animal’s whinny.

Muffled screams. A woman’s cries beneath a heavy hand. In a stall not far away. Seven-eight stalls along the row.

He snapped the halter to the door latch and broke into a run. Horses turned their heads. At the seventh doorway he reached for his knife, but his palm flattened on his empty waistcoat. He’d come out unarmed. But his fists had never failed him before. He pushed the door of the eighth stall open.

The man’s white shirt was stained with blood at the hem, like the insides of her white thighs. His hand over the lower half of her tearstained face held her head to the straw while his other buttoned his breeches.

“Shut up, or I’ll do it again tomorrow.” He pushed her face away. “And if you squeal like a pig, I’ll tell your master you begged me for it.”

“Her master would be unlikely to believe you. He is a just man.”

Seamus Castle swung around.

Jin advanced into the stall. “But I am not.” He looked at the girl. “Go find Mrs. Tubbs and tell her what has occurred.”

She didn’t move. He held out his hand.

“It will be all right. Come now.” With a sob she grasped his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. “Now hurry and find Mrs. Tubbs. Tell her I sent you.”

She fled.

“Touching, Seton.” Seamus sneered. “I knew you had a soft spot for slaves, but I didn’t take you for a nursemaid to serving wenches.”

Jin’s fist collided with the Irishman’s jaw so hard the crack reverberated through the stable. Seamus slammed to the straw. He clutched his face with both hands, slurring a curse. Jin came toward him. The Irishman’s eyes shot wide. He scrabbled back like a crab, blood-his own now-staining his chin and shirtfront. But he still managed to sneer.

“What’s got you ruffled, Seton? Not satisfied getting into Violet’s drawers, after all? Want that little maid all for yourself, too, do you?”

Jin’s gorge rose, his fists tightening. The Irishman laughed and started to push to his feet. So Jin hit him again.

And then he beat him.

Chapter 27

Jin paced the floor of Alex’s study, but the sound of his footsteps did not drown out the memory of Seamus Castle’s shattering bones. He could not be still. He had washed the Irishman’s blood from his hands and changed clothing, but it mattered little. The animal inside him could wear a diadem and ermine and he would still be nothing more than an animal.

Alex entered and closed the door behind him. His brow was sober.

“He will live. Barely.”

Jin turned his face to the window beyond which the sea stretched beneath a curtain of rain.

Alex crossed the room. “The doctor has nearly finished. He stitched the wounds and set what bones could be-”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Behind him, glass clinked against glass. “I told you to have a brandy.”

“Damn you and your brandy. How is the girl?”

“Frightened. The doctor says she will heal. Mrs. Tubbs and Serena are caring for her now.” Alex came to his side and pressed the glass into his hand. “Drink it. Then I will pour you another and you can drink that as well. Drink the whole bottle.”

“Don’t patronize me, Alex, or you will find yourself the doctor’s third patient today.”

“I’d like to see you try.” The earl settled back against his desk, a massive mahogany piece topped with marble, fit for a lord, like everything in this house. A house in which Jin did not belong.

He set down his glass. “I nearly killed him. I might have killed him.”