The Impostor Prince Page 20

  Ian would never forgive him. The hatred in his son’s eyes was something Julian had never witnessed before. It cut him to the core.

  How would he ever make things right?

  “While we consider when to begin,” Ryo advised him upon entering the office, “it quickly becomes too late.”

  Ryo knew him too well. Julian considered the loyal servant’s counsel. He knew Ryo was right, but the problem was that he didn’t know where to begin. “I fear it is years too late,” he countered.

  Ryo shook his head. “It is never too late, heika, as long as you have breath in your lungs.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Ryo?”

  “And if I had told you,” the servant asked, answering the question with a question, “what would you have done?”

  Julian shrugged.

  “A good teacher merely opens the door,” Ryo said. “A pupil must enter of his own free will. You did not ask me to detail your journey, heika, only to guide it.”

  “I have failed,” Julian lamented.

  There was no pity or condemnation evident in Ryo’s tone. “Everybody fails, heika. The greater question is not whether you have failed, but whether you are content with your failure and what you will do about it.”

  “You know that I would give anything to make things right,” Julian swore.

  “Then you may wish to receive a guest.”

  Julian raised his head, surprised by the announcement at such a late hour.

  “Who is it?”

  “Merely a stepping stone,” Ryo answered in his usual cryptic style.

  “Show him in.”

  Ryo left and returned shortly, standing in the doorway, motioning the guest to emerge from the shadows of the hall.

  “Edward?” Julian said with surprise when he saw the man’s face—older, but still very similar to his own.

  Edward entered the room, his face devoid of expression. “I know where the missing girl is,” he said, getting directly to the point of his visit.

  Julian shook his head. “How?”

  “It doesn’t matter. If you want her, I can show you where to find her…for a price.”

  Julian didn’t hesitate. “You can have whatever you want,” he agreed, rising from his chair. The last thing he’d intended was to cause the girl harm. If he could save his relationship with at least one of his sons, it was worth any cost. “Take me to her at once,” he demanded.

  He turned to Ryo and added, “Ryosan, please go tell my son.”

  Lord Huntington returned soon after leaving her. As promised, he untied Claire’s hands and then abandoned her once again, leaving her to wonder about his intent.

  A woman must do what a woman must do, she’d once told Merrick. So, what must she do now?

  Humph! She wasn’t nearly as brave as she would have liked to believe. In fact, she was terrified. And utterly confused. Everything she had ever known to be true had been turned upside down: her quiet life, her family and friends.

  Someone unlatched the door.

  Huntington entered, urging her to get up, waving a pistol in her face. “Change of plans, my darling,” he announced. “We’re going someplace safer.”

  Claire arched a brow, eyeing the pistol. “Safer for whom?”

  “Don’t argue with me, woman! Get up!”

  Claire stood at once, taken aback by his language. He was obviously still quite angry with her for kicking him earlier. No one had ever spoken to her so harshly—not even Merrick’s father, who despised her.

  “Let’s go!” he said, seizing her by the arm and dragging her toward the door. “Behave yourself. You would do well to remember I have your brother at my disposal.”

  Claire tried to shrug out of his too-firm grip. “I am perfectly capable of following your lead. I need not be steered like cattle!”

  He released her. “Don’t cause a scene,” he warned her, poking her hard with the pistol. “Or you’ll surely regret it.”

  Claire clenched her jaw, trying not to sob. She was hardly a simpering miss, but it was almost too much to bear.

  Huntington led her off the ship and onto the docks where dockhands were busy at their given tasks, despite the fact that night had fallen. They cast curious glances in her direction but didn’t stop their laboring. And why should they? A man with a gun was likely a common sight in these parts and they knew better than to meddle in the affairs of others.

  Whatever needed to be done to save her, she would have to do herself, she realized.

  She checked about, casually slipping out of one shoe, leaving it behind a crate. She scarce broke her stride and Huntington didn’t notice. It was growing darker. She considered tossing off the other shoe and fleeing down the alley, but the thought of Ben rotting away in some prison cell made her waver.

  “Where are we going?” she asked when they reached his carriage.

  “I’ve already told you,” he said. “Someplace safe.” He urged her into the vehicle, jabbing the barrel of his gun against her spine. She hoisted herself up, but not before slipping out of the other shoe, leaving it in the gutter.

  Again, Huntington didn’t notice. He climbed in behind her, pushing her into the seat and slamming the carriage door. He rapped the rooftop, signaling the driver to go.

  Chapter Thirty

  Ian found one black slipper lying behind a stack of crates. “I think it’s Claire’s,” he said, inspecting it. It was quality leather, just a little worn. The inside of the shoe was still slightly warm. It hadn’t been long since she’d shed it.

  Ryo had come to inform them that Edward, of all people, had arrived with news of Claire’s whereabouts. Whatever the hell his steward was doing in London and how he should know anything about Claire, Ian couldn’t figure, but it didn’t matter right now. Finding Claire was his only obsession.

  Ben seized the shoe. “It’s Claire’s,” he confirmed. “My sister hasn’t bought a new pair of slippers in five years. I’d know those scuffs anywhere.”

  Ian was already searching for its match.

  “Here’s another shoe!” Cameron shouted.

  Both Ben and Ian rushed to where he stood.

  The black leather slipper was lying in the gutter. “They must have traveled by carriage,” Cameron deduced. “The shoe is turned toes facing the street, which tells me she must have been heading in this direction and her walk ended right here.”

  All three men considered the evidence. In one direction, the street ended in a dead end. In the other, it veered toward…

  “I think I may know where he’s taken her,” Ben said, grimacing.

  “George Street?” Ian asked.

  Ben seemed surprised by his quick answer. “How did you know?”

  “Your sister is far too fearless for her own good,” Cameron said.

  “If he took my baby sister there, he’s a dirty, rotten bugger,” Ben said. “And I’ll kill the man with my bare hands.”

  “Not if I get to him first,” Ian assured him.

  Claire recognized the little house on George Street at once. The sight of it gave her a tiny prick of hope.

  Both Cameron and Merrick were already aware of its location. She’d given them the address when they’d first hired Cameron to search for Ben. Lord Huntington couldn’t know she’d been here before, and she certainly wasn’t about to reveal as much now. She jumped down from the carriage, hoping he wouldn’t notice her bare feet, and prayed she’d not step on anything too sharp. More than that, she hoped Merrick would discover the clues she had left for him.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  He seized her by the arm and pushed her toward the house. “You might consider it a playground, of sorts.”

  He shoved her through the front door and stepped in behind her. The front room was dark and musty, reminding her somewhat of the scent of the pawnshop—things old and well used.

  “It hardly seems a playground of any sort,” she muttered beneath her breath.

  He pulled her toward the stairs, li
t a lamp at the bottom of the stairwell and then ushered her up.

  A glance over her shoulder revealed a messy front room with dark shades drawn over the windows.

  Upstairs, it was slightly tidier. They passed one room furnished with gaming tables and another with a bed. And yet another bedroom. And another. He pushed her into the last room at the end of the hall and entered behind her, setting the lamp down on a small table.

  Claire scrunched her nose as she looked about the horrific room. A huge bed occupied the center. Filled with gadgets and swings and things she couldn’t even begin to consider, it reeked of something unhealthy and sour.

  Claire shuddered, rubbing her arms in revulsion. The floor was sticky beneath her feet. “Where are we?”

  “You might say it’s a place where a man might feel free to explore his vices,” Lord Huntington explained.

  Claire didn’t truly comprehend his meaning, until she spotted a small book lying open upon a table. Sitting next to the book was a wooden statuette. Curious, she perused the book and lifted the novelty to inspect it. Her face turned hot. The book was filled with images of men and women in contorted positions. She looked more closely at the statuette in her hand and dropped it, shrieking. After last night, she understood exactly what it was.

  She turned to look at Lord Huntington, shocked and repulsed. He was smiling and Claire’s heart began to pound. Whatever danger she had thought she was in, she suddenly understood the full extent of it.

  “You are debauched!”

  “Everyone is a little debauched, Claire. Only I am willing to confess to it.” He approached her, bending to lift the wooden figure from the floor. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been dreaming of Prince Charming inside you?”

  Horrified even by the prospect, Claire backed away from him, looking desperately at the door behind him for an escape. Her heart leaped when she saw the face peering into the room from the shadow of the corridor.

  It was Merrick—but it wasn’t Merrick.

  His father came into the room. “Let her go!” he demanded of Huntington.

  Claire had never been so thrilled to see another human being in all her life—no matter who it was. If she could have leaped over the bed, she would have flown into his arms in gratitude.

  Lord Huntington turned the pistol on Merrick’s father. “Well, look who it is.”

  “Put the gun down,” His Majesty commanded.

  Claire shook her head, warning him to be wary. “He’s depraved,” she said, and gasped, spying a stranger in the hall. The stranger drew a pistol out of his jacket.

  “Stay where you are,” Huntington demanded, panic in his tone, dropping the wooden figure.

  Claire hadn’t the first clue to whom he was speaking—the stranger or Merrick’s father.

  Apparently, His Majesty was unaccustomed to commands. He took another step forward and Huntington aimed…

  It happened so fast, Claire hadn’t even time to scream.

  In a hideous moment of deafening silence, she saw the man in the hall dive forward to push Merrick’s father onto the bed. The pistol exploded and bright red stained the stranger’s shirt as he collapsed atop Merrick’s father.

  Huntington muttered something unintelligible and stumbled out the door.

  Her heart thundering in her ears, Claire stared at the bodies piled atop the bed before her.

  “Oh, God!” she cried, and reached out to push the stranger from atop Merrick’s father.

  His Majesty stirred, peering up at the man lying beside him. Clutching at his shirt, he gave a low, keening cry that tore at Claire’s heart.

  “Edward!” he sobbed.

  But it was too late. Edward opened his mouth and blew out a rattling sigh, then closed his eyes.

  For the longest moment, Claire stared down at the pair while His Majesty sobbed over the stranger’s lifeless body.

  “Who was he?” she asked, trembling.

  “My half brother,” His Majesty confessed. Silent tears streamed down his face.

  Spying a sudden flutter of activity, Claire looked up at the doorway, afraid that Lord Huntington had returned.

  The first face she spied was Merrick’s. Then came Ben. It was too much to bear. She took a step forward, her heart beating furiously, and cried out as her feet crumpled beneath her.

  Then the room went black.

  Claire awoke in her own room, surrounded by familiar flowered wallpaper.

  For just an instant, she was certain it had all been nothing more than a terrible nightmare—until she spied Merrick seated at her bedside. “Claire,” he said softly, smiling. “Welcome back.”

  Claire was relieved to see him. “Where is Ben?” she asked.

  “Your brother is fine. Though you took a rather nasty fall—quite literally,” he added, seeming to struggle to keep his smile from widening into an outright grin.

  She furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand why that should seem so funny.”

  “Let’s just say that you were so excited to see Ben that you slipped over a statuette…one of somewhat unnatural proportions and suggestive design.”

  Claire realized what he meant. She’d been so happy to see them both that she had run to greet them. Apparently, she’d forgotten about the foul monstrosity lying on the floor. Her cheeks burned hot.

  “You’re absolutely lovely when you blush,” he told her.

  Claire blinked, embarrassed. “And Lord Huntington?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “Cameron nabbed him before he could get away. He’s right where he belongs…in gaol.”

  Claire sighed in relief, though she was concerned for Alexandra. “I’m sorry about your uncle,” she offered.

  “Me too,” he confessed, and sadness flashed through his blue eyes. “Though, in truth, I had no idea he was my uncle.” He shook his head. “So many wasted years.”

  “Where is my brother?”

  Ben rose from his seat and came to sit on the bed beside her. He reached out to take her by the hand, his expression sober now. “I’m sorry for everything I must have put you through, my dearest, Claire.”

  It was evident Merrick was saddened by what he’d learned of his uncle. Giving him a moment to reflect upon his loss, she turned to address her brother. “All that matters is that you are safe now,” she reassured him.

  Ben’s expression grew impassioned. “I would have rotted in that gaol were it not for you…and Merrick,” he continued. “When I think of how foolish I have been…” He shook his head.

  Claire squeezed his hand to counter her rebuke. “You certainly will the next time you worry me so.”

  “Merrick told me everything,” Ben said, meeting her gaze directly, his eyes glazed. “I am so thankful you were not harmed. I simply cannot express my gratitude.”

  Claire’s sense of sarcasm returned. “You might not be quite so pleased when you discover everything I’ve sold.”

  Ben grimaced. “I had my suspicions the moment I walked in the house, but it doesn’t matter, Claire.” His voice softened, filled with self-condemnation. “For putting you through such trials, it’s the very least I deserve,” he lamented. “Upon my honor, there will never be a next time. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart for never forsaking me.”

  Claire’s eyes misted. “You are my only brother,” she told him. “You need not thank me at all. You would have done the same for me.”

  And then, she said, more passionately, “You’re all I have left.”

  Ben cracked a smile. “Not quite,” he countered, and cast a glance at Merrick, who sat quietly, listening to their discourse. He stood abruptly. “On that note,” he offered with a private smile for Merrick. “I believe I shall take my leave and give the two of you a moment of privacy.”

  Before Claire could protest his sudden departure, her brother was at the door. “Remember that I do have pistols at the ready should you attempt anything untoward,” he assured Merrick. “Either that, or I shall hold you to that wedding,” he said fli
ppantly, closing the door.

  There was a moment of awkward silence once they were alone in the room.

  Merrick smiled. “It seems Ben has long admired Huntington’s daughter.”

  Claire held his gaze. “Yes…I know. I believe Alexandra feels the same.”

  “He should tell her,” Merrick advised. “Before he loses her…”

  Claire held her breath. She had never expected to see Merrick again. And now that Ben was safe…she was certain he would go. She tried to find the words to say what was in her heart before it was too late. She wanted to tell him how much his help had meant to her, how much he meant to her. “Thank you…for everything,” she offered lamely. “For saving me.”

  “You can thank Edward and my father for that. Ben and I came later.”

  Claire nodded. She had never been one to mince words. “Now that it’s over, you’re still here. Why?”

  They locked gazes.

  “Because I love you, Claire.”

  “Oh, Merrick,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. Nothing he could have said would have pleased her more.

  He screwed up his face and cleared his throat. “About that name,” he said. “It’s not mine.” He thrust out his hand as though to greet her, looking more than a little sheepish. “Let us begin anew. My name is Ian MacEwen. Pleased to meet you, miss.”

  “Ian?” Claire sat up, confused. “I don’t understand.”

  He sighed, and put his hand down, looking her straight in the eyes. “Merrick is my twin,” he said, much more soberly.

  After a moment of trying to digest his confession, her brow furrowed. “So you’re not a prince?”

  He shook his head.

  “And you won’t be going back to Meridian?”

  He shook his head again. “In fact, I’ve never stepped foot out of Britain in my life…or, rather, not to my best recollection.”

  “You lied?”

  He nodded. “With good cause, but aye.”

  Claire had never been more relieved to learn she’d been lied to. She wasn’t meant to be a princess, and certainly not a queen!

  “What do you say, lass? Now that all is said and done, do you think you could be happy with a poor, ill-tempered Scotsman? Because the truth is that I want to marry you.”