The Solemn Bell(60)

“Good. Then leave the old man to me. You worry about Angelica, and keep yourself out of trouble. Now let’s get back in there. I don’t like the idea of leaving her alone with Peter any more than you do.”





***





“Don’t run, Miss Grey,” Peter said, flopping down onto the sofa beside her. Some of his whiskey splashed onto her skirt as he sloshed his glass. “I promised Brody I wouldn’t lay a hand on you, and I won’t.”

She slid away from him. “I don’t even want to talk to you.”

“That’s a pity. If you’re with him, you’ll be seeing a lot of me.”

“I don’t know why. You’re no friend to him.”

Mr. Lawton laughed. “I’m the only friend he’s got. He chased away anyone who ever cared about him. Now, the only ones who look him up are those who need something from him—a tip on some morphine, or someone to inject it with. Occasionally, a girl might come knocking, willing to suffer him for a taste of whatever he has on hand.”

“Please, I don’t want to hear any more of Brody’s sexual misadventures.”

“If you think he’ll stay with you, you’re wrong. He always chooses the needle, Miss Grey. Always.”

She shook her head. “He’s better now.”

“You think I don’t know all about his little hospital jaunt? A man doesn’t simply disappear for three months without somebody asking questions. I believe he genuinely does want to get better for you, but I’m sorry to say it won’t work. Sooner or later, the morphine will call to him, and he will answer.”

Peter Lawton leaned into her. “We are kindred spirits, you and me. I recognized it instantly.” She scoffed, but he continued, “You enjoy sex. Not like these other girls, who only enjoy the idea of sex. You feel empty without a man inside you, and will do anything to fill that void. When Brody is back on the morphine, with no interest in what’s between either your legs or his, I am hoping you’ll remember me.”

“I wouldn’t if you were the last man standing.”

He laughed. “That’s not what you were saying earlier, when I held your cunny in my hand.”

She grit her teeth, and snarled, “Do not ever talk to me that way!”

“Now, now, Miss Grey. Don’t cause a scene. Naturally, I thought Brody spoke to you like he would any other woman he—”

“He doesn’t, because he respects me. You see, I am beginning to learn the difference.”

Captain Neill must have entered the room, because Mr. Lawton shrank back. “Just remember what I said. When he turns to his injections, you will be the furthest thing from his mind. He will lie, cheat, and steal from you to get what he really wants. His mother and father have been dealing with it for years. As have Marcus, Mary Rose, and the rest of us. You’re merely his latest victim.”

Footsteps approached. “What’s this?”

Angelica breathed a sigh of relief. She’d never hated Peter Lawton more than now—and he hadn’t even lain a finger on her. “Brody, thank goodness. I’m exhausted, and this…music…is giving me a headache. Would you be so kind as to help me upstairs?”

“Of course.” He took her hand and helped her from the sofa. When they were out of earshot, he whispered, “Peter wasn’t harassing you again, was he?”

“I’m not afraid of him anymore. He might have been able to deceive me once, but now I see through his game.”

“Good. Chaps like him are ten a penny in this world, and I won’t always be there to protect you. It’s important that you see them for what they are, and learn to protect yourself.”

She turned her face in his direction. “Where will you be?”

“I might be down in the bloody pits for all we know.”





CHAPTER FORTY-TWO





Peter Lawton had been telling tales. Brody could tell by the troubled look on Angelica’s face—try as she might, she couldn’t hide it from him. Well, so long as she knew better than to believe them, there was nothing he could do. Honestly, Peter Lawton was the last thing either of them should be thinking about in bed together.

He snuggled Angelica against his bare chest. He ran his fingers through her black hair, kissed her, and caressed her. Anything to take that lost look from her eyes—yes, he was even learning to read her blind, unfixed eyes.

She’d sensed that Markie had given him bad news. Thankfully, she hadn’t pried. Brody wasn’t sure he could tell her without breaking down from the sheer impossibility of it all. Stress like this had once driven him to the needle. Peter was just down the hall. Knowing him, the devil had a Gladstone bag full of cocaine, morphine, opium, and heroin.

If Brody looked hard enough, he could probably find a syringe that he’d hidden away for a rainy day. He liked to do that—send little presents to his future self, knowing he’d be either too doped or too desperate to think about such things in the moment. Now, his foresight might be his downfall.

He stirred, but Angelica’s head resting on his heart stopped him. She needed him. She trusted him. Damn, the woman loved him.

Brody could not let her down. He couldn’t become what everyone had always accused him of being. He could not betray Angelica, Marcus, or Mary Rose. They had stood up for him in front of Mother. Angelica had stood up for him in front of Peter. And Markie had fought for him so many times behind the scenes, when Father had sworn to wash his hands of his wastrel son. They all deserved better from him.