Stranger in My Arms(92)

Many of the men in my company were hunted and slaughtered, some in their own beds. I myself was beset one night whilst returning from a visit to Calcutta. I was suddenly surrounded by a half dozen thugs who killed a young ensign and another escort, and were about to make short work of me.” He paused, breaking out in a sweat at the memory. “And then he came out of the night like a shadow, felling two of my attackers so swiftly that the others eventually fled, shouting that he was the messenger of some wrathtul god. That was the last time I saw him … until his reincarnation as Lord Hawksworth.”

“The scar on the back of his neck…” Lara said in a flash of intuition.

Tyler nodded. “During the fray, one of the thugs took possession of my sword. Your ‘Hawksworth’ was fortunate not to have been beheaded.

Luckily for him, he’s quite agile in combat.” He reached inside his coat for a handkerchief and blotted his brow.

“He’s not an ordinary man, my lady. If I agree to your request, I cannot be held responsible for the future pain and unhappiness he may cause you.”

Lara smiled at him steadily. “I believe he is worthy of my trust. I have no doubt that he will lead an exemplary life if only he is given a chance.”

He regarded her as if she were either a saint or a lunatic. “Forgive me, but your trust is rather too easily given, Lady Hawksworth. With all my heart, I hope this man will prove it well founded.”

“He will,” she said, impulsively taking his hand and pressing it hard.

“I know he will, Captain.”

Lara had been kept waiting in an antechamber to the lord chancellor’s offices for only an hour, but it had seemed like forever. Sensitive to every muffled sound that occurred in the rooms and halls around her, she sat on the edge of a hard wooden chair and tried to interpret what was happening. Finally a clerk appeared in the antechamber and escorted Lara to the hall outside the lord chancellor’s office. Her heart leapt as she saw the captain exiting the office. Their gazes caught, hers questioning, his reassuring. Then in response to her unspoken plea, he gave her a slight nod. It’s all right, his eyes seemed to say, and some of her terrible tension eased.

Gathering her confidence, Lara accompanied the clerk to the chancery chambers. Sunbury, the lord chancellor, rose from a chair set at a heavy mahogany table, and waited until Lara was seated before lowering himself onto the brown leather upholstery. Sunbury cut an impressive figure in a glowing scarlet robe, his jowly face framed with a long silvery wig.

As he toyed with a pocket-sized terrestrial globe covered with tiny painted maps, Lara saw that his right hand was heavy with the weight of three massive gold rings.

Sunbury’s gray eyes were small but piercing, staring lucidly out from a fleshy face. He had an innate look of importance that would have been evident even without the trappings of wealth and office. Lara wouldn’t be surprised to see him on Judgment Day, positioned at the heavenly gates to assess the qualifications of aspiring angels.

Like a magnet, her gaze was drawn to Hunter. He was seated at the far end of the long table, his head silhouetted in the glimmering light from the window.

He almost seemed unearthly in his austere handsomeness, his face remote, his lean body clad in cream breeches, a black waistcoat, and a coat of dark green striped velvet. He didn’t return Lara’s gaze, merely watched the lord chancellor with the unblinking gaze of a wild creature.

The room was filled with other occupants… a clerk to copy the spoken depositions onto paper, the attorneys Eliot and Wilcox, the prosecutor whose name Lara didn’t recall, Sophie, Arthur and Janet…

and a familiar face that made Lara stiffen in bewildered outrage.

Lord Lonsdale, dressed to the nines in a satin waistcoat embroidered with butterflies, shoes with ornate buckles, and a diamond pin in his cravat. He smiled at her, his blue eyes sparkling with malicious pleasure. What was he doing here? What information could he possibly have that would merit his presence before the lord chancellor?

Questions and protestations burned on the edge of her lips, but Lara managed to keep silent. She looked at Sophie, who toyed idly with a long strand of pearls that cascaded along the lace front of her peach gown.

“Now the truth will out,” Arthur said triumphantly, giving Lara a commanding stare. He spoke to her as if she were a small child. “Just answer the lord chancellor’s questions as honestly as you can, Larissa.”

Resenting his patronizing tone, Lara ignored the and focused her attention on Sunbury.

The lord chancellor spoke in a rumbling tone.

“Lady Hawksworth, one can only hope that you will be able to shed some light on this perplexing situation.”

“I will try,” she said softly.

Sunbury rested his beefy hand on a thick sheaf of paper. “I have been presented with a score of depositions from people who vigorously insist that this man is, to the best of their knowledge, the Earl of Hawksworth. The Dowager Countess of Hawksworth, no less, affirms that he is indeed her son.” He paused and glanced at Sophie, who gave him a short, impatient nod. “However,” Sunbury resumed, “some contradictory opinions have been offered, most notably from the gentleman in question. He has insisted that he is not Lord Hawksworth, though he has refused to explain more. Tell me, my lady…

who exactly is this man?”

The room was deadly silent as Lara moistened her lips. “He is Hunter Cameron Crossland, the Earl of Hawksworth,” she said in a clear, steady voice. It was slightly unnerving to speak and watch a clerk take down every word as it left her lips. “He is my husband, he has always been, and it is my dearest hope that he always will be.”