If He's Wicked. Hannah Howell

friend, Chloe, and Edgar is the only close one he has. We will be telling his lordship some very ugly truths, and he needs to believe us.”

      “You said he already has his own suspicions,” Chloe began.

      “Suspicions do not carry the same weight, or wield the same blow to one’s heart. We will be filling in a lot of holes he may have concerning his suspicions and giving him proof. There is also one hard, cold fact we must present to him, one that would bring many a man to his knees. It would certainly cut me more deeply than I care to think about. We may also need Edgar to help us keep this fool from going off half-cocked and to convince him to allow us to stay in the game.”

      “What game?”

      Chloe joined Leopold in staring at Lord Kenwood in surprise. There had been no warning that he was about to wake up, no movements, not even a faint sound. When he attempted to sit up, he gasped with pain and grew alarmingly pale. Chloe quickly moved to plump up the pillows behind him even as Leopold helped the man sit up and drink some cider doctored with herbs meant to stave off infection and strengthen the blood.

      “I know you,” Julian said after taking several slow, deep breaths to push aside his pain. “Lord Sir Leopold Wherlocke of Starkley.” He looked at Chloe. “I do not know you.”

      “Chloe Wherlocke. Leo’s cousin,” Chloe said.

      There was definitely a similarity in looks, Julian decided. Chloe was also slender, although a great deal shorter than her cousin. Julian doubted Chloe stood much higher than five feet, if that. She had the same color hair, a brown so dark it was nearly black, but her hair appeared to be bone straight whereas Leopold’s was an unruly mass of thick curls and waves. Chloe was also cute more than pretty with her wide inky blue eyes. Julian nearly started in surprise when he suddenly realized where he had heard that low, faintly lilting voice before.

      “You were there,” he said. “When I was attacked.”

      “Ah, aye, I was.” Chloe decided it would be best not to tell the man just how she had known he needed her help. People often found her visions a little difficult to understand, or tolerate. “Me and Leo’s men Todd and Wynn.”

      With his left hand Julian touched the bandages at his waist and shoulder. “How bad?”

      “You will live. The wounds were deep enough to need stitching but are not mortal. They also cleaned up well, the bleeding was stopped fair quickly, and you continue to reveal no sign of a fever or an infection. You have also slept most peacefully for nearly two full days. All good.”

      He nodded faintly. “I should go home. I can have my man care for me and relieve you of this burden.”

      “That might not be wise,” said Leopold. “This is the fourth time someone has tried to murder you, m’lord. The ones who want you dead nearly succeeded this time. Indeed, they came closer than ever before. I think you might wish to consider letting them think that they have succeeded. The rumors of your sad fate have already begun to slip through the ranks of the ton.”

      Before Julian could ask just how Lord Sir Leopold knew this was the fourth attack on him, he was surprised by the arrival of Edgar Dramfield. He watched his old friend greet Lord Leopold with obvious warmth and wondered when the two men had become such good friends. It surprised Julian even more when Edgar greeted Miss Wherlocke as if he had known her for quite a while as well. Finally Edgar stepped up to the side of the bed and studied him.

      “Either the ones trying to kill you are completely inept or you are one very lucky man, Julian,” said Edgar.

      “’Tis a bit of both, I think,” replied Julian. “Have you come to take me home?” He frowned when Edgar looked at Leopold before answering and that man slowly shook his head.

      “Nay,” replied Edgar.

      “What is going on here?”

      Edgar sat in the chair Leopold brought to the edge of the bed. “We have decided that it is time this deadly game was ended, Julian. You have been attacked four times. Four times someone has tried to kill you. Your luck simply cannot hold. Do you really wish to continue to give them the chance to succeed? To win?”

      Julian closed his eyes and softly cursed. He was in pain, although he wondered what had been in that drink he had been given, for his pain was definitely less sharp than it had been when he had first woken up. Nevertheless, he was not in the mood to discuss this matter. And yet, Edgar was right. He had been lucky so far but this time, if not for the Wherlockes, he would be lying dead in a foul alley outside a brothel. And what the Wherlockes had to do with his troubles, he did not know. He looked at Edgar again.

      “No, I do not want them to win, whoever they are,” he said.

      “I think you know exactly who is behind it all, Julian,” Edgar said quietly, his eyes soft with sympathy.

      Not ready to say the name, Julian turned his attention to the Wherlockes and frowned. “Just what do you have to do with all of this?”

      Chloe felt a pang of sympathy for the man. She knew the pain in his jade green eyes was not all due to his injuries. Even if he had lost all love for his wife, the betrayal still had to cut deep, and she was soon to add to his wounds. As her cousin retook his seat at the foot of the bed, she clasped her hands in her lap and tried to think of just what to say and how best to say it.

      “I believe we can leave the explanations as to how we stumbled into this until later,” Leopold said.

      “That might be best,” Chloe agreed and then smiled faintly at Julian. “We have been involved in your difficulties for quite some time, m’lord.”

      Edgar nodded. “Leopold was the one who brought you to my house the last time you were attacked.”

      “But did not stay until I could offer my gratitude for his aid?” Julian asked.

      “Nay,” Leopold replied. “You were not as sorely injured as you were this time and I felt we still had time.”

      “Time for what?”

      “To gather the proof you will need to end this deadly game.” Leopold cursed softly. “It is time to be blunt, m’lord. You know who wants you dead. Edgar knows. We know. I can understand your reluctance to speak the ugly truth aloud.”

      “Can you?”

      “Oh, aye, most assuredly. Our family is no stranger to betrayal.”

      “Fine,” Julian said between tightly gritted teeth. “My wife wants me dead.”

      “Your wife and her lover.”

      “Which one?” The bitterness in his voice was so sharp Julian nearly winced, embarrassed by the display of emotion.

      “The only one who could possibly gain from your death—your uncle Arthur Kenwood.”

      Chloe clenched her hands together tightly as she fought the urge to touch Lord Julian, to try to soothe the anger and hurt he felt. She was relieved when Wynn arrived with tea and food, including a bowl of hearty broth for his lordship. It was best if the harsh truth was allowed to settle in a little before they continued. She proceeded to feed Lord Julian the broth, oddly relieved by the way he grimaced over such weak fare in the normal manner of most patients. Edgar and Leopold moved to the table set near the fireplace to sip tea, eat a little food, and talk quietly while she tended to Lord Julian.

      “What are they talking about?” Julian asked between mouthfuls of the surprisingly tasty broth.

      “You, I suppose,” Chloe replied. “They are probably making plans to keep you alive and bring down your enemies.”

      “Edgar’s interest I can understand, but I still have to wonder what you and your cousin have to do with this.”

      “What sort of people would we be if, upon knowing someone was in danger, we just turned our backs simply because we did not know him?”

      “Quite normal people.”

      “Ah,