Alison's Scandalous Affair (The Fallen Angels NOVELLA series Book 1) Read online

  "Ali, I need your help. Please," Katie pleaded.

  "Yes, of course. But what is going on?" Alison demanded again, then realized the duke must have been injured during the attack on their coach, or when he had rescued his wife. "Is your husband hurt?"

  She could feel her blood turning cold as she envisioned all of the possible injuries that could have occurred during the attack or the rescue. Without waiting for a reply, she turned to get her medical bag. During the war, Alison had taken to carrying the huge bag with all the medical supplies she might need in an emergency. A practice she had resurrected once she started volunteering at the hospital.

  Neither of them spoke until they were seated in the coach and it had bolted forward. Now was the time to start assessing what would be needed.

  "How badly is he hurt?" Alison asked as calmly as she could. She didn't want to upset her friend any more than was necessary, but she needed to know if she should send for one of the doctors at the hospital to join them.

  "He was beaten and tortured. For hours, if not longer," Katie replied. Her voice was strangely devoid of emotions, something Alison had seen on numerous occasions. "And his face is swollen and battered. One of his eyes is completely swollen shut, with a nasty gash across it. His other eye is nearly as bad, and he could see out of it earlier but now says he can’t see anything anymore. And he is also having difficulty breathing."

  Oh my God. She kept the thoughts contained as she didn't want to frighten her friend any more than she already was. "Katie, Gabriel is a strong man. He'll be alright. I am sure of it."

  She wasn't sure of it. It sounded as if her husband had internal injuries. Things that could not be treated.

  Katie jerked around and stared at her with unblinking eyes. Then they widened. "Not Gabriel. He's not the one that was injured. He was hurt, but only a dislocated shoulder is all. It's his brother-in-law that was nearly killed by Reginald and his men."

  Alison startled, she knew Reginald Stoughton was Katie's former fiancé. And then it struck Alison what Katie had just said. Gabriel only had two siblings—his younger brother, Captain Lucien Stoughton, and his older sister, Alison's old friend Imogene, who had been killed nearly twenty years before. And to her knowledge, Imogene had not been married at the time of her death.

  Chapter 2

  He wasn't dead. Although every fiber of his being felt like it was battered, broken, or on fire. Each breath brought on fresh throbbing, pulling at his wounds and shooting searing pain through his whole body, which then led to a wince or gasp, beginning the vicious cycle of agony again.

  No, he wasn't dead, but the Honorable Mr. John Netterman knew by all rights he should be. And the worst wasn't the pain, as severe as it was. No, the worst was the total helplessness he felt each time he woke up and realized he was blind.

  Someone—he thought it might have been the Duke of Belfort—had assured him that his eyes were alright, just swollen shut and bandaged. After all, John had endured one hell of a beating. He knew the man was being honest with him, or at least as honest as an old soldier could be with a wounded man.

  Unfortunately, John also remembered what his eyesight had been like shortly after he had escaped his tormentors. The world had been nothing but a blurry red haze from the one eye he could use. The other one had been so swollen it was useless.

  The village doctor the duke had found for John couldn’t promise his eyesight would return when the bandages came off. Especially his badly damaged right eye. And the man was only willing to give John’s left eye a fifty-fifty chance of recovery. But the doctor had admitted that he’d never treated someone as badly injured as John, and he strongly recommended that Belfort engage a more experienced doctor when they got back to London.

  So, for the time being, John was settled in a comfortable bed, awaiting a second opinion on the fate of his eyesight. The carriage ride from the site of his torment had been a living hell. Each time he had awoken, the bumping and banging of the carriage had been like being beaten and whipped all over again. For which he had no one to blame but himself as he had been stupid enough to get caught.

  For nearly twenty years, he had searched for the men who assaulted, raped, and murdered his wife. Men who were part of a criminal organization that kidnapped prostitutes and young girls, some of whom were then used in a sick initiation ritual that left them badly hurt or dead.

  His wife, Imogene, had not been part of either of those unfortunate groups of young women who were normally taken. She was the eldest daughter of the man who ran the organization twenty years ago, the Fourth Duke of Belfort.

  The old duke had used a cult-like club as a front, and John’s wife had unknowingly walked into one of the club’s sadistic initiation parties at her father's estate. She had just found out she was pregnant with John’s child and hoped the news would convince her father to accept their secret marriage.

  Whether she ever got a chance to tell him, John would never know. He had been away at school at the time, finishing his studies to be a lawyer, but the events of that night had changed his life forever.

  That fateful night had changed the course of his life in other ways as well. No longer content to be just a typical solicitor, he took on the cases others refused to touch. All while, he secretly searching for the men who had taken part in the horrific violence against his kind, generous, innocent wife.

  That vendetta had taken nineteen years to accomplish. The guilty men had all been prominent members of society, so he couldn't just seek them out and punish them. At first, he’d had no way of identifying them. All he knew was that they were men like his father, the Earl of Exetter. Or, more to the point, men who travelled in his father's circle.

  Fortunately, there had been witnesses to Imogene’s attack, people who were also present at other cult-like rituals Drummond Stoughton held. Most of them were servants, or women who had managed to survive the torture inflicted on them by Drummond and his cohorts. So, in exchange for a few pounds and John’s assurance that these men would never learn their identities, the victims had been most willing to talk.

  Once John discovered who the guilty men were, he set about bringing them to justice. That hadn't been easy, as none of the witnesses had been willing to publicly testify. So, he devised another way to get justice, something he’d learned from his own father. Since they were all prominent members of society, he would attack them where they lived.

  Killing them outright would have been easier. John had even thought about it on several occasions, but he wanted them to suffer for what they had done to Imogene and the other women. So he methodically instilled himself into the middle of their lives, then systematically crippled their finances, destroying the lifestyle that had made them so powerful.

  There had been eight men present on the night of his wife’s murder: The Fourth Duke of Belfort, Baron Hellerman, Viscount Wheeler, and five second, third, and younger sons of wealthy men and peers.

  Some went to prison for other crimes—crimes they committed once all their money was gone. Some simply took the coward's way out. Those had gotten off easy. But they had all paid. Reginald Stoughton had been the last one. The nephew of Drummond Stoughton, the Fourth Duke of Belfort, had taken the longest to identify. And, ironically, he was the very man who had instigated the attack on Imogene all those years ago, all because she had married John instead of him.

  John had found him in the end and had tried to sabotage him as well. But his luck ran out, and John was discovered before he could do much harm.

  Fortunately, or unfortunately, John had learned the truth about Mr. Stoughton, that he had become the head of the same criminal organization his uncle had once run. A criminal empire that operated throughout England and on the continent.

  When Reginald had discovered what John was doing, he’d had him kidnapped. For two days, Reginald and his men tortured John, trying to learn how much he knew about their organization. Only the arrival of the current Duke of Belfort had stopped the beatings, and it had allow
ed John to escape and exact his own vengeance on the man who had murdered Imogene and his unborn child.

  Voices interrupted his memories. Soft, feminine voices, mixed with harsher men's tones. He recognized Belfort, as he had the loudest and most distinctive voice. The other man he didn't know, but he was sure one of the female voices belonged to the woman who had tended his injuries during the long ride back to London, the Duchess of Belfort. He didn't recognize the other woman's voice but, as with the duke, her voice held steely command when she spoke.

  "Have one of your servants bring up some hot water. And make sure it is just shy of scalding when they do. And send someone you trust to the hospital. Have them ask for the overnight doctor. And tell them that Mrs. Sheiling needs him as quickly as possible."

  "Madam, I have already sent for a doctor." That had been the voice of the duke.

  "And is the physician you sent for an army doctor?" the woman John believed to be Mrs. Sheiling demanded.

  "I'm not sure. But he is the same physician who attended Sir Walter Fletcher after my wife and I were attacked in front of our home."

  Definitely the duke. And apparently not someone capable of intimidating or impressing Mrs. Sheiling.

  "Then it is unlikely that he will know how to treat someone who has these kinds of injuries. Nevertheless, your Grace, I will allow your physician to attend me. But only once I and a doctor that I trust have dealt with this man's wounds. Wounds that, I might add, are not unlike those you and other soldiers received on the battlefield. And if I am satisfied with the competence of your physician, then I will allow him to treat this man. Is that understood, your Grace?"

  Silence followed the woman's order. Then the swish of a petticoat and skirt drew closer.

  "Has he been unconscious the whole time?" the woman asked.

  "No," Belfort answered.

  John tried to wet his lips and swallow the dust in his throat. "Off and on," he whispered.

  "You're awake," she said, as a soft hand settled on his forehead.

  He swallowed again and tried to speak. "M-m-m-more or less."

  The effort had cost him dearly. He began to cough and spasm as blood coated his throat and cut off his breathing. White hot pain radiated from his chest and back, and through the pain, a lightheaded dizziness began to pull him under as the woman and room faded once again into the black of unconsciousness.

  Chapter 3

  The grey shadows of the building across the street were beginning to fade as Alison collapsed in a very unladylike fashion across from her friend. Without looking at Katie, whom she knew wanted a report on their patient, Alison gazed out the window at the mansion on the other side of the street as the morning sun flickered off the windows.

  It wasn’t Ali’s first time inside one of the Mayfair mansions, but it was the first time she was in one as a personal guest of one of the aristocrats that owned them. Belfort House was just as opulent as those that she had seen while attending various balls, soirées, and musicals. As the daughter-in-law to Baron Holden, she had been welcomed in the hallowed halls of the elite of the English society. But Baron Holden had never had the wealth or power of most of those that lived in Mayfair.

  Alison had looked forward to touring her friend’s new home when Katie had first told her about her marriage to the Duke of Belfort and invited Alison to tea, but last night she had been too concerned about her patient to look around. And this morning she was just too tired to appreciate the beauty of the drawing room.

  It had been a long night, one that had looked futile for the first couple of hours. She had quickly realized that the man's injuries were beyond her capabilities. Fortunately, Doctor Langton had arrived within an hour of being summoned. As a surgeon trained on the battlefields of Europe, he had swiftly taken charge of the patient, and between the two of them they had cleaned, drained, and redressed most of the man's wounds.

  And it had taken everything she possessed to not lose her composure during the long ordeal. Over the course of her career as an army nurse, she had seen every kind of wound and injury imaginable. Or so she had thought. Nothing could have prepared her for what she had seen last night. Nearly every inch of the man's body had been beaten, whipped, or cut during what she assumed had been extreme torture. There was nothing else that she could think of that could account for the severity and variety of wounds on the man's body.

  She had not asked any questions during the night. There simply had not been the time, as they were trying to save his life. Even now she didn't know if he would survive. Frankly, she didn't see how he had survived this long. But now that he was resting easier she wanted some of those questions answered.

  "What happened?" she asked.

  "He was kidnapped by Reginald," Katie replied.

  That explained a lot. Her friend had shared her concerns about the man she was being forced to marry.

  "No, I mean..." Alison trailed off as she realized she wasn't really sure what she had been asking. She was just too tired to think clearly right then. But she was saved from explaining herself when a huge man in a Scottish Grenadier Sergeant's uniform marched into the room carrying a tray loaded down with coffee and pastries.

  "Corporal Cavendish, is that you?" Alison asked.

  "Aye, Mrs. Sheiling, what a pleasure it is to see you again," the man answered. "But its Sergeant Cavendish now, ma'am."

  Her mind was foggy, and it took her a second or two to comprehend what he had said. Stupefied, she watched as he expertly poured coffee into three cups and then handed them out with the precision of a trained butler.

  Shaking her head, she asked, "Are you now working for Sergeant-Major... I mean, his Grace?"

  His boyish smile grew as he finished his task. "No ma'am. Just helping out until I re-join my unit in two weeks."

  A little of Ali's exhaustion faded away. She had known Jeremey Cavendish for years. Even as a young man, a boy really, he had been very tall for his age. Extremely so. But he had always had a boyish face and an amicable personality, one that put you at ease despite his massive physique.

  Without another word, the man withdrew and closed the doors to the drawing room behind him. Still a bit befuddled, she stared after him until he was gone, then turned around and automatically picked up her cup of coffee. Taking a sip, she tried to remember what they had been talking about.

  "Mrs. Sheiling," the duke said, pulling her attention to him. For most of the night and morning he had remained quiet and in the background. Watching but never interfering with what she and Dr. Langton had been doing. "You asked what happened. And since we have dragged you into the middle of this, I believe we owe you some explanations."

  Alison blinked at the man as she cleared her mind. The events of the last few hours rushed back, along with the night Katie had come to her for help. "I would appreciate that, your Grace," she said.

  "Gabriel," he replied. "Or Gabe, as my friends call me." He turned to Katie and clasped her hand in his. "As I understand it, you are one of my wife's closest friends. And to be perfectly frank, I have spent too long in the military to stand on formalities. Especially with friends."

  She felt her first smile since arriving at their home. She doubted he remembered her from twenty years ago. After all, he had been just a young boy at the time.

  "I would like that very much your... Gabe. Your wife has been a friend of mine for some time."

  The pair smiled at her, and Alison could feel a little more life coming back into her body. She turned her attention to the man and revealed, "In fact, I doubt you will remember this, but I knew your sister." She saw him startle and rushed on, "We were the best of friends. Imogene and I met at school, and we came out together as well."

  The smile froze on the man's face and then faded to one of regret. "I didn't know," he said.

  "You knew Imogene?" Katie asked at the same time.

  Alison turned to Katie. "Yes. She and I became friends at school. She often talked about her brothers, but I never met them. She was very gu
arded about her family and I just assumed it wasn't something she wanted to talk about. As you know, my own father had been a very harsh man, so I could well imagine why she never wanted me to meet her family."

  Alison returned her attention to the duke. "At any rate, you and I never met, your Grace. But I would love nothing more than to be friends with Imogene's brother now."

  She saw him swallow and blink. She understood what he might be feeling, as she was having the same feelings herself.

  Katie cut in to her thoughts. "Then you have even more right to know what has been going on." Katie glanced at her husband and he nodded his head.

  "I told you about some of the crimes Reginald Stoughton was involved in, but he was even worse than I let on. Worse than even I knew about. Reginald was the head of a criminal organization. In order to gain entry into the upper echelons of the organization, he forced members to commit crimes in front of him, including the rape and murder of young girls and prostitutes he kidnapped." Katie took a visible breath and in a softer, halting voice continued. "Twenty years ago, to gain entrance into the same organization run by someone else, he raped and murdered Imogene in one of those initiation rituals."

  Alison gasped. A cold chill spread through her limbs, and her stomach threatened to roll as images of her old friend flashed through her mind. Imogene had been a vibrant and vivacious young woman. Always smiling. And she had a way of making those around her feel lighter, happier, more alive just by being near her. Believing her death had been at the hands of a highwayman had been horrible enough. This was even worse.

  "When Gabe found out about his cousin, he came back to stop him," Katie finished.

  Alison suspected he had also come back to save Katie from the man, but she wasn't going to voice those thoughts. Instead, she just nodded her head and Katie went on.