Page 9 of Atone, Adonis

The infernal pounding on the door started once more, but she didn’t answer. She knew who it was now, and she had no interest in having a conversation with Frederick Sedgewick. Of all the unexpected people to arrive at her—

She stopped, her eyes sliding up the stairs to where Thomas lay in his sick bed, and remembered how he’d urged her to take the annuity. And how he’d changed his tune about Fred’s actions so precipitously just this morning.

Frederick Sedgewick hadn’t arrived here on a whim after a decade of silence.

“Thomas,” she growled, her heart still beating too hard in her chest.

She might have swooned, damn it, if she’d happened to have a comfy chaise lounge nearby to catch her. Or someone to bring her smelling salts and tea. She didn’t have those things, of course. There was just herself and the hard-backed chair in the kitchen so she didn’t bother with the swooning.

“Open the door, Julianna.” The cold, aristocratic voice of Frederick Sedgewick, the Earl of Chester, made its way inside.

“No!”

She would not open the door. She would go upstairs and give Thomas a well-earned thrashing for whatever nonsensical notion had made him invite Frederick Sedgewick, of all the people, into her home. And not even bother to tell her!

Unfortunately, she hadn’t locked the front door when she slammed it shut. Why hadn’t she locked it? Was she a complete dunderhead?

She knew she hadn’t because Fred grasped the door handle and opened it himself, letting in the cold April air along with his loathsome person. He stepped across the threshold as though he owned the place, smelling all the while of polished leather and expensive soap. Of money, basically.

“Get out,” she snarled, like she did when addressing the fox. Vermin were vermin after all. No need to treat them any differently when one came calling in gentleman’s attire.

“Don’t worry.” He brushed past her as if she wasn’t even there, utterly unruffled by her anger. “I won’t overstay my welcome.”

“Too late for that. You were never welcome here at all.”

Fred turned his head, slowly, his gaze cutting into her like the newly honed edge of a razor. “Then I’ve nothing to trouble myself over. Where is Thomas?”

A cold wind blew through the room and Julianna shivered. She glanced at the door which he hadn’t even bothered to close behind him. Of course he hadn’t. People like him had servants to accomplish even the smallest of tasks, like opening and closing doors.

And here she stood, with her brother sick in bed in a cottage they could hardly afford, her crops beset by frost and her hens by foxes. All of which was Fred’s fault because he’d rather drink wine and carouse than mind his own damned reins!

The injustice of it made her fists clench at her side. If it hadn’t been for him, her parents would still be alive. Her brother would never have gone off to war in an effort to provide for them. He wouldn’t have gotten sick.

A wail escaped her throat. This man. This rich, presumptuous, too handsome arsehole of a man, was responsible for every terrible thing in her life. She reached for the open door and slammed it so hard the hinges shook and a puff of dust from the otherwise immaculate premises bloomed into the air.

“He won’t want to see you,” she spit out.

Fred peeled off his gloves with the slow deliberation of a man who could care less that he wasn’t wanted where he stood. Much like she imagined the devil himself did, which would fit, wouldn’t it?

“I rather think your brother has been keeping secrets from you.”

“Chester?” Thomas’s weak voice floated down from the top of the stairs. “Is that you?”

Julianna looked up to see Thomas had struggled from bed and was clutching the stair railing as if that thin spindle of wood was the only thing holding him upright. It probably was. He was far too weak these days to do it himself.

“Wait, Thomas.” She started for the stairs. “I’ll help you.”

But Fred was quicker and closer, his long stride eating up the ground to the stairwell and then taking the steps two by two until he was at Thomas’s side.

No. No, no, no!

Julianna’s breath came fast and shallow and her fingernails cut sharp half-moons into the flesh of her palms. He could not be here. He could not upset Thomas.

She rushed up after him, but by the time she reached the landing, Fred was already in the sickroom, helping Thomas back into bed.

“You look terrible,” Fred said to her brother.

“That’s enough. I’ll see you out now, Mr. Sedgewick.”