Teach Me (The Gentlemen's Club)
Teach Me (The Gentlemen’s Club) Chapter 32

Nicholas

When it comes to Sinclair’s safety, he had no scruples in ensuring his goals were met. He would kill for her. Again and again. Without question.

Sylvia did not make it to the asylum. She was assassinated during the transport. Her body was discarded somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean.

Another possible dark cloud on the horizon vanquished for good. One more to go.

A more urgent matter needing his attention had to be dealt with the soonest time possible. He was aware he could no longer put the situation off. The time was right.

His fiancee was spending the day with his mother, his sisters, and Lady Louise which gave him a semblance of relief.

Nicholas was reluctant to let her out of his sight yet he must. Still, it took Sinclair pushing him out of their bedroom before he relented. They needed a girl’s day out, she told him sternly. He grudgingly backed down.

En route to the warehouse, his thoughts were of his sweetheart. Purposely he was keeping something significant from her. Redington grimaced mentally.

She was recovering at a fast rate. Moving about, picking up her usual routine, finishing her theses, her final exams, and trying to get back on track physically. He had been by her side, hovering, encouraging, and loving.

Looking for signs. To his discomfiture, there were. Mrs. Dee, a very keen lady, pointed it out, thankfully, to him.

Sinclair was plagued by mood swings and cravings. Lately, she was feeling nauseous every morning. Her current state made him uneasy.

Her joy of moving about at leisure, deflected when thoughts of her parents came to mind, worsened by her plummeting hormones at unusual times.

The search in Dublin for her parents’ remains had already started. Hopefully, the address Sylvia had given them was not a false lead.

Nicholas had to tell her. This evening. He would treat her to a romantic dinner then he would break the news. He didn’t want to keep secrets from her, especially if it would affect their lives.

Later. He promised himself.

Today, he and his peers had to squeeze all the information they needed from Paul Adley before they disposed of the a*****e.

Lord Tanning didn’t make it two nights ago, he bled to death, his heart and lungs gave. Good riddance. Now, it was his son’s turn.

Redington would take pleasure in interrogating the bastard, made sure he would suffer until he drew his last breath.

The club members were waiting for the Viscount. He entered the torture chamber silently.

Like what Sylvia and Paul did to Sinclair, their prisoner was hanging by the ceiling, his arms stretched painfully, his toes didn’t touch the ground. His face was almost unrecognizable from the beatings he was receiving every day. They did a good number on him.

“Is he awake?” Nicholas asked. He discarded his coat and rolled his sleeves. Picking up a weapon on the stainless steel table, he calculated the damage it would cost.

“Barely, but…” Lucifer threw a cold bucket of water on Paul’s body. He sputtered, groaning from agony. The Mafia leader chuckled. “Rise and shine, dickhead. Oops, I forgot. You no longer have one.” He added mockingly.

Remington smirked, recollecting his girl’s badass actions. “Remember me?” He queried. Moving closer, stalking, until he was standing in front of Paul. In his hand, he was holding a razor-sharp machete. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Taller than their captive by a few inches, Redington glided the sharp edge of the knife on the frat boy’s forehead down to his nape. Dull yellow locks fell on the floor. Some of his skin scraping along, thick b***d dripped from the blade.

Paul Adley could only g***n, his voice was already raspy from screaming these past few days. “Kill…me…” He whimpered like the weakling he was. Like father like son.

“That would be too easy.” Viscount Redington tipped the man’s chin with the tip of the blade. “Look at me.” He did with eyes glazed with pain. “Left or right?”

“What?” Not comprehending the question.

“Did you touch Sinclair with your left or right hand?” Nicholas asked in a deadly quiet voice.

“No…no…please. I will confess everything. Our hideout…Their descriptions. Everything.” Paul begged. Crying fat tears. Pleading for mercy.

“Then talk.” Alastair, the Duke of Cerdic commanded. Nicholas took a deep breath, praying for patience.

Their prisoner glanced around him. Intimidated by the group of noblemen he was surrounded with. He shivered. “We have a building in Surrey. Our leader -One- that’s how we call each other. By numbers. I am number 13 because I am the newest member…I’m a spotter. Luring girls under the age of 18…-One-…he is the brain. Organizing every auction and sale. He has connections.” Paul looked at Cerdic. “Even at Whitehall. The House of Lords. I knew because Sylvia saw some documents in -One’s- office during my last meeting with them. He was corresponding with his connection, a Lord Commander. From Whitehall.” He emphasized in a trembling tone.

“What is his name, boy.” Lucien, the Earl of Mountford, asked.

“I…we…don’t know.” Paul Adley answered. Ready to pee in his pants when Sandringham growled. “But…he is a son of an Earl.” The Marquis moved closer menacingly “Please…that’s all I know. All of their faces were covered during our meetings. I can only see their eyes and hair. I am new to the organization, they wouldn’t trust me yet. Please believe me.” He finished. Head slumped in defeat.

“Oh, I believe you.” Then without warning in a swift move, Nicholas cut off Adley’s right hand in one precise stroke of the machete. He was wailing like a banshee, eyes wide while he watched his severed appendage rolled on the floor. “But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t punish you for what you did to my fiancee.”

“I…told…you…everything,” he clenched his eyes shut, then he began thrashing in his chains, the pain blinding him.

“Yes, you did. But we are just starting.” Nicholas promised.

***

Viscount Redington stopped. His face etched with satisfaction gazing at Paul Adley’s unrecognizable body. Dead. In pieces. Excellent food for the maggots.

Tanning’s heir didn’t know much about the human trade per se. Their best guess was, whoever the leader, he made the frat boy the organization’s fall guy. A scapegoat while they hid in the shadows once more.

Their club was dealing with igconitos, a well-connected, influential operation. Adley provided them with a gurgled description of each member but it would hardly constitute concrete evidence.

“What are we going to do now?” Lucien asked. Back at the club, they sat down for a meeting with a glass of whisky, sipping thoughtfully, brows furrowed. Thinking. Assessing the best course.

“We need more evidence. The best strategy is to mobilize our spies and lay low. Made them think we lost their trail.” Cerdic murmured. His golden eyes were darker. “Redington, I need you to start digging Whitehall’s lords’ financial records. Including family members and staff. No stones unturned. The same goes for Parliament. We have entrees everywhere. Let’s use it.”

“I will start right away,” Redington answered. He needed the distraction anyway. For now, he had halted any intimacy with Sinclair beyond the light k****s and cuddling, very careful of her state. She had to be fully healed before he considered resuming their activities in the bedroom.

His fiancee would also have to resume their wedding plans. He was not a patient man but for her, he was willing to wait.

And more importantly…

“You should tell her soon, Redington.” Huntley admonished seriously, noticing the Viscount’s troubled deep thoughts.

“F**k! I don’t know how.” He admitted.

“What are you two talking about?” Sandringham asked looking around. Puzzled.

“His Viscountess is enceinte.” Lucien guessed triumphantly. Noticing his friend’s pained expression, Mountford’s smirk faltered. “Isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Viscount Redington answered. “But she doesn’t know.” He added. Grumbling.

“You are in big big trouble, old chap,” Sandringham said mockingly. However, he made sure to replenish their tumblers with expensive bourbon. Raising his glass, he continued, “my last wager did not push through.”

“Not again, a*****e.” Redington g*****d. The back of his head hit the leather chair in exasperation.

Ignoring him, the Marquis continued. “£10,000. An heir.”

“I’ll take it,” Huntley stated smugly.

“No cheating, doc,” Sandringham cautioned.

“We would gladly take your money, big boy.” The Duke and Earl nodded in agreement.

“Alright! I f*****g give up.” Nicholas said, growling his displeasure. He stood, arranged his coat, and walked to the door. “Just wish me luck.”

Everyone was grinning. “Nope. You are on your own.”

“Just remember to duck,” Lucien advised, his laugher reverberated thru the hallway.

Assholes.

Walking towards his car, parked at the driveway, he sobered.

-I need to duck. F**k!-

_______________

Sinclair

Her mind was too far away. She felt uneasy every time Nicholas was not by her side. But she knew she couldn’t be a clingy wife-to-be. She loved him too much to smother him.

Two weeks had gone by since she left Sylvia screaming at the warehouse. Nightmares plagued her for a few days. She woke up hyperventilating in a cold sweat. Nicholas was always there. To hold her. Taking her demons away.

Her wrists were healing, only faint yellow bruises visible from the white bandages surrounding them. Her dizzy spells had minimized but she was vomiting in the early hours of the morning.

Baron Huntley, her doctor had warned her. She and Nicholas were prepared. They had gone to therapies, both for her physical and mental health.

Still, having to deal with the effects of her injuries frustrated her. She sometimes felt like a newborn babe.

That wouldn’t do. She had to gain her strength back.

Today was a start. For the first time in weeks, she was out on a luncheon date with the ladies. She should not question her sanity for inviting them. She needed their help on something very important. Besides, they were family.

The food, prepared by Therese’s husband was excellent. Rebecca, or mama, was smiling from ear to ear from Louise’s stories, while Ingrid served them tea cakes.

Scones with rich lemon cream had been one of her favorites yet when she took a bite, she gagged. Oh no!

Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at her quizzically. Mama immediately got up, cupping Sinclair’s pale cheek. “Are you feeling dizzy, child?”

She shook her head yes. Then closed her eyes when the room spun. “It’s from my head injury. EJ said it will cause me nausea from time to time. It will pass.” Her voice didn’t sound convincing.

“Perhaps, we continue this at home?” Ingrid suggested. Her hands grasping the silver tray which was filled with delicacies.

Sinclair’s stomach churned. She bit the inside of her cheek. “No. I want to stay. Please?” Glancing up at mama, her eyes pleaded. She couldn’t stay alone in a room when they leave. Her skin would crawl with the memories of what was done to her. Nicholas was not with her, she needed the ladies to distract her.

Mama was looking at her thoughtfully, then nodded. “Therese, can you have someone bring us a pot of chamomile tea?”

Her future sister-in-law called the nearest waiter to their table.

Speaking in a low voice, Sinclair glanced up at mama. Her lined-free face was pinched with worry. “I am fine, mama. Really.” She added with a faint smile.

“Hmmm, tell me if you feel otherwise, my dear, okay?” She went back to her seat, her eyes glued to her son’s fiancee.

“I will. I promise.” Their hot tea arrived just in time and Louise gracefully poured them each a cup.

Inhaling the sweet, calming scent of the healing drink, the churning in her stomach eased. She was contemplating when to broach the subject. Her best friend beat her to it.

“So, when is your graduation, Sin?” Lady Louise asked. Picking up their conversation.

“I graduated last week.” A piece of on her hand chocolate-covered croque en bouche, she responded casually. Everyone gasped. “My diploma was delivered to me. I chose not to attend the ceremony.” She had preferred it that way. Nicholas was apprehensive of her decision at first but gave in when she explained her reasons.

“Oh, Sin,” Ingrid exclaimed with sadness in her eyes.

“I know…” She averted her gaze. It was not done lightly. Growing up, she had always aspired to make something of herself. Show the world despite being abandoned by her parents, she had made it, which she did.

She had fulfilled her dreams and more. With the love of her life. “I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you. But I wanted the moment to be special for me and Nicholas. I’m not comfortable with the press hovering everywhere I go. With what had happened, they were sure to be a lot. They would have ruined it for everyone attending. I didn’t want that.”

Lady Louise smiled faintly. Compassion in her baby-blue eyes. Reaching out, she squeezed Sinclair’s hand. “Then what do you want us to do? I’m sure you invited us today for a reason.”

Everyone nodded while they waited for her response.

“I want you to help me get married to the man of my dreams.” Sinclair blurted out. “I’m done waiting.”

Huge Cheshire smiles were their reactions.

***

The rest of the afternoon was well spent. She had surprised her companion with her announcement but after the initial shock, like a trooper, they pulled their cellphones out and called the necessary people to make Sinclair’s wish come true.

Mama, Dowager Viscountess was more than delighted to use her influence. Like a general, she was giving orders left and right.

“Good evening, my lady.” She smiled sweetly at Bennett. He bowed before helping her removed her coat.

“Thank you. Is Nicholas home?” She looked up the gleaming modern staircase.

“Indeed, my lady. His Lordship is waiting for you on your private balcony.” Though he looked stoic, there was approval in his brown aging eyes.

Sinclair smiled once more, inclined her, and climbed the steps in a hurry, eager to be with her lover.

If she knew her fiance, and she grew to know him quite well, he would be waiting with an elaborate and sumptuous romantic dinner for two. She just hoped fish was not part of the menu. Her stomach churned. Nope, no seafood.

On the doorway leading to their room, she frowned while punching the code, she had been picky with food lately.

Sinclair was never choosy, whatever was available, she had enjoyed sampling dishes. Not so these past few weeks.

Whatever she was thinking flew out the window. Her soft brown eyes fell on the intimidating man leaning casually on the threshold of their bedroom looking at her tenderly.

“Hello, sweet.” His deep dark voice never failed to make her shudder. “Had a great time?”

“I did.” Walking towards him, her gaze never leaving his form, she cleared her throat. “How was yours?” Her hands glided on his hard chest, wrapping around his neck.

“Nothing special without you.” He gathered her in his arms, his face buried on her fragrant long black hair. “I’ve missed you.” He murmured.

Sinclair hummed. Her whole body relaxing in his arms. Would they make love tonight? It had been a while. She shivered with the sudden arousal coursing through her. Then her tummy ruined the moment. “I’m hungry.”

Chuckling, he pecked her lips. “I know, sweet. Come.” With his arm around her waist, he guided her to their favorite nook.

This time, she gasped at the surprise waiting for her. Fairy lights hung from the ceiling, the railings, and the walls. There were aromatic and colorful bundles of bouquets everywhere. Adding more to the romantic vibe, below them, she could hear a violin playing. She turned to him. He was watching her expectantly. “What’s the occasion, baby?”

“Because you are healing.” He ushered her to the cushion seat tucking her in. He occupied the one opposite hers. His dark brown eyes assessing her flush face.

She was smiling from ear to ear. His lips curved with satisfaction. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He poured them each a drink.

Sinclair looked at the crystal glasses. Brow arching, she uttered. “I would love some wine. I’m not so keen on sparkling red juice.”

His gaze sharpened. He was not exactly frowning at her request, however, there was a subtle change in his mood. “You are not allowed to, sweet. Doctor’s orders.” He said firmly.

“But I’m no longer on antibiotics.” Her lips pursed while her feeling changed in a blink of an eye. She frowned at him.

Sighing heavily, he reached for her hand, clasping hers firmly. “We ask EJ tomorrow, then we’ll see.”

“Okay,” she shrugged. “I’m not made of glass, you know.” Why was she gnawing this topic like a dog on a tasteless bone? Maybe the stress was getting to her. Grimacing, she concentrated on the dinner before her. “Just forget it, Nick. I don’t want to ruin our night.”

“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “Look at me.” She did. The smile was gone from her eyes and lips. “What’s wrong?”

-How could she tell him when she had no idea herself?- Damn! Her mood swings were killing the moment.

“Nothing, baby.” To his surprise, she got up, rounded the table, and settled on his lap. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer to his warmth. “Just tired and hungry.”

“Then, let’s fix that, shall we?” He speared a perfectly cooked steak from her plate and fed her. She m****d appreciatively at the taste. “More?” She shook her head yes.

Just like that, the joy she felt when in his arms returned.

Nicholas always knew how to make everything better.

***

-Why the hell was he so restless on the way to her doctor’s appointment?-

He had been glancing at her from time to time during their car ride to the hospital. It grating on her nerves.

Not to mention he had been glued to her ever since he found her hunched over the water closet puking her guts out this morning.

He had been anxious. While Mrs. Dee was parading around the house with a huge grin on her face once Nick informed her of the appointment they had to go to.

Everyone in the house was acting dodgy. Plus, last night did end up in a disaster.

It was the first time he had turned down her invitation for intimacy. He sweetly kissed her goodnight, settled her in his arms, and promptly went to sleep. What the heck!

Her two-inch heels made a staccato clicking sound, filling the silence between them. Hand in hand, nearing EJ’s clinic, she could feel the tension growing.

Nicholas halted abruptly. “What is it, Nick?” He glanced down then looked away. His jaw ticking. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“We are not going to Huntly.” He announced, leading her to another hallway.

Confused, frowning, she tugged at her hand. He permitted the gesture but he wrapped one arm around her tiny waist, pulling her to his warm body.

“Then who are we seeing today?” They entered a different specialist’s wing and she looked straight at the receptionist.

The kind-looking woman returned Sinclair’s regard with unabashed curiosity.

“A different physician.” He said. Deigning to explain further while they both approach the middle-aged lady at the counter.

She could feel her temper spike. For the first time in her life, she was on the verge of throwing a fit.

“Can I help you, sir?” The lady -Nora on her nameplate- asked tentatively.

“Yes. We have an appointment with Dr. Simmons. My wife’s name is Sinclair Stafford.” He announced casually. She was so tempted to correct him but she wanted answers so she kept mum.

The woman’s ocean-blue eyes flared in recognition, she straightened her posture and nodded stiffly. “This way, my lord.” Gesturing to the double doors to their far left.

Entering the all-white clinic, Sinclair reeled went she noticed something on the wall printed in metallic silver.

Obstetrics and Gynecology

“What are we doing here, Nick?” She asked through gritted teeth. This was very embarrassing. Her monthly courses were regular and she hardly suffered any pain during those days. So, if he was worried she will have a hard time conceiving his heir, he should have consulted her first.

She would have saved him the trouble. Because she was perfectly sure her uterus was very healthy for that. They didn’t need to…she stopped thinking. Then her eyes widened.

Am I… She mentally calculated. F**k! Oh, yes. They had f****d a lot before her abduction. So, it only meant one thing why he brought her here.

Her sneaky fiance knew. “How could you, Nicholas?!” Her angry voice was loud in the silent room. People stopped what they were doing to look at them. Her cheeks burned. More from anger than embarrassment.

Sinclair did the most sensible thing at the moment.

She ran.