An Imperfect Engagement

by Alyssa Drake

  Sam shook her head. “I will never tell you,” she yelled, fumbling behind her. Her fingers closed around the rim of a vase, situated on a small table next to the bookshelf. She swung the vase into Franklin’s head, smashing it, scattering pieces across the floor.

  Franklin stumbled and released his hold, a trickle of blood leaking from the cut on his forehead. He howled in frustration, blindly swiping the knife at her.

  If she could just get to the front door, someone would see her. She limped across the rug. As her hand touched the study doorknob, her head slammed against the wood. Franklin spun her around and flung her across the room. Colliding with the corner of her mother’s desk, she tumbled over the edge. It upended itself with the force of her body.

  Sam crashed to the floor with a pain-filled moan. Franklin wound his fingers through her hair again, lifting her from the ground, pitching her across the room. She rammed into several armchairs, knocking them askew, and landed in a heap, her feet twisted in a morbid dance. Struggling to roll onto her stomach, Sam crawled toward Edward’s desk. Franklin advanced and grabbed her ankle. Wrapping her fingers around the leg of Edward’s desk, Sam screamed for help. With a smirk, Franklin kicked her in the side, cutting off her yells and dragged her back to the middle of the room with a sneering grin.

  “I have all day Samantha. How long do you think you will survive?” The knife flashed.

  Chapter Six

  “Aunt Samantha left to retrieve my dollhouse.” Lucy twisted her fingers as she revealed the information.

  Benjamin’s eyes slid to Thomas who shrugged. Benjamin turned back to Lucy. “Where is your dollhouse?”

  Leaning forward, Lucy glanced left and right, then cupped her hand around her mouth, whispering, “I hid it in Father’s office the morning of the fire.”

  “Why did Miss Hastings travel—unchaperoned—to the townhouse to rescue your dollhouse?” asked Thomas.

  “She did not go alone.” Lucy punctuated the statement with an eye roll, twisting toward Thomas, irritated he would hint Miss Hastings’ lacked proper manners.

  “With whom did she travel?” asked Benjamin.

  Lucy turned her plump face toward him and grinned. “Cousin Franklin took her in his carriage.”

  “Lucy!” Nancy’s voice echoed from the top stair. Lucy’s head whipped toward the sound.

  Benjamin grasped Lucy’s arms lightly, recapturing her attention. “Why did your aunt believe the recovery of your dollhouse was urgent enough to leave without your father or me?”

  “I do not know, Lord Westwood.” Lucy sank her teeth into her lower lip, her eyes flicking toward the top of the staircase. “Aunt Samantha said it was a house that was not a home. I did not understand what she meant.”

  “Lucy! Where have you been hiding?” Nancy exclaimed as she rushed down the steps.

  Lucy paled. “I wanted to see the luncheon.”

  “I am very sorry Miss Hastings was bothering you, my Lord,” Nancy said to Benjamin with a curtsy.

  “Actually, she has proven quite helpful,” replied Benjamin, winking at Lucy.

  “Thank you, Lord Westwood.” Lucy curtsied as Nancy scooped her up, along with the plate of left-over sandwiches and carried her upstairs into the nursery.

  “Why would Miss Hastings risk her life to retrieve a dollhouse?” asked Thomas. “What did she mean when she told young Miss Hastings a house that is not a home?”

  “I do not know.” Benjamin stood with a grimace, shaking off Thomas’ offered arm. However, it doesn’t matter. I am leaving for the townhouse.”

  “Edward—”

  “Has no right to order a lord to do anything,” replied Benjamin, an edge to his retort. “Remain here until he returns and inform him of my destination.”

  Instead of heading down the stairs, Benjamin turned and stumped slowly upward, climbing one step at a time. Thomas watched his brother’s painful progress for a moment.

  “The townhouse is in the opposite direction,” Thomas said, his confusion evident.

  “I am aware of its location,” Benjamin ground out as he climbed. He winced, pain radiated through his body, setting his teeth on edge. “I need to retrieve something from my bedchamber.”

  “If you turn right at the bottom of the staircase, the hallway will lead you to the informal sitting room. You can access the gardens from that room.” Miss Clemens’ voice drifted down the upstairs hallway. Miss Randall appeared a moment later, her dress fully restored. She curtsied to Benjamin as she descended the staircase, greeting Thomas with a wide smile.

  A lopsided grin froze on Thomas’ face. Benjamin sighed. Now was probably not the best time for Thomas to fall in love. However, he could do worse than Miss Charlotte Randall. Benjamin held no qualms regarding Miss Randall with the exception of her relation to the abhorrent Shirely family. Their esteem continued to plummet in his mind.

  Thomas tracked Miss Randall as she turned the corner toward the rear of the house, watching until she disappeared from view. He glanced at Benjamin sheepishly and shrugged. “Are you certain you want to go alone?”

  “Edward specifically requested someone must remain here until he returned from Morris’ country estate,” Benjamin replied, sucking in a sharp breath, agony accompanying each step.

  “He should not be absent much longer.” Miss Clemens interjected morosely from above them, her attention solely on Thomas. “If you would prefer to escort Lord Westwood, I can inform Mr. Hastings of your destination.”

  “That is very kind of you, Miss Clemens,” replied Thomas. “However, I do not wish to impose any further favors on you. Besides, my stubborn brother would never willingly accept my help. Therefore, I must decline your offer and remain here, avoiding the luncheon.”

  “Whenever I do not wish to be disturbed by societal pariahs, I hide in the gazebo,” said Benjamin. He scowled as he bumped his foot against the top step of the second-floor landing.

  “An excellent idea.” Thomas flashed a smile at Miss Clemens. “Would you care to join me in avoiding an unnecessary public function, Miss Clemens?”

  “I would be pleased to accompany you in your endeavor,” replied Miss Clemens hesitantly. Descending the staircase, she accepted Thomas’ offered arm, and they strolled toward the front door.

  Thomas mumbled a comment which earned a light giggle. However, Benjamin could no longer discern the conversation. Rescuing another female... Benjamin entered his chamber, shaking his head clear of Thomas’ problems.

  The aroma of honeysuckle hung in the air. Miss Hastings’ scent surrounded him, lightly kissing his face. He limped over to the fireplace, counting down the bricks until he came to the loose stone. Extricating the brick, he removed a pistol hidden behind it, sliding it into his coat pocket, then replacing the brick. Turning on his heel, Benjamin spied the corner of a missive peeking out from underneath the inkwell on his desk.

  Hobbling over, he removed the note, unfolded it, and read it quickly. He sighed. Of course, Miss Hastings found the threatening letter. How could he be so neglectful? He did not even realize it was missing. She must have determined what Morris sought. However, not knowing the author of the missive, it made sense she would employ her cousin in one of her adventures. Morris was always game for an expedition even encouraging a young Miss Hastings to join him in India.

  Edward nearly murdered Morris when he discovered his sister at the shipping yard, dragging her trunk up the gangplank, her cousin’s letter still clutched in her little fist. Thankfully, the sailors found the image of a slight, eleven-year-old girl with braids amusing enough, they allowed Edward to collect her from the ship without incident. Miss Hastings was livid, screaming and pummeling Edward as he flung her over his shoulder and carted her off the ship toward a waiting carriage. It was her Uncle Ephraim who calmed her, explaining she would have plenty of time for adventures after she completed her education. Miss Hastings accepted his rationalization without argument. Now, it seemed as though Morris managed to entice her again.

&n
bsp; Crumpling the note in his fist, Benjamin stumbled from the room. “I am coming, Samantha.”

  The smell of burnt wood singed Benjamin’s nose. Clouds of smoke polluted the hallway, casting eerie shadows on the walls. He heard a scuffle, the sound amplified by the scorched skeleton of the sitting room. Benjamin crept down the hallway, his shoes leaving footprints in the ashes. He noticed two other sets of fresh prints leading into the darkness. Cautiously, he felt his way down the hallway, following the faint light which stemmed from behind the ajar study door.

  Peeking around the corner, Benjamin peered into the room, his boot creaking one of the distressed floorboards. Cursing under his breath, Benjamin froze, his muscles tensing. The noises coming from the study stopped. Fearing the worst, Benjamin pulled the gun from his pocket and rushed into the room.

  “That is far enough, Westwood. Any closer and I slit her throat,” Morris warned as he tightened his grasp around Miss Hastings, his voice a menacing growl.

  Benjamin’s eyes drank in the scene in front of him—chairs flipped over, one with a broken leg, Mrs. Hastings’ desk upended, its soft surface marred with scorch marks, papers and books scattered across the floor, Edward’s desk stripped bare, its items strewn throughout the room. Ink dripped down the far wall. Morris wheezed as beads of sweat dripped from his red face, frustration etching deep lines across his brow.

  Reluctantly, Benjamin allowed his gaze to travel over to Miss Hastings’ face. The sight ignited an inferno of ire which blazed through his veins. A bruise blossomed on one cheek, its morbid shade of purple discoloring her pale skin. Blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. Wiggling against Franklin’s iron grip, her face shone with fear as the knife pressed harder against her neck. Benjamin slid his foot forward, the subtle movement noticed by Morris who shook his head slowly, gripping the knife handle tightly.

  “Perhaps you did not understand my warning the first time.” Morris pressed the blade deeper into Miss Hastings’ neck. She choked, her delicate skin whitening under the pressure of the knife blade. A strangled sob forced Benjamin to freeze, his heart hammering loudly.

  How would he save her?

  “That is much better. I am pleased to see you can follow directions.” Morris spoke in a disarmingly calm manner. “Now, if you would be so kind as to place your pistol on the floor.”

  Leaning over with a grunt, Benjamin laid the gun on the ground. He stepped back, raising his arms in a friendly gesture, awaiting further instruction.

  “Lock the study door. I would prefer no further interruptions until our business is concluded.” Morris gestured with his free hand.

  Benjamin complied. He needed a plan, a distraction until Edward arrived. Benjamin spun around with a half-smile, spreading his arms wide. “Mr. Morris, there is no need for such violence.”

  “Of course, there is no need, I just happen to enjoy it.” Morris chuckled. “At first, I was a little squeamish. However, over time, one can become immune to anything.”

  “Why, Mr. Morris?” asked Benjamin. Where was Edward? “Why did you resort to murder?”

  “They stole from me.” He snarled, pressing the knife deeper into Miss Hastings’ throat.

  “What did they steal?” Benjamin inched forward.

  “My inheritance.” Morris shook his head, swiping the knife toward Benjamin.

  “The jewelry was a wedding gift from Uncle Ephraim. You were not the oldest, you were not next in line to receive them,” said Miss Hastings. She clawed her fingernails down Franklin’s arm. He slapped her. Her anguished scream cut off as Morris pressed the knife against her windpipe again, a thin line of blood trickling from the blade.

  “Manners,” murmured Morris, pressing his lips against her ear. “The adults are conversing, Samantha.”

  Benjamin clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain immobile. He feared any sudden movement would give Morris occasion to slide the knife quickly across Miss Hastings’ throat.

  “Ephraim should have given the jewelry to me. Your father did not need the collection, he received both estates.”

  “You would have sold every piece,” choked out Miss Hastings. She stomped on his boot, struggling against Morris’ deadly embrace.

  Morris casually wrapped his hand through her hair, as though bored by the repeated attempts to escape, and roughly yanked her head back until she was forced to stare into his eyes. A tear slid down one of her cheeks.

  “It was my right.” Morris’ lips brushed intimately against her mouth. A tremor raced through Miss Hastings.

  He was going to rip Morris’ limbs from his torso!

  “You must have felt betrayed,” said Benjamin, struggling against the burgeoning desire to beat Morris into an unrecognizable mass of skin and bones. He forced a soothing tone into his voice.

  “I was robbed,” Morris replied, releasing Miss Hastings’ hair. He locked his sinister gaze on Benjamin, tilting his head. “That necklace is worth thousands.”

  “Surely, your uncle would not deny you an inheritance.”

  “He did. He bestowed everything on his favorite nephew.” Turning his macabre grin toward Miss Hastings again, Morris inhaled deeply, rubbing his nose against her curls. He shot a glare in Benjamin’s direction, daring him to protest. Reaching for Miss Hastings’ head, Morris stroked a hand over her tresses, causing Benjamin to unconsciously advance. When Morris finally spoke, his voice came from the past.

  “I would have traded every bit of jewelry to marry Rebecca, but Matthew stole her too. I could not swallow his betrayal. I left town immediately following their engagement announcement. The convenient death of my father provided a moderate living, so I chose to disappear. Eventually, my funds dwindled, and I found myself in significant debt. The need to return overpowered my broken heart.”

  “You have no heart,” Miss Hastings whispered.

  Morris ignored her. “Uncle Ephraim refused my request, stating the sum was too large. I decided to ask Matthew for a loan. Rebecca opened the door when I called on the household, and I was immediately transported back to my youth. She glowed like an angel in the afternoon light.”

  “She must have been overjoyed to see you after such a long absence,” said Benjamin. He slid closer to Miss Hastings. He could almost touch her.

  Morris nodded, still lost in the past. “Rebecca invited me to their end of season ball that very evening. I was in high spirits when I arrived. At a late hour, she retired upstairs to put little Samantha back into the nursery.

  “Even as a little child, you were a brat.” Snagging his fingers in her hair, he closed his fist and yanked again. Miss Hastings yelped with pain, her hands flying to her head. Grinning, he relaxed his grip, raising his eyes to Benjamin.

  “I followed Rebecca stealthily. As she exited the nursery, I emerged from the shadows, startling her. I presented my case, falling to my knees and professing my love. She paled and fled. Seconds later Matthew slammed me against the windows, his hand wrapped around my throat. I still remember his face as he tried to choke the life from me. He radiated anger, commanding I leave and never return. Seizing the opportunity, I explained my current financial situation and requested compensation.”

  “What did Mr. Hastings offer?”

  “A modest sum,” replied Morris, “to which I countered, adding I wanted immediate possession of the Hastings’ ancestral jewels. He adamantly refused. We did eventually arrive at an agreeable figure. I returned late that evening, after the party dispersed, to collect my portion.”

  Benjamin remained silent for a moment. “Then you killed him?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?” asked Benjamin quietly.

  “Poison.”

  “And your father, was his death a result of your greed as well?”

  “Undeniably.” Morris grinned. “No one even suspected his demise was unnatural. I can still picture his face—bewildered as he realized my deceit. By then the poison already coursed through his body.”

  Benjamin stared in revulsion, his tho
ughts whirling. “How many people have you murdered?” he asked with horror.

  “I lost count.” Morris shrugged, broadening his evil grin.

  “Franklin.” Miss Hastings’ hoarse voice barely reached Benjamin’s ears. “Please. I will help you. Please, Franklin, let me go.”

  Maniacal laughter echoed around the study as Morris studied the girl in his arms. “My dear Samantha, you had an opportunity to comply with my wishes. Now, I have no intention of allowing you to live. Your whole family must be punished.”

  “Franklin, please,” said Miss Hastings, widening her blue eyes and cupping his face with her free hand. “I thought we were friends, family.”

  “An act, you are easily misled,” replied Morris cruelly, shaking off her hand.

  “But once you kill her, how will you escape?” asked Benjamin, his ears straining for sounds in the foyer. Edward should have arrived by now. “I am not going to step aside and allow you to leave.”

  “That is a valid point.” Morris scrunched his mouth, considering the question for a moment. “I suppose I will have to kill you too.”

  “You could.” Benjamin took a miniscule step toward Morris. “However, you would spend the rest of your life in hiding. Edward knows you are responsible for the death of his father, and he wants revenge.”

  Morris raised his eyebrows, digesting Benjamin’s words. “I am not afraid.”

  “There is no reason you need to die.”

  “You have a different suggestion?”

  “I do,” replied Benjamin taking another step.

  Morris tightened his grip on Miss Hastings. “I am a reasonable man, Lord Westwood, what is your proposition?”

  Benjamin stared at Miss Hastings for a moment, praying she would understand his intention or at least forgive him. He took a deep breath and refocused his attention on Morris. Then he opened his mouth and lied.

  “The Westwood Estate is insolvent, a situation to which I am sure you can relate. There are so many debts, I can hardly fathom them all. I have been borrowing money from Edward for years to keep the creditors at bay. When he disappeared two years ago, all my old debts were forgiven”—he inclined his head toward Morris—“thank you for your assistance with that matter. Although it became apparent of late, I needed to marry a wealthy woman in order to preserve my extravagant lifestyle. As you are aware, appearances must be maintained. The truth is, I was only marrying Miss Hastings for her money.”