Raven: Gentlemen of the Order - Book 2

by Clee, Adele

  “Goodwin professes to feel some remorse for his actions, hence the reason he gave Miss Draper the concoction in the vial.” Upon noting Mrs Friswell’s confused frown, he added, “If Miss Draper is certified insane, Mr Archer won’t want to marry her as she cannot claim her inheritance.”

  “Oh, these men are the devil’s disciples, make no mistake.”

  Sophia gave a frustrated sigh. “Yes, and we will need to present a persuasive argument to the magistrate if we hope to make both men pay for their misdeeds.”

  Finlay forced a smile. If he had his way, neither man would escape the woods alive.

  * * *

  The note left by the tombstone in the churchyard said Archer should come to the deadwood at two o’clock in the morning. Goodwin assured the devil he would bring Jessica, and he’d given her enough laudanum so she might be persuaded to do his bidding.

  “My hair is more silver than gold,” Sophia said, fretting as Finlay locked the door in the boundary wall. “Hopefully, Mr Archer won’t notice in the dark.” Her voice was stretched thin with apprehension. “I suppose it is seven years since he’s seen Jessica.”

  Finlay turned to her and fixed the hood of her blue cloak so it shrouded most of her face. “I shall be but a few feet away, and you have the pocket pistol. Use it only if necessary.”

  Maud had agreed to come to the woods and pretend to be Jessica. But as the hour to leave approached, fear overcame logic, and the woman crumpled to a heap on the floor, crying and shaking uncontrollably, convinced Archer would kill her.

  “Sloane will be watching from the woods.” Finlay had instructed D’Angelo to remain at Blackborne with Jessica. “He’s exceptionally skilled with a dagger and can hit a moving target with impressive accuracy.”

  Behind them, Goodwin whimpered. “Archer is as shrewd as a serpent. He’ll be prepared. I fear he’ll know I’ve betrayed him.”

  “Get him to confess to his crimes, and then I shall confront him.” Finlay longed to get his hands around the despot’s neck and wring the last breath from his lungs. “He’ll expect you to show a certain amount of fear considering you’ll both hang for abduction if caught tonight.” Finlay pointed to the stile on the opposite side of the road. “We’ll enter the woods there. You’ve got the lantern, so lead the way.”

  As soon as Goodwin had outlived his usefulness, Finlay would beat him to within an inch of his life.

  He waited for the devious doctor to cross the road before whispering, “Whatever happens in the deadwood, you’re not to run, Sophia. Do you hear? I know exactly where Mrs Friswell laid the traps, but when one is panicked, there’s a temptation to leave the path.”

  She nodded, and he couldn’t help but kiss her trembling lips.

  “Nothing will happen to either of us,” he reassured her. “Fate can’t be that cruel.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  He rubbed her arms. “Let Goodwin do the talking. Don’t let emotion override logic. Remember, Archer thinks you’ve downed a dose of laudanum.”

  “Let’s just get this over with so we can focus on living again.”

  They followed Goodwin over the stile, past the warning notice to poachers and walked the overgrown path. Finlay bit back a chuckle when Goodwin tripped over the exposed root of a tree and landed face-first on the ground. However, he ended up cursing the devil when the glass in the lantern smashed, extinguishing the flame.

  “Leave it,” Finlay whispered, for they were near the place he’d chosen to hide. “With clear skies, shafts of moonlight will illuminate the clearing where the canopy is bare.” He turned to Sophia. “Take hold of Goodwin’s arm.”

  Oh, the thought brought bile to his throat.

  But he had to think of her safety, had to make sure they looked convincing.

  Goodwin brushed dirt from his trousers and offered his arm.

  Sophia muttered her frustration and held on to the man she despised.

  Finlay walked with them for another ten yards before coming to a halt. “I’ll move closer once you reach the clearing, so I can hear what Archer says.”

  Watching Sophia walk away, seeing her slumped shoulders and unsteady gait, was like a blunt blade to his heart. He’d die for her if need be. But he hoped to God they both survived tonight.

  He waited until they reached the clearing before moving stealthily through the trees, taking care to avoid Mrs Friswell’s traps. A dead oak tree, with a trunk broad enough to hide three men, gave him a perfect place to observe Goodwin and Sophia.

  Minutes passed—ten, maybe more.

  Had Archer grown suspicious?

  Had he defied reason and not taken the path from Windlesham? Hell, if he’d made any deviation, he’d likely catch his leg in a mantrap.

  Despite having her hands thrust inside her fur muff, Sophia couldn’t keep still. Her gaze darted left and right, searching the gloom. Yet she knew not to air her frustration, not to speak her thoughts aloud.

  A raven’s gurgling kraa-kraa alerted Finlay to the gentleman approaching on the Windlesham path. Mr Archer was tardy, but not unpredictable.

  “Goodwin, it’s been a while.” Archer sauntered into the moonlit clearing. He wore casual attire, breeches, boots and a greatcoat, no hat or cravat. Perhaps he anticipated having to take to his heels and run.

  “Don’t come too close,” Goodwin said as per his script. “Miss Draper scares easily. Her servant told her the woods are haunted in a bid to stop her venturing out here.” He turned to Sophia and in a simple tone, said, “There’s no such thing as witches, is there, Miss Draper?”

  In a voice distant and devoid of emotion, Sophia replied. “No, Dr Goodwin.”

  “Jessica,” Mr Archer called out. “Do you remember me?”

  Sophia raised her head a fraction. “No, sir.”

  “Her mind is fragile,” Goodwin explained, “her memories distorted.”

  Archer thrust his hand through his blonde hair and gritted his teeth. “What the devil have you done to her? She speaks as though a phantom has sucked the life from her soul.”

  “What did you expect?” Goodwin countered. “As you instructed, I’ve been feeding her laudanum for the last seven years. Consequently, she suffers shortness of breath, nausea and confusion. I hate to think what long-term damage it has done to her brain.”

  Thank the Lord Mrs Friswell had the foresight to reduce the dose years ago. The action had saved Jessica from suffering severe withdrawal symptoms, had potentially saved her life.

  And though Finlay hated the doctor to the depths of his being, he was doing a good job of getting Archer to bite the bait.

  “I said make her appear dejected and depressed, not turn her into a witless lunatic.”

  “Had you returned within a year, maybe two, things may have been different.” Goodwin kept to his stage directions and stepped forward, acting as a barrier between Sophia and Archer. “But then you want a wife with money, not one who’s a good conversationalist.”

  Archer fell silent.

  But the stillness did not carry the energy of a man plagued with guilt. No. Beyond Archer’s arrogant demeanour, he seemed confused.

  “I thought you understood,” Archer eventually said. “I love Jessica, always have.” He craned his neck as if directing his confession to the woman shrouded in a cloak. “Maud seduced me, and like a fool, I fell for her wicked tricks. Yes, I’m the worst of scoundrels, disloyal when I should have had the strength to resist. I had no choice but to marry the damn maid.”

  Finlay was a good judge of character, and so the ring of insincerity in Archer’s tone came as no surprise. When a man loved a woman, he didn’t arrange to have her drugged and hidden away for years.

  “Everyone has a choice,” Goodwin said like he had a conscience. “I could have refused your demands and dealt with the shame. Besides, when I told you about the inheritance, you said I was to do everything in my power to ensure she never married.”

  Sophia gasped upon hearing the words.

  A
rcher side-stepped Goodwin. “Jessica, it was always my intention to return to England and win back your hand. I don’t care about the damn inheritance.”

  The slight raise in pitch confirmed that was a lie.

  “I want to marry you, take care of you.” Archer stepped closer while beckoning Sophia forward. “Come away with me. Come to India. We can leave this place, leave tonight.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Sophia said, her tone too harsh, too sensible for a woman who minutes ago sounded like a dimwit. “What about Maud? You do remember your wife?”

  “Maud’s dead.” Archer prowled closer. “She perished from a fever a year ago.”

  No doubt Archer wished it was the case.

  “Stay back!” Goodwin cried in a panic. “You’ll frighten Miss Draper.”

  Archer’s temper flared. “Perhaps you should stop pandering to her, stop treating her like a child. She seemed perfectly rational a moment ago.” He switched his attention to Sophia. “Lower your hood, my dear, so I might see the angelic face that haunts my dreams.”

  Sophia stepped back but said nothing due to her earlier mistake.

  It was time for Finlay to confront the rogue. He was about to slip out from the behind the tree when Archer darted towards Sophia.

  Hellfire!

  Flustered, she pulled the pistol from her muff. “Get back!” With a shaky hand, she aimed at the startled gentleman, who came to a crashing halt. “Don’t come a step closer else I shall put a lead ball in your black heart.”

  “What devious game is this?” Archer said as if innocent of any wrongdoing.

  Sophia tugged down the hood of her cloak. “You’re the one playing a game,” she cried. “The magistrate will be interested to hear your confession. Dr Goodwin will testify you blackmailed him into committing an offence.”

  “Ah, Sophia, or should I say Lady Adair. You’ve risen in the ranks since last we met.” Arrogance coated Archer’s words. “But I think you’ll find Goodwin is not a doctor. There’s not a magistrate in the land who would deem him credible.”

  “But I heard your confession,” Finlay said, entering the clearing. “Perhaps you’re unaware of my connection to Sir Malcolm Langley at Bow Street. Such an esteemed gentleman can influence the decision of a provincial magistrate.”

  Archer’s wry smile belied the nervous shuffling of his feet. “Finlay Cole,” he drawled. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Afraid not, though I intend to ensure you swing from the scaffold.”

  “Aren’t you being a tad presumptuous? The doctor misunderstood my instruction. I asked him to care for Jessica in my absence, to make sure the fortune hunters stayed away. I don’t recall ever instructing him to drug a woman. And whatever has been said here tonight is simply hearsay.”

  Blood charged through Finlay’s veins, hot, molten, filling his fists until they throbbed with the need to pummel the smirk from Archer’s smug face. But it was Goodwin who lost all grip of his faculties.

  “You bastard!” Goodwin lunged at Archer, punching him so hard on the nose it spurted with blood. “You’ve ruined my damn life!”

  “Everyone has a choice.” Archer laughed while clutching his nose. “You said so yourself.”

  Goodwin kicked Archer in the shin, and a fight ensued. Both men threw punches and grappled for an advantage, their jostling becoming a welter of flailing limbs. Finlay hoped they killed each other for it would save him the trouble.

  “You told me to drug her!” Goodwin’s face burned red with rage. “To make everyone believe she was insane so you could blackmail Mr Draper. He paid the ransom, gave you more when you said you would make Maud pose as his daughter.”

  Archer hit back, knocking Goodwin’s head sideways. “And you’re my damn accomplice, you fool.”

  “Stop! I’ve a pistol and intend to kill one of you tonight!” Sophia shouted, scaring Finlay half to death. “Will it be you, Mr Archer?”

  Both men straightened, panic flashing in their eyes.

  Finlay’s heart galloped faster than Sloane’s Cleveland bays. “Lower the pistol, Sophia. These reprobates aren’t worth the suffering that comes from taking a man’s life.”

  “Nothing could be worse than seeing Jessica suffer all these years.” She aimed at Goodwin. “You administered the drugs. You poisoned her mind.”

  “Yes, and it was wrong of me.” Goodwin slapped his hands together in prayer. “You heard what Maud said last night. Archer is cruel and calculating. Hell, he just lied about his wife’s death.”

  Archer’s eyes bulged as large as billiard balls. He coughed while struggling to find his voice. “Maud? You saw Maud last night? Maud is in England?”

  “Not just in England,” Finlay said, relishing the flash of fear in the villain’s eyes. “Your wife is currently residing at Blackborne.”

  Finlay expected the devil to splutter some more. Maud would testify against Archer. She would give the magistrate a full account when he arrived. So why did he experience a sudden pang of trepidation? Why did his anger dissipate and his blood run cold?

  “Good God!” Archer exclaimed. “Where is Jessica? Please tell me you’ve not left her with Maud?”

  “Why?” Finlay demanded. “Maud said you want to kill her, marry Jessica and manipulate her into giving away her inheritance.”

  Archer clutched his forehead as though his brain might burst through his skull. “The woman is unstable, has been from the beginning. She’s jealous of Jessica, has some weird belief they’re sisters. Said she’s treated like the servant while Jessica lives in luxury. Her resentment is made worse by the fact I’m in love with Jessica.”

  “Sisters?” Horrified, Sophia lowered the pistol and stepped back. “But that’s absurd.”

  Was this a ploy to distract them so Archer could make a hasty escape?

  “You need to get back to the house,” Archer insisted, whipping a handkerchief from his pocket and mopping blood from his nose. “How the hell did Maud know to come to Blackborne?”

  Finlay turned to Goodwin, who, judging by the distance he’d put between them, had been shuffling slowly backwards for some time. “She’s been staying with Goodwin.”

  Perhaps it was the thought of being duped by Maud, or the mounting evidence against him, that made the fraud take to his heels and run. The fool bounded through the undergrowth like a wild hare escaping a poacher’s gun.

  Sloane appeared from his hiding place in the woods, silver dagger in hand. “I can take Goodwin down.”

  “No. We need him alive. See if you can find him, but remember to avoid the traps.”

  Sloane nodded. He broke into a run and took to the Windlesham path.

  “We must return to the house,” Sophia said shakily.

  “I shall come with you,” Archer offered.

  “Like hell you will!” Finlay wouldn’t trust the devil to mind a halfpenny. Archer, Maud and Goodwin had given unreliable accounts, had twisted the tale and spoken untruths.

  But what choice did he have?

  The only thing that mattered was saving Jessica.

  Finlay prayed they were not too late.

  Chapter 20

  Aesop’s fabled wolf in sheep’s clothing hurried with Sophia and Finlay along Blackborne’s winding drive. Mr Archer expressed concern for Jessica and had forgotten he was the reason her life hung in the balance.

  Sophia had not forgotten.

  Before daylight broke, Mr Archer would either be rattling to gaol in a prison cart or dead. It took all her willpower not to shoot the devil or push him head first into the moat. Indeed, she hoped the rising ground mist choked him.

  “Maud is convinced getting rid of Jessica will solve her problems,” Mr Archer explained when they stopped near the gatehouse. “Jessica will be easier to manipulate while in a drugged state, and so Maud means to abduct her and take her place.”

  “Take her place?” Sophia’s mouth dropped open in horror. So Maud meant to kill Jessica. She must be a dimwit to think she could ac
complish the feat.

  Finlay’s jaw firmed. “Ignore him. We will deal with the facts as they present themselves. Have no fear. D’Angelo would die to protect your sister.”

  The confidence in his voice settled her nerves, but only momentarily.

  The sudden crack of a gunshot pierced the stillness of the night. The deathly scream sent the ravens scattering. Fear was a construct of the mind, yet it flowed like an icy river through Sophia’s veins. She raised her skirts, ready to race across the forecourt.

  “The sound came from the woods, not the house,” Finlay said, gripping her arm in reassurance, yet his shallow breathing conveyed apprehension.

  “What if Mr Sloane walked into a—”

  “No!” Finlay dismissed the notion instantly. “No. Sloane wouldn’t make a mistake. I’d know if it were him. We must continue and cannot go back.”

  “Let me speak to Maud,” Mr Archer said, unperturbed by the tragedy unfolding in the woods. “I’ll enter the house and pretend I’ve escaped your grasp.”

  Finlay sneered. “Do not take me for a fool. How do I know you’re not colluding with your wife to steal Jessica’s inheritance? You’ll probably use it as an opportunity to amend your plan.”

  Like an altar boy accused of sipping the wine, Mr Archer’s blue eyes shone with feigned innocence. At some point, he would run. Perhaps he hoped to cause a commotion and slip away undetected.

  “We’re going to creep across the forecourt and enter the house via the herb garden.” Finlay prodded Mr Archer in the chest. “Make a sound, and Lady Adair will shoot you. Is that clear?”

  Good. Sophia welcomed the chance to kill the devil.

  Mr Archer nodded.

  Finlay had instructed everyone to wait in the drawing room, to keep the curtains closed and main doors locked until his return. And though it proved impossible to cross the forecourt without their boots crunching on the gravel, Mr D’Angelo did not appear at the window to check for intruders.

  Finlay took the key from his coat pocket and opened the rear door. He paused for a moment and narrowed his gaze as if honing his senses. Candles burned in the sconces along the narrow passage. The tempting aroma of their beef stew supper still wafted from the kitchen. An eerie silence whispered through the great hall like a grim warning. Blent made no secret of his disdain for Maud, but one would expect to hear the faint hum of conversation.