A Lady Unrivaled

by Roseanna M. White

  Stafford growled. “I’m going to throttle her. Then I’m going to kiss her. Then I’m going to lock her in her room for the next ten years.”

  “She’d only climb out the window,” Nottingham pointed out.

  “Or cut a hole through the wall with a butter knife and a serving spoon,” Cayton added.

  Mr. Norton cleared his throat. “She did, however, ask me to give you this.” He held out a folded piece of paper.

  Stafford flipped it open and barked out something sharp and biting in Monegasque. “She says to call the constable and have him post men at all the possible routes away from Anlic, but for him to be discreet about it.”

  Anlic. Cayton strode toward the corridor that led to Stafford’s telephone, the dukes a step behind. His heart felt so tight and heavy it was a wonder he didn’t sink through the floor. Anlic—all the servants had been sent away. The house would be virtually empty. But still, it seemed a risky place for him to hold Ella. Unless he weren’t really in the house, just watching it.

  Stafford drew even with him. “Do you really think he’s at your house? With Ella?”

  “He could be hiding nearby, watching for someone to arrive with the diamonds.” The claws of fear dug deep. “Gregory can lead the constable and his men in without being seen, and show them where to wait. We should ask him to meet us here first. And check the safe. If Brook took him the diamonds . . .”

  Or, perhaps worse, if she hadn’t.

  Twenty-Eight

  Ella had already examined all the windows but wasn’t entirely certain that the three-story drop would leave her able to run away and get help. Plus they squeaked when she raised them, which had brought Dorsey back in, looking far too ready to hurt someone. She had mumbled some excuse about needing air, but she hadn’t argued when he slammed the pane back down to the sill.

  She’d just been glad he left again.

  Catherine had sat in a chair by the one window, wincing a little more each time one of Felicity’s cries reached them. Kira paced the room, mumbling in Russian.

  She hadn’t told them any stories about Andrei Varennikov. Ella was rather glad of that too.

  Where was Cayton? Addie? Her brother and Rowena, the Staffords? What was Rushworth doing? How did he mean to get the diamonds? Had there been time to fetch the authorities after they got whatever message he had probably sent?

  “What was that?” Kira paused in her pacing, face blank. “Is that a motor? A car?”

  Ella turned back to the window, her eyes going wide. “It is Stafford’s Rolls-Royce! It’s Brook and—” She cut herself off with a hand to her lips when Rushworth emerged into view, a pistol extended. It nearly turned to a whimper when she realized Rowena was in the car with Brook. “No, no, no. What are they doing here? Why would they . . . ?”

  “If there is danger to be had, you know well Brook will find it.” Kira peered out the window too, shoulder to shoulder with Ella. “She will have a plan—she must. Will he bring them up here, do you think?”

  Footsteps on the stairs a minute later answered that question. Even Catherine got up, all of them rushing to the door to listen. They backed away just in time to avoid it hitting them as it swung open.

  Ella shook her head at the sight of her sister-in-law and friend, Rushworth’s gun pointed at their backs. And Brook hadn’t even the sense to look worried. “What in the world possessed you to do this?”

  “A lovely question, my sweet.” Rushworth tossed them into the room, his careful mask cracked and rage visible through it. “I ought to have known my darling cousin would ruin everything. Sit!”

  Brook just crossed her arms. “You might as well give up, Rushworth. You’ll never make it out, especially given that you’re stupid enough to hole up here.”

  Rowena, hands supporting her stomach, shrank into a corner made by the armoire.

  Rushworth snarled. “Dorsey! One. To the head.”

  “No!” Ella flew for him—not Dorsey, he’d just toss her aside—knowing she’d never make it to him before a bullet could be fired, knowing he wouldn’t have time to call off his beast, but needing to try something.

  She landed on Rushworth, meaning to beat on his chest. But he pulled her too close, her fists could barely strike him. And he looked down at her with a terrible smile.

  Dorsey didn’t raise his gun. He raised his hand and sent it into Brook’s skull with enough force to knock her to the floor.

  Lord, the baby! Protect the baby!

  Rushworth’s hand moved over Ella’s back. “Quite right, my love. My thought exactly. You and I shall slip away from all this commotion and wait for the duke to bring me my Fire Eyes.”

  Brook was pushing herself up to sitting, dabbing at the red-stained corner of her mouth. Fury burned in her eyes. “A bit hard for him to do, considering I have your note here with me, cousin, and he never saw it.”

  Rushworth’s arms turned to a vise around her. “You try me, Brook. You so try me. You better have brought them then.”

  Ella’s gaze found her sister-in-law, still in the corner. Rowena’s eyes were squeezed shut, her face pale.

  Brook smirked. “Why in the world would I have done that? Then you’d win. And you are not going to win. No, cousin, what I did was leave instruction for the constable to cover all escapes from Anlic.”

  His arms were crushing her, but Ella didn’t dare make a sound.

  “After I explicitly instructed you—” His grip loosened abruptly, and he dragged in a quick breath. “At least the phone lines are down—we have some time. Our second plan, then, Dorsey. You scouted the rendezvous?”

  Dorsey studied Brook as if waiting for an excuse to hit her again. “Aye, my lord. The old church we found is definitely abandoned and far from any homes. A good view from the bell tower.”

  “Perfect. We must be quick, before they can set up checks along the roads. I’ll make sure the constable is drawn away from here. You keep an eye on these women, especially my idiot cousin. I’ll send another note to Ralin directing Stafford to bring the diamonds to the church or he will be responsible for the consequences. Give me two hours, then secure them all—don’t hurt my sister—and meet me there.” He pulled Ella into the doorway. Then stopped. “Or . . . Kitty, you can come with us. If you don’t come now, I don’t know when I’ll see you again. I can’t return.”

  Her eyes were tear-filled, her limbs quaking. She shook her head. “I can’t have any more part in this, Crispin. I told you that. I meant it.”

  His larynx bobbed at Ella’s eye level. “I’ll try to find a way to see you have what you need. It may take some time to set things up so the money can’t be traced back to me.”

  “Don’t. I don’t want it.” Catherine wrapped her arms around her middle. “I’ll get on just fine.”

  “No you won’t. They’ll seize everything. You’ll be a pauper.”

  Her expression didn’t change. “Better a pauper than to live under that curse.”

  He shook his head, tightened his arms around Ella again, and pulled her from the room. “Foolish girl. After all we’ve been through, all we’ve done to get here . . .”

  Ella just had time to glance at Rowena and note that her face had eased. Just enough time to meet Brook’s eyes once more before Dorsey slammed the door between them. Her friend was smiling. Smiling. She definitely had something up her sleeve, Kira was right about that. All Ella had to do was keep Rushworth calm until she could manage it.

  He didn’t pull her straight for the stairs as she had expected, but rather into the next room over. Her throat closed off when she realized it was his bedroom, but he only stepped to the wardrobe and opened a cabinet, a drawer. He pulled out a sealed piece of folded paper.

  And the gun he had apparently tucked into his belt once he’d forced Brook and Rowena into the room.

  Ella forced a swallow. “You don’t need that. I won’t fight you.”

  His smile would have looked tender, loving, had he not just pulled out a gun. “It isn’t to us
e on you, dearest. But the duke will be in a rage, and he doesn’t need to know that I won’t hurt you.” He cradled her head—with the hand holding the gun—and kissed her forehead. Lingering there until she feared he’d sense her fear, her revulsion.

  He rested his forehead on hers. “I’m sorry. I have to use you as a hostage—just for his sake. I won’t hurt you. Know that—no matter what. I won’t hurt you. You don’t need to be afraid.”

  She drew in a breath but couldn’t force any words back out.

  “It’ll be over in an hour or two. We’ll have the diamonds. We’ll be on our way to France. We can marry there, and you can decide where we’ll go.” He dipped his head, caught her gaze. “I’ll buy you a villa, a mountain, anything. The world will be ours for the taking.”

  She could only nod. He must have been satisfied with that, or else feeling too pressed for time to waste any more on reassuring her. He pulled her out of his room, down the stairs, into the weak sunshine.

  They headed for Cayton’s car once more, his fingers tight around her arm and that gun far too present in his other hand.

  But Brook had a plan. And the men would come soon—surely Brook really had left them a note or some instruction to fetch the constable. That couldn’t be just a bluff. It would be well. She’d be fine.

  She just had to keep him calm.

  Kira rushed forward the moment Dorsey slammed the door. “Brook! Brook, est-ce que tu vas bien?”

  She fell to her knees beside her old friend, noting the crack to her lip—and the healthy-looking anger in her eyes. Praying there were no unseen injuries, that the child she carried was well.

  Brook met her gaze. She was as beautiful as she’d been as a princess—and every bit as friendly as she’d been as an opera-singer’s daughter, laughing when recognition struck, throwing her arms around Kira and nearly pulling her over with it. “Kira! What are you doing here?” Her question, like Kira’s, was in French.

  She prayed Dorsey didn’t speak French.

  Kira hugged her back. “Nothing good. You know Andrei Varennikov?”

  Brook pulled away and made a distasteful face. “I know of him.”

  Dorsey stepped forward. “What are you saying? English, both of you.”

  Kira ignored him. “I know him considerably better than that.” She paused for a moment for that to sink in.

  But Brook didn’t pull away. Condemnation didn’t shadow her eyes. She just sighed and reached for Kira’s hand and said, “You wanted to avoid that.”

  Dorsey grabbed Kira by her collar and yanked her up. “I said English.”

  Kira pasted on a smile. “I am sorry, Dorsey. I forget myself.”

  “Ne t’inquiète pas,” Brook said. Don’t worry. She didn’t try to stand, just pulled her knees up and sat there on the floor, her arms around her legs as if she were perfectly comfortable. “Varennikov?”

  “He is the one who wants the diamonds.” Brook was smart—she would be able to piece together the rest. And Brook had no doubt heard all the stories about the Russian mogul during her years in Europe. She would know what that meant, the price he could pay. The price he would exact if they failed.

  Brook, indeed, sucked in a long breath and looked to Catherine. “No wonder your brother is worried for you, Kitty.”

  Kira shook her shoulders, and Dorsey actually let her go. Though probably only so he could ease to a position where he could better keep them all in the sights of his pistol. He moved it between them, even taking in the other woman, large with child, who clutched at her stomach and squeezed shut her eyes.

  Brook looked her way too. “Rowena? Are you all right?”

  The woman drew in a long breath. “Dinna worry for me. It will fade again. I’m sure.” It. Pains? Kira edged a bit closer to her. Rowena let the breath back out. “Catherine . . . is it ye this Russian is threatening? Is that why yer brother is going to such lengths?”

  Catherine sniffed and leaned in to the window. “Don’t give him so much credit, he had no idea who the buyer was until Lareau—or Kira, or whatever her name is—told him. And we thought she was just a lady’s maid, the daughter of a midwife.”

  “Oh, you were the one . . .” Brook laughed . . . and her hand inched toward the back of her leg. “No wonder I’ve been dreaming of the ballet!”

  Kira glanced at Rowena again. She was watching Dorsey warily, but her face still showed pain and had a gleam of perspiration on it.

  Catherine pressed a hand to the glass. “There they go, Cris and Ella. I certainly hope you have a plan, Brook.”

  “Ne t’inquiète pas,” she said again. She whipped her skirt up a few inches, pulled out a revolver she’d had strapped to her calf, and leveled it at Dorsey’s knee. A bang, and he fell, screaming, his gun clattering to the floor. Brook was quick as a flash, picking it up and cocking it and pressing it to his chest. “I have a plan. Be still, you rat.”

  Kira knew there was a reason she’d always liked this girl. Even Catherine looked impressed. Rowena, however, seemed more horrified.

  Dorsey whimpered and clutched at his knee. “Don’t. Don’t, I-I’ll help you.”

  “Oh, you ridiculous man—I don’t need your help.”

  Kira winced at the crack when Brook struck him in the head with the butt of the gun, but she had no sympathy for him at all. Only relief when he slumped, his bleeding knee sliding back down. Brook looked up at Catherine. “There, see? A plan—I knew they’d bring us to you, being helpless women as we are. Have you something to tie him up with in here, or do we need to go farther in our search?”

  Mute, Catherine spun for her wardrobe and tore through it, eventually coming up with the belt for her dressing gown. “It is silk. Is that a problem?”

  “Stronger than hemp, actually, if we wet it. Someone help me roll him over.”

  Kira hurried over, shoving him onto his stomach and wrestling his arms together at the small of his back. Brook dipped the belt in the basin of water Catherine handed her and made quick work of tying his wrists, her knots tight and precise.

  Catherine hovered behind them. “You’re so very strange, cousin. But just now, I’m rather glad of it.”

  Brook nodded to Kira and stood, turned to face Catherine. “You declined helping him—does that mean you’ll help me, or do I have to tie you up too?”

  Catherine turned her face away, staring at Dorsey. “I told him, I was through. I tried to talk him out of it.”

  “He won’t listen. You surely know that.”

  “Yes, but . . .” She backed up a step. “Just promise me he won’t get hurt.”

  “My only goal is to get Ella away from him and see he meets justice.”

  It meant Catherine would meet it too. She surely saw that. Her shoulders sagged, but she nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

  Not exactly a promise to help, not a promise that she was on Brook’s side. Kira opened her mouth, ready to insist on explicit words—not that Catherine wasn’t capable of lying—but her attention swung back to Rowena when she gasped. Her hands clutched her rounded stomach, and a pool of fluid soaked the rug beneath her feet. Her eyes were wide and horrified. “Oh. Brook. It wasna to happen today. It wasna—ah!” She doubled over.

  Kira rushed forward to support her. “All right. You are all right. Come, sit through it. Come.” She got her to a chair that was closer than the bed, letting her grip her hand through the pain. “Good. Good. Keep breathing.” She looked to Brook. “Was she having pains before?”

  Brook came and took the woman’s other hand. “They had stopped when she rested. I’m so sorry, Rowena, I shouldn’t have dragged you along on this!”

  Rowena shook her head. “She is my sister. I had . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut, words giving way to a grimace. “Go! Get her!”

  “But . . .”

  “Go.” Kira patted Rowena’s knee as the contraction ebbed, but she looked to Brook. “I can care for her. You go. Find Lady Ella.”

  Catherine pulled Brook up. “We have to hurry.
” Her gaze found Kira’s. “Tell Felicity I will be back as soon as I can. I will be here. Will you tell her that?”

  Kira nodded.

  Catherine kicked Dorsey once, in the stomach, then stepped over his prone form. “They no doubt cut the phone lines here too, but I’ll find someone, somewhere to drag his sorry hide to jail. Do you think you can figure out where Cris means to have the men meet him, Brook?”

  “Give me a bit of credit, Kitty.” A gun in each hand, she strode for the door. “He might as well have drawn me a map.”

  “I always knew I liked her,” Kira said as their footsteps echoed down the hall. The room seemed a good deal emptier without Brook and Catherine in it—and a good deal fuller than she wanted it, with Dorsey’s prostrate figure taking up so much of the floor. She prayed a silent prayer that Catherine would cause Brook no trouble while they were out. Or that, if she tried anything, Brook could handle her as easily as she had Dorsey.

  Rowena loosed a breath of a laugh. “I didna, at first. She’s terrifying.”

  “Da. That too. Would you like to move to the bed?”

  Rowena nodded, and Kira helped her up, helped her walk with slow steps around Dorsey, to the mattress. By the time she got her settled, heavier steps were pounding up the stairs, and Gregory came in, huffing, another groom behind him.

  “His lordship sent us to sneak in,” he said between wheezes. “In case Rushworth was here. We missed him, didn’t we? I saw tire tracks, and they looked fresh.”

  “Da. And he has taken Ella. But you’re still in time to be useful.” She nodded toward Dorsey. “He needs to be taken to the constable.”

  “Happily.” He bent down, hooked his hands under Dorsey’s bound arms. Then glanced up again. “Have you checked on Felicity, Lareau?”

  “It is Kira. My name is Kira. And that is my next stop.” She looked to Rowena. “If you are all right for a moment.”

  Rowena nodded and closed her eyes. “As long as he’s gone, I’ll be fine.”