A Murderous Masquerade (Unrivalled Regency Book 2)

by Williams, Jackie

  Giles came to her immediately and wrapped her in his arms. His voice shuddered as he spoke.

  “My darling girl! What happened?”

  Charlotte was so relieved to see him that for a moment she couldn’t speak. When her voice did make itself known she hated it for its revealing quiver.

  “Rookwood forced me to dance with him. He came over while I waited for the refreshment Geoffrey had gone to fetch me. I wasn’t given the opportunity to say no before he grabbed my hand and dragged me onto the dance floor. He twirled about so fast that my head spun and decided that I needed air. These other two blackguards were out here waiting. They were going to use me for their sport.” her indignant tones cut the air.

  Giles felt his blood run cold. She’d had a lucky escape.

  “Geoffrey said that he didn’t leave your side for more than a few moments while fetching you refreshment and the next thing he knew you were gone. If Lily hadn’t seen you being danced out onto the terrace by Rookwood we would have never found you. Not that it looks as though you needed much help. What on earth did you do to them?” He sounded as though he was proud of her.

  Charlotte was surprised but her fury at being molested hadn’t yet abated.

  “The curs thought I was an easy touch. They clearly had more than a stroll planned.”

  Geoffrey glowered down at the man nearest and aimed a heavy kick at his stomach.

  “Bastard! I’ll have his balls!” he sneered as the man on the floor rolled about and groaned in well deserved agony.

  Alexander lay a hand on Geoffrey’s shoulder and pulled him back slightly.

  “Stop, Geoff. I am as angry as you, but beating the living daylights out of him is not the right way to deal with this tonight. They’ll leave Ormond as soon as it’s quiet enough for them to disappear without ruining Lily’s evening, Giles’ announcement or Charlotte’s reputation. And I will make sure that their behaviour is never repeated again.”

  Geoffrey took in a deep breath. His dark eyes sparked with fire.

  “Is the young lady truly unharmed?” His rough voice was barely a growl but Charlotte spoke up quickly as she heard the men moaning on the ground.

  “I am in perfect health, Sir. I thank you for your concern but my father was once enthralled by all things oriental. That included their ways of self defence. He taught me several moves which, as you can see, are most effective in dealing with passing assailants. Fortunately for these blackguards I haven’t had chance to practice in a while. They would be dead if I had.”

  Giles had his breathing back under control, but now that he could see his cousin was unharmed his own anger nearly overcame him. One of the men rolled over and Giles gasped in shock.

  “Ellesworth! You snivelling little git. You even breath anywhere near my cousin again and I’ll gut you and leave your innards for the birds to pick!” There was no disguising his fury.

  Alexander drew in a furious breath as the faces of the other two assailants lifted from the ground.

  “Rookwood, Latham! The same goes for you two fiends. I know your fathers well and fortunately have their ear. They will hear of this disgusting behaviour. I’ll see both of you dead before you gain one farthing of your inheritance if I ever hear of behaviour like this again. You will all leave my home before dawn and if you ever darken my door in the future, I will cut you down without any compunction.”

  Giles held Charlotte away from him and looked her over. She appeared to be little the worse for wear. Her hair needed some repairs but the tiara looked firmly placed. Her beautiful dress had been crumpled around the neckline and the tiny sleeve was torn where it met the top of her gown, as though it had been wrenched from her shoulder. Giles’ eyes widened and he gasped with fury as he suddenly knew what had happened. He began to swell in size as he turned back to the three men who had begun to stagger to their feet.

  “Which one of you touched her? Which one of you wants to die tonight?” he hissed savagely as he pulled his sword from his belt.

  Alexander leapt in front of his friend and placed a hand on his chest.

  “Control your justified anger, my friend. These bastards will be dealt with, never fear.” He turned to Geoffrey quickly, wanting to defuse Giles’ rage as quickly as possible. “Please return Charlotte to the house by way of the east wing. Take her directly to the ladies retiring room on the first floor and guard it well. Giles will find my wife and Lady Anne who will attend her immediately. Don’t leave her unattended until one of them arrives.” He pushed Giles back towards the ballroom doors and shoved him forwards. “Come, you must appear as if nothing untoward has happened. Send Grady out. He can help me with this sorry bunch until Geoffrey returns. I’ll take them to their rooms and lock them in until they can be removed in the morning.”

  Charlotte quickly agreed with him.

  “Hurry, Giles. No one must know anything of this. Please do as Alexander says.”

  Giles appeared to come to his senses as Geoffrey held out his arm to escort Charlotte through the garden and back inside the castle via a more discreet entrance. Giles returned his sword to his side as he glanced back at the curtained windows of the terrace doors.

  “What if anyone should walk out here now?” he asked with a frown.

  Alexander shook his head and gave a grim smile.

  “Bless Lily. She called for an early supper and for the entertainers to juggle and make magic while the guests eat. There will be no one coming this way for at least half an hour.”

  Giles nodded and then covered his face with his hands as he moved with wooden steps, towards the doors.

  “My God! She could have been hurt, ruined, compromised by one or all of those vile little shits and I wasn’t there to help her. She’s already been let down by the two men who should have kept her safe and happy and now she can add me to that list. How can I ever hold my head up again?”

  Alexander stopped beside his friend and gave his shoulder a gentle shake.

  “This is not any fault of yours, my friend. I am only sorry it happened on my property and by the hands of my invited guests, but we can argue about this at another time. We need to contain the situation and make the best of it that we can. Charlotte is fine. Look how she handled herself. She took on all three of them and triumphed admirably.”

  Giles glowered at his friend.

  “And you think that’s fine? What if she hadn’t been able to defend herself? My god! They were going to rape her. You know it. You should have let me kill them. They deserve to die, Ellesworth especially as I suspect he was the one who thought of the damned plan.” Still shaking with anger, he slipped between the long, silk curtains and stepped through the tall windows.

  The Earl of Lavenham stood just inside the ballroom, talking to another man. The pair glanced up as Alexander shoved Giles forwards and stepped back onto the terrace. Giles could barely keep himself together as he glared at Anne’s father. He turned away quickly and motioned to Lily, who was smiling and laughing as a masked gypsy juggled flaming sticks for her guests. She looked towards Giles as she caught sight of his hand signals. Without breaking his stride he signed to her what had occurred and of Charlotte’s retreat to the ladies retiring room. Lily’s look of shock was quickly covered. She immediately excused herself to her guests and went in search of Lady Anne.

  The rest of the evening remained remarkably untroubled. Charlotte rejoined the celebrations less than thirty minutes after the original incident, thanks to Lily’s wonderful maid, Betty. Giles never left her side again unless Alexander, Lily or Anne was with her. He only introduced her to the ladies and glowered furiously at any man who even looked as though he was about to approach.

  Geoffrey didn’t reappear. Alexander had left him guarding the corridor where the three young Lords slept. Grady had been sent with some meagre refreshments for them. Alexander would have been perfectly happy for the men to sit and starve, but he reasoned that they would leave with less trouble if they were fed and watered before being sent on their way
. If they chose to, the men could have set up any rumour concerning Charlotte and Alexander was keen to keep that from happening.

  At the stroke of midnight Alexander stopped the music and called all the guests to the ballroom. Most thought that he was about to make a speech about the summer solstice. Servants wove among the guests and filled glasses with champagne while a still masked Giles came forwards with Anne on his arm.

  The Earl of Lavenham’s eyes widened in surprise as Alexander, Duke of Ormond removed his own mask and broke with tradition as he announced the betrothal of Lady Anne Chartris, widow of his brother, the Marquis of Chartris, to the now unmasked Lord Caithwell, otherwise known as Giles Denvers.

  The gathered crowd cheered as they toasted the happy couple. A delighted Charlotte ran to her cousin and embraced him before curtseying to Anne. She leaned up and kissed her new cousin on both cheeks. Anne didn’t look at the angry face of her father. She had enough anger inside her at her brother’s disgusting behaviour, for both of them. She wiped a tear from her eye as she and Giles became the happiest couple alive.

  Alexander immediately signalled for the orchestra to play another waltz and Giles swept Anne into his arms and onto the dance floor. They twirled alone for a single turn around the room before Alexander escorted Charlotte onto the floor and the other guests began to join in with them. Lily sat with her friends and enjoyed the spectacle from afar as she rested her weary body. Everyone offered their congratulations to both the obviously happy couple and to her father, the Earl, who stood stoically in the face of defeat, by the ballroom door.

  Edward paced the bedroom from one end to the other. He paced it again, his anger growing with every footstep. That the girl had beaten them black and blue was beyond enough, but the thought of being unceremoniously thrown out of Ormond was just too much to be borne. The ultimate insult had arrived only a few moments earlier in the form of a tray of supper delivered by a doddering, old footman. The decrepit gentleman had the audacity to congratulate him on his sister’s betrothal to a Lord Caithwell. Not recognizing the title instantly, Edward had nearly passed out when the ancient retainer had commented that Giles Denvers was indeed a lucky man. After the servant had retreated from the room and he had heard the huge stable master turn the key behind him, Edward had almost driven his fist into the wall.

  Denvers, a Lord! And betrothed to his sister! He wanted to spit with frustration.

  He stopped at the door and attempted to open it. The handle rattled but didn’t turn. He marched across the room, sat down on his bed and stared at the tray that an old man had delivered after being escorted to his room. Thick slices of what looked like the most delicious rare beef sat on a plate alongside a dish of pickles and chunks of crusty new bread, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat the repast. He’d rather starve than taint his lips with anything that had come from this pauper loving family’s kitchen. He wafted his cravat in the air as he attempted to keep the delicious aromas of the roasted beef at bay.

  “God damn you Denvers! Lord bloody Caithwell, my arse!” He seethed as he stood up again, but paused as he suddenly recalled the name. One of his long dead, ancient cousins had been a Caithwell. He tried to recall the family tree, to little avail. Looking up old names and dates had been interesting at one time in his life. Not now though. All that ridiculous sentimentality over long lost relatives had soon faded into insignificance once he had been brought up to scratch during his time at school.

  He shuddered at a sudden and disturbing memory of a huge, sneering face looming over him, shortly before a massive fist knocked him into the middle of the next week. He fisted his own hands at his sides before wiping the vivid image from his mind. He wasn’t going to recall memories like that ever again.

  But Caithwell was not a common name. He wondered if this was the same Caithwell of Caithwell Brook; a crumbling pile that had been owned by a distant relative of his own distant relative, not that either family had ever claimed a connection. Edward’s own family, on his father’s side was of far superior stock.

  The old Lord Caithwell had been a bit of a recluse, but the son had been good for a turn of cards. Had paid up too, until his death. Edward hadn’t played with the man for a while before that, since his own pockets had been a little too light for the games some of the men played, but there were rumours about the son boasting that he would pay any creditors with his inheritance. A huge diamond was mentioned as far as he recalled. He sighed miserably as he sincerely hoped that this title had not come from that line. The thought of Denvers not only gaining a Lordship but a huge diamond as well, was too much to swallow.

  Another thought crossed Edward’s mind suddenly. Even masked, he had recognized that it was Denvers to whom the girl had run after he and his friends had attempted to seize her. Denvers and the Duke stood out amongst the general crowd, being several inches taller and wider than most. He wished that he had considered this point when Rookwood had devised his plan to kidnap the wench. If Denvers was now betrothed to his sister - he ground his teeth again – the young woman had clearly not been the man’s partner for the evening. What with the way he had stood protectively yet still introducing her to people, he must have been a relative. He groaned and shook his head as it all became clear. She was probably the last of the Caithwells, a daughter left behind when her father had died, and now she was Denver’s ward. Good grief! How could they have chosen their sport so badly!

  He blew out another frustrated breath and marched over to the bedroom window. Swishing back the thick, golden curtains, he peered out over the darkened lawn. He frowned down at the catch on the window and lifted it before he pushed the frame open a few inches. A thick vine of ivy curled up around the window frame making it stick until he pushed hard. He narrowed his eyes as he took in the thickness of the stems holding the vine to the ancient walls of the castle. He leaned against the nearest and tested its strength. It felt reasonably firm until he gave it a hard push. There was a loud crack and the ivy stem split down the middle. Edward jumped back and stared over his padded shoulder at the bedroom door. It remained silent outside. No one had heard the noise.

  He leaned out of the window again and assessed the risk. The ivy was only split, not broken. It would probably hold his weight and he was only one floor up anyway. He stared across the wide, cobbled yard and then directly below him. There wasn’t much to break a fall if the vine gave way, just a couple of what looked like rosemary bushes. He lifted his head to look further across the yard. His room faced the rear of the house but the view was still very pleasant. Any out buildings or workshops were set well back from the castle. He could see the stables even further apart, at the other side of a wide drive and for a moment he wondered if he could extricate his own animal without disturbing any of the others stabled within. He could see the flickering of lanterns about the place. Several shadowed forms, probably the coachmen of the gathered guests, could be seen and he decided that it would probably be impossible. Even if he did manage to bypass the servants, the cobbled courtyard would echo with the sound of hooves and give him away if he left when everyone had settled down for the night.

  He sniffed and cursed as another delicious scent wafted on the summer breeze and set his stomach rumbling. The kitchen was clearly somewhere below his window. Tantalizing scents clawed at his belly. The afternoon at the local inn had been a strenuous one and he’d not eaten anything substantial since. The pork pies, duck legs and poached salmon tartlets he had consumed from the buffet had hardly slaked his hunger and now, what with the roast beef sitting nearby and the delights being served from the kitchen, his insides needed filling.

  He closed the window and turned back to the room. The curtains around the bed moved in the breeze and he watched the fringes flutter. The rich burgundy coverlet of his bed had been turned down, but he had no inclination to go to sleep only to be woken before dawn and chucked out on his ear. It was beyond humiliating.

  His stomach rumbled even louder as his eye caught the plate of prize beef a
gain and his mouth watered. One morsel wouldn’t hurt. He could make his protest by leaving the pickles. He grabbed hold of the knife and fork and set about cutting a generous mouthful of the still warm meat, but his fork skidded on the delicate, bone china plate and it snapped in two under the pressure. One side of the broken plate and a slice of the beef flipped up into the air and, to Edward’s horror, slapped down onto the pristine white, downturned sheet of his bed.

  He snatched it up quickly but the damage was already done. A great smear of red had already soaked into the linen. He placed his head in his hands.

  “Can this get any worse!” he exclaimed to no one. He looked down at the bloody spatter and rolled his eyes as embarrassment engulfed him. It was bad enough that he been caught attempting to carry off an innocent, but now it looked as though he’d either deflowered a hundred virgins or someone had been massacred in his bed. He snorted. Pity it wasn’t Denvers. The man wouldn’t be missed.

  He was about to go to his jug of water on the dresser to see if he could repair the damage to the bed-linen and his reputation, when his hand stopped mid motion. The breeze that had blown the bed curtains now wafted over his hand. He turned back to the window. It remained closed. He narrowed his eyes and peered at the dresser. The bell rope beside it swayed gently.

  He shook his head, picked up the jug and turned back to the bloody mark on the bed. He stopped again and stared at it long and hard before he put the jug back down, picked up the remaining slice of rare beef and threw it on the bed alongside the mark of the first. This time he didn’t try to remove it. He stared at it as the blood in the meat leached into the white sheet, spreading much further than he had thought would be possible.

  He looked at the broken plate. A small puddle of deep red liquid had pooled around the dip at the edge of each half. He picked them both up carefully and dripped the beef juice onto the already ruined bedding. He stared at his handiwork before he picked up the original slice of meat and squeezed it between his fingers. More drops of blood dripped. He grinned as he flung it gently up and down the bed, spreading the mark and making it look even more gruesome.