For so long, I thought I was the strong one. I thought I knew what was best for my sons and for myself. But as I look back over my time as your wife, I have realized something. I have realized—
She had stopped writing then, rather horrified by what she almost put on paper. What she had to say to Lucas, she must say in person.
But she could only do that if he returned.
Her eyes went to the driveway again, to the chestnut trees that looked rather like they were holding up a sky full of gray clouds.
Would he ever return? Was Phillip right, and they ought to go and search him out?
Virginia thought she knew why he left. She knew it must be her fault, somehow. She had to have said or done something terrible to discourage him so. That morning, at the churchyard, everything had changed. Or had it been before that?
She didn’t know and she didn’t care, though the outcome left her wondering how she might repair the damage done.
A flash of color appeared from between the chestnut trees—a dash of deep blue against the browns and greens of nature. She took in a deep breath and leaned closer to the window, her nose touching the glass.
But no. Even from this distance, she knew it could not be Lucas. The rider had dark hair and hunched over his mount in a way she had never seen Lucas sit. Who could it be?
Virginia stepped away from the window, folding her letter. She dropped it atop the desk, noting Edward’s ever-growing pile of sketches waiting for Lucas’s return. Edward had asked to post his artwork to his new papa, but Virginia convinced him it would be a greater surprise for Lucas to have them all waiting upon his return.
Why hadn’t she recognized that she needed the same thing as her children? Edward had been quick to embrace Lucas in his life, to depend upon him for protection and care. Phillip, though he’d been slower to accept Lucas, hadn’t hesitated because he didn’t want to be loved by his stepfather, but because he didn’t know if he would be loved in return. Lucas proved himself to Phillip by not giving up and allowing the boy to come around in his own time.
Virginia had held herself apart. Yes, she still missed Charles. She would always miss Charles. He was a part of her, the father of her sons, the man she had loved for several precious years and who would always hold a place in her heart.
But Charles had also been the man who would tell her now, with a tenderness she could feel within her heart, that he would want her to be happy, to find someone to care for her as he had.
Walking to the front door, preparing to greet the unknown visitor, Virginia became distracted by a sound on the stair. She looked up and saw Phillip and Edward, their faces looking over the rail. She smiled, realizing Edward would be on his toes to manage it.
“Is it Papa?” Edward asked.
Had they been watching the windows too? Her heart sunk. When would Lucas return?
“I’m afraid not. But stay just there and your curiosity will be satisfied shortly.” She smiled up at them, listening for the knock that would come—
The door burst open upon its hinges. Virginia whirled about, her mouth opening in a shout of surprise. Who would dare—?
Gerard Macon rushed in, wild-eyed, and came directly for her. She readied a scream but stopped when she saw his hand waving at her, gripping a pistol.
“Where are the boys?” he demanded, his voice a hiss that carried through the entry hall and blew up the staircase.
Dear God, let them keep still, she prayed, even as she started shaking her head. “What are you doing here?” Her voice trembled but the words came out strongly. She lifted her chin and stood straighter. “Take that gun out of my house.” Only her sons’ safety could make her so bold as to demand such a thing.
He laughed, an angry, sharp sound. “Your rank doesn’t scare me, Virginia. I want the boys. Now.”
“Why?” she asked. He must be out of his mind. His eyes were bloodshot, his face bright red, sweat shone on his forehead. What devil had possessed him to take up arms against a woman and two children?
“Now,” he said, his voice becoming shrill. He raised the pistol and pointed it at the center of her chest. “Or I shoot you and find them myself.”
Virginia’s mind had been spinning even as she spoke, going through what must be done to protect her sons from their obviously insane uncle. How could this be happening? She could not doubt the reality of her situation, though she wished it was but a nightmare from which she could wake.
The boys on the stairs hadn’t made a sound, but they might if they believed her to be in danger. Surely a servant had heard the commotion. Help would come, but would it be soon enough?
She needed to ensure the safety of her sons and the household.
Time. She needed to stall for time.
“Outside. It hasn’t been raining. They will be in their tree castle.” She lifted her chin. “By the lake.”
He took a step to her, and another. “Lead the way.”
Heart racing, Virginia nodded and went to the front door. She had to get him out of the house. Had to protect the boys. They would go for help, or they would hide.
She lifted her eyes slightly, looking over her shoulder, to see if Edward and Phillip were still at the rail. She saw no sign of them. Good.
“Eyes ahead,” Mr. Macon said, his voice cold.
Virginia didn’t look back again. She walked down the steps, lifting her skirts as she planned her route. Around the house, between the stables and out buildings? No, around those too. It would put her in the path of fewer people, but would take more time. She doubted Gerard would let her walk into a public area. Then down the hill. She would fall, trip, stumble, whatever necessary to make the time last longer. She wasn’t dressed to walk through the long grass; clumsiness would be plausible.
Then to the lake. But after that, what?
Her stomach rolled, sweat broke out on her brow. Giving in to the physical need to fall apart was not possible now. She had to keep her wits about her. Had to control herself.
She bit her lip and threw pleading eyes up to the dreary skies. She invoked every prayer she knew, every angel, to keep her sons safe and deliver her safely back to them.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Lucas rode hard, changing horses twice and travelling with more haste than care. He didn’t know if Gerard Mason was blustering in a drunken fit or would have already left to commit whatever terrible act he’d planned. All Lucas knew, all he could think upon, was that his wife and children needed him now.
He never should’ve left.
Lucas spurred his horse onto greater speed when he turned into his own lane, riding beneath the chestnut trees, but he pulled the animal up sharply when he spotted another horse idly eating grass and the front door to his home standing open.
What should he do? Assess the situation or go straight in?
He thought carefully, then determined it would be best to go around to the rear entrance. If Mr. Macon had a weapon, Lucas didn’t want to walk in blind.
He tamped down his fears as best he could, knowing if he allowed himself to dwell on the possibilities of what he might confront, what might’ve happened if he arrived too late, he would be useless to them.
Calm. I must keep calm. Going in panicked is worse than going in blind.
Skirting the property as best he could, Lucas took the foaming horse around the house and began to loop back around.
A footman appeared, running toward the stables. It was such an out of place thing to see, Lucas knew with certainty the scene had been caused by Macon. He rushed his horse through the grass and whistled. The footman stumbled and turned, looking in Lucas’s direction, then he ran straight for the earl.
The man nearly ran headlong into the horse, but Lucas pulled up in time and bent down.
“He took the countess! A man, the one we took from the house. The boys saw him. He has a gun and he said he would shoot her if she didn’t give the boys to him.”
“Are the boys safe?” Lucas demanded first. “Where
is the countess?”
“The boys are hidden in the passage,” the footman said. “The house is ready to defend them. But my lady—to the lake. He took her to the lake. I was going for the stables, to send for help. Gresham went to your guns, my lord.”
Lucas’s eyes went back to the house. “Go to the stables. Send a man to the Gilberts and another to the magistrate. Tell the rest to wait for me.” He hadn’t finished speaking before spurring the horse to action again, going for the back door of the house. He arrived at it just as Gresham stepped out, a shotgun in his gloved hands.
“Have you a revolver?” Lucas asked, halting his horse again. The animal’s sides heaved. He had nearly pushed it too far.
Gresham immediately reached into his coat and pulled forth Lucas’s favorite pistol. “It’s loaded, my lord.”
“Stand guard over the boys,” Lucas said, accepting the revolver. “I’ve sent for help.” He kicked the horse’s sides, promising himself he’d make it up to the borrowed animal later, and went for the stables. He didn’t know how much time had passed since Macon had taken Virginia, or why they were going to the lake, but hurry, hurry, hurry, thrummed through his mind at the same rate as his pulse.
He rode through the stable yard and saw two men climbing onto the bare backs of horses. He didn’t bother to address them. They would know their assignment. The stable master and two younger men remained, and a gardener came forward with wide eyes and trowel.
“A man has taken your countess captive at the lake. Come as quietly and swiftly as you can, with whatever you have at hand. I will confront him but I want everyone ready, should I fail, to rush him. He has a pistol and the most he could have is two shots. We must save the countess at all costs.” The men nodded their understanding.
Lucas didn’t wait for more but turned the horse’s head to the lake.
He hoped he had not delayed too long.
¤
The third time Virginia feigned a slip in the grass, Mr. Macon grabbed her upper arm and held onto it with bruising force, leaving her no choice but to keep her feet beneath her. He dragged her down the hill and to the water. There was only one stand of chestnut trees near the lake and that was where they went. Every foul word imaginable was growled at her, but Virginia ignored his vitriol. Her hastily constructed plan had several flaws she must attempt to repair before he realized what she’d done.
Obviously, the man wasn’t thinking clearly, but that could make him more apt to shoot her should he become overly agitated.
Before they were at the trees, he started yelling for the boys. “Phillip. Edward. Come here.” Nothing about his tone was friendly. Virginia kept moving, propelled forward with him behind. They passed beneath the trees and stood under one of the turrets.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, the morning air heavy with the scent of rain.
“You little brats, come down!”
“You’ve frightened them,” Virginia said loudly, her voice desperate. She made each word tremble, forcing her limbs to do the same. Let him think her helpless and weak. “They won’t come down if they’re afraid. They’re little children.” Adding another dry sob for good measure, Virginia bent her knees, going limp in his hand.
Mr. Macon shook her. “Stand up, you—” He derided her in every way, but she kept her face turned away and sobbed.
“I’m hurt. I’ve turned my ankle.”
He shoved her away, against a tree. Good. Virginia leaned heavily against it, turning her eyes up to the castle in the trees. “You must go up and get them.” She sank down, making a show of her weakness. They had only been walking for a short time, but he was frenzied enough he might not stop to consider how such a short journey could do her in so terribly.
Fouling the air with his language, Mr. Macon pointed the pistol at her, the barrel nearly touching her nose. “If you move from this spot, I swear I will kill you.”
She didn’t even dare nod. “I understand,” she breathed. Was he a good shot? She couldn’t remember ever hearing. But once he discovered the boys were not hiding in their castle, would he leave her alive? She stood a better chance running from him, but she had to time it correctly. “There is a bridge connecting the towers,” she said quietly.
He raised the pistol and Virginia began to hope. If he climbed into the fort, she could run. He would catch her too easily if she ran up the hill. Would he pursue if she went around the edge of the lake? The ground was even, which gave her a clearer path to run, but it would be an easier shot for him.
The side of his pistol came down, crashing into the top of her head. The world went bright in a flash of pain, then dark again. She tasted bile in her mouth. Smelled the earth beneath her. Her cheek was pressed into the grit and grass beneath the trees.
She came to laying on the ground, watching his boots walk away from her. Dazed, but not unconscious, Virginia’s determination became fuzzy with fear.
She heard his boot hit the first rung of the wooden ladder, and the rain started falling against the leaves. It would mask the sound of her departure.
Pushing herself up with her hands, Virginia tried to pull her knees beneath her. Her head swam, the world spun, but she gritted her teeth.
If I can stand, I can walk. If I can walk, I can run.
Keeping her head down, she moved her hands to the side of the tree and used its strength to gain her feet. Then her eyes went to the hill. No. She had decided against the hill. Then where—?
A flash of brown and blue. Had Mr. Macon not gone up the ladder? Was he around that tree instead? But why?
A hand on the trunk of a tree opposite hers appeared, and then an arm and shoulder, and then she saw him. It wasn’t Mr. Macon. It was Lucas.
Lucas! She nearly shouted in her relief. Not caring how he arrived, or how he knew to come to her, Virginia took a step in his direction. He reached out to her, but her eyes stayed on his beautiful gray eyes, swirling with his worry. If she could reach his hand, she would be safe.
“I said not to move.” Mr. Macon’s voice came from above and she knew he must be on the bridge, looking down at her. She had precious seconds before he discovered her lie. Was he pointing his weapon at her? Did she risk the mad dash around the tree to Lucas?
Standing at his full height, Lucas stepped around the tree, arm raised and a revolver pointing upward. “Get behind me,” he said.
Virginia moved without looking, hurrying to do as he said, ignoring the way the world began to grow black around the edges. Lucas had come. Nothing else mattered.
“If it isn’t his lordship.”
“You raise your weapon and I will shoot you where you stand. You won’t get a shot off. Drop your revolver to the ground. Men are coming to secure you. Do it, Macon, and I’ll help you avoid the noose.”
Gerard Macon laughed, and it was a sound that sent chills running through her spine. “And go to prison?”
“Deportment. We’ll send you to the colonies. That’s a better life than prison.” Lucas kept his arm outstretched, his aim steady.
Virginia lifted her eyes to look up, to see what Mr. Macon would do. His face had gone white and he stood deathly still, his arm at his side. He appeared, for a fleeting moment, like Charles had. The brothers were similar in some physical ways, but she’d never thought them alike in character. Still, the resemblance smote her heart.
“Please, Gerard,” she said, her voice barely loud enough to be heard over the rain. “Charles loved you. Don’t throw your life away.”
“I think I already have.” When he uttered those words, Virginia’s heart dropped.
But he didn’t fire. He turned away and lifted his arm slowly, showing he would not shoot, then dropped it over the bridge’s rail and to the ground. It landed with a thump.
From around the tree one of the groomsmen appeared, startling Virginia, but he went directly to the revolver and picked it up. Another man appeared, and another. Did she hear horses coming too?
Lucas finally lowered his weapon and turned to he
r, his heart in his eyes again. This man loved her, had done nothing but put her and her sons first in his thoughts since they met. She had only been a widow six months. But how could she dictate to her heart that it must wait, when he stood before her ready to give her everything?
Spots appeared before her eyes and she sucked in a sharp breath, nearly whimpering.
“You’re hurt.” He turned and gestured for another man to come take his weapon. Gerard was climbing down the ladder with one pistol trained on him already. Lucas took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. It had turned cold, hadn’t it? Virginia opened her mouth to thank him, but then his arms were around her and he dipped down to hook one around her knees. He lifted her up, cradling her in his arms.
“I came as soon as I could,” a familiar voice said. Virginia turned her startled gaze to Thomas Gilbert, sitting astride a fine bay horse. “I was riding this direction when your man spotted me. What can I do?”
“Give me use of your horse and keep an eye on Macon until the magistrate comes.”
Thomas swung down from his horse and held it steady. Lucas lifted her up first and she gripped the front of the saddle, still addled. An instant later, Lucas was behind her, his arms around her again. She sighed and leaned against his chest, tucking herself against him.
“You’re safe now,” Lucas said, pulling the horse around and taking her back up the hill to the house. “The boys are in the passageway. I’ll take care of you, Virginia.”
She closed her eyes and smiled. “I know.” She felt his lips press gently against the top of her head, near what must be a rather impressive bump by this time. “I’m glad you’re home,” she whispered. His arms tightened around her and they said nothing more until they reached the house.
The first person she saw when Lucas led her into the front door was a harried looking footman, who was obviously relieved to see her. His wig was askew and his shirt untucked. Gresham would not be pleased.
But then Lucas took her up the stairs and she saw Gresham standing in the gallery hall, a shotgun in his hands. His posture was perfect, his old face the proper mask of a butler. He bowed when he saw them. “Welcome home, my lord. My lady, I am pleased to see you are safe. Shall I put this away then?”
The Earl and His Lady: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 4) Page 24