The Portrait of Lady Wycliff

by Cheryl Bolen

  "I told you that you were far too good for me," he murmured. He wanted to press his hand against hers, but he did not want the heavy chains to hurt her. "I could have found Tremaine without you, but I selfishly wanted you for my traveling companion. Even though I knew it not then, I must have been in love with you even before we set foot on the journey." He paused and grew more solemn. "And now my love has doomed you."

  "I regret that we're going to die, but I have no other regrets—certainly no animosity toward you. How could I? Your love is the finest thing that's ever happened to me."

  He could weep bitterly.

  The striking of heels sounded outside the door, followed by the voice of the man Harry hated most. Tremaine did not risk coming into their cell. He slid open the tiny square high on the thick timbered door and spoke. "I wanted to deliver the news myself. You and your lady love will die at dawn."

  Then they weren't going to be starved to death. "By what means?" Harry asked.

  "I have my own guillotine."

  At least it would be fast. "I have a proposition to make."

  Tremaine sneered. "I see no reason to bargain with a dying man."

  "I propose to make a deal with you. Spare the lady's life, and I will supply you with the name of the powerful peer who knows all about your evil deeds. He will not rest until you are punished."

  "I don't believe you."

  Harry shrugged.

  "And even if I did release the lady, how would I know you were telling me the truth? And what's to prevent her from revealing my so-called wicked deeds?"

  "Nothing!" she hissed. "If you kill Lord Wycliff, I would spend every second of my life trying to destroy you."

  Harry grimaced. "Louisa."

  Her gaze met his. "I don't want to live without you."

  "How tender," Tremaine said. "Perhaps you two can be together in the next life. Perhaps I shall be with Isobel in my next life."

  "You are insane."

  The wood slammed shut on the door's opening, and Lord Tremaine walked away.

  * * *

  The drawbridge was drawn when Edward and the coachman reached the castle, but a sentry stood outside. "I wish to see Lord Tremaine," Edward told him.

  "His lordship don't see visitors."

  "I beg that you send him a message. Tell him I wish to see him about Lord Wycliff."

  The sturdily built sentry, who was younger than Edward, sighed. "Wait 'ere whilst I send the message to 'is lordship."

  During their half-hour wait, the sun began to slip behind the distant coastal horizon, and it was dark when the sentry returned.

  "His lordship says he ain't never 'eard of no Lord Wycliff."

  Edward hoped to God that didn't mean the sinister peer had already murdered Harry. His gaze leapt to the impenetrable castle. He would have to go back to the inn and contemplate freeing Harry and Mrs. Phillips.

  If they were still alive.

  As he dejectedly walked back to the Speckled Goose beneath moonlight, his heart lifted when he thought he saw Lord Jack St. John and another man on horseback, thundering toward him.

  Chapter 26

  Edward, his mouth gaping open and his boots planted on the pavement, stared at the horseback riders who were pulling to a stop in front of him. "How in the devil did you get here so soon?"

  Sinjin tossed a glance at his companion. "Alex wouldn't hear of waiting until April first. He insisted we come straightaway—in the event old Harry might need us."

  So the other man was Lord Alex Haversham, son of the Duke of Fordham and Harry's long-time friend from Eton. "I thought you were in the Peninsula," Edward said to Alex.

  "And so I was, but with all the upheaval in my family, I sold my colours and came home."

  Edward's head inclined. "Sorry about your brother."

  Alex's head dipped, and then he regarded Edward. "And you are . . .?"

  "Pardon me," Sinjin said. "I forgot you wouldn't know Harry's younger cousin, Edward Coke." He introduced the men to one another.

  "It's beastly glad I am to see you two," Edward said. "Your instincts are spot on. Harry's been missing for three days." His head spun around to face the castle. "It's my belief that Tremaine has either captured my cousin or . . . killed him."

  Harry's two friends cursed.

  "And that's Gorwick Castle?" Alex asked, bitterness in his voice as he eyed the fortress.

  "Yes," Edward answered. "I imagine this is your last stop of aristocratic residences in Cornwall."

  "Not actually," Sinjin said. "As soon as I told Alex about the tall, reclusive lord, he immediately identified him as Lord Tremaine of Gorwick Castle. Seems he was an old acquaintance of his late father's."

  Alex nodded. "So we came here straightaway."

  Because it had grown dark, Edward was growing worried about Miss Sinclair. "I suggest we go to my chambers and strategize." But how would he explain the young lady's presence?

  Edward knew he could trust these men to keep Miss Sinclair's secret. Harry had often vouched for their integrity. So he told them the truth.

  In the parlor off his bedchamber, he introduced Miss Sinclair to the two lords, but instead of acknowledging them, she asked, "What of my sister? Did you find her?" There was panic in her voice.

  The other men looked puzzled.

  Only then did Edward realize he'd been speaking of Harry missing but had never mentioned Mrs. Phillips. "Her sister is Mrs. Phillips, the woman Harry brought along to identify that vile lord." Then Edward turned to the sister, his face softening as he morosely shook his head. "But," he added cheerily, "Lords Jack and Alex will help us make a siege."

  That seemed to placate her worries.

  And rather puffed up his sense of gallantry. He rather fancied donning armor and storming a castle.

  "I don't know about any siege," Alex said, "but I plan to present myself at the castle tonight. Tremaine and my father were once friends."

  Sinjin's eyes narrowed. "You're not going alone."

  "I'm not a fool."

  `"I'd like to come, too," Edward said, "but they'd know me. I tried to see Tremaine this afternoon but was sent away."

  Alex pursed his lips in thought. "I will beg that Tremaine offer me shelter. I'll feign some kind of traveling mishap and play on his former friendship with my father."

  "Does he know what you look like?" Sinjin asked.

  "No. I've never met him."

  "Good. Then you must tell him you're the new duke."

  Alex grinned. "A capital idea! I do look rather like Freddie. I daresay Tremaine will never know the difference. " He turned to Edward. "And you will be our mishap."

  Edward cocked a brow.

  "Allow me to explain," Alex said. "We'll bandage your head which will serve the purpose of disguising you and will also bolster our explanation of a mishap."

  "And it will also serve to still his voice, in case it should be remembered," Sinjin added.

  "And what will we do if we should gain entrance to the castle?" Edward asked.

  "Damned if I know," Alex said, and then he remembered the presence of a lady and turned to apologize to Miss Sinclair. "I do beg your forgiveness for my unpardonable tongue."

  She shrugged. "Just pretend I'm a lad."

  "That will be a most difficult endeavor, Miss Sinclair."

  Edward didn't like this duke's son flirting with his Miss Sinclair.

  "We all must be armed," Sinjin said.

  Alex nodded. "That's a certainty. But what occurs when we get inside the castle is anyone's guess."

  "We will have to assess the situation before we can create a plan of action." Sinjin's gaze swept to Alex.

  "One thing's for certain. We won't leave that castle without Harry."

  "And my sister," Miss Sinclair squeaked.

  If they were still alive.

  * * *

  At least Alex's ploy had gained them admission to the castle, but it was a damned menacing place at night. Edward wasn't sure how good of an idea it was coming
here. Harry was the bravest man he'd ever known, and he apparently wasn't up to protecting himself against an elderly man and his army of servants.

  Alex and Sinjin had earned his upmost respect. Like Harry, they were smart and brave. Hell, Alex had drawn his saber, pricked his own hand, and smeared the blood on the white linen which wrapped around Edward's head, all to demonstrate the mishap. Made Edward feel rather like some courageous soldier himself.

  His only comfort, though, as they wound through the labyrinth of musty, dark rooms was his sheathed sword clopping against his thigh. When they reached the great hall lined with flaming torches, he nearly lost his breath.

  The hall was also lined with at least twenty guards, all wearing military-style livery in royal blue, each with a shiny gold sword dangling at his side. No wonder poor Harry had been no match for them.

  "Good lord," Alex mumbled, "does Tremaine employ a bloody army?"

  At the center of the hall, the armed man they'd been following halted and turned to them. "'Is lordship says to wait 'ere while 'e finishes 'is dinner." He indicated for them to sit at a row of sturdy Tudor-era chairs with tall backs.

  "No, thank you," Sinjin said. "We prefer to stand."

  As they stood there, feeling like fish in a barrel, he couldn't help but to wonder what would happen if these twenty strapping, well-armed men were ordered to kill the three newcomers. And why in the devil did each of the men have to be so damned tall? Only Sinjin was a match for them in size—though he'd wager Lord Alex Haversham, as a successful soldier, could take down two of those men at one time.

  After twenty minutes had passed, a tall, stately looking man with a mane of white hair strode into the hall. "Which of you is the Duke of Fordham?" His voice was that of an elderly man.

  Alex took two steps forward, inclining his head a fraction of an inch. "At your service, my lord."

  Lord Tremaine's brows squeezed together. "The duke who attended Oxford with me has died?"

  "Two years ago, my lord," Alex responded, bowing his head, "but he often recounted to us with tales of your exploits whilst at university."

  A smile crossed the old man's thin lips. "What brings you to Gorwick Castle, your grace?"

  "My companions and I took a fancy to see Land's End, and here we are, but my friend was tossed from his horse, and what with the dark and his injury, we dare not risk riding through the night to return to the inn where we've left our things. I'm in hopes you can offer us a bed. And," Alex turned cheerful, "I've always been fascinated with castles. It would be my fondest wish to tour Gorwick."

  "In the morning, when the light is better," Tremaine said.

  How clever Alex was. By touring the castle, he hoped to find a place where Harry was being kept. If he was still alive.

  "Have you eaten, your grace?" Tremaine asked.

  "Not since morning," Alex replied.

  "Then my men will take you to the dinner room."

  When they reached the huge, echoing chamber and took their seats at a long table, Edward almost had apoplexy when he looked up to gaze at a portrait of Aunt Isobel. His hands began to shake. Harry had to have seen it if he'd come here.

  Edward lost his appetite. Harry must have been killed while trying to claim what should rightfully have been his.

  Dinner was a solemn affair as the three of them attempted to eat from an assortment of thirty odd plates while a dozen men who bore a much stronger resemblance to soldiers than to footmen ringed their table.

  When the wine was brought, Sinjin smiled at the oversized lad who offered it and asked, "I suppose Lord Tremaine keeps a very fine wine cellar."

  "Indeed 'e does, sir."

  "Beneath the house?" Alex asked.

  "Yes, sir."

  "I suppose we'll be permitted to see it tomorrow when Lord Tremaine allows us to tour the castle."

  "Yes, sir, even though it's easier to reach it by the servants' stairway than the fine stone one 'is lordship uses."

  "I believe we passed the stone one off the great hall. Where, pray tell, would the servants' one be located?"

  The lad flicked his head behind him. "It's there, yer grace, behind that wall."

  "We're all jolly excited about getting to tour a castle. I wonder, do you know if it has a dungeon?"

  The young fellow's eyes brightened. "It does. Me master even 'as a guillotine."

  Edward's stomach roiled.

  After dinner, another huge soldier offered to show them to their bedchambers. Sinjin slowed his pace, and the others followed. "Whatever we do," he whispered, "we cannot allow them to lock us into our rooms."

  "We must wait until the house is all darkness and quiet, and all are asleep, then we must find Harry," Alex said.

  "And Mrs. Phillips," Sinjin added.

  When they reached their chambers, all located off the same second-story corridor, Edward saw that the doors were fitted with locks, but no keys. He turned to the servant and turned on the charm. "I do hope you won't be locking us in, old fellow. Since the night is so young we will be going back and forth to each others' rooms. You see, I've brought the pasteboards, and there will be a little wagering going on."

  The soldier/servant cracked a smile. "But my master said- -"

  Alex withdrew a gold guinea from his pocket and placed it in the servant's hand. "Be a good man. We'll never tell your master."

  The young man's eyes rounded as he nodded, slipped the coin into his shoe, and trod off.

  * * *

  In spite of their shackles, Harry and Louisa desired to spend their final night side by side, flesh touching flesh, feeling each others' warmth in the damp cell. He'd never felt more impotent. He'd always said he wasn't afraid of death, yet he found he was. More than anything, though, he couldn't bear that he could not save the woman he loved. The only thing worse than having his head severed was the vision of Louisa's lovely head being severed.

  "I would give my life ten times over if it could spare you," he murmured, pressing soft kisses onto the curls atop her head.

  Her lips brushed against his cheek. "It's all right, love. I wish we could grow old together, but it seems the beastly bad luck that's plagued me my whole life will never abandon me."

  He shook his head. "It's my beastly bad luck that's doomed us."

  "I do love you most ardently."

  The words she spoke should have made him exceedingly happy. But they only brought melancholy, a deep, gnawing melancholy unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

  God, but he did not want dawn to come, but he estimated he and his love only had about an hour left on this earth.

  The sound of footsteps accelerated his fear. Had the bloody executioner come early?

  Louisa gasped and, despite the heavy chains wound around slender hands, she whimpered and managed to touch his hand.

  It was nearly his undoing. Some comfort he was. His heartbeat clamored against the walls of his chest, and his hands trembled. This is it.

  The footsteps came to a stop in front of the door to their cell. The key slipped into the lock. There was no use trying to fight his way out now, not with these weighty chains tied around his hands behind his back.

  The door swung open, and light from a lantern spilled into their cell.

  "Come, old boy, we're getting you out of this wretched place."

  By Jove! It was Alex! And Sinjin. And Edward.

  Alex's eye roved over his old friend. "I must get you in touch with my tailor." Then he stepped forward and began to unlock his old friend's chains.

  Harry had never been so happy in his life.

  Chapter 27

  The five of them managed to creep through the sleeping castle and approach the closed drawbridge without being seen, but when Harry began to lower the bridge, the noise brought out Tremaine's heavily armed guards.

  Harry worked more feverishly to get the damned thing open fully before they had to face a veritable army of Tremaine's cut-throats.

  To his surprise, facing Sinjin, Alex, and Edward's drawn
swords brought the castle guards to an abrupt halt, their gazes shifting to the lowering of the massive timber door and the faint daylight squeezing into the gloom.

  Harry and his friends were able to leave without incident. On the way to the Speckled Goose, Edward explained that they had been able to surprise the dungeon's sleeping guards, gag and tie them, and relieve them of the keys to the cell and the chains.

  "What the devil are you doing back in merry old England, old boy?" Harry asked Alex.

  "I came all the way to save your hide, my friend."

  They all laughed.

  "Will you be returning to the Peninsula?"

  Alex shook his head. "No. I sold my colours."

  As they neared the Speckled Goose, Harry put his arm around Louisa. "You gentlemen must offer felicitations. Mrs. Phillips has agreed to be my countess."

  The other three men all congratulated him and Louisa. "You'll be the first of us to be snared by Parson's Mousetrap," Alex said.

  "You will, too, when you meet a woman as perfect as my Louisa." He looked down into her glowing face. "Are you hungry, love?"

  "I could eat a speckled goose, feathers and all."

  "Was that fiend starving you?" Edward asked.

  "Just about," Harry answered.

  Alex sighed. "You two see if you can order up some food, but I'm going to bed."

  "Me, too," Sinjin said.

  "I will meet you in the parlor after I change my clothing," Edward said.

  Harry nodded. "As soon as I eat, I will need to report Tremaine to the local magistrate."

  "Wait until we awaken," Sinjin said. "I suggest a member of parliament and an heir to a dukedom come with you."

  "Good reasoning," Harry conceded.

  At the inn, Harry asked for a hearty breakfast for three, and then they went upstairs and changed into their own clothing.

  * * *