by Jo Goodman
For a man who was in danger of losing all the trappings of the life he had embraced for the last twenty years, Rae thought the earl of Stanhope looked remarkably calm. The glass of wine at his side remained largely untouched, and he appeared more sober than Rae had seen him in days. Nothing had changed about his vanity. He had used makeup to hide the worst of the scratches on his face as well as the bruise on his chin. Rae flexed her stiff fingers and swollen knuckles and wondered wryly who was hurting the more.
Rae's eyes drifted from Newbrough's discolored chin to the tiny scratches that disappeared beneath his snowy linen neckcloth. Ready to turn away from him, her attention was suddenly caught by the corner of yellowed parchment sticking out above the edge of Newbrough's blue velvet vest. His waistcoat was open, and she could follow the rectangular line of what lay beneath his vest. She understood now why Newbrough was at his ease. He was carrying the documents that would expose Nigel Lynne, and she was certain the duke was aware of it.
The irony of what lay ahead struck her again. Neither Nigel Lynne nor Charles Newbrough had any right to the estates they were trying to protect, while Jericho was being forced to chance losing the lands that were rightfully his. So caught up was she by the sight of the will and birth record on the earl's person that she never glanced lower to where two silver mounted pistols were tucked in the waistband of his breeches. Later, when she looked in his direction, he was studying her with his reptilian eyes and she turned away, only noting that he had buttoned his velvet jacket.
Nigel won the first deal, shuffled, and offered Jericho a cut. Rae kept her eyes averted from Jericho's cards as he picked them up, afraid she would give something away. She was not even hurt when she realized the same thought had occurred to Jericho, for he kept his hand close to his chest throughout the game. He gave her a small, nearly imperceptible nod when he wished her to collect the trick he had won. Unfortunately during the first game it was not often enough, and Nigel scored his first win.
When it was Jericho's turn to deal, he shuffled the cards slowly. Rae wondered at his thoughtful interest in the deck, but she forgot it when he dealt them out, fairly snapping them on the polished table. He played the next game with more consideration than was his usual style, but it did him no good. Nigel easily took the majority of the tricks.
Rae saw that the duke looked confident, but was in no way gloating over his two easy wins. Jericho appeared unruffled by his losses. There was something about his indolent grace under pressure that reminded her of the day they had gone fishing on the Hudson. He had been so unconcerned with catching his dinner that it had puzzled her until he revealed he had laid a better trap. That memory gave her pause.
There was a break in the play following Jericho's third loss. Nigel asked to speak to Rae alone while Jericho talked with Lesley about the arrangements for the duel. Jericho handed over the bracelet and the duke led Rahab into the hallway.
"I've but one game to win," Nigel reminded her. "Have you considered what it would be like going to Stanhope as Newbrough's mistress?"
Rae strove not to make her repugnance visible. "You are supposing that not only will you win the match, but also that Lord Adams will lose the duel. Do you really think both things are likely?"
Nigel gave Rae's chain a less than gentle tug. "Listen to me, Rahab. After this evening's match I will consider the festivities at an end. Adams only holds you until then. It makes no difference to me that he's called Newbrough out over you. You will be my mistress again, and I shall decide if I want to keep you or allow Newbrough to have you. If you do not want to mar the other side of your face you will do something about the letter I asked you to write, and you will do it tonight!"
Rae lifted her chin and eyed him scornfully. "You are naught but a bully, Nigel, and if you think I shall bow to your dictates at this late date, then you are a stupid bully as well."
Nigel's face paled alarmingly then flushed with angry color. "You dare to speak to me in such a fashion? You will pay for that."
Rae was not certain how she dared. If she had called him wicked or evil, perhaps likened him to Satan, he might well have been flattered. But to name him a bully—and a stupid one, at that—was to announce that she thought him nothing more than a willful child. She stood her ground because the chain bound her to him. There was nothing for it but to go on as she had begun, so she maintained her look of reproach and disdain. "Another time perhaps, your grace, but your guests are waiting for you to resume the play. Tell me," she asked ingenuously, "are you cheating?"
Nigel looked as if he wanted to strike her dead on the spot, but he chose to yank on the chain and pull her roughly into the room. Jericho accepted the bracelet without comment, but his eyes questioned both parties as to the cause of their anger. Neither Nigel nor Rahab deigned to answer.
Jericho sat down and began shuffling the cards. "While you were talking with Miss McClellan I took the liberty of selecting a new deck of cards. I trust there is no problem in that."
Rae thought she saw Nigel's tightly etched features sag a bit even as he brushed aside Jericho's announcement. So he had been cheating! Before she could wonder why Jericho hadn't told the room at large about the duke's dishonorable tactics, he was offering Nigel the cut and dealing the cards.
The tension in the room increased as Jericho successfully kept Nigel from winning his fourth hand. When the score became three games to two, Rae noticed the duke's smile was strained, and at three all, it was nonexistent.
Everything rested on the outcome of the seventh game. Rae's heart sank as Nigel elected to choose a fresh pack, for she knew he would choose a marked deck. Lord Lesley might as well hand over the packet and the title to Newbrough, she thought desolately. Jericho had lost his last chance to regain his lands.
She gathered in Jericho's tricks with none of the briskness she had used previously, thinking to prolong the inevitable while she could. It took a gentle tug on her chain to make her realize that the pile in front of her was growing. Jericho was playing his hand with more assurance than he had shown thus far, and, incredibly, he was winning more of the tricks. Newbrough looked as if he could hardly stay seated as she collected another pair of cards, and the duke's fingers visibly shook around the three remaining cards in his hand.
One by one they floated to the table to lie against the card Jericho had put down. Each time, Jericho's card took the trick. Rae swept the last pair away slowly, her slender hand gliding across the table. With her somewhat dazed attention on the cards, she never saw Jericho's clear blue eyes narrow dangerously in Nigel's direction. The duke looked as if he wished he could slam his fist on her fingers and snatch away the proof of his opponent's victory.
Lord Lesley stood and offered his hand to Jericho, then the packet and the title. Rae had to stand as Jericho got to his feet and accepted Lesley's silent congratulations along with his winnings. No one spoke in the room. No one. It was so quiet that Rae thought she could hear the pages of the books decaying. She wondered what the others were thinking, whether or not they felt anything for Newbrough's loss or any lessening of respect for the duke of Linfield because of his failure. She was careful not to let any of the relief and elation she was experiencing show on her face.
Nigel pushed back his chair, scraping it on the hardwood floor, breaking the terrible quiet that permeated the library. There were white lines about his mouth and eyes, and Rae was not the only one who thought he suddenly looked much older than his years. It was as if the decades of his libertine existence had chosen this moment to mark his finely chiseled face.
Standing, he leaned across the table and offered Jericho his hand. "You are a superior player, Lord Adams," he said, his voice strained. "My congratulations." Before Jericho could comment, he removed his hand and went to the sideboard at Jericho's back where the footman was pouring wine for the assembly.
Several of the men gave their condolences to Newbrough then quit the room, but Lesley and Evans remained with the earl, who was now rooted to his chair
in palpable shock.
"Do you know," Nigel said, looking past Jericho's shoulder at the earl, "I would still like to hear his lordship's reason for wanting your estate, Newbrough. Aren't you the least bit curious as to why he would desire to ruin you?"
Rae frowned, questioning the duke's reasons for bringing up Jericho's purpose again. Was it a delaying tactic against Newbrough revealing the documents in his vest—or something more?
Newbrough was standing now, and though his features were bleak, even pleading, his polished eyes were riveted on Jericho's expressionless face. "It's the least you owe me, don't you think?" He unfastened a few buttons on his jacket and fanned himself with his hand as if he were hot all of a sudden.
"I fail to see that I owe you anything, but there is no reason I can't tell you now, in front of witnesses. My father was Lord Thomas Hunter-Smythe, my mother, Elise Adams. I am Geoffrey, cousin. Have I really changed so much since the day you took me from school and put me on the Igraine? Can you tell me you never once suspected my identity?"
Newbrough's surprise was real. His mouth fell open before he collected himself.
Jericho's laugh was not pleasant. "You never did think of me again, did you? No doubt you forgot me as soon as you pulled away from the dock in my father's carriage. You were too anxious to claim what belonged to me to give me another thought."
"Stanhope was never yours. You are a bastard."
"My parents were married," Jericho said. "And my father claimed me."
"Is this true, Newbrough?" Lesley asked.
"Don't be ridiculous!"
Jericho turned on Nigel. "Tell them, your grace. You've suspected the truth, I think. By the time I arrived at Linfield you had more than suspicions, else why would you practically hand me Newbrough's notes if not to help me regain what was rightfully mine?" Jericho's smile was a sly curve, daring Nigel to say his motives were prompted by something other than decency. "I imagine it was difficult at first to discover anything about me, but you are nothing if not persistent."
Nigel raised his glass to Jericho. "You are right. It was difficult. In fact, impossible. I learned who you were by delving into Newbrough's past. You were the right age to be the bastard issue that had disappeared, and your actions would indicate revenge. Until this moment, however, what I lacked was confirmation. There is a gap of twenty years that only you can account for. However, you are correct about your parents. My man found the proof of their marriage in a parish church not far from Stanhope. You are indeed the heir to the estate."
"No!" Newbrough shouted. "That's a lie! You're both lying!" He reached for the documents in his vest and flung them on the table. "Have you forgotten these, Nigel?"
"Not at all," Nigel said smoothly. He put his drink aside and walked past Jericho and Rae. Right under Newbrough's stunned countenance Nigel picked up the yellowed envelope and page from his family Bible and tossed both of them into the flames burning brightly in the fireplace. They writhed and crackled as Nigel walked away. He took up his drink again and raised it in mocking salute to Newbrough. "Now I have forgotten them. Can you say the same?"
Jericho was watching the duke again, but Rae had never taken her eyes from Newbrough. She grew wide-eyed in horror as the earl drew a pistol from his breeches and was too startled by the sight of the second weapon still lodged there to scream a warning. She had no idea whether Newbrough intended to shoot Jericho or the duke, but it was Jericho who made the clearest target. Even Newbrough, no matter what his skill as a marksman, could not fail to miss at this distance. Terror lent her strength, and Rahab grasped the chain that held her to Jericho, yanking on it hard as she threw herself to the ground. Someone else shouted as Jericho toppled on Rae and a flash of light and smoke issued from Newbrough's weapon.
Rae and Jericho both glanced up in time to see the disbelieving expression on Nigel's face fade and be replaced by pain. Simultaneously, a blossom of blood appeared on his ivory vest. The glass of port in his hand fell to the floor and shattered, spraying the floor with crystal and droplets of wine.
"Not at all the thing to do, Newbrough," Nigel said slowly, carefully enunciating each word. "Should have called me out. You... never were... fit to hold a... title." He collapsed then and his life's blood mixed with the blood red wine on the floor.
Jericho slipped his wrist out of the bracelet, left Rae, and knelt at Nigel's side. Lord Evans fled the room in search of someone to help, while Lesley stood at the door blocking Newbrough's escape. In the corner the footman cowered, and Rae had to help Jericho turn over Nigel's body.
The duke looked at Rae with eyes that were not yet sightless, but held the knowledge that they soon would be. "You'll tell Ashley that it's... hers now. I was... only saving it for... her. Loved her... in my way. She should be here now. Where... she has always belon—"
It was the end Rae had wished of late for Nigel, but she could find no gladness that it had finally been done. She turned away from him as Jericho closed his lids. When Jericho stood to face Newbrough, Rae stayed on her knees, staring at her folded hands and wondering why she should want to weep for a man such as the duke was.
From the doorway she heard Lesley say, "I'm going to tell Evans it's too late for help." He slipped out the door.
As the door clicked shut something clicked in Rae's brain. Her fingers were insinuating themselves in Jericho's left top boot even as Newbrough was pulling out his second primed weapon. She felt Jericho tense, though whether it was caused by the sight of Newbrough's pistol or his awareness of what she was doing, she could not say.
The intent in the earl's eyes was clear as he judged Jericho's posture as if anticipating which way the younger man would jump. His gaze was so steady on Jericho that he did not see Rae's movement. A second later, when the gentle tinkling of the belled collar caught his attention, it was too late.
The pistol fired harmlessly at the ceiling as Charles Newbrough was sent reeling backward by the force of the dagger thrown squarely at his chest.
Jericho bent and grasped Rae by the shoulders, holding her close as he escorted her from the library. Shielding her from the eyes of those who had gathered in the hallway, he guided her up Linfield's grand staircase.
Epilogue
Rahab wiped a film of mist from one of the small panes of glass that made up the cabin's window. She sank down on the hardwood bench and peered through the glass, watching without comment as England slipped away from her view. When the blue-gray serenity of twilight descended and she could no longer distinguish between the water and the sky, she turned away from the window. Expecting to see Jericho still asleep, Rae was surprised to find him on his side watching her.
"You look melancholy," he said, patting the empty space beside him. "I had thought you would be happy to see the last of England. I thought at times the business of Stanhope would never be settled."
She crossed the cabin, not so sad that she couldn't enjoy the way Jericho's eyes followed the clinging lines of her white shift, and slipped into bed. After dinner, when she had yawned hugely and admitted to being tired but too restless to sleep, Jericho had lain with her, stroking her hair until she relaxed against him. He had often done so during the six weeks they lived at Stanhope, napping with her when it seemed their child drained her of all energy. Now Rae warmed the soles of her feet against the length of his calves as he pulled the blankets up around her chin. His hand warmed the rounded shape of her abdomen as she turned on her side to face him, snuggling close for his warmth. Rae had a sudden longing for the hot Virginia sun, which she believed must be different from the one hanging over the North Atlantic in summertime.
"I shall miss Drew," she said. "He was very good to us. I'm glad he agreed to become the caretaker of Stanhope. I should always worry about him otherwise."
"I know. In part, that's why I offered him the position."
"And Nancy and Jack?"
He nodded. "Jack will make a fine head of staff, and Nancy a most excellent housekeeper. Didn't you tell me so at least
twenty times a day?"
"I never knew if you were listening," she said sheepishly. "Do you have regrets about leaving?"
"No. It will be there for our children if one of them desires it. I imagine Ashley will do much the same with Linfield. Why are you asking now? I thought this was settled weeks ago."
"It was," she sighed. "But you cannot blame me for wanting to be certain."
"The truth," he said. "Give over. You secretly liked being Lady Hunter-Smythe. Once we're in America you'll be Mrs. Smith. Not quite the same, is it?"
"It will suit me just fine," she said tartly. "And my parents better. I hope you have time to make explanations before they see my belly. You'll have a lot to answer for. As you pointed out once before: My family is not likely to think ill of me."
He groaned softly. "Don't remind me. It is my fondest hope that they receive our letter before we arrive, else I suspect you will be picking buckshot from my posterior for a month of Sundays."
The thought of Jericho running from her brothers and father was too outrageous to be believed. She chuckled deeply and cuddled closer. "That's unlikely, not when you faced Nigel and Newbrough so bravely. Do you know you've never told me how you won that final game against Nigel?"
"You never asked."
"I've been trying to figure it out for myself. I hate to admit that I cannot."
"Remind me not to play cards with you, for I would dislike taking advantage."
"Beast! Tell me how it was done. Nigel was using marked cards, wasn't he?"
"Yes. I suspected during the first game and confirmed it when I shuffled for my deal. There was no sense making a fuss over it, because as long as Nigel did not know I knew, I had the upper hand. Do you follow?"
Rae shook her head no and answered yes.
"Poor Red." He continued patiently. "It took me the second and third games to learn the markings on the cards. It was not so difficult, as we were drawing from the stock and I had the opportunity to see nearly half the deck. I selected an unmarked deck at the beginning of the fourth round and beat Nigel fairly for the next three games. I knew if I could tie the score he would panic and change decks."