Moonstruck Madness

by Laurie McBain

  “No, he is not,” Colonel Fletcher remarked, “for I’ve heard of him, and he has quite a reputation.”

  “One I live up to, Colonel,” Lucien commented from the doorway.

  Mary gave a small scream and huddled against Colonel Fletcher’s broad chest as she stared at the scarred face of the duke. His eyes were stony as he surveyed the scene. “I gather congratulations are in order?”

  “Yes, they are,” Colonel Fletcher answered coolly, measuring up the duke, who was standing carelessly in the doorway.

  “If I might intrude into the festivities for just a moment?” Lucien asked, his eyes flickering over Mary’s revealing neckline meaningfully. “I would like to know just what the hell that scene was about downstairs? You have the Sight?”

  Mary found her jacket and was fastening it over her corset as she answered. “Yes, but I never see enough to tell anyone much. That’s the curse of it, I see just enough to cause me to worry. I’m not even sure now what I told you.”

  “It had to do with Sabrina and myself—and Bonnie Charlie. Is something going to happen to Sabrina?” Lucien demanded bluntly.

  “Yes,” Mary answered faintly, “but I can’t tell you when.”

  “Well, I shall see that it doesn’t happen this evening, and then when Sunday comes I shall have her,” Lucien promised.

  Colonel Fletcher got to his feet. “I didn’t think anyone knew about Bonnie Charlie’s true identity. I rather doubt that she told you?” the colonel asked, looking between the two silent people curiously.

  “It is not important how I found out, Colonel,” Lucien informed him brusquely, “but it is important that the future duchess of Camareigh, and your future sister-in-law, is not arrested or shot this evening.” He looked at the colonel searchingly. “I trust we need not fear that happening?”

  “I am not one to follow orders blindly, your grace,” Colonel Fletcher reassured Lucien. “I shall be there this evening, also, just to assure that nothing unforeseen occurs, and I shall see that my men are elsewhere and clear of the vicinity.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. You will not regret it, for you’ll not have Bonnie Charlie troubling you after Sunday,” Lucien told him with arrogant self-confidence.

  “I once told Lady Sabrina that she needed someone to guide her, and she informed me she’d not met the man who could, but I believe she has,” the colonel said, giving the duke a curious look.

  Lucien smiled slightly. “I think we see eye to eye on this matter, Colonel. The sooner Bonnie Charlie is put out of action, the better. However, I am worried about this vision Lady Mary has seen. Maybe it was to warn us about tonight? I do not want to try and take her, even though we could, when she is armed and her two big friends are likely to do something foolish and get us all killed. Any word from you before Sunday would be suspect, I’m afraid, so it will have to be then. I just hope nothing happens to her before then.”

  “I fear that you are right. As Bonnie Charlie, she has led me into bogs and brambles, and has so many hiding places that we could never find her. Nor would she be likely to believe a summons from Mary. We will just have to make sure nothing happens tonight. That’s all that we can do,” the colonel advised.

  Mary looked between the two men, so different and yet so much alike, as they stood there deciding the future of Sabrina, and of all of the Verricks.

  ***

  Lucien sat quietly alert at the large banqueting table. This was where it all had begun. They had come full circle, he thought. A look of cynical amusement crossed his features as he stared at the velvet hangings so similar to those that she had first appeared out of. Would she dare come tonight—knowing full well that he would be here?

  He ran a forefinger down his scar. Yes, she would. She knew he expected her to, and she was not one to turn down a challenge. Last time he had been surprised, an unsuspecting guest. Now he sat here, watching the others as before, yet knowing that at any moment those curtains would part and in would step Bonnie Charlie. He looked at the laughing Lord Malton, whose face was flushed from brandy, and couldn’t control the slight smile that curved his mouth at the thought of that jovial lord’s soon-to-be astonishment.

  Colonel Fletcher caught his eye in a questioning look from across the table and Lucien shrugged his shoulders in reply. It was growing late, and soon the gentlemen would join the ladies in the salon. He thought with pity of Lady Mary having to sit through their chatter not knowing what was happening, and yet knowing that something would.

  Lucien took a sip of brandy, looking down momentarily as a burst of laughter drowned out all other sounds, and when he looked up he couldn’t control his start of surprise as he looked into Bonnie Charlie’s masked face as she stood silently behind Newley’s chair, her pistol pointed at the assembled guests.

  Gradually the others became aware of the newcomer and abruptly quieted. Only Newley, whose back was to the pistol, still laughed until he slowly became aware of the silence in the room. He jumped and knocked over his glass as a voice said behind him and much too close to his ear for comfort:

  “Very amusing, I must remember to tell that one to my friends some eve while we sip ale,” she mocked.

  Will and John moved into the room threateningly as Bonnie Charlie swaggered forward. “Well, well, I feel quite at home seeing all of my old friends here this evening. Reminds me of another profitable evening. I trust this one will turn out as well.”

  Lord Newley’s face turned ruddy with suppressed rage, his eyes bulging as he spluttered, “This is an affront to all decency.”

  “Now gentlemen, you all know what I shall require, and I dislike having to repeat a warning,” Bonnie Charlie said as she saw Lord Newley’s fingers come in contact with a dinner knife. She smiled with approval as his fingers stiffened and he slowly removed his hand from the table, his shoulders hunched forward as he felt the barrel of the highwayman’s pistol pressed against his back.

  “Be gracious and generous, gentlemen, for this, I promise you, will be the last time I shall trouble you or be an uninvited guest in your homes.”

  A murmur of conjecture went around the table at the highwayman’s words.

  “I’m not a man to push my luck and as you’ve all shown such generosity, I find I can retire to my country estate and live the life of a gentleman. I may even sup with you gentlemen, or meet you over a hand of cards, but you’ll never know that it is I, will you?” Bonnie Charlie taunted them, her voice a husky whisper.

  “Preposterous!” Lord Malton exclaimed. “The only time we’ll toast you is when you are hanging from the gallows.”

  Bonnie Charlie laughed. “Ah, well, I suppose it was too much to have asked. However, I shall demand something else of you gentlemen.”

  Will held his pistol aimed at the table as John circulated among them collecting all of the valuables while Bonnie Charlie kept them preoccupied with her insults. As he came to Lucien he hesitated, looking to Bonnie Charlie for guidance. With a smile she stepped forward, taking John’s place.

  “Allow me,” she said mockingly. “After all, his grace is the guest of honor, is he not?”

  She bent close to Lucien and for the first time since entering the room looked him directly in the eyes. Sabrina had prepared herself for his anger, but was still startled by its intensity as he glared back at her. Taking his hand in hers she withdrew the diamond ring from his finger and then slipped her hand inside his coat, removing his watch from his waistcoat pocket along with his purse of money. For an instant she returned his stare, and then amongst the surprised gasps of disbelief of the diners, ran her finger down the length of his scar.

  “The game is well-played,” Lucien whispered to her as she straightened, “but you hold the losing hand, Charlie.”

  Bonnie Charlie’s eyes glittered as she turned from Lucien abruptly to face Colonel Fletcher, who sat watching silently farther down the table.

 
“Well, now, if it isn’t the brave leader of the king’s men? Look well and long, Colonel, for this is as close as you shall ever come to Bonnie Charlie,” she said with a laugh that turned into a deep cough. As the colonel began to remove his ring she held up a detaining hand. “No, Colonel, I have stolen enough from you this evening. To be held up by Bonnie Charlie, the highwayman you so determinedly chase, is penalty enough.”

  With a husky laugh Bonnie Charlie turned and strode to the window, but before she could disappear through it, there was a scuffle behind her. Turning, her pistol raised instinctively, she saw Lucien wrestle a pistol from the gentleman beside him, knocking it harmlessly to the rug, where it went off with a deafening roar. Meeting Lucien’s sherry eyes, her own wide with surprised fear at the narrowness of her escape, Bonnie Charlie fled, Will and John close behind. The hangings billowed behind them as they left the gentlemen in stupefied silence.

  “What the devil?” cried the gentleman who’d drawn his pistol, only to have it taken from him by Lucien. He glared at the duke angrily. “Why in blazes did you do that? I could’ve killed the swine.”

  “Yes, what kind of fool stunt was that?” demanded Lord Newley, his voice coming faintly and almost inaudibly as armed footmen crowded into the room and women’s voices raised in alarm could be heard in the hall.

  Before Lucien could respond to the charges made, the colonel answered in an authoritative voice that cut through the noise effectively, bringing a sudden hush.

  “It was a crackbrained stunt to pull that pistol on the highwaymen in the first place. With five pistols trained on you, you do not take a wild shot at one of them. Do you imagine they would have just stood there? Hardly, they would have gotten off four or five good shots into any number of us unfortunate enough to have been in the way. Would that have been worth it? To leave widows sitting in the salon because of a foolhardy act?” he scoffed. “If his grace had not acted quickly, I doubt whether Lord Newley here would be alive, or even Lord Malton, sitting in the direct line of fire as he was.”

  “Good God,” Lord Malton swallowed nervously. “Never thought of that. Would’ve tried to get me first, eh? I owe you my life, your grace,” he breathed heavily, fanning himself with a linen napkin.

  Mary was the first of the ladies to enter the dining room. She looked around quickly, and then to Colonel Fletcher, who shook his head in answer to her silent question. With a sigh of relief she came and stood behind the colonel’s chair, his hand finding hers comfortingly. She looked to the duke, and couldn’t suppress a shudder as she saw his eyes blazing with fury as he stared at the opened window Bonnie Charlie had fled through moments before, barely escaping with her life. The scar on his cheek looked angry, casting a savage expression over his features.

  Lucien stood up, looking the perfect gentleman in his cinnamon velvet coat and gold-embroidered waistcoat. Shaking the lacy cuffs of his shirt indolently before tossing off the last of his brandy, he looked to Mary and the colonel.

  “I think we will take our leave of you, Newley. I fear the excitement has been too great for Lady Mary. If you’ll forgive us?”

  “Of course,” Lord Newley answered quickly. “I am outraged by this act and cannot apologize enough for the indignity and dishonor this blackguard has brought to my house.” Lord Newley looked at the duke, mystified. “It is certainly odd the way the highwayman seems to dislike you personally and almost delights, it would seem, in taunting you, your grace.”

  “No doubt he disliked the cut of my coat,” Lucien replied shortly, his temper barely under control. “Goodnight, gentlemen,” Lucien said as he followed Mary and the colonel from the room.

  ***

  Will and John pulled off their masks and dropped them onto the table without regret. They looked at each other silently as they stood awkwardly beside the table where Sabrina sat, her head bent in her hands as she rested her elbows on the rough wood. She shivered and a cough shook her shoulders. Will signaled with his chin and John quickly set about lighting a fire.

  “Do you know,” Sabrina spoke suddenly, her voice hardly above a whisper, “I wish that bullet had hit me.”

  “Charlie!” John exclaimed with alarm at the lackluster tone of her voice.

  She raised her head and stared at them dejectedly. “Why shouldn’t I wish that? It would end all of our troubles. Besides, do you think I liked what I became tonight? I really was Bonnie Charlie. I felt all of the defiance and hatred that he would have felt. When I heard that pistol go off, I nearly pulled the trigger and shot that fool. It was so instinctive, so unthinkingly done, that I think I really am turning into a highwayman.”

  “Come on, Charlie, everything will be all right. You’re just feeling bad, that’s all. Things will look better tomorrow.” Will tried to comfort her.

  “I’m glad it’s over,” Sabrina said tearfully. “I don’t think I could do it anymore. I’m so tired.”

  “Sure, Charlie,” Will said softly, signaling to John to leave. “You better get some rest. John’s fixed something hot for you, and if you want something we’ll be outside, so just give a yell.”

  Sabrina regretfully watched them go. She didn’t want to be alone. She needed someone to hold her and comfort her. She felt miserable and cold and just wanted to go home to her own bed. Seeing Lucien tonight had stirred up memories she wanted to forget and dreams of what could have been between them. She stared into the flames of the small fire, feeling no warmth from it, and closing her eyes she huddled under the blankets trying to get warm. Tomorrow she would check the church for a note from Mary. Maybe Lucien would have given up. He would realize after tonight that she never would.

  Everything was quiet and peaceful the next morning as Sabrina entered the old Norman church, walking through the arched doorway and making her way up the aisle past the box pews to her family’s place in the church. Sliding along the smoothly worn seat, Sabrina reached down and feeling beneath the seat for the loose stone in the floor, kicked it loose with the toe of her boot.

  She felt in the space and withdrew the folded piece of paper triumphantly. Resetting the stone in its natural place she sat up and unfolded the note, her face showing confusion as she stared down at the blank piece of paper.

  “There is nothing there,” a voice informed her from the end of the pew.

  Sabrina jerked her head up in surprise. Lucien stood casually blocking her exit, a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he stared at her frustrated face. He stood arrogantly in his black velvet breeches so similar to her own, his frock coat opened to reveal his frilly shirt front, his hand negligently on a lean hip as he tapped his booted leg with a silver-headed malacca cane.

  Sabrina wished she had kept her mask on to hide the emotions that must be playing across her face as she stared at him, her hands clenched at her sides. “A trick?” she asked shakily.

  “I’m afraid so. The game is up, as I told you last night when you so very nearly got your fool head blown off.”

  “How did you know? Only Mary—” she began, her voice fading as the awful truth dawned on her suddenly. “Mary? Mary told you?”

  Sabrina’s face grew white as she looked to Lucien for confirmation, her violet eyes feverishly bright.

  “Yes, she finally became sensible and acted wisely.” Lucien’s expression became intent as he began to notice her bright eyes and thin cheeks spotted with color. Her breathing was raspy and came in quick little breaths. “You’re ill. Are you trying to kill yourself?” he demanded , infuriated at the poor sight she presented.

  “It would be a blessing. My own sister turning traitor. How could she?” Sabrina repeated, forgetting Lucien’s presence for the moment.

  “She loves you and cares what happens to you. That is why she did the right thing and told me. Also, she knows that your escapade is useless, for the marquis has already left for Europe, with a large settlement from me,” Lucien told her, delivering the final blow.<
br />
  Sabrina crumpled the thin piece of paper into a wad and let it drop. “You,” she laughed, “have brought me nothing but trouble.”

  “You brought the trouble on yourself, Sabrina. After the way you acted last night, I should’ve let that fool put a hole through you.”

  “Fine, that would’ve saved us all a lot of time and trouble,” Sabrina replied in a choked voice, “only then you’d be put to the trouble of finding another unwilling bride, and time is running short.”

  “That’s right. I need you, Sabrina, but I also want you at my mercy for awhile. You need to be schooled in polite manners and the proper deportment for well-bred young ladies. I shall enjoy teaching you a few things, little Sabrina,” Lucien responded, reining in his temper as she continued to defy him.

  “Indeed, your grace, I fear I am beyond learning new tricks to amuse you.” As she spoke Sabrina allowed her hand to slowly move toward her pistol, keeping her body slightly turned from his view. But Lucien had anticipated her thoughts and lunged at her, knocking her arm away and quickly finding her pistol and sword and disarming her as he spun her around to him, easily resisting her weak efforts to struggle free.

  “You never give up, do you? And would you have shot me? I wonder,” he murmured doubtfully. “Or were you going to use it on yourself?” He pressed his hand against her forehead and said with growing concern, “You’re burning up. If I ever get my hands on those two big, dim-witted friends of yours for letting you hide out heaven knows where, I’ll have their hides.”

  Sabrina jerked her head back and looked up at him, her eyes blazing with emotion. Her body felt weighted down and she could hardly find the breath to speak.