by Sharon Page
This was what Laura was doing. She was taking the route that felt safe to her. Rather than confront her brother, she was hiding from him. She was running away.
It might feel like the easiest choice, the safest one, the best. It was the wrong one.
Estelle reached the bedroom and slipped in the door. Lyan still slept. He lay on his stomach and the sheets had fallen down to expose his bare back. Estelle dropped her cloak and sat down beside him. Her nightdress was half open, slipping off her shoulders. What did she do—slip back into bed with him and betray him by letting Laura escape to Gretna? Or wake him up and betray a young girl who yearned to find love?
She touched his shoulder. Shook him gently.
Click.
Behind her, the door’s latch had opened and she spun around. Laura. She expected to see the girl in the doorway, but instead she breathed in the choking scent of a smoldering cheroot at the same instant her gaze locked on the dark eyes of a strange man.
She had locked the door. After she’d come in, she’d locked the door by instinct.
The black-haired man winked at her. He wore a gray greatcoat and polished black boots. The cheroot was clamped in his teeth, and his large body filled the doorway, blocking her escape. An amused smirk twisted his lips. Then she saw it. The almost extinct firelight glimmered along the muzzle of a pistol held near his leg.
“Who are you?” she demanded, fighting to hide fear.
Lyan stirred. “Wha—?”
“I take it you are Madame Desjardins,” the man said. His glittering eyes mocked her. “I see Lyan has been mixing business with pleasure. Well, I have business to do myself. In the name of Lord Cavell. Which means, unfortunately, I will have to get rid of you first.”
The pistol swung up to point at her chest.
Estelle stared at the muzzle, frozen, her heart pounding in wild terror. She expected to hear the roar of the shot and be blown off her feet. Instead, she saw a look of pleasure leap to the man’s eyes. He was enjoying her torment.
She drew on all the bravado she’d clung to when she’d been growing up in the stews. “I will pay you more,” she said, confident and cool. “I will pay you far more to leave us alive.”
His finger paused on the trigger. “I doubt that. I can’t leave Lyan alive—he’d hunt me to the ends of the earth. But you…” His gaze moved suggestively over her.
“I have a lot of money,” she purred. “I can give you ten thousand pounds.” She couldn’t. Couldn’t. But she prayed he would be intrigued enough to keep his attention on her, to give Lyan more time—
Lyan launched off the edge of the bed. His body plowed into the man, his hand slammed the pistol. The weapon exploded with smoke and a flash and the stench of burnt powder.
For a frozen second, Estelle expected to see Lyan—or herself—collapse. Then she saw feathers drift into the air. The victim of the shot was the bed.
The man swung the pistol up. The muzzle of it smashed into the side of Lyan’s head. He recoiled and blood flowed down his face from a gash in his temple. Estelle’s heart leapt in terror. For her entire life, she had feared being under a man’s power. She’d feared being helpless.
The dim firelight glinted on something as the assailant’s right hand flicked away from the side of his coat.
A knife. He’d pulled out a blade.
She was not going to let Lyan be killed.
She didn’t have scissors in her hand this time, but the fireplace poker was in reach. Their attacker had his attention on Lyan. Estelle lunged forward, wrapped her hands around the iron handle, and struck.
“Blast!” The man jumped back, avoiding her blow. But Lyan punched him, grabbed the hand that held the blade and snapped it back. She heard a sickening crack and the thud of the fallen knife. She saw the man’s wrist dangle limply for one second—then Lyan threw him to the floor as if he weighed no more than the feather pillows.
Lyan pressed his foot down on the blackguard’s throat.
* * * * * * * * *
Chapter Six
He had come so close to losing her again. So close to losing her forever. Lyan had known, as Nick Swan had leveled the pistol at Estelle’s heart, he couldn’t live without her. He had barely survived for ten years without her. If she were gone forever, he knew his heart would die, too.
Lyan increased the pressure of his foot on Nick’s neck. He knew he wouldn’t have the Judas beneath his boot if it weren’t for Estelle.
Though Estelle’s chest rose and fell with quick, deep breaths, she was yanking a cord from the bed curtains to tie Nick’s hands. She was still a survivor; in Lyan’s eyes, she was even stronger than she had once been. The only thing she had turned her back on, when she had left the stews and him, was her heart. His heart was filled with admiration for her.
Estelle hurried forward with the cord. “Who is he?”
“My former partner and Bow Street Runner, Nicholas Swan.” Lyan rapped the butt of the pistol against Nick’s temple. “I take it Cavell paid you to pursue me.”
Estelle drew in a sharp breath. Lyan glanced up. She was as white as chalk. Hades, why? She had looked moderately calm after the battle with Nick. Now she looked ready to faint.
There was something wrong. His instincts, which had kept him alive both in the stews and as a Runner, warned him to watch out. There was something else going on here, and he had to find out what.
Even with a pistol on him, sprawled on the floor, Swan emitted a grating chuckle of pure triumph. Definitely something was not right. Why did Nick look so confident?
“He paid me well,” Nick Swan said casually, as though they were discussing this over pints in the tavern, “but I had another reason to come here, Foxton, and the pretty lass is waiting in my carriage for my return. I’m sure she’ll be panting for me—”
“Laura,” Estelle broke in. She glared at Nick. “You are the man she believed was a hero?”
Laura. His little sister was waiting for Nick to return? Panting for him? Lyan reeled, though he kept Nick pinned. Had he been thrown to the floorboards, too, striking his head and knocking himself senseless?
“What in hell is Laura doing here with you, Swan?” Lyan barked. He swung on Estelle, with the pistol still pointed at Nick. Fear curdled in his gut. Now he knew why she seemed to understand exactly what was going on. He didn’t want to believe it, but this time he wasn’t a naïve, lovesick young man. This time he had enough sense to recognize a betrayal.
“How do you know about Laura?” he asked, and his tones were cold enough to freeze the sun. “How do you know Swan?”
Estelle was already stark white, yet she seemed to go even paler. “Your sister came to me last night,” she admitted. “She told me she wished to elope with a Bow Street Runner because she believed you would refuse the match. I now see why.”
“You helped my sister run away with Swan?” His voice was a roar. He’d once seen bear baiting and he remembered the angry, desperate roar of the beast. He’d ensured the bear was freed, but he felt like that poor, tormented animal right now. He’d loved Estelle, he knew it. His heart had remained devoted to her for ten years. And this was what she had done.
“I did not help her. I wanted her to speak to you. But she ran out of my shop.”
“You didn’t help her, but you didn’t tell me what she was planning to do.” He felt a sharp pain through his chest, which had to be the large crack cleaving his heart. “Didn’t you trust me to do what was best for Laura? This is why I didn’t want my sister anywhere near Nick Swan. I found out he’s a corrupt blackguard.”
“What are you going to do, Foxton?” Nick grunted from beneath his foot. “Have your sister destroyed by scandal? Let me go, and I’ll wed the chit and save her reputation.”
“Oh, dear heaven, no!” Estelle cried.
Lyan glared at her. He wanted to kill Nick, but his former friend’s betrayal didn’t hurt like Estelle’s lack of trust. “No matter what happens here, Laura is ruined,” he pointed out, trying to
hold on to his anger so he didn’t stomp his foot on Nick’s windpipe. “You aren’t helping ladies, Estelle. You are putting them in danger. Just because you believed in running away like a coward doesn’t mean you should force other girls to do it.”
Estelle recoiled as if he had slapped her. She was shaking. He had never seen her look so horrified in his life. He’d been harsh, but it was the damned truth. She had done a dangerous and foolhardy thing, and now she had ruined Laura’s life.
“Lyan! What in heaven’s name are you doing to Nick?”
Laura’s voice arced through the room. Lyan jerked up his head and met his sister’s shocked eyes.
Estelle rushed to the doorway and drew Laura into the room. She held his sister by the shoulders. To his shock, Lyan could see Laura wanted to rush to Swan and help him. His sister’s luminous green eyes fixed on the gun and she cried, “Lyan, how could you? You can’t shoot him for running away with me. I love him.”
When he didn’t move, Laura screamed, “I hate you, you beast!” A torrent of tears coursed down her cheeks.
He had no idea what to say to Laura. “My dear—”
“Don’t call me that.” Laura strained to surge forward, but Estelle held her. “Don’t ever call me that again. Don’t speak to me again. If you hurt Nick, I will hate your forever. I’ll jump in the Thames. I’ll—”
“Stop this, Laura, please,” Estelle said firmly. Her eyes met his and he could see the guilt and horror in them. He wanted to keep his heart hardened. He didn’t want that imploring look to touch him. But it did.
Then Estelle did what he could not. She found the right words, though they were blunt ones. She told Laura everything—Lady Maryanne’s elopement, their suspicions about Cavell, Nick’s attack. She had her arm around Laura as she did, and she soothed his sister through each step of the story. While she spoke, he hauled Nick to his feet, with the blackguard’s hands tied in front of him with the cord fetched by Estelle.
With Nick subdued, he dragged his former partner with him and got his own pistol. “Don’t move,” he muttered softly so Laura wouldn’t hear. “Don’t try to overpower me or hurt Estelle, or even touch Laura. I will shoot you if you try anything.”
At the very end of her explanation, Estelle said softly, “Laura, you must know which man you can trust—the one you should keep in your life. Your brother.”
If only Estelle had come to him at the beginning. If only she’d trusted him. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She hadn’t trusted him a few days ago, just as she hadn’t been able to believe in him and trust him ten years ago. He had to remember she hadn’t said yes to his marriage proposal.
It meant she would never trust him. Never open her heart to him.
Filled with impotent rage, he dragged a bound Swan to his feet. “Was it also your job to go after Lady Maryanne Bryght?”
Nick’s eyes shifted and his mouth hardened, revealing the truth.
He shook Nick. “Did you find her? Hurt her?”
At the silence, he gripped Nick by his throat. “Tell me where you found her. Tell me what you did to her and Peabody, or I’ll kill you now.”
Laura let out a soft sob. Estelle hugged the girl tighter. He hating doing this—tormenting Laura with fear or pain—but he had to help Lady Maryanne. “Take her away from here,” he growled to Estelle. “I don’t want her to see this.”
“All right,” Estelle whispered. Gently, she led his shaking sister from the room. He heard the thud of footsteps—the innkeeper and servants summoned by the noise, he guessed—and he hoped Estelle could keep them from entering the room.
To Nick, he snarled, “Give me the truth and things might go better for you.”
His former friend gave a vicious laugh. “Good luck finding them. I caught them two days ago, but by then they were wed.”
“Cavell had sent you to kill them if they were.”
Nick gave a sly grin. “He wanted the lovely and rich bride for himself. I was to get rid of the husband. But the little witch outfoxed me. I had cut up the gent and was ready to finish him when Lady Maryanne pulled a pistol on me. They managed to escape. I had to return—Laura was waiting to elope with me.” He smirked to Lyan. “I assumed you would pay a lot of money to get her back and make me go away.”
“Oh, my goodness. You…you cad!”
It was Laura, still standing in the doorway. She had turned a heart-wrenching shade of white—almost as pale as Estelle.
“Laura, come with me.” Estelle grasped his sister by the arms and drew her back from the open doorway. “We will get you a sherry in the parlor. This man truly is a cad, and you need to begin to forget him as of now.” She turned and gave crisp orders to unseen people, asking for sherry and hot tea. She also firmly instructed the servants not to enter the room, explaining that the Earl of Delamore, who had been a Bow Street Runner, was dealing with a villain. She instructed the innkeeper to have the magistrate fetched.
Lyan felt a grim smile touch his lips. The suddenly deferential voices proved it was useful being an earl. But he sobered and growled at Nick. “Where did you find them?”
Nick shrugged insolently.
Fortunately he knew his former partner well. Nick Swan was a coward at heart. It took another half-hour of threats, but Nick finally revealed the name of the small village inn where he had found Lady Maryanne and Mr. Peabody.
“Lyan—”
He spun around. Estelle was alone. “Laura is having a drink in the parlor, so I thought I would see what was happening. A groom has been sent on horseback for the magistrate.” She hesitated. “I should have told you. I am so very sorry…”
He didn’t know what to say. He was still angry over what she had done, but he loved her for how she had taken care of Laura. He would always love her, and it would always be hopeless, wouldn’t it? Curtly, he said, “Once he’s taken away, I’ve got to see if I can find Lady Maryanne.”
She nodded. “I will look after Laura.”
“Thank you.” But it came out sharply. He hadn’t meant it to. He was not angry at her over Laura. But he’d called her a coward, She must have hated that. And she hadn’t been able to trust him. If she couldn’t do that, if she couldn’t open her heart to him, he would have to walk away from her forever.
* * *
The magistrate and several muscular village men arrived to place Nick Swan under arrest. Once Swan had been shackled in irons and taken to the gaol, Lyan, the magistrate, and several of those men raced off in pursuit of Lady Maryanne. Estelle stayed with Laura, who had finished her small glass of sherry and broken down into sobs.
But as dawn began to blush on the horizon, Laura wiped at her eyes. “You had tea brought in, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Estelle poured the girl a cup. She suspected Laura was, at her core, as strong and noble as Lyan. As the girl sipped hot tea, Estelle stroked back her hair.
“I’m crying at my stupidity,” Laura said. “And at how close I came to losing my brother.” Wide green eyes gazed up at Estelle. “You were correct. I see how important Lyan is to me. I don’t want to lose him—in any way. When I marry, I want it to bring happiness to our family. Not discord. And—” She ducked her head. “He was right.”
“Your brother is a very wise and wonderful man.”
The door burst open then, and Lyan strode in. He gaped as he saw his sister drinking tea, wiping at her nose, but also smiling.
Estelle grasped Laura’s cup. Her heart felt full to bursting as Laura flung herself into Lyan’s embrace. Over his sister’s disordered curls, Lyan said, “We found Lady Maryanne and Peabody. They had taken refuge in a barn. Peabody had lost blood, but the village doctor believes he will survive. They have many years of married life ahead of them.”
Estelle could have kissed him, but Laura deserved to have all her brother’s hugs. Then, to her surprise, Laura looked up into Lyan’s face. “Are you going to marry Madame Desjardins? You could keep traveling and marry her over the anvil.”
Este
lle caught her breath. What if Lyan thought she’d put Laura up to it? She had to clear the air. “No, Laura, that was not our intention at all. I made a horrible mistake. I decided not to tell Lyan that you planned to elope. I was loyal to you, but it was the wrong thing to do.”
Laura turned from Lyan’s chest. “But—”
“Your brother is not some sort of heartless man you should escape,” Estelle said firmly. “He is good, kind, and loving. I should have told him the truth so that you and he could speak together. Running away is never the solution. I’ve learned that, and paid an enormous price for that knowledge. I am so very sorry for what I did—for how I hurt your brother not once, but twice. He deserved so much better than that.”
She could not look at Lyan. She had never given him an answer to his proposal. But after what she had done, surely he wished he had never made it.
Lyan’s deep, soft voice cut through the sudden silence. “Laura, I have no intention of going to Gretna Green.”
* * *
A fortnight had passed, and Estelle had accepted the truth. Lyan could not forgive her. He would not come and ask for her answer to his proposal. He didn’t want to marry her now.And the truth was, it was madness that he’d ever asked her. Her business was booming, her seasmstresses had done well while she was away, and all was going well with her shop. She had gotten what she wanted after all. An independent life.
But now it felt utterly empty.
At least Lady Maryanne—now Mrs. Peabody—was free of Cavell. He had faced ruin, for he’d needed Maryanne’s money to cover his gaming debts. His body had been found in the Thames. But whether he’d jumped in or had fallen in drunk, no one knew.
The bell tinkled above her shop door. Estelle frowned. It was after hours. No one should be coming in now. She stood, set down her patterns, and opened the workroom curtain.
Lyan stood in the doorway, just as he had done two weeks ago. But this time, an enormous bouquet of red roses overflowed his arms. There were so many, the red blossoms almost hid his handsome face. “For my beautiful Star of the Gardens,” he said softly. Then he tossed them, this token that must have cost a fortune, onto one of the chairs.