Gasping from the lack of air, he wrenched the column that controlled the wardrobe and swung the heavy piece of furniture toward him. He had to duck his head when he stepped onto the small landing at the top of the stairwell. The stale air smelled damp and unwholesome, but it was blessedly cool.
He dragged the wardrobe back into place behind him. He was immediately in Stygian darkness, but it felt safer to have something between them and the fire.
He banged his head and swore when he took the first step down, so he forced himself to stop and take a deep, slow breath. He must focus on descending this cramped, slimy set of stairs while keeping his head low to avoid bashing his wits away. It was frightening to move at what felt like a snail’s pace, but to go faster would only court disaster.
The narrow staircase turned to the left, so he used his left arm to keep Callie close and skimmed his right hand along the rough, damp stone wall. He estimated they were perhaps halfway down when Callie stirred in his arms.
“Richard?” She pressed a hand flat against his chest. “What happened?”
“The bedroom exploded,” he said tersely. “If we’d been inside, we’d be ashes by now. You were knocked unconscious. Do you have other injuries?”
There was a pause while she took inventory. “My head is aching, my wits are scrambled, I have rather a lot of bruises, and my left ankle hurts. But nothing significant, I think.” She drew a ragged breath. “Did the coal seam fire cause the explosion?”
“No, but that might have been how it was intended to look.” He paused to rest and draw breath. “I smelled gunpowder. Someone was trying to kill us.”
Callie gasped. “Who? One of your brothers? They have the most to gain.”
“That would be my best guess.” The knowledge was sour. He’d thought he finally had some real family, and now one or both of them were trying to kill him.
He’d worry about that when they were safely outside. He began descending again. Callie said, “I think I can walk on my own,” but she didn’t sound very sure.
“You can try when we get to level ground.” He repressed an oath when he accidentally lifted his head too high and banged it again. Carrying a not insubstantial weight while bending over was damnably tiring. But not too much farther now.
Finally he reached the dirt floor of the cellar, stumbling when there was no longer a step below him. The cellar was far too hot and smoke was swirling around them. Above they could hear the roar of flames and the sound of burned timbers collapsing.
When Callie wriggled out of the sling, she wavered beside him so he offered his arm for support. “How do we get out of here?”
“This part of the cellar is above ground level because of the way the hill slants. If we follow the wall around to the right, we’ll come to a doorway that opens onto the hill. We need to get outside before all the floors above us collapse.”
He could hear Callie swallow. “Then let’s get moving. I can walk if I hold onto your arm. Is there anything else I can do?”
“Hold your free hand out so we won’t walk into anything disastrous. Watch your footing, the floor is slippery.” He found the wall with his right hand and began moving along it, Callie in tow. From her tight breathing, he knew that she was hurting, but this was faster than carrying her and time was running out.
Behind them a section of flooring collapsed in flames. It was terrifyingly close, but did give them enough light for Gordon to see the door. “There, just ahead!”
He slid his left arm around her waist and half carried her the last dozen feet. He was panting with exhaustion by the time he reached the door. A massive wooden bar held it closed. With the strength of desperation, he wrenched it away. The door moved with great difficulty, but when he applied his full strength, it screeched open.
As soon as the way was clear, he caught Callie’s waist and pulled her through beside him. “We have to get away from the building as fast as we can!”
Even though Callie was limping badly, she moved with surprising speed. The fresh air on the hillside was a huge relief. He kept them moving away from the tower. Any moment now, any moment . . .
The interior floors collapsed behind them with a deafening roar, throwing blazing wreckage in all directions. At the first crash, Gordon pulled Callie down and covered her with his body, panting in great gulps as his lungs fought for breath.
Burning brands were falling around them, but the ground was cold and damp and nothing caught fire. Wearily he pushed himself to a sitting position. Callie sat up also and he pulled her close. In the distance, he heard shouts as people fought the fire.
As they gazed at the fountain of flames erupting from the tower, Callie said wryly, “You’re going to have to buy me a new wardrobe now. You’ll need one, too.”
He laughed a little, giddy with relief that they’d survived. “At least those horrible tapestries are gone.”
“They’re no loss, but I’m glad I’m wearing my topaz earrings.” She winced as another burst of flame spouted skyward. “This end of Kingston Court is definitely gone.”
Gordon shrugged. “As long as everyone got out safely, I don’t care. May it burn and be damned!”
“You didn’t deserve Kingston Court!” a voice snarled from nearby. “It’s your fault it’s burning, and you must have made a deal with the devil to have survived!”
He turned and saw his brother Eldon holding a pistol aimed directly at his heart.
Chapter 41
Gordon had known one of his brothers must have caused the explosion, but confirmation made him want to vomit. Forcing his voice to steadiness, he said, “I’m not the one who set that explosion, Eldon.”
He whispered to Callie, “Stay down and look limp and helpless, Catkin.”
“Not difficult!” she murmured with black humor.
Gordon stood slowly so as not to startle his brother into shooting. “Were you hoping that explosion would seem to be a result of burning coal seams? Surely someone besides me must have noticed the smell of gunpowder.”
“No one would have cared,” Eldon said with lethal coolness. He looked shockingly like their father. A crack of thunder added to the threatening Gothic atmosphere. “No one cared when I shot Welham and made it look like a suicide.”
Not suicide, not an accident, but murder. Given the events of this night, that all made sense now. Matching Eldon in coolness, Gordon said, “Well done! He was a nasty piece of work.” He put a note of admiration in his voice as he tried to buy time. The three of them were in a pocket of isolation here, but there were other people not far away.
Eldon was close enough that he didn’t need to be a good shot, unfortunately. Callie looked suitably dazed and helpless, but Gordon noticed that her left hand was exploring the damp earth as she stealthily felt around for a possible weapon.
Hoping she found something, Gordon edged away from her to keep Eldon’s attention on him. “Did you arrange Julius’s death as well? If he was riding drunk, it wouldn’t have been difficult to cause a fatal accident.”
“He killed himself without any help from me.” Eldon smiled. “That’s what gave me the idea. With Julius gone, only Welham stood between me and the Kingston inheritance. And he was so easy to kill. No one liked him. No one cared. Everyone assumed I was the new Lord Kingston. Then you showed up!”
“I’m sorry to have disrupted your plans,” Gordon said apologetically. “I don’t even want the title. If I’d known how much it meant to you, I could have stayed in some distant country. I could have even supplied proof of death for you. But since I returned to London to live a couple of years ago, too many people have learned about my continued existence.”
“Yes, you should have stayed away,” Eldon said in icy agreement. “I really don’t want to kill you and Catherine, but you’ve left me no choice.”
Playing on that reluctance, Gordon said, “No? It’s not too late for me to return to America and seem to be dead. I can’t mourn your sending Welham off this mortal coil prematurely, and I�
�ve always hated Kingston Court, so I don’t mind your burning it down as long as no one has been killed in the fire. Or do you enjoy killing?”
“No, dammit, I don’t!” Eldon flinched as thunder roared again, and the barrel of his pistol shook. He might want people dead, but he didn’t like killing them himself. Vile little coward.
“Do you accept my proposal?” Gordon asked. “Callie and I can quietly disappear tonight and it will be assumed we died in the fire. You become Lord Kingston and you can build a new and better house.”
Eldon looked tempted, but after a long moment, he shook his head. “I can’t trust you to stay dead unless I make sure of it myself. Sorry, Gordon.” He took a step closer. “You’re more amusing than my other brothers, but you should have stayed away.”
He cocked the pistol and prepared to fire at point blank range. Gordon dove to his left and at the same instant, Callie rose on her knees and hurled a stone that smashed into the middle of Eldon’s face. “Take that, you vicious little swine!” she spat out furiously.
Swearing, Eldon fell back, clawing at his nose. “What the devil?”
Gordon leaped forward and tackled his brother. The pistol went flying as the two men grappled. Eldon fought frantically but with little skill. He’d never battled for his life in deadly distant lands.
As they rolled across the ground, Gordon locked his hands around his brother’s neck. Lord Eldon Audley, who had killed one brother and done his damnedest to murder Gordon and Callie.
The thought of Callie in danger ignited Gordon’s rage. He caught his brother’s gaze, watching as anger turned first to fear, then to terror.
He waited as terror built. Then in one lethal movement, Gordon broke his brother’s neck.
One learned many useful things at the Westerfield Academy.
Sudden silence except for the sounds of the fire, distant firefighters, and approaching thunder. Callie crawled over the rough ground and snatched up the fallen pistol. “He’s dead?”
“Yes.” Gordon pushed himself up and stared at the lifeless body of his brother. Unlike Eldon, Gordon was experienced at killing. But he did it only when necessary, and he’d never killed a brother before. He wished to God it hadn’t been necessary.
Callie bridged the short distance between them and took his hand, raising it to her cheek. “I’m sorry, Richard,” she said softly.
“So am I.” He squeezed her hand, grateful for her touch. “My thanks for your very fine stone throwing. You always did have a good arm.”
“Dear God!” The new voice came from Francis, who was racing toward them. The light from the fire illuminated them clearly, but he seemed unable to grasp the scene before him. “I saw Eldon heading in this direction and wondered if you might have escaped the tower this way. But Eldon is dead?”
“Yes,” Gordon said flatly. “I killed him.”
“How could you?” Francis looked like a horrified child, not a capable young man. “Why?”
“Because Eldon set the explosion that blew up the tower!” Callie snapped. “Unfortunately for him, he failed to kill us. Were you in on his murderous plans?”
Francis shook his head as he struggled to grasp what he was hearing. “Eldon had no murderous plans! Why would he want to kill you?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Gordon said, feeling numb. “He killed Welham, too. He expected to inherit the title until I had the bad manners to show up alive.”
Francis fell silent for long moments, his face strained. “I didn’t think Welham would kill himself,” he said haltingly. “I thought his death must be a drunken accident, but it did seem odd. What makes you think Eldon killed him?”
“Because he proudly admitted it!” Callie rose unsteadily to her feet, her eyes flashing. “Richard is the only decent brother you had! Welham and Julius were brutes and Eldon was a murderer. They all took after your abominable father.”
“You shouldn’t say such things!” Francis said, appalled. “Father was stern with us, but he was a good and honorable man.”
“That ‘good and honorable man’ gave my father permission to beat Richard to death when we were caught in our attempt to elope!” Callie said fiercely. “Richard was already half dead when your father told mine, ‘Feel free to kill him. I have better sons.’”
“No,” Francis said, his face paling. “No, he couldn’t have been that cruel!”
“No? I was there, Francis!” she spat out. “To save your brother’s life, I swore to my father that I’d marry his planter. So instead of killing Richard outright, my father trumped up false criminal charges and got him condemned to transportation. Our fathers were vile men, both of them. And if you want to punish Richard for what he’s endured, I swear before God that I’ll kill you myself!” She raised the pistol.
“Callie, don’t.” Gordon lurched to his feet and took the weapon from her. “Killing brothers is a bad habit to cultivate.”
She let him have the pistol without protest. She was shaking from shock and pain. “Are you sure Francis wasn’t in on the plot to kill you?”
Gordon studied his youngest brother. In the flickering firelight, his face was so pale the freckles showed. “I’m sure. He is like his mother as I am like mine. The fatal flaw in Audley men is to be like our late and unlamented father.”
“You . . . may be right,” Francis whispered. “Eldon was clever and could be very amusing, and he seldom sharpened his tongue on me. But he had a cold, ruthless streak. I just didn’t know . . . how ruthless. Did he cause Julius’s death, too?”
“He said he didn’t, but that accidental death gave him the idea of clearing the way to the title for himself,” Gordon said dryly. “So annoying to rid himself of Welham and then have me get in the way.”
“I never knew how much he wanted to inherit. But he used to mock me for my simple rural ambitions.” Francis swallowed hard. “Perhaps I should have guessed from that.”
“Are you going to turn me over to a magistrate because I killed Eldon? As a peer of the realm, I would be tried in the House of Lords and would surely be acquitted.” Gordon sighed, exhausted at the thought. “But it would be a long, drawn out affair.”
“You’ve convinced me that justice was done tonight.” Francis stared at Eldon, then took a deep breath. “I suggest that we throw his body into the fire. It will be assumed that was how he died.”
Gordon gazed at the devastated tower. The flames were dying down, but they would suffice. “That would certainly simplify matters.”
“I have a request,” Francis said uncertainly. “Will you not make it public that Eldon killed Welham and tried to kill you? He doesn’t deserve to have his reputation preserved, but I’d rather avoid a horrible scandal.”
Young Francis was showing himself to be pragmatic and able to deal with harsh reality, traits he shared with Gordon. “If you want to put it about that he died heroically trying to rescue me and Callie, I won’t argue the point. He’s gone. We’re alive.”
Gordon turned to Callie, who had slumped to the ground again. “Will you be all right for a few minutes while we do what’s necessary?”
“Yes,” she said in a raw whisper. “And then, please, let’s go to the dower house. I don’t care if they haven’t finished cleaning it properly.”
“Neither do I.” She was obviously at the end of her tether, with drying blood in her hair and pain in her face. He touched her cheek. “Yes, Catkin. The dower house.”
He and Francis each took one of Eldon’s arms and dragged him back to the burning tower. The flames were diminishing now that most of the flammable interior had been burned through, but the blackened stone walls remained.
“We need to toss him through the door into the cellar,” Gordon said.
Francis gave a grim-faced nod and between them, they swung the limp, heavy body into the fire. It swiftly vanished in the flames. Francis said heavily, “I wish that he’d been a better man.”
“So do I,” Gordon said bitterly. “I was looking forward to having a brothe
r who could be a friend as Welham and Julius never had been.”
After a long silence, Francis said, “You still have one brother left.”
Danger and loss forged unexpected bonds, and Gordon realized that he and Francis had similarities that he’d never shared with his other brothers. “I do, and I hope we can be friends in the future.” He offered a hesitant hand.
Francis took it in a hard clasp and they met each other’s gazes. Yes, in the future they could become true brothers.
Releasing the clasp, Gordon asked, “Are there any other casualties of the fire?”
“No, everyone else was in the lower house. You and Callista were the only ones thought to be dead.” As Francis spoke, the threatening rain finally burst from the sky in a downpour. Francis smiled wryly. “That should help put out the fire. I think the lower house is largely undamaged.”
Gordon shrugged, not caring. What mattered was Callie. He splashed through the rain and gently lifted her in his arms. “Francis, can you arrange a carriage to the dower house for us?”
“Of course.”
As Francis headed off at a fast jog, Callie protested weakly, “You don’t have to carry me. You’ve done enough of that tonight.”
“Never.” He kissed her forehead. “I’d carry you to the ends of the earth, Catkin.”
Releasing her breath in a tired sigh, she burrowed into his arms. “About now, that sounds very good.” The rain was washing soot from her face, leaving it pale but peaceful.
In the distance, Francis’s voice could be heard calling, “Lord and Lady Kingston are safe! They escaped the tower! They’re safe!”
There were shouts and people began running toward Gordon. He tensed, but the faces and voices were relieved and glad.
“Lord Kingston, thank God!” The words came from Martin, the estate steward whom Gordon had met with that afternoon.
Similar sentiments came from the housekeeper, the butler, the tenants of the nearest farms. The chief groom said, “You look right knackered, Lord Kingston. I can take your lady wife.”
He reached for Callie, but Gordon shook his head and said firmly, “No. Mine!”
Once a Rebel Page 30