Tempest

by Sandra Dubay

  A gasp of surprise escaped her when she saw the door. Of weathered wood bound with rusted iron, it stood a little open. The invitation was as clear as it was irresistible.

  Laying both hands flat against the splintered wood, Dyanna leaned against the door, pushing with all her might. Its rusted hinges creaked as she shoved, and she was rewarded when the door opened before her.

  The light flooding through the door showed her a curving stone staircase leading up inside the very walls of the tower. Dyanna's heart thudded heavily in her chest as she started up. She pressed her hands against the stone walls to steady herself, for there was no rail, no bannister to catch her if she fell. Iron rings in the wall suggested there might once have been a rope handrail, but it was long gone, rotted away from the damp and the rain that fell through the broken windows spaced along the length of the steep and winding stairs.

  Driven on by fascination and curiosity as to what might lay at the top, Dyanna went on. The stairs seemed to rise before her in an endless spiral. Dyanna followed them up and up until at last her persistence was rewarded by the sight of an open door above her.

  As she stepped through the door, Dyanna braced herself. The room she'd entered was at the very top of the towerwindows on all four sides presented her with a panoramic view of the countryside. They also admitted the winds that buffeted the tower, and the rushing currents of air through the room took her breath away and threatened to sweep her off her feet.

  With a shiver, Dyanna gathered her shawl tighter about herself. She felt suddenly cold, alone, and vulnerable. There was a loneliness about the place that made her uneasy, almost frightened.

  With one hand clasping her shawl and the other skidding along the rough stone walls, she descended the winding stairs. As she stepped out through the open door into the dappled sunshine of the forest, she sighed, relieved to be outside once more.

  After standing for a moment to regain her bearings, she started back for Wildwood, eager to put the grim, lonely tower behind her.

  It was that night, at dinner, before she could broach the subject of her afternoon's discovery. Caro was there. She had come back with Justin and now sat at the end of the long mahogany table in the pale grey dining room with its gaily colored Turkey carpet. The seating arrangement irked Dyanna, for Justin and Caro sat opposite each other like the master and mistress of the house, while Dyanna sat to one side like a child.

  She was busily scowling at Caro when she realized that Justin was speaking to her.

  "Did you rest from the long ride this afternoon?" he was asking.

  Dyanna shook her head as she set down her goblet of wine. "I went for a walk. The countryside hereabouts is very different from London, isn't it?"

  "Very," Justin agreed. "But surely you didn't walk so far that you saw much of the countryside."

  "Oh, I saw it from the tower in the forest."

  Caroline, at the far end of the table, gasped and began to cough. Taking a drink, she fixed Dyanna with a wide-eyed gaze, horror plain in her large, luminous, copper-colored eyes.

  "What tower?" Justin asked tightly, capturing Dyanna's attention from Caro.

  "The tower in the forest. I thought it was part of Castle DeVille. The ruins thereabouts seem to have been burnt."

  "It is part of the castle," Justin admitted. He brought a fist down with shattering force on the shining tabletop, causing both Dyanna and Caro to jump in their seats. "Damn it all! Why didn't I have that god-forsaken tower pulled down!"

  His golden eyes flashed as he leaned toward

  Dyanna. "You are neverneverto go near that place again! Do you hear me? Never!"

  "But why?" she demanded, forgetting Caro's presence. "The view from the top is"

  "The top!" he hissed. "You went to the top! What's wrong with you? Are your brains addled? Couldn't you see it wasn't safe?"

  Dyanna drew back, hurt and bewildered. "I don't see what harm it did. You've no call to shout at me"

  "You don't see what harm!" Justin ground his teeth. "Shout at you! You little fool! I should turn you over my knee for going up in that tower!"

  Shoving back her chair, Dyanna thrust herself to her feet. "Don't speak to me that way!" she snarled. "And don't you dare lay one hand on me! Oh! I hate it here!"

  Feeling the hot flood of tears in her eyes, she rushed from the room.

  Behind her, in the dining room, Justin leaned back in his chair. He had reacted too violently, he knew, but he couldn't help himself. He started to rise to go after Dyanna, but Caro's gesture stayed him in his seat.

  "Let me go, Justin. I'll speak to her."

  Directed by Mrs. Stour, Caro found Dyanna lying across her bed, weeping as though her heart had broken.

  Caro tapped at the door jamb to get Dyanna's attention. "May I come in?"

  Dyanna sat up and wiped at her wet cheeks with the backs of her hands. She'd been embarrassed to have Justin shout at her, threaten to spank her, in front of Caro. Now, to be found weeping like a child completed her humiliation.

  "As you wish," she murmured grudgingly.

  Coming into the room, Caro sat down in a yellow moiré chair and settled her azure silk skirts around her.

  "Justin wanted to come and explain why he was so angry," she said, "but I told him I would come instead."

  Dyanna eyed her suspiciously. Was Caro truly concerned, she wondered, or did she merely wish to keep Justin from coming to her? She said nothing, however, and Caro went on:

  "Tell me, Dyanna, what do you know of Justin's family? Do you know how his mother died?"

  "In a fall," Dyanna replied. "From a tower of Castle DeVille."

  Caro nodded. "She fell," she acknowledged. "It was a terrible, hideous accident, though there were thoseher husband's enemieswho claimed it was suicide. But that is beside the point. The tower you climbed today was, as you surmised, once part of Castle DeVille. It was from that towerfrom the room at the top where you were todaythat Lady DeVille fell.''

  Dyanna was seized with a fit of trembling. To fall from that high, windswept tower . . .

  "How horrible," she whispered.

  "So you can understand the aversion Justin feels for that place. You can see how upset it must have made him to think of you there, where his mother died."

  "Yes," Dyanna nodded. "I can see."

  Rising, Caro smiled gently at Dyanna. "I hope you are not so angry with him now. He would be very sorry, I think, if he thought he had hurt you, however little he meant to."

  Curious, Dyanna gazed up at the beautiful, tawny-haired woman. "Why are you doing this?" she asked. "I should think you would like to see Justin and I angry with one another."

  "Whyever would you think that?" Caro asked, genuinely surprised.

  "Why, because you . . . you and he . . . I thought you and he . . ."

  Caro's musical laughter filled the room. "Justin! And me!" She laughed, but then her smile faded. "He hasn't told you, has he?"

  "Told me what?" Dyanna asked.

  Resuming her seat, Caro shrugged. "Justin is my brother."

  Dyanna was stunned. "Your brother! But"

  "My half-brother, actually. My mother and his father were lovers. This was after his mother's death and my father's. I expect he didn't tell you because he thought it would embarrass me if you knew I was his father'swell, natural daughter."

  "But I heard you talking with him in London. You said he proposed to you when you were children."

  Caro laughed again. "So he did. We didn't know we were brother and sister until we were older. But it was all only children playingpretending."

  Dyanna sat gazing at the beautiful woman before her. The resemblance in their coloring was plain. Justin's sister . . .

  "Justin loves you, Dyanna," Caro went on. "He was only angry because the thought of you there, where his mother died, frightened him."

  There was a noise in the doorway. Both women turned to find Justin standing there, just inside the door. Wordlessly, Dyanna rose from the bed and went to him. Sm
iling, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, his lips against the shining crown of her head.

  Tactfully, Caro rose and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Dyanna rolled her eyes as Charlotte appeared before her, an all too familiar look on her face. She knew what was coming. Ever since Charlotte had heard about Dyanna's discovery of the tower, she had been badgering her to go and visit it. Charlotte had gone out several times, and stayed away for hours on end, but she always returned claiming she had not been able to find the ruins of Castle DeVille.

  "Justin does not want me going up in that tower," Dyanna explained yet again. "I told you that, Charlotte. I'm not going to make him angry just to satisfy your curiosity."

  "We don't have to go up in it," Charlotte persisted. "I only want to see it."

  Expelling her breath in an impatient sigh, Dyanna tossed aside the sheet of music she'd been studying. She wished the library at Wild-wood was stocked, but it wasn't yet and the only book she'd brought with her was the Lucifer Wolfe storyand that only as a souvenir.

  "Oh, I suppose you'll give me no peace until I take you there," she sighed.

  "None!" Charlotte agreed excitedly.

  "Very well. Get our shawls and bonnets and let's be done with it."

  Picking their way among the rubble and overgrown weeds, Dyanna and the maid approached the tower.

  "Be careful, Charlotte," Dyanna warned. "There are some holes about. You don't want to turn your ankle."

  She waited for a reply, but none was forthcoming. Looking around, she saw no sign of the maid.

  "Charlotte?" she called, moving in the direction of a thick copse at the edge of the ruins. "Charlotte? Where are you?"

  Still she heard nothing She called Charlotte's name, but to no avail. When she looked back, a black-clad figure stood before her, sword gleaming in his hands.

  A shrill little scream tore itself from Dyanna's throat. Turning, she lifted her skirts to flee. But the sword flashed before her, and its point was driven into the soft bark of a young tree, cutting off Dyanna's escape. She shrieked again.

  "For Christ's sake," a masculine voice growled. "Will you stop that bloody screaming!"

  Dyanna's silver-blond brows arched as she turned wide, aqua-blue eyes toward the man who held the sword.

  "Why, Geoffrey!" she cried. "You're alive!"

  Chater Thirty-Seven

  Geoffrey's hand closed tightly around Dyanna's upper arm, restraining her even after he had tugged the point of his sword from the bark of the unfortunate tree.

  "Yes," he agreed, without a trace of humor. "I'm alive. No thanks to your precious Lord DeVille. His concern for you must have thrown off his aim. It was only a graze. It's so touching, his devotion."

  "But why didn't he tell me you were alive! They must have told him when he went to speak with them about Lord Rawley!"

  "He probably didn't want to worry you," Geoffrey sneered. "He's so considerate."

  "Unlike you! I despise you, Geoffrey!"

  Geoffrey's eyes narrowed. "DeVille has everything now. You, the inheritance. He's even turned my grandfather against me. The bastard told him about Octavia. I've been disinherited!"

  Dyanna gaped, astonished. "The Marquess of Summersleigh has disinherited you? But how could he? You are his only heir! To whom will he leave his estates?"

  "You may well ask!" Geoffrey snarled. "It seems grandfather is going to remarry. His bride, so I am told, is already, as they say, in the family way. I am to have a new little uncle or aunt thanks to Lady Hayward."

  "Phoebe? Phoebe is going to be the Marchioness of Summersleigh?"

  "She is pregnant with a child she claims belongs to my grandfather," Geoffrey sneered.

  "Doubtless the child is your grandfather's," Dyanna insisted, offended by his disparaging air. "Uncle Horatio might be old, Geoffrey, but he is not dead! And he seemed exceedingly fond of Lady Hayward."

  "Fond enough to give what is rightfully mine to her child!"

  "It is your own fault," she said, trying without success to pull her arm from his bruising grip.

  "Well, something will have to be done."

  "That is between your grandfather and yourself. I'm not going to help you! You tried to trick me into an illegal marriage! Then you gave me into the clutches of that horrible old man! I hope they hang you for killing him!"

  "They won't," Geoffrey stated. "Too many powerful men are glad he's gone. I told them what happened and they ruled it self-defense."

  "Too bad," she snapped. "But after what you've done, you can't expect me to help you with your problems!"

  "Oh, yes you will!" he snarled, shaking her, his fingers digging painfully into her arm through the thin silk of her dress.

  "No, I won't," she argued, trying to pry his fingers off. "You let me go! Let me go or I'll send Charlotte for Justin!"

  "Let me go or I'll send Charlotte for Justin!" Geoffrey mimicked cruelly. "You won't sent Charlotte anywhere because Charlotte's first loyalty is to me!"

  Dyanna turned to stare at the maid, who had suddenly reappeared. Charlotte dropped her gaze guiltily, unable to meet Dyanna's eyes.

  "Charlotte, is that true?" she demanded.

  The maid shrugged. "Lord Summersleigh is my master, and he did so want you to marry Lord Geoffrey."

  "You deliberately brought me here, didn't you, so Geoffrey could find me? And before, in London . . ."

  "I didn't see Lady Hayward at the hat shop," she whispered. "I saw Lord Geoffrey. He told me about the house in Gracechurch Street."

  "Oh, Charlotte . . . . You don't know what he tried to do to me!"

  "Enough of this talk," Geoffrey snapped. "I'm tired of it! Come along with me, Dyanna."

  Bracing her feet, Dyanna resisted with all the strength in her. "No! I won't go anywhere with you! I won't marry you! You can't force me to!"

  "I haven't asked you to marry me," he reminded her. "It would be foolish, now that you know I already have a wife, wouldn't it?"

  "Then what are you going to do? Kidnap me? Hold me for ransom?"

  "Nothing so tiresome." Geoffrey's eyes glinted darkly as he pressed the sharp edge of his sword against her throat. "Now, come along, Dyanna. All will be revealed in due course."

  Resolved to play along with his madness until she could find a means of escape, Dyanna allowed Geoffrey to drag her along with him. She shot an accusing glare back at Charlotte, but the girl studied the ground with a hurt, shamed air and would not look up at the mistress she had betrayed.

  On the other side of the forest, Justin returned from his morning ride with Caro. Now that Dyanna knew who Caro was, he felt sure the two women could be friends.

  "Mrs. Stour?" he called, standing in the hall with Caro beside him. "Mrs. Stour?"

  "Coming, my lord," the housekeeper called, hurrying in from the housekeeper's wing of the house.

  Justin pulled off his riding gauntlets and tossed them onto a table. "Where is Miss Dyanna?)"

  "She went out, my lord," the housekeeper told him. "Some time ago." Smiling, she dropped a little curtsy to Caroline. "Good morning, Miss Caro.''

  Caroline smiled. "Good morning. Miss Dyanna did not go out alone, did she?"

  "Oh, no, Miss. She went out with her maid." Mrs. Stour's eyes went back to her master. "A parcel came for you while you were gone, my lord. From London."

  "Ah, yes. I asked to have some papers sent to me before I left London. Where is it?"

  "In the morning room, my lord."

  Justin turned to his half-sister. "Will you excuse me for a few minutes, Caro? If this is what I think it is, I'd like to see it immediately."

  "Go ahead," Caro told him. "If I know you, you won't be fit to live with until you've seen your letter."

  Tweaking his sister on the cheek, Justin turned and strode away. Caro and Mrs. Stour watched until he was out of sight, then Caro turned to the housekeeper.

  "Have you any idea where Miss Dyanna might have gone?" she asked.

  "Her m
aid's been pestering her to see the ruins of the old castle, miss," Mrs. Stour told her. "I hope they don't go near the tower. The master would be furious."

  "I'm sure Dyanna would not do that," Caro assured her. "I think I'll go and try to find them. If Justin finishes, tell him where I've gone, won't you?"

  The housekeeper promised she would, and Caro disappeared back out the grand front door.

  In the morning room, Justin's golden eyes skimmed over the thick sheaf of papers his solicitors had sent him from London. It was what he had hoped fora copy of the Last Will and Testament of the Earl of Lincoln, Dyanna's maternal grandfather.

  Justin had sent for it in hopes it would shed some light on Geoffrey's behavior. After all, why would he have gone through all the trouble of convincing Dyanna to elope with him when he already had a wife? He would have known the marriage would be invalidhe would have known all claim on Dyanna's fortune would be revoked when the knowledge of his marriage to Octavia FitzGeorge became public. Something must have convinced him that it was to his advantage to have Dyanna in his possession. For some reason he must have thought he could get and keep her fortune if only he had her in his power. But what on earth could have made him believe such a mad scheme could succeed? There must have been . . .

  Justin skimmed over a paragraph, lost in his own musings. Then a word, two, caught his eyes and he returned to the lines above and read again, carefully.

  "Good Christ!" he muttered, when the import of the words sank in. "The bastard! The scurvy son of a whore!"

  Filled with a murderous fury that clouded his vision and muddled his thoughts, Justin flung the sheaf of papers away and pushed himself to his feet. The last piece of the puzzle fell into place with terrifying clarity.

  In the forest, halfway between Wildwood and the eerie, overgrown ruins of Castle DeVille, Caro's attention was captured by a soft, pitiful moaning.