Hareton Hall: Richard and Rose, Book 6

by Lynne Connolly

  “My original plan was to marry your sister and settle down to become a Devonshire squire. I can sacrifice a few years to have her. I liked her very much. I’ll be sorry to lose her.”

  “She’ll forget you once she’s back in London.”

  “I’m sure she will. I may try to do the same thing somewhere else.”

  “If you live.”

  “If, as you say, I live.” He glanced at Steven and then back to me. “Why didn’t you take advantage of the opportunity I gave you? You wanted him once.”

  “Once. I’ve changed.” I didn’t see why I should explain myself to him, especially given the present circumstances. Steven smiled at me, but I didn’t respond to him, either.

  “What do you propose to do once your husband gets here?” Kneller asked.

  I touched the muzzle to the side of his head. “I don’t know. Go home.”

  “You have so many homes.”

  “To Hareton then.” My home was with Richard.

  “And leave me to go about my work?”

  “Maybe.” I wasn’t prepared to tell him anything.

  Steven gave a low growl. “We should kill him. I resent what he’s done. My poor Julia will be beside herself with worry.”

  And perverted excitement, if I knew Julia.

  We changed places again, and I sat at the table. The other two men in the room hadn’t spoken at all, but they watched us closely, waiting for the first sign of weakness.

  Another half hour passed and Steven moved to take over from me, but as he did so, Kneller said, “That’s it. Take them.”

  The two men, so docile up to now, stood and flung the heavy dining table in the air, sent it clattering onto its side with a huge crash, shaking the floorboards beneath our feet. It knocked my hand, and I dropped the pistol, and as I lunged for it, another hand got in the way and I lost the weapon. Steven was knocked backwards by the tilt of the table and landed on his back on the floor, not recovering quickly enough to help me. He did his best, lurching sideways so the table didn’t hit him more than a glancing blow and getting to his feet, but one of the bullies was too much for him and pinned his arms behind his back. The other man held me in a similar way.

  The door burst open and half a dozen men rushed in. Kneller looked at us with arrogant satisfaction. “Well, untie me.”

  Hastily someone obeyed him, cutting him free of his bonds. He got to his feet and rubbed his wrists. “You could have bound me tighter. I thank you for that, at least.”

  Two of the men busied themselves righting the table and picking up the debris which had lately been on it. Sir John strode to where a struggling Steven was being held by one of his henchmen. He took one look at him, and then turned away, but without any warning, turned back to him and delivered a punch to the side of his jaw which knocked him sideways and made him cry out.

  Blood trickled out of Steven’s mouth. Kneller smiled and then he came across to me. I braced myself for the same treatment, hoping he wouldn’t dislodge any teeth, determined to take whatever he chose to give me in defiant silence.

  He gripped my face in one hand and kissed me. I kept my mouth shut, but he forced his tongue between my lips and pressed his fingers and thumb on either side of my jaw so I had to open my mouth. He explored my mouth at his leisure, and, resisting the temptation to clamp my teeth down over his tongue, I let him. He didn’t feel in the least like his father.

  Releasing me at last, he stood back and gave me the same gloating smile he’d given to Steven. “I don’t know what my father sees in you.” He turned away. He’d split my lip. I felt the blood trickling down my chin, but my arms were clamped tightly behind my back and I could do nothing to wipe it away.

  “So I can do it tonight.” He went to his chair, the one he’d used all evening, and sat in it once more. “I’ll have you, then I’ll kill him. Quite convenient, really. The boats are out, so I can drop your bodies at sea. There’ll be a hue and cry, but if your bodies aren’t found, they can’t do a lot about it. After all, anything could have happened to you.”

  He looked speculatively from Steven to me. “Still, it proved an interesting diversion while we wait for him. How many men is he likely to bring with him? Half a dozen? No more, I think. How could anyone find more than that in the time you gave him? I’ve got twenty out there.” He jerked his head in the direction of the yard outside. “Or should have.” He addressed his men. “Three of you stay here. The rest go back outside and wait for Strang and his men. Don’t bring anyone up here but Strang himself. I don’t want any more witnesses than I need.”

  The men nodded and left, leaving us with the men who held us and one other.

  What he said made me jolt. Should I have given Richard more time? I’d tried to assess how long we could hold them for, but I’d been wrong in that. Perhaps he would come with only a few men, leaving the others to follow. By the time they caught up with us it could be too late.

  He turned to the man standing by his chair, who seemed to be in the capacity of a henchman. “Is everything ready? This is a sideshow; if I have to, I’ll curtail it. We’ve more important things to think of.”

  “Everything’s quite ready,” the man said, then added, as though he’d forgotten, “sir.”

  Kneller nodded curtly. “Then we have plenty of time for my little amusements.” He studied me again, assessing me, letting his gaze travel up and down my body. I was glad I was dressed for riding, in a shirt buttoned up to my neck, waistcoat and jacket, but sorry the upper half of my habit was so close fitting. “I might enjoy this. How about you, boys?”

  The men grinned and nodded, and the one holding me grunted. The statement forcibly reminded me of the young man’s upbringing. No finesse.

  Steven caught my gaze and tried to shrug, but the man holding him must have him very tightly, for he couldn’t manage it. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but I was glad he had the sense to stay silent. I was also glad that the blow Kneller had given him hadn’t knocked him out. Although I hated to admit it, I wouldn’t have felt as brave without my temporary ally.

  Kneller and his deputy continued to discuss the plans for that evening, which would have been more interesting had we not known them already. He would engage with the Cawntons, steal the contraband and disappear with the goods. But it was clear from his free discussion of his plans that he didn’t intend us to leave this house alive.

  The pause gave Steven and me a chance to recover from our wounds, especially Steven. John’s wet, sloppy kiss had roused a feeling of slight nausea in me, but little else. The cut on my lip was negligible; its sting merely served to remind me of my resolve. The slap he’d given me before, though stunning in its impact, hardly showed.

  When we heard galloping hooves I tried to assess how many people there were, but I found it impossible. I heard them come through to the courtyard and then the sound of noisy fighting and scuffles. I desperately wanted to see, but Steven and I were now held on the other side of the room. Sir John stood and went to the window to watch the melee below, but we couldn’t gauge what was going on until he turned back with a slow, satisfied smile. “He’ll be up in a minute.”

  Sure enough he was. A man walked behind him, a pistol jammed into his back. Richard smiled when he saw me, then a shadow of concern crossed his face. “Has he hurt you?”

  “Not much,” I answered. “He was waiting until you got here.”

  Only then did Richard turn to confront his son. He might have been in any fashionable drawing room in London from the tilt of his head and his arrogant half smile. “Well?”

  “Well?” responded the youth. “Father?” The word sounded worse than any curse.

  “No son of mine,” said Richard. “I may have fathered you, but had I the rearing of you I’d have done a better job.”

  “You can’t deny me.”

  “I can do as I please,” Richard answered coolly. They bore similar smooth, carved features, one with a perfectly calm expression, the other blazing with rage.
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br />   “That’s been your trouble, hasn’t it?” the younger demanded with passion. “You’ve never been poor, you’ve had everything you’ve ever wanted, no one’s ever told you no, no one’s ever deprived you of something you needed. And you don’t care if my sister and I creep to the lowest levels of degradation. If we’re hanged or transported. It means nothing to you.”

  “Is that what you really think?” Richard hadn’t looked at me after that one, assessing glance. All his attention went to John. “You have no idea, have you? Then just this once, I’ll tell you.”

  “It’ll be the last chance you get,” Sir John growled.

  Richard lifted an eyebrow but didn’t comment on the last remark. “I suppose you’ve spent your life wondering what it would have been like if you’d been born legitimate? Is that what all this is about? You think you’re somehow entitled to what I have? Well you can take it, for all I care.”

  This startled his son; his face lost some of its ferocity as he concentrated on Richard. “All my life I’ve been told who I am, what’s expected of me. Do you know what it’s like to have your life mapped out for you from the moment you’re born? No? Then you’re luckier than I am, child.” He paused. The only sound in the room was the heavy breathing from Kneller and the man behind me. “I might possess land and the income that goes with it, but I have to look after it, care for it. Whether I like it or not, I have to do these things. I can’t sell it, can’t run away. I used to dream of that, but it’s not possible. Can you understand what that’s like?” He glared at John, waiting for an answer. I thought he was trying to play for time.

  “Oh, poor rich boy,” sneered his son. “Never allowed past the park walls, were you? Well, you’re about to find out what it’s like on the other side.” He walked across the room to stand by me. “Your perfect little world will fall apart. You’ve been pampered, cosseted and spoiled until you can’t remember what it’s like to be human like the rest of us. I’ll remind you before you die.” He smiled in what looked like genuine amusement. He was undoubtedly enjoying this. A bully. “First I’ll screw your wife. And you’ll watch. Then I’ll let anyone who wants her have her, for half an hour or so, at any rate. After that, who knows? Maybe I’ll kill you, or maybe I’ll release you, if you beg me prettily enough.” He turned to look at Steven, standing mutely furious by my side. “And you,” he added, with a sweet smile I’d seen Richard use in the past.

  “Then what?” Richard watched him closely.

  “Why should you care? You’ll be dead by then.” He waited for a response, but he didn’t get one. “You didn’t think I’d really let you go, did you? I’m going to beat Cawnton at his own game, have your bodies rowed out to sea and dropped there, come back here, marry the delectable Ruth and spend the rest of my life in quiet contemplation of my riches.”

  Richard smiled, but without humour. “No you’re not.” He sighed. “For one thing, if you drop our bodies at sea, they’ll be washed ashore in a few days. Then again, you’re forgetting my much vaunted position. Do you really think they’ll let me disappear without a trace?”

  “Why shouldn’t they?”

  Richard gave a “Tch!” of exasperation. “Because, child, I’m Viscount Strang, heir to the Earldom of Southwood. I could be a monkey or a complete reprobate and they’d still come looking for my killer. You might get some personal retribution, but it wouldn’t last long.”

  “How can they connect us?”

  Richard threw up his hands. “And you’ve lasted this long? Dear God, how could I have sired such an idiot? My brother knows, my valet knows, I’ve written it down.” He was truly exasperated.

  “So it’s general knowledge? You don’t mind people knowing?” John stared at him curiously.

  “Yes, I mind people knowing, but the people I’ve told won’t let it go any further.”

  “Your valet knows?”

  “Yes,” Richard said simply, but didn’t elaborate.

  “Damned pretty boy. Molly.” Sir John spat at him. “Tell your valet everything, do you?”

  “Pretty much,” Richard said, not in the least put out.

  His son smiled. “Your consequence can’t protect you from me. But thanks for the information about the tides—I’m new to the district. I can dispose of you another way, and if they have no body, they can’t accuse me of murder.”

  Richard sighed heavily. “Let me put this another way. You are not going to kill us.”

  John resorted to childish jibes and used a phrase I hadn’t heard since I left the schoolroom. “You and whose army?”

  “The one I brought with me,” Richard said calmly.

  “The five men being held downstairs?”

  “Together with the fifteen outside. I trust they’ve overcome your men by now. I needed the five I brought with me, as the entrance to your courtyard is so narrow I couldn’t get enough men in to hold yours immediately. The best solution was to allow you to believe you’d won.”

  “I don’t believe you,” John said flatly. “My men are better than that.”

  “They’re good,” Richard said. “But mine are better. I make sure I only employ the best.”

  John looked surprised. “Why would you want people like that?”

  “My business,” said Richard briefly. “Unlike you, I don’t tend to crow over my victims and tell them all my plans. Or do you still think I’m nothing but a society dandy?”

  “You’ve never given the impression of anything else.” This time a sneer passed over the younger man’s face.

  “Why should I?” Richard enquired.

  “He’s one of the most dangerous people you’re ever likely to meet,” Steven commented. It broke the contact between father and son.

  Richard gave Steven his attention and inclined his neatly powdered and behatted head. “Thank you.”

  John also looked at Steven, eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I thought you were.”

  “I’m a beginner.” Steven gave a twisted smile.

  John turned his head slowly to Richard. “Do you fight?”

  “With what?”

  “Swords, pistols?”

  Richard shook his head. “Only with gentlemen. True gentlemen. And only when I have the time.” Richard could fight like a gentleman or like a brute, depending on the circumstances. I’d seen both. In both situations he fought to win, but one had more finesse.

  “You really thought you could outwit me, beat me?” Richard was less exasperated and beginning to get angry. I prayed he wouldn’t. “And—you thought you could offer such insults to my wife and walk away?” He was definitely getting angry. The colour had left his face, and his clear blue eyes were icing over. I’d face his father’s hot temper any day rather than Richard’s cold fury.

  Richard shook off the man who held him and walked across the room, under his son’s astonished gaze. He glanced at the man who held me, and he released me too. That did surprise me. I expected one or two Thompson’s people in the household, but not here. So there was only John and the man who held Steven. He looked about uncertainly but kept hold of Steven.

  Richard put his hand in his pocket and drew out one of his favourite weapons—a thin, razor-sharp Italian stiletto knife.

  I closed my eyes. “No,” I moaned before I opened them again.

  John lifted his arm and tried to knock Richard’s hand aside, but with a circular movement, Richard twisted his hand and brought it up again, at the same time reaching forward with his left hand to seize John’s arm in a grip that must have surprised him if he still thought my husband a popinjay. When he wrenched his arm John had to necessarily follow, so Richard held one arm, the one with the knife, around his throat and John’s other hand bent up behind his back. His face showed anger. So did Richard’s, and seeing their faces so close I remarked, not on the similarity between them, but the differences.

  “Beg her pardon,” Richard said.

  “Eh?”

  “You offered insults to my wife. I can see the marks on her face. An
d if I didn’t know her better I’d say you frightened her with what you proposed to do. Beg her pardon.”

  Sir John tried an elegant shrug, but Richard had him in too firm a grip. “I beg your pardon,” he chanted, like a child, sneering still.

  Richard spun him around and at the same time kicked out a chair that broke the boy’s fall. He fell on it awkwardly. As soon as he felt his hands free he dived for his pockets, but Richard waved the knife at him. Since this didn’t deter the youth, he threw the knife.

  With deadly accuracy it went through the palm of the left hand into the wood of the chair. Without a pause, John Kneller reached his right hand across and wrenched it out. Only a short grimace of pain, and then he was facing Richard again, holding the knife.

  Richard held another. He never carried just one. “I don’t want to kill you or I would have used the pistol I also have in my pocket. Don’t try me, boy. Take it as read that I have this place now, as securely as if I’d bought it from you. I planted five men in your household—one is here, the rest downstairs. With them, the five I brought and the fifteen who came after, we have you pinned here. You’re going nowhere tonight.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Dear God!” The cry was one of exasperation.

  Richard dragged the young man from the chair, easily avoiding the wild sweep of the knife, although my heart missed a beat when John swung at him. “Keep it as a souvenir, if you like. Come here.”

  He went to the window, dragging John with him. They gazed out. I had a good idea of what they would see outside: our men, each holding one of John’s, waiting for further instructions. John stared, holding the knife uselessly by his side. Then he pocketed it and turned away. “How did you do it?”

  “I have better men, and more,” Richard said. His anger was subsiding, and I gave a sigh of relief to see it. “I’m also nearly twice your age and I have more experience than you. Sit down.”

  John came back to the table and sat. I went to stand by Richard’s side, but knew better than to touch him. He was tense, wired tight with nerves and excitement. The smooth exterior covered it all to most people, but not me, and Steven saw some of it too.