Spurring Wildfire on, he gave one bark of laughter. His famed arrogance tamed at last, and by a mere slip of a girl! He’d learned so much these past weeks in her company. But there had remained still a spark of vanity that convinced him that he could win her on his own terms. Now, as he galloped north, that spark flickered and died. He cared nothing for himself. He only knew he had to protect Mary. He had to save her. And after, well, after, was a different story altogether.
London streets flew by in a blur, as the carriage thundered roughly over the cobblestones. She was his prisoner. How had she allowed this to happen? The moment she saw him she should have bolted. Assessing the chances for escape, she rapidly came to the conclusion that she must hide all signs of the panic shredding her insides. She tilted her face forward to search Sir Robert’s shadowed eyes.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Haven’t I always stood as your good friend and neighbor, Mary? I am here only to do your bidding. Surely you have some notion where Miss Barton has fled,” he said smoothly, his face still utterly free of emotion.
“The Thistle and Sword, on the road to Scotland,” she replied as he had obviously hoped she would. At this point, it seemed the most prudent idea to go along with his pretense. She must buy time to discover a course of action. Sir Robert couldn’t really be kidnapping her! For what purpose? What could possibly motivate him?
She’d never fully understood his desire to wed her. She might know little of men, but she’d always known that Sir Robert possessed no soft emotions for her, nor did he even hold her in any great regard.
Once, she’d known little of men, she amended quickly.
Every scorching memory of Richard flowed through her mind and heart, but paramount was the vision of the vulnerability on his face alongside her handprint marring his strong cheek muscles.
She closed her lids against that pain, her breath a ragged intake of air.
“My dear Mary.”
The touch of Sir Robert’s arm about her shoulder and his breath against her ear got her attention. Her eyes flew open to find that he’d shifted to her side of the coach and had his arm resting along the seat back, his fingers just touching her.
“My dear Mary, you mustn’t be overset. I’m here now and will handle all for you.”
His oily voice infused a new vitality into her sagging spirits, and she resettled herself in a more commanding posture.
“Certainly we won’t reach the Thistle and Sword before nightfall?”
“But of course we will!” He widened his cold eyes in mock horror. “Certainly you don’t think I’d besmirch your reputation by spending the night unescorted with you? We’ll press on until we find Lottie, no matter what it takes.”
The destination he had in mind, Mary was quite sure, had nothing to do with Lottie and everything to do with some insane plan lurking behind his unemotional eyes.
She wasn’t foolish enough to attempt a leap to freedom from the moving coach. Her only recourse was to get out of this vehicle and away from him, as quickly as possible. She fought off panic and considered how that might be accomplished.
After an hour had gone by she said, “Sir Robert, you know I’m desperate to reach dear Lottie. However, I must ask we stop at the next inn.” She felt her cheeks growing crimson but forced her voice on. “I must use the convenience.”
He blinked once, his gaze flicking over her face. She hadn’t attempted to feign illness from the bouncing coach, for he probably would have simply pulled to the side of the road and opened the door for her to lean out. Perhaps she had lulled him into a false sense of security. In any case, for this request he would have to display a modicum of decency.
He finally nodded. “Of course, Mary. We will be at the Hare and Hound within the hour.”
The thought of escape sustained her, making it possible to endure his hateful presence. To hide her fear she closed her eyes, pretending to sleep so that she wouldn’t have to make conversation with the monster.
The Hare and Hound was a pretty inn of white stone. However, the impression she received on the short walk through the yard was that it was not a thriving establishment. The innkeeper and his wife were elderly and appeared frail; certainly neither were capable of overpowering Sir Robert or the burly coachman in his hire. She could not involve these innocent people by throwing herself on their mercy and declaring that she was being abducted. Who knew what Sir Robert was capable of, if she pushed him too far.
Instead, she asked Sir Robert very politely if he might hire a private bedchamber so that she could perform her hasty toilette in pleasant surroundings.
Warily, he complied, but warned her that every moment lost meant Lottie was getting farther away.
Unfortunately, the elderly innkeeper led her not to a ground floor chamber, but up narrow creaking steps to a cozy room under the eaves. The bedchamber was neat and smelled faintly of lemon soap. Mary, relieved to be away from Sir Robert, rushed to secure the latch the moment the innkeeper’s wife closed the door.
Short of his breaking through the wood, she was safe for the time being. She must seize these few moments to get away.
Her only means of escape appeared to be the short square window overlooking the sloping roof of an attached lean-to. Below was the back vegetable garden of the inn. At last, the years of physical work would be rewarded. She could squeeze through and get out onto the roof. Without a thought, she began to work the rusted window latch, stiff from years of neglect.
Whatever Sir Robert’s plan, Mary was determined to thwart it!
At this moment Sir Robert was thinking that nothing could thwart his plans now. Rubbing his hands together, he smiled into his reflection in the polished brass hanging beside the fireplace in the inn parlor.
He really was quite a clever fellow. Mary may have been amazingly devious with Avalon, but she couldn’t hold a candle to him.
She actually believed that they were going to the Thistle and Sword to save Lottie! What made it particularly amusing to his jaded sense of humor was that the Thistle and Sword was only a few miles farther up the pike. They would be passing it under cover of darkness and she’d never know. Mary would be wed at Gretna Green, just like her mother, before she realized what was happening. Then he’d have that unending source of wealth to tap.
He looked up sharply at the clatter of wheels in the yard. But he relaxed just as quickly. No one could possibly be after them.
The parlor door crashed open. A young man with huge eyes flashing in a set face stormed into the room with the beauteous Lady Arabella Hampton at his side.
“What have you done with Miss Masterton, you dastard!” he demanded, striding forward.
“I beg your pardon?” Sir Robert drawled with cool disdain, rapidly calculating the best course of action in the unforeseen turn of events. “Who the devil are you, and how dare you speak to me in that tone?”
“I am Lord Frederick Charlesworth, and I demand to see Miss Masterton at once. We’ve come to take her back to Avalon House.”
Gauging the width of Charlesworth shoulders, Sir Robert shrugged. “I am accompanying Miss Masterton home to Hexham.”
“You aren’t accompanying Miss Masterton another step. If she wishes to return to Hexham, Avalon will see to it himself.”
My God, the cocky pup even sounded like that devil! Refusing to acknowledge a slight tinge of apprehension, Robert sneered.
“Avalon has nothing to say concerning Miss Masterton’s comings and goings.”
“We’ll see about that. I sent word back to him when we spied you forcing Mary into your carriage. He can’t be far behind.”
Now the apprehension burst into anger and frustration that anyone should dare attempt to ruin his plans, so close to fruition! Giving Charlesworth a look of contempt, he stepped past him, moving toward the door where Lady Arabella stoo
d, her magnificent eyes wide in fear.
“You, sir, are staying here to answer to Avalon!” Charlesworth insisted putting a restraining hand on Robert’s shoulder.
He whirled and, catching the boy off guard, was able to plan a facer on his jaw.
Lady Arabella’s shrill scream echoed in the room as Charlesworth crumpled to the carpet.
“You monster!” she ranted, pushing past him to kneel in all her finery beside Charlesworth’s limp form. “My darling, Frederick, speak to me,” she sobbed, cradling his head in her lap.
Slightly off-balance from the turn of events, Sir Robert wasted precious moments watching Lady Arabella, beautiful even with tears reddening her cheeks, press kisses across Charlesworth’s pale face.
Finally coming to his senses, he realized that it would behoove him to fetch Mary and get on with their journey. He turned toward the door and halted, blinking his eyes in disbelief. The Duchess of Avalon had arrived.
This was a whole different kind of adversary, but if he were clever, he might still pull it off. He made her a courtly bow. She ignored him to gaze at the tableau of the ton’s reigning beauty clasping a man, not her betrothed, to her heaving bosom.
“Oh, Your Grace, that monster struck my brave Frederick without warning! What shall I do?” Arabella questioned, raising tear-washed eyes.
“It appears Frederick will do quite well himself,” the duchess responded practically.
A loud moan from Charlesworth sent Lady Arabella into raptures. Again she covered his bruised cheek with kisses.
While the duchess seemed engrossed in the other occupants, Sir Robert attempted to sneak from the room.
“It would appear, Sir Robert, you have a deal to answer for.” The duchess barely breathed the words, but they were enough to bring him up short.
Always a master at hiding his feelings, even under dire circumstances such as these, he gave her a polite smile. “I answer to no one. Not even the Duchess of Avalon.”
“I believe, sir, you will answer to my son.” Admiration for her coolness warred with his need to make his escape. “However, your son is not here. Alas, by the time he arrives, Mary and I shall be long gone.”
“You once accused me of appearing at the most inopportune moments. It appears I have done so again.”
Avalon’s hated drawl filled the room. Sir Robert had nowhere to run. Turning slowly, he stared into dark eyes filled with murder.
Chapter 13
There was some measure of satisfaction in seeing shock overcome the ever cool and calm Lancaster. His eyes went totally blank, then turned into two dark, unreadable hollows.
Richard gave a short, sharp laugh. “As my mother said, you have much to answer for, Lancaster. Where’s Mary?”
Lifting one dark eyebrow, Sir Robert clasped his hands behind his back in a posture of relaxed congeniality. A smile lit the murky depths of his eyes. “Mary is no longer your concern. Nor has she ever been. Your true fiancée is the one clutching your … friend to her bosom.”
Richard was fully aware of the scene taking place before the hearth. Frederick had managed to sit up, holding his swelling jaw in one palm, while Bella hovered over him like a mother hen. Actually she had never looked more beautiful. Great affection transformed one—a truth he’d recently discovered for himself.
He strode into the room determined to put an end to all the deception being practiced.
“We’ll end this nonsense now, Lancaster!” His voice dropped to a menacing growl. “Your days of being Renfrew’s minion are at an end. He was playing too deep, and the waters have closed over his head. You’ll find the baron is leaving London. Permanently! Mary’s fortune will be returned to her, and I can assure you, whatever he promised you for continuing to do his dirty work won’t be forthcoming. You’re finished!”
A mask of absolute calm slid over Sir Robert’s face as he shrugged. “The accuracy of your perception must be a source of delight to your family and friends, Avalon. However, I don’t know what it has to do with me. I know nothing of Mary’s lost fortune or of her grandfather’s actions. I am merely escorting her to find Miss Barton.”
“What rubbish!” exclaimed Bella from her place at Charlesworth’s side. “When Frederick attempted to restrain that man, he struck him without warning. Hardly the honorable actions of someone with nothing to hide!”
“Nicely spoken, Bella,” Richard complimented. “As you can see, Lancaster, we all recognize your protestations as rubbish.”
Sir Robert looked around the room frantically. He took two steps away from Richard’s challenging stance, only to find himself hemmed in by Charlesworth, who had recovered sufficiently to be standing upright and was hell-bent for revenge.
“I know when to cut my losses,” Lancaster admitted, rocking back slightly on his heels. “So the game is over. I will leave peacefully, Avalon. The field is yours.”
“Not quite yet,” Richard drawled coolly, stepping into the center of the room. With great pleasure he swung a powerful right cross into Lancaster’s face. Sir Robert toppled backward, overturning a small pedestal table, and sending a pewter plate crashing to the floor to roll into the far corner.
“Now the game is over,” Richard growled. Stepping over him, he extended his hand to Charlesworth. “Are you all right?” he asked with true affection.
“Should have seen it coming,” Frederick muttered, looking decidedly sheepish.
“You did well.” He clasped his shoulder and looked steadily into the enormously kind eyes. “You shall have your just reward.”
Richard’s gaze shifted to Bella’s pale face. “I will leave it to you to send the notice of our broken engagement to The Times, Bella. And may I be the first to wish you both much happiness.”
“No, Long! I can’t let—” Frederick’s noble protests were abruptly halted when Bella ruthlessly placed a full kiss upon his lips.
Satisfied, Richard turned to find his mother watching him, lights of pleasure and pride bursting forth in her eyes. “I believe you also have met your match, my dear.”
He pressed a kiss on her soft scented cheek. “I’ve found what I was seeking. Or almost.” He laughed a pure rich sound, free of constraint. “Where is she?
“Where is she?” he repeated in a harder voice, flicking a cold glance to where Sir Robert sprawled on the floor, blinking up at the ceiling. “I said, what have you done with Mary?” He bit the words out, striding over to straddle Lancaster’s body.
Robert struggled up on his elbows, sneering. “Find the little baggage yourself!”
Goaded beyond bearing, Richard lunged downward and pulled Sir Robert to his feet, then shook him until his teeth rattled. “I’m not usually a violent man. However, it would be wise for you to push me no further!”
At last the calm façade cracked. Sir Robert’s face split into cowardly fragments. “Don’t hit me again! She’s upstairs,” he whined through colorless trembling lips.
Richard flung him away and raced out of the room, taking the narrow steps two at a time. The only door on the tiny landing was locked. He smiled at Mary’s resourcefulness. He knocked gently.
“Mary, it’s all right now. It’s Avalon. I’ve come to take you home.”
There was no answer.
The silence stretched to a full minute. He struck the wood harder.
“Mary, open the door. It’s Avalon.”
His temper was getting the better of him! He fleetingly thought of the old days when nothing and no one was able to flummox him. He banged his fist on the door again.
“Mary, open this damn door!”
Curling like a viper in his chest was the sudden unbelievable notion that Lancaster had harmed her in some way. Or spirited her away. With a roar of anguish he rammed his shoulder against the wood. The door shuddered but remained fast.
He took two steps back and lunged again. With a loud crack the lock gave way, and he stumbled over the threshold into the tiny room.
Swaying upright, he flashed an anxious glance around. Mary wasn’t here, and there was no sign that she ever had been. Panic began to overtake him. He’d kill Lancaster if anything happened to Mary!
Then he noticed the curtain flutter at the open window. He crossed the room in two steps.
A steely coldness crept into his stomach at the sight of Mary dangling off the roof by her fingertips. He didn’t dare call out for fear of startling her and causing her to lose her grip.
Sending a barrage of prayers heavenward, he stormed down the steps and raced toward the inn’s kitchen garden.
The very first time he’d seen her she was risking her life to save her livestock. Now she was escaping her kidnapper by defying the danger of the rooftops! Was there ever such a woman before?
Standing just beneath her dangling slippers, he finally faced the truth. And in that moment he embraced it joyously.
There was only one Mary. And she would be his!
Dangling from the roof by trembling fingers Mary was forced to admit that, as an escape attempt, this ranked a miserable choice. She had sadly misjudged the distance to the rhubarb patch beneath her. Surely the plants would break her fall somewhat. Resigned to the fact that she had no recourse but to see this through, she closed her eyes and willed her fingers to release their frantic grip.
Suddenly a pair of arms grasped her.
Lancaster!
She let go and gave one desperate scream, struggling and kicking as she was swung through the air and set down among the carrots.
“Unhand me!” she cried, pounding a strong chest with her fists.
“Careful, Mary, you practically bowled me over!” With a mixture of joy and bewilderment she recognized Richard’s lazy drawl. Stepping back, she brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked up at him.
The Duke's Deceit Page 16