Lord Hunter (Secrets & Scandals Book 6)
Page 15
Lucian tried to lunge, but strong hands held him back. He could not shake them loose.
Whitehall nodded to the men. They shoved him back into the house and slammed the door. Lucian stumbled, almost losing his balance, then straightened.
“Any luck?” Sean asked when Lucian walked back to the sofa.
“Was a good thought, but Whitehall, their leader, declined the offer.” He rubbed his sore knuckles and flexed his fingers.
“Help me sit,” Sean said, sliding a leg off the sofa.
Lucian gripped the offered hand and pulled. The man was heavy as an ox, he thought.
Panting, Sean nodded toward the door. “I assure you, some of the men are considering your offer. Even if Whitehall will not, there are others who will.”
Lucian clenched his teeth. “Did you hear Whitehall? Why he refused?”
“I heard that part.” Sean mopped a hand down his sweaty face. “Wait a while and try again. Speak to some of the men directly, if you are able.”
Lucian opened and closed his mouth a few times. “He threatened Emma. How can you sit there and not let it bother you?”
Sean stilled and glanced up, his eyes glittering. “Let me assure you, my lord, I am well bothered. But we must think of a plan at the moment. One that involves getting the hell out of here and keeping Emma safe.”
Taking a deep breath, Lucian tried to calm the rage swelling inside him. He took another slow breath and nodded. “You are right.” Taking the chair beside the sofa, he leaned back and closed his eyes. “Call me Lucian.”
“Jonah spoke of you often.”
Lucian glanced at Sean. “I know. Your sister told me.”
“Did she also tell you Jonah had asked for her hand? On many occasions?” Sean smiled. “I can see she did not.”
Lucian frowned down to the clasped hands between his knees. “Why did she refuse him?”
“She refuses everyone.”
He lifted his head. “How many offers?”
Sean’s smile widened. “I am sure you do not want to know.”
Lucian rubbed the back of his neck, remembering what she said in his room. “She is afraid of having children. That they will be in danger because of her.” He blew out a breath and glanced around. “I am beginning to understand her concerns.”
The smile fled from Sean’s lips. “I cannot believe she told you.” His eyes narrowed. “Emma never speaks of what happened.”
Lucian snapped his head back around.
Sean’s eyes widened. “She didn’t tell you, then. Not all.”
“Tell me what.”
“Emma should speak of it. Not me.”
Lucian crossed his arms and waited.
Sean touched the bloody side of his bandage. “Perhaps you should know. Will help you understand why she refuses to marry and have children.” He sighed and lowered his arm. “Father had just located a cache of Roman gold. He celebrated the large find with too much drink and spoke of it to the wrong people.”
Glancing down at his clasped hands, Sean continued. “The next night, those people broke in to our house, looking for the gold. Father and I had left that morning to take it to London.”
Lucian shifted in his chair, but would not stop Sean. He had to hear all of it. “What happened?”
Sean lifted his head, his eyes haunted. “The men killed our mother, and Emma…thankfully, she got away.” He closed his eyes a moment. “But she saw too much.”
“How old was she?”
“Seven.”
Lucian leaned back. So young? Yet, it explained a lot. Emma’s hesitation to place her own children in jeopardy. “Why would she wish to continue such a dangerous life?”
“It’s in our blood,” Sean said. “And it’s all we know.”
Yes, Emma said much the same, Lucian remembered. He glanced to the door. “How did you know Renfield was involved?”
“At an inn, I overheard one of Whitehall’s men say they were headed for Renfield.”
Lucian nodded, then frowned. “Need I ask how you knew Emma would come looking for you?”
Sean flashed a smile. “I think you already know the answer.”
Blowing out a breath, Lucian knew he had to ask. He dreaded knowing, but it would haunt him otherwise. “Tell me, how did Jonah die?”
Sean’s smile fled. Pain wracked his eyes before he closed them. “We were to scale the cliff with rope, thinking the treasure was buried at the bottom,” he began, his voice raw. “I went first. When I was halfway down, I heard Jonah speaking to someone. Arguing, actually. I could not make out who, only it was a man. Nor could I tell what they argued about.” He opened his eyes, torment burning within them. “Next, I saw Jonah reeling back, gloved hands clutched at his throat. Then he was thrown back.” Sean swallowed. “Down to the rocks below.”
“You did not see the man who pushed him?”
Sean lifted his gaze, the horrible memory fading from his eyes. “No, but in our current situation, I would think it obvious.”
Lucian could only agree. Rising from his chair, he walked to the window at the rear of the little house and glanced out. The mist had lifted enough for him to count five men milling about and another pissing behind a tree. Lucian was about to return to his chair when he noticed horses filing from the mist. He leaned forward, wondering what was going on, then saw Whitehall’s men shout out in surprise.
“What is it?” Sean asked.
“I’m not sure,” Lucian began, watching the newcomers overtake Whitehall’s men.
“What do you see?”
When Lucian parted the curtain, he heard a pistol fire. He raced to the front and opened the door. Whitehall disappeared into the mist, his men close behind.
“That was easier than I thought.”
Lucian smiled at the familiar voice. He turned as Jeremy slid from his horse, then walked to his friend. “What took you so long?”
Jeremy grinned. “I could have waited another day, old man.” He shook his head. “But Evie insisted something had happened and to come straight away.” With a sigh, he added, “She will gloat for weeks now.”
“I am glad you listened to your wife.” Then Lucian sobered. “Did you go to the estate first? Do you have Emma?”
The grin slid from Jeremy’s lips. “I assumed she was with you.” He glanced inside. “She is not?”
A jolt went through Lucian. “Renfield kept her there.” He tipped his head toward Sean. “Her brother is with me.”
Jeremy nodded to Sean. “He will not ride a horse in his condition. I will have some men ready Renfield’s coach and take him to Jack’s house in Bristol.”
“A good plan,” Lucian said and introduced Jeremy to Sean.
“I must find my sister,” Sean insisted and tried to rise from the sofa.
Lucian kept him still with a hand on the shoulder. “I assure you, Jeremy and I will find her.”
Sean tipped his head up, gave Lucian a searching look, then nodded. “All right, then. I am trusting you with my sister’s life. Find her, Lucian, and bring her back to me.”
Lucian gave him a pat. “You have my word.” He turned to Jeremy. “Let us hurry to the estate and question the people there. Someone must know something.”
Jeremy nodded and spoke to one of his men. “Lord Hartford needs a horse.” Then he turned and handed a pistol to Lucian. “Take this,” he said and patted his pocket. “I have another.”
As they neared the house several minutes later, Jeremy slowed. “I must tell you something before you see it for yourself.”
Lucian did not like the sound of that. “What is it?”
“The men I sent with you are dead.”
A cold chill shot through Lucian. His hands tightened on the reins. “Come, we must learn where Renfield has taken Emma.”
When they reached the rear of the house, Lucian slid to the ground before the horse stopped. He raced toward the door, Jeremy at his heels, and launched himself inside.
The butler hurried in their di
rection. “My lord, you—”
“Where has Renfield taken Miss Wickham?” Lucian demanded.
Eyes bulging, the man shook his head. “I do not know.”
Jeremy pulled out his pistol and raised it to the man’s forehead. “Perhaps this will help you remember.”
Hands flying up, the butler took a step back. “Please, my lords, I do not know where they have gone. They left two hours ago.” He pointed to a room. “They were in there the entire night working on maps. That is all I know. I swear it.”
Lucian glanced to Jeremy who gave a slight nod that he believed the butler. With a sigh, he turned and walked into the room. A long table with paper and pencils scattered on one end caught his attention. He drew close but found no maps. They must have taken them.
He made a fist and dropped it down on the table, rattling the lamp. Where were they? One of the pencils rolled over the side and landed on a scrap of paper beneath a chair. Lucian was about to turn and leave when he noticed the triangles, circles, and dashes.
Rushing to the chair, he retrieved the paper. A message from Emma. But, what did it say?
Spinning around, Lucian flew from the room. “Jeremy, I have found something,” he called and raced outside. The coach was already rattling toward the summer house when Lucian jumped into the saddle.
“What did you find?” Jeremy asked as he caught up a moment later.
Lucian patted his pocket. “A message from Emma, but Sean alone can read it. They have a secret code, known only to the two of them.”
“Interesting,” Jeremy said. “I have tried to devise a similar code but have been unsuccessful.”
“Why would you need to?” Lucian asked.
Jeremy grinned. “Wouldn’t want the servants to read the letters I leave for Evie, now would I?”
With a snort, Lucian stopped his horse before the summer house. There was something going on with Jeremy, some secret. Yet, it was none of his business, Lucian thought, sliding to the ground.
Racing inside, he found Sean on the sofa. “Did you find her?” the man asked, glancing past him.
“No. Renfield has taken her somewhere. They left two hours ago.” Lucian pulled the note from his pocket. “I found this on the floor.”
Sean took the scrap of paper and read it. “Jagged tooth two miles south.”
Lucian shook his head. “What does that mean?” He glanced at the note. “Are you sure you read it right?”
“I am certain.”
Turning to Jeremy, Lucian asked, “Any idea what it means?”
Retrieving his snuff box, Jeremy opened the lid and took a pinch, then snapped it closed. “If you were to look at a map of the channel, one area does look like a jagged tooth.” He grinned. “Two miles south of here.”
“You know the location?”
Jeremy nodded. “I do.”
“Come, then. Let us get Emma.”
As they raced to the south, the mist had lifted enough to see a short distance up the road. Although they rode through a gray-white wall, the green grass and brown dirt were more defined.
“I found the archbishop,” Jeremy said after a mile.
Lucian slid his gaze to his friend. “Any difficulties?”
Rolling his eyes, Jeremy said, “With that man, always.” Then he grinned. “But I got your license.”
Turning back to the road, excitement flooded Lucian’s heart. Soon, he would have Emma back and they would be married.
Jeremy slowed his horse and nodded to the right. Lucian heard the ocean pushing and pulling waves, could see the craggy rocks rising from the mist. They were high on a cliff, he noticed. “We must get down there,” he said, nodding to the beach below.
“There is a path,” Jeremy said and led them to a narrow strip of sand on the other side of the cliff.
The horses picked down to the beach and Lucian listened for voices as they made their way to the jagged tooth protruding out to the water on their left, the long cliff rising up on their right. Chilled wind blew Lucian’s hair as he moved along the sandy cove.
Glancing around, he stopped his horse and turned to Jeremy. With a sinking heart, he said, “She isn’t here.”
Chapter 17
Emma’s eyes burned from lack of sleep. She rubbed a hand down her face and drew in the cool, damp air to concentrate on counting the distance.
“How much longer?” Renfield asked, moving his horse closer to hers.
“Half a mile,” she answered and glanced over her shoulder. Renfield had brought seven men with them, each carrying picks and shovels. An image of them digging graves formed, making her shiver, and she straightened in her saddle.
When her horse neared the area, Emma stopped. “We are close,” she said, looking around. The mist had lifted enough to see several trees skirting a level field. Throwing her leg over the saddle, she slid to the ground and pulled out the crew’s map. The distance from the last circle and the one before was the shortest length. Removing the paper with the calculations from her pocket, she found the distance one tenth of a Roman mile, due east. Somewhere in the field.
Emma turned and stepped out the distance, Renfield close behind. Hovering. She wished he wouldn’t loom about, but give her the space to count. Lack of sleep made her mind bleary enough.
Coming to a large boulder sunk deep in the earth, Emma’s breath caught. That had to be the spot. She pointed, turning to Renfield. “There. Below the boulder.”
Anticipation lit his eyes and he turned to the men. “You heard the lady. Hurry, now. Get to work.”
The men scrambled to the boulder and began digging a trench. They would roll the thing over to get to the underside. Emma walked to one of the trees and eased herself to the ground. She leaned against the trunk and was asleep before she knew it.
Rough hands lifted her to her feet. Startled awake, Emma blinked at Renfield’s angry eyes, trying to piece together what was happening. “What…?”
“My gold,” he gritted out, bringing her face close to his. “It’s not here.”
Emma glanced to the boulder now on its side and the seven men surrounding the hole. “Perhaps they did not dig deep enough.”
Renfield gave her a jarring shake. “They have dug down much farther than three men without shovels could have. Are you sure your calculations are correct?”
“Yes.” She also began to think the men had made the map to keep from getting lost, not to mark the gold. That had been a consideration, but now she grew more certain. She only hoped Lucian and her brother had gotten away by now. The reason she did not start at the jagged tooth.
Renfield’s fingers bit into her upper arms. “Then where is my gold?” His lips twisted and his eyes narrowed. “You saw those men dead in the stables. If I do not get my gold before the sun sets this day, you will watch your brother and Hartford die in the same manner.” He pushed her toward her horse. “Now, take another look at that map.”
Emma stumbled, one knee crashing to the ground. Something sharp bit into her skin, bringing tears to her eyes. She rose and plucked the rock from her knee, finding a bloody hole in her pants, then limped to her horse. Removing the map, she studied it for a moment, then rolled it back up.
“You know where to go?” Renfield asked.
“Yes.”
He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “You had better be right this time.” Then he turned to the men. “Come, Miss Wickham has made a correction.”
Emma eyed the saddle, then was startled when Renfield lifted her up. She looped a wayward curl behind her ear, then turned her horse south.
“How long?” Renfield asked as he came to her side.
“An hour. Maybe less.”
They rode in silence and Emma heard the sound of the ocean getting stronger. She found the main road and continued south for another mile. The short nap she had earlier helped to clear her head. She was glad to have come first to the boulder. If it bought Lucian and Sean time to escape, she would do whatever she could to see it happen.
“What are you smiling about?” Renfield demanded.
Emma blinked out of her thoughts. She was about to respond when she heard the thundering sound of horse hooves. Heart pumping, she squinted in the mist, hoping the approaching troupe was led by Lucian. That somehow, he had managed to escape and came for her.
But Whitehall flew from the mist. When he saw them, his eyes widened and he sawed back on the reins. He brought his horse to a skittering halt, throwing up rocks and dirt. The dozen men behind him almost ran into each other, and several swore, but they managed to stop in time.
“Whitehall, what are you doing here?” Renfield demanded.
After a quick glance behind him, Whitehall said, “Hartford escaped. Armed men arrived and took us by surprise. We are being chased.”
No sooner were the words out of his mouth, the roar of horse hooves sounded in the ocean breeze. Whitehall gasped and kicked his horse’s sides. His men followed.
Stunned, Emma turned to Renfield. “You have not seen the last of me,” he vowed before urging his horse to follow Whitehall. Renfield’s seven men threw down their shovels and picks, then disappeared into the mist.
Moving to the side of the road, Emma waited, hoping Lucian led the charge. The men flew forward, then stopped when they saw her. She recognized none, but surmised who had hired them. “I am Emma Wickham, friend of Lord Fielding. Can you tell me where to find him?”
“He is with me,” said the familiar voice.
Emma swiveled around. Lucian slid from his horse and approached her, his eyes roving her face. “Are you well?” He held up his hands.
She went into his arms, pressed her cheek to his chest, and closed her eyes, breathing in the salty spice of his skin. Lucian kissed the top of her head. “Did he harm you?” he whispered.