by Laura Landon
Winnie shifted in her seat, then stopped when Nick placed his hand atop hers.
“You are not to leave my side. Do you understand, Winnie? And you’re not to take any risks. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she answered, but Nick must not have believed her because he didn’t stop there.
“I’m not saying this for your own safety, Winnie, but for mine. You know if you put yourself in danger, I’ll have to do whatever I can to protect you. And that could get me killed.”
Winnie didn’t know what threat she expected him to use to force her to follow his instructions without deviating from them, but nothing he said could have had a more potent impact. Even his wink and half smile couldn’t squelch the alarm his words had raised. She couldn’t bear the thought of doing something that caused Nick to be hurt, let alone killed.
“Now do you understand how important it is to do exactly what I tell you to do?”
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.
“And one more thing.” Nick reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a gun. It wasn’t a large gun, but a smaller pistol, the kind some women carried with them when they traveled. Especially on some of the roads where highwaymen were rumored to patrol. He held it out to her and she took it.
“Do you know how to shoot?”
“I know how,” she admitted. “Father and Ben thought Anne and I should know how to shoot a gun in the event we ever needed to protect ourselves. But I’m a terrible shot. Ben told me I couldn’t hit the Countess of Blythingdon’s back end, if she were more than five paces away from me. And if you’ve seen the countess, you know how bad a shot that makes me.”
Winnie was glad to see that her admission brought a smile to Nick’s face.
“You don’t have to hit anything. You only have to shoot into the air. It will be a signal for Mack to come with the brigadesmen.”
“I can do that,” Winnie said, holding the small pistol in her hand, then placing it in the pocket of her skirt.
“If anything goes wrong, I want you to promise that you’ll fire the gun, and run.”
“No. I won’t promise you that. I’ll fire the gun, but I won’t leave you.”
“You have to, Winnie. If something happens, I need to know you’re safe. It will be difficult enough to take care of myself, without having to worry about you, too. Can you understand that?”
Winnie wanted to refuse, but she knew what Nick meant. She was smart enough to know that she would only be a liability if things got dangerous. She also knew that Mack Wallace would be more help to Nick than she could ever hope to be. “Yes,” she finally said. “I’ll run.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, then gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “If anything goes wrong, run to the carriage, and Hodgekens will take you home. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Promise you’ll be safe,” she said, needing to hear his promise. She also knew that keeping his promise was totally out of his control.
“Are you ready?” he asked, pressing a searing kiss to her lips.
The carriage stopped. “Yes,” she answered when Hodgekens opened the door. “I’m ready.”
Nick stepped out of the carriage first and Winnie followed. When Winnie’s feet touched the ground, she turned to look at the building where they’d been instructed to leave the money.
“Are you sure this is it?” Winnie whispered to Hodgekens.
“Yes, my lady. This is where they said to come.”
The building in front of them was more a shack than anything else. From the look of it, it had been abandoned for several years. The outer walls bowed, and the roof sagged. Winnie wasn’t sure it was safe to even enter, but they had no choice.
“Stay behind me, Winnie,” Nick whispered as he held out his hand to keep her behind him. “Be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, Hodgekens,” he said to the driver.
“I will, sir. I’ll get the lady to safety at the first sign of trouble.”
Nick nodded, then led the way to the entrance of the rundown stable. A faint light shone from inside, as if someone had left a lantern lit to indicate that they were at the right place.
They stepped inside the musty-smelling stable. The air was rife with odors of rotted hay and rancid manure that had been left to the summer heat and harsh elements. It stifled Winnie’s breathing.
But it wasn’t only the rank odors of an abandoned stable that reeked inside the building, but another smell Winnie couldn’t quite explain. Something to which she couldn’t put a name, and knew she didn’t want to.
Nick must have recognized the smell. He held up his hand for her to stay where she was.
She watched him walk to the lantern and pick it up, then walk to the center of the narrow stable. He lifted the light.
That’s when Winnie saw it.
The blackmailer was indeed a woman, but the pool of blood soaking into the straw beneath her said she’d never have a chance to spend the money Winnie had brought.
CHAPTER 28
Nick checked to make sure Winnie hadn’t moved from the spot where he’d left her. He didn’t want her to see this. Whoever had killed Mrs. Woodman, if that was indeed who this was, had committed one of the most heinous acts he’d ever seen.
The instrument had obviously been a knife, and the person wielding the weapon was skilled enough—or vicious enough—to have stabbed the victim more times than Nick could count. As if the numerous stabbings weren’t enough, the cook’s head had been severed from her neck and placed beside her body.
“Is it Mrs. Woodman?” Winnie asked from where she stood.
“Don’t come in, Winnie,” he said.
“Is it Mrs. Woodman?” Winnie repeated.
“Yes. It’s Mrs. Woodman.”
“Is she dead?”
“Yes.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Winnie take a step toward him. “Stay where you are.”
“But I want to make sure—”
A low moan came from the shadows, and Winnie stopped. Nick held up his hand to warn her not to move. For once, she followed his order.
With the lantern in one hand and his pistol in the other, he walked toward the sound. He kept his gun pointed to the form lying in the corner.
Nick lifted the lantern higher and let the shifting light shine on the crumpled body. He knelt down to get a closer look at the man, and his injuries.
The straw beneath the man was soaked in blood. He’d suffered from several stab wounds, the same as the woman. Only the man was alive, at least for a little longer.
“Don’t let her…get you,” the man said. “She’s…mad.”
His voice was weak. Nick realized he’d already lost too much blood and wouldn’t survive. The person who’d done this had obviously taken the man by surprise. That was the only way anyone could have overpowered a man of his size.
“Did you see who did this to you?” Nick asked.
The man laughed. His laughter was followed by a wracking cough, then blood gushed from his mouth. “I saw…her. It was that…duchess.”
Nick heard a gasp from behind him and turned to see Winnie standing above him. He wanted to yell a reminder that he’d told her to stay near the door, but it was too late now. She might as well hear this. She’d find out eventually.
“What duchess?” Nick asked.
“The one…my ma…was cook for.”
The man gave up his struggle as more blood spilled from his mouth.
“She’s here?” Winnie asked.
“Ya,” he whispered.
“How did she get here?” Winnie asked.
Her voice trembled as she spoke and Nick knew she was terrified. Fear that her mother would escape from where Winnie had taken her had been Winnie’s worst nightmare. Having her reappear after Society thought she was dead was something Winnie had done everything possible to prevent.
“We…brought her. Ma and…me.”
“Why?”
“For…jewels. She told us she’d give us…more jew
els than…we could…carry. She…lied.”
“Where is she now?” Nick asked.
The man was losing strength. He didn’t have much longer to live.
“Where?” Nick repeated.
He reached for the dying man’s hand to press for an answer, then froze.
“Are you surprised to see me, daughter?” a chilling voice asked.
Nick leaped up and whirled toward the voice. The Duchess of Townsend held Winnie in her grasp, and had a knife pressed to Winnie’s throat as she dragged her several steps away. “You thought you’d locked me away and were rid of me. But you aren’t. I’m smarter than all of you.”
The duchess laughed as if she’d accomplished the greatest scheme in all of history. And perhaps she had.
“I haven’t gone to your father…yet,” she said, taunting Winnie. “As you can see. I decided I needed to deal with you first.”
Nick wanted to rush across the opening and wrench Winnie from her mother’s grasp, but he knew that approach would only get Winnie hurt. Or killed. The two dead bodies behind him were proof of what the deranged duchess was capable of.
“I’m so very grateful for the pitiful funds you’ve brought me thus far,” the woman gloated. “But there’s no need to drag this little drama out any longer. Where is the money, daughter dear?”
Winnie attempted to pull away from her mother, but the tip of the knife pressed harder against her skin. She didn’t cry out, but a small whimper escaped into the silence when the blade sliced her skin.
“Let her go,” Nick said, knowing before the words even left his mouth that the duchess would never do what he demanded.
The duchess laughed. “Let her go? You’re demanding that I let her go?”
The tip of the knife went further into her skin and the trickle of blood became a steady flow.
“You’ve killed enough innocent people, Your Grace.”
The Duchess of Townsend’s glare turned more hateful. “Innocent?” she spat. “I’m tired of everyone saying the people I killed were innocent! None of them were innocent! They needed to die. Every one of them.”
“Mother—” Winnie started to say, but the duchess reacted so violently, Winnie halted abruptly as the knife moved to a different spot on her neck.
“Don’t call me mother! I’m not your mother. I’d never have birthed a daughter who would lock me away where I was neglected and mistreated.”
“I took you where you would be safe,” Winnie said. “If I hadn’t, you would have been turned over to the authorities.”
“No! I would have been able to state my case. I would have been able to convince your father that I’d saved him from an unbearable life with that pitiful creature. I would have been able to convince him that everything I did was for him.”
Her voice rose in pitch as well as volume. The little control she’d previously had was gone.
“I’m the Duchess of Townsend! I could have ruined you with a word.” Her eyes darted from side to side, as if unable to focus. “You took away my chance to rule the ton. You stole my opportunity to make peace with your father. I should have killed you when I had the chance,” she shrieked.
Before Nick could react, the duchess swung the knife downward. The blade slashed across Winnie’s middle. The material beneath her breasts separated, then turned dark with her blood.
“And you!” She whipped her face toward Nick. “Drop that gun or I’ll finish what I started!”
Winnie’s eyes opened in disbelief as she gasped in pain. The look on her face said she didn’t want to believe her mother was capable of such cruelty. That she didn’t want to believe that her mother truly intended to kill her. But the stain that darkened the front of her gown was proof that her mother was capable of even the most heinous acts.
Nick’s stomach twisted into a knot that halted his breathing as he opened his palm and showed he was prepared to drop the gun. The pistol swung heavily around his trigger finger and began to slide.
If anyone doubted the duchess’s sanity, her actions proved how demented she was. Nick knew if he wanted to save Winnie, he needed to act now.
As if Winnie heard him, she suddenly sagged in her mother’s arms. The instant the woman’s torso was exposed, Nick whipped the pistol back into place and took his shot. Red bloomed on the Duchess of Townsend’s shoulder, and she fell away even as Winnie slumped to the stable floor.
Nick dropped the gun and rushed to Winnie, setting the lantern roughly aside as he dragged her into his arms. She was conscious, but badly hurt. Blood covered the front of her gown, from her shoulder to her middle.
“Winnie,” he said when he reached her.
“I’m…sorry…Nick,” she gasped. “I…Nick!!”
Her scream pierced the night as a hand loomed out of the pool of darkness at the edge of his vision. He turned in time to see the Duchess stagger out of the blackness, bringing her bloody knife high with both hands.
Nick scrambled to pull the small pistol from Winnie’s pocket and brought the barrel up as the knife came plummeting toward Winnie’s heart. He pulled the trigger and three shots rang out. The Duchess stumbled back a step, whirled, shrieked with outrage, and then crumpled to the filthy floor.
Two brigadesmen stood in the gloom, their pistols still pointing toward the dead woman.
Nick swallowed. The woman was without a doubt the greatest evil against which he’d ever pitted himself. And he’d nearly let her kill his heart of hearts.
“Is…she…i-is sh-sh-she…”
“Shh, sweetheart. Don’t talk.”
Nick ripped the material of Winnie’s gown to expose the stab wound, then whipped his cravat from his neck and pressed it against the wound. He needed to staunch the bleeding before Winnie bled to death.
“Yes, my love,” he whispered, knowing she needed to know it was over if he was to get her to stop struggling and let him tend to her wounds. “She’s dead.”
She moaned, but no longer struggled. It was as if she didn’t have the strength to fight. That frightened him more than if she’d have clawed at his hands to bat them away.
“The carriage?” Nick asked Mack Wallace as the man knelt down beside them.
“It’s outside the door.”
“We have to keep the pressure against the wound,” Nick said. “She’s losing blood too fast.”
“I’ll pick her up and carry her,” Mack said. “You keep your hand over the wound.”
Together they got Winnie inside the carriage. Nick held her in his arms while Hodgekens raced through the deserted streets of London.
“Nick…” she whispered in the darkness.
“Shh, Winnie. Don’t talk.”
“I love…you,” she finished. “I…need you to…know.”
“I know, sweetheart. And I love you. But you can tell me later, when you’re better.”
“No…” she gasped. “Not…later.” And she went limp in his arms.
“Winnie,” Nick cried out. “Don’t you leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.”
Nick refused to think he may have lost her. He refused to consider that she may have died. She couldn’t die.
Because he suddenly realized he didn’t have the will to go on without her.
But she was still as death in his arms. And cold as ice.
CHAPTER 29
Nick sat at Winnie’s bedside and kept vigil over her. The doctor had been in a short while ago, and gave them no more hope than he’d offered earlier in the day. Or yesterday. Or the day before.
The wound was deep and she’d lost too much blood. She was weak. The doctor tried to prepare them for her death, but Nick refused to believe that Winnie would die now. She’d survived this long. That had to count for something. As long as she didn’t develop a fever.
Then, on the third night her thrashing woke him. He felt her forehead and she was burning up. Now, he did little else but place cloth after cloth rinsed in cold water on her fevered forehead. Little else but sit at her bedside and hold her hand. L
ittle else but tell her over and over again that he couldn’t live if she wasn’t here with him. That they were meant to be together. That he refused to let her leave him.
Even though he willed himself to be strong for her, he was terrified. He’d never felt so helpless. His heart ached until he didn’t think he could stand the pain any longer. His throat clogged with lumps of terror that made it difficult to swallow. And tears he never thought he’d shed, welled in his eyes and streamed down his cheeks.
He loved her. Loved her more than he’d thought it was possible to love anyone. She was the other half of his heart and soul. The half that made him a whole person.
He reached for her hand again and held it. Her flesh was still overly warm, but he didn’t think she was as hot as she’d been an hour ago. Then, he realized he was probably imagining that she was better. Imagining that she had turned the corner and was recovering.
He rinsed a cloth in the basin of cool water on the table beside her bed, and placed the cloth on her forehead. He’d placed cool cloths on her burning flesh for days, only stopping when Tilly relieved him so he could stretch his legs.
He turned his head when the door opened and the Duke of Townsend entered.
He’d changed since Winnie had revealed that the duchess was still alive. The change was even more drastic when they brought his daughter’s bloody body home. Now his features were drawn, his face lacked color, and his shoulders slumped as if he carried the weight of the world.
“Has she improved any?” he asked, bringing a chair closer to the bed so he could sit near his daughter.
Nick shook his head.
“The doctor doesn’t give her much hope,” His Grace said. His voice was gruff with emotion.
“The doctor’s wrong,” Nick answered. “She’s a fighter. She’ll survive this.”
“If only she would have come to me,” His Grace said. “If only she would have told me about the blackmail demands.”
The duke looked at Nick and Nick saw the wetness in Winnie’s father’s eyes.
“Why didn’t she come to me? Do you know?”