by Allison Lane
“It matches the one he left with Emerson.” She ripped a flounce from her petticoat. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Don’t make light of it, Alex.” She pulled off his coat so she could wind the bandage around his arm. “I thought he’d killed you.”
He nodded, swallowing hard. His throat was on fire. “The arm will be fine. Percy is more important. Fetch the rope…” He glanced around. “I dropped it by the corner of the cottage.”
She retrieved it. But the moment he finished binding Percy, she pushed Alex back down and finished bandaging his arm.
Another crash reverberated from the cottage, this time from inside.
“Dear Lord!” gasped Eden. “I forgot Olivia.”
“Easy, Eden. Jeremy would be screaming if she was hurt.” But he climbed to his feet and headed for the door. Percy had dropped the key on the stoop.
The cottage’s main room held only a rickety table and two stools. One had fallen when Jeremy tumbled through the broken shutters. Alex held Eden close as he turned toward the second room, unsure what they would see…
Olivia sat on a pallet, rubbing her wrists. Rope still bound her feet.
“Olivia?” Eden’s voice cracked.
“I’m fine.” But tears rolled down her face. Eden sat next to her, pulling her close when Jeremy finished untying her ankles. “H-how did you find me?”
“Mr. Portland.”
Alex stepped closer, drawing Olivia’s attention. “Do you remember what happened?”
“Not much. I was riding toward the lake to keep an assignation” —she glanced at Jeremy— “when pain exploded in my head. My next memory is waking up here.”
He’d probably fed her laudanum the moment she’d begun to revive. Evidence of illness remained on the floor. It was the usual reaction upon awakening from an excessive dose.
“I wish you had explained about Jeremy,” said Eden, shaking her head.
“Forgive me, Eden,” Olivia said contritely. “I should have spoken earlier.”
Alex nodded, but contented himself with, “I wish you happy, Miss Higgins. And you, Highbottom.”
“As do I,” added Eden.
Olivia broke into a wide smile.
Alex turned to Jeremy. “Fetch the horses. She will do better to eat before leaving.”
* * * *
By the time Jeremy returned, Alex had laid his plans. While Eden fed Olivia and treated her injuries, he and Jeremy tied Percy to Alex’s horse.
The man woke raving, his struggles spooking the animal.
“Silence!” barked Alex at last, pulling out the stone.
Percy’s crazed eyes drank it in.
Alex touched it to Percy’s forehead, letting him feel its heat. “You are not Sarsos,” he intoned in a Greek accent. “You are cursed already by your own greed. Should one word, one allusion, one mention of Sarsos or its power pass your lips again, you will die in that instant. Sarsos has spoken.” He slipped the stone out of sight. “Do you understand?”
Percy nodded, eyes bulging.
“Good. Don’t move and don’t speak.” He turned to Jeremy. With five people and only three and a half horses, they needed help. “Ride to that posting road we passed and find a carriage. Meet us at the end of the lane.”
“Right.” But his eyes strayed to the cottage.
“She’ll be fine. Now go.”
Jeremy had hardly reached the lane when Eden emerged, supporting Olivia. They mounted her on Eden’s horse, then began the long trek back.
* * * *
Dawn was breaking when Alex emerged from the magistrate’s house. His arm throbbed. Spots swarmed before his eyes after three nearly sleepless nights. But he had one more job to do before he could join the others at their new inn. News of Percy’s arrest would reach Foley by breakfast, so it couldn’t wait.
The magistrate had been incredulous when Alex laid murder, attempted murder, and abduction charges against Percy. But he could hardly ignore the ball in Alex’s arm or close his ears to Olivia’s abduction. So he accepted that Percy had also killed John and Emerson.
Once the magistrate locked Percy away, Alex sent the others to an inn while he laid out the story in more detail and wrote reports. To protect reputations and keep from reviving old grief, he said nothing of Sarsos and nothing of Percy’s older crimes. It was enough that Percy be tried for the events in Leicestershire. Peterson’s death would go down as an unsolved robbery.
The tale was simple enough. Believing that his cousin John and his secretary Emerson were plotting against him, Percy had killed them. He’d then turned on Eden, whom he thought had supported the plot. Obviously, he was mad as a March hare.
Foley Manor was barely stirring when Alex slipped inside, again disguised as a footman. It took only minutes to find Percy’s room and remove the other Sarsos relics so they would not raise questions.
He’d barely reached the woods before the magistrate himself arrived. When Percy’s valet escaped out the back, Alex sighed in relief and rode away. His story would stand.
Exhaustion crashed over him as he dragged himself up to his room. He was asleep before he hit the bed, barely aware that Eden had waited for him.
Chapter Twenty-two
Eden was glad to return home. It had been a long, frustrating day. Alex hadn’t awakened until late afternoon, so it was nearly midnight by the time they reached Ridley.
Jeremy helped a shaky Olivia into the house. They made a perfect couple, she finally admitted. He might be young, but he was dependable and knew exactly what he wanted.
She’d spent the day at Alex’s bedside, watching for signs of fever. It was the least she could do for him. If she hadn’t demanded his help, he would not be injured. So far he’d escaped illness, but the hours alone, staring at his battle-worn face, had given her too much time to think. And not just about passion, wonderful though it was.
Now that all danger was past, she bitterly regretted exploring her newfound wantonness, for she would never again be able to satisfy it. Alex would leave soon, and not just because he must go to London to prosecute Percy. Once he discovered how shamefully she’d behaved…
By the time she’d realized how sensitive he was – and how fragile – it had been too late to recall her letter to Kit. Few men would forgive an outsider for meddling in their affairs. And for a man like Alex…
She hadn’t understood how dangerous truth could be. Hadn’t realized that severing his family bonds actually made Alex stronger, for Stratford had been a chain around his neck, dragging him into the depths where his spirit would have drowned.
So she must send him away before he discovered her folly. Even if chivalry made him repeat his offer of marriage, she must refuse. Love wasn’t enough. She was no good for a man of his breeding.
He would leave in the morning. Since another night in his arms might make her succumb to temptation, she must climb out of the carriage knowing she would never touch him again. Her one hope was that when he entered her dreams – she had no way to keep him out – it would be in the guise of a lover. But she feared they would be nightmares recalling his near-death at Percy’s hands. Bulging eyes, red face, feeble blows incapable of breaking Percy’s grip. And the blood.
His clothes still bore stains…
“Your turn,” he said, lifting her down as she hesitated in the carriage doorway. The job coach was not nearly as comfortable as his, leaving her bruised after only thirty miles.
“You shouldn’t use your arm yet, Alex,” she chided to cover the thrill of one more contact.
“It’s fine. Come. You must be starving. I hope your staff can product dinner.”
So did she.
But she forgot food when Simms met them, salver in hand.
“A letter for you, sir,” he said, offering the missive to Alex.
“Terrence’s next report, I presume.” He didn’t look at it until they reached the drawing room. Then he paled.
“What?” she dem
anded softly.
“How the devil did he know I was here?” he growled, tearing the letter in half.
“Who?” She covered his hands to halt further destruction.
“Stratford.” He whirled toward the study…
The fire. It was the only room that always had a fire, to keep damp from the books. She raced after him, stepping in front of the fireplace before he could drop the letter on the coals.
“What the devil is wrong with you?” he demanded.
“What is wrong with you?” she countered. “You are acting like a child in the throes of a tantrum.”
“Child?”
“Exactly. Open that letter and read it.”
“Why?”
“A man who disowned you would only write if it were urgent.”
“Hah! He still seeks to control my life. But I’ll be no man’s puppet.”
“Of course not, so why are you afraid? Read it, then send whatever response it deserves. But don’t hide from it.”
He glared, then ripped the seal off and unfolded the pieces. With a single glance at the first line, he tossed them aside. “I’m not fond of deathbed scenes.”
“Good, because you weren’t invited to one.” She had caught the shards and reached the second line by then. “What do you think this says?”
“He’s dying and wants to inform the family how to go on once he’s gone.”
“Wrong!” She held it up. “Read the whole thing.”
* * * *
Alex ground his teeth, but reluctantly accepted the letter. Why did Stratford have to interfere with his life?
But he could not fight Eden. Not if he wanted her. Her accusation stung. He was not a child and hadn’t been for many years. Children were weak-willed creatures at the mercy of the adults around them, unable to do anything but react—
Which was what he still did with his family. If he were truly an adult, they could not drive him to temper, pain, despair, or anything else. How did Eden see so clearly?
They’d not been able to talk on the drive back to Ridley – not about anything that mattered. He hadn’t even touched her, for Olivia had shared her seat, leaving him and Jeremy facing the rear. Thus he’d spent the time thinking.
He could not leave Ridley. That much was obvious. So Terrence must prosecute Percy – which might be better, for Alex would brief Terrence on only those crimes he wished to pursue. It would reduce the chance of accidentally mentioning other deeds.
Now that the danger was past, he must court Eden properly, which would take time. Not only was she still in mourning, but she must regret their night of passion. She’d spent today pulling away. So he needed an excuse to stay.
Recovering the stone did not resolve her problems, for it had no value beyond its connection to legend – not something a museum would want. Thus the mortgage remained. But that offered him an excuse to remain at Ridley.
Eden needed a new steward. She had managed until now because Harris believed she’d merely passed along John’s instructions. But that pretense was gone. Harris was not one to take orders from a female.
So Harris must find a new post, and Alex would offer to oversee the spring planting. It seemed a friendly thing to do and would give her a chance to know him better in ways beyond the carnal. But first he must deal with Stratford’s latest tirade.
Holding the letter together, he forced himself to read, then stared blankly at the page for a long time.
“He is not dying,” said Eden at last.
“No, though this apoplexy left him with a limp. But why would he suddenly demand explanations for scrapes he’s held over my head for years? He doesn’t care why I do anything.”
“Many men see life differently after a brush with death.”
“Not Stratford. He will never admit that his views are imperfect, so he refuses to consider that opposing ones might be valid. And this isn’t his idea.” He waved the letter. “Jason insists that he talk to me? What does Jason know? He’s been out of the country for fifteen years. I didn’t even see him the few times he returned on leave.”
“Didn’t Jason take a position at Horse Guards?”
“Yes, but—”
“He probably heard about your barony and demanded an explanation. It wouldn’t take him long to discover how you earned it. Horse Guards must know something of your work.”
Alex cursed. He’d forgot about the damned barony. And it was true about Horse Guards. Half the information he’d retrieved had been stolen from there. The place was a damned sieve. But if a title was what had piqued Stratford’s interest—
“You are accepting it, of course,” continued Eden firmly.
“Of course not. You saw how incompetent I am. Olivia nearly died because of me.”
“No!” She glared. “Olivia nearly died because of Percy Montagu. His madness embraced evil. His cunning succeeded for a time. But you brought him to justice. You found Olivia before she was harmed. You even saw that Percy will pay without creating a public scandal that would destroy Olivia and bring derision on all of us. Even Richard’s poor judgment won’t be questioned because you implied that he called you in.”
“He won’t escape unscathed. The Home Office now knows enough about his blindness that he will have to step down as a magistrate.”
Her mouth quirked up at the corners. “I’m not complaining. But I can’t think of anyone else who could have achieved what you did. And in so short a time.”
“Then why do I have a hole in my arm? I should have known he would have a pistol.” He whirled away to stare at the fire.
“Alex, you did your best.” She smoothed his bandage. “No one can ask for more. That your best brought this case to a successful conclusion is a bonus. But I would not have blamed you no matter what the outcome, for I know you did everything possible.”
He turned, stunned. The idea of judging only on effort was so alien he could hardly comprehend it. “I—” He had to stop. She did not think him a failure? She—
“So you must accept this barony,” she continued firmly. “You have always done your best. And since your best produced spectacular results, you deserve a spectacular reward. Besides, you cannot insult the Regent, especially after bringing Percy to justice. Even the few crimes you are prosecuting make him a threat to all of society. So much so that the government can use this case alone to justify your title.”
He sighed, but she was right. Percy would be tried for killing a baronet’s son and shooting an earl’s son. Such heinous deeds would produce a public outcry, making Alex’s role in bringing him to account impossible to hide.
But something felt wrong. He raised one brow. “You neatly avoided my question. Jason would never bump heads with Stratford without first talking to me. He is a methodical man who checks all facts before acting.”
“But you weren’t there.”
Her eyes slid away, confirming his suspicion. “Did you write to him?”
“No.” She shook her head vigorously. “I don’t even know him.”
“To whom did you write, then?” He glared. She had to have meddled. It was the only explanation. She was the only one outside the Home Office who knew about his past. And how else would Stratford know where he was?
She bit her lip. “I did mention to a friend that it was a shame Stratford judged when he knew so little about you.”
“Friend?”
“Kit Keeling. We grew up together.”
“My God! You’re the one who saved David’s life.”
She shrugged.
Alex stared at the ceiling, shaking his head. David Keeling had been a close friend until Alex’s secrecy pushed them apart. One of his tales had recounted how his tutor’s daughter had dragged him from a pond after a fall had knocked him unconscious. He would have drowned otherwise. David’s older brother Kit had been close to Jason, their friendship surviving even Jason’s years abroad. Eden obviously knew that. “Meddler.”
“Alex, I know Stratford is not a man you can ever care fo
r, but isn’t it better to negotiate a truce so you can visit London without fearing another confrontation with Palfry?”
“Hmph.”
“His apoplexy gives you a chance. Stratford is more receptive than ever before. More than he will ever be again.”
“Why should I care? He hates me. If a title changes that, it means nothing.” He strode to the window.
“But it does. Look at me, Alex.”
He reluctantly met her eyes.
“He does not hate you. He hates a fantasy image that has nothing to do with you. That should make a huge difference.”
“Why?”
“Hatred based on things that are true is forever – like Richard’s hatred of my breeding. All I can do is accept it and find ways to live with it. There is nothing I can do to change my breeding, so it is useless to think about it. But you can blunt Stratford’s hatred by revealing the real you.”
“He won’t like that, either, because I won’t follow his orders.”
“Perhaps not. But if he rejects the real Alex Portland, it will be his lack, not yours. Your worth will not diminish because a stubborn, stupid man refuses to see it.”
“Is that how you dismiss Richard?”
“Of course.”
“Does it work?”
“It prevents me from wasting energy raging at a fool.”
Was that what he was doing?
She laid a hand on his arm. “Alex, try. Even if nothing changes, you will feel better. If it works, you won’t have to avoid town. If it doesn’t, remember that Stratford makes a fool of himself whenever he opens his mouth, because it’s obvious that he might as well live in China for all he knows about you.”
He sighed, for she had a point. Yet her understanding was simplistic. Stratford’s ignorance made it easier to ignore the man’s tirades. But if baring his soul changed nothing, those tirades would hurt.
“Trust me, Alex. I dare you to take this last risk. If it fails, you will survive. His opinion cannot matter as much as that of others who trust, respect, and admire you. But if it succeeds… Isn’t it worth trying?”
Her fingers burned into his arm, reminding him how much he loved her. He couldn’t disappoint her.