Lord Somerton’s Heir

by Alison Stuart

  He had counted on Freddy coming alone and he did not need his inebriated brother caught up in this matter, nor, for that matter, Jenkins.

  Why would Freddy have brought a witness? He could have slipped into the stables unseen, removed the incriminating evidence, and returned the saddle to its hiding place. Or had he made it Matt’s idea? A bit of hijinks after a night of cards? Now he thought about it, bringing Matt with him was a masterstroke.

  Matt looked around the room.

  ‘So, which bin do you think it’s in?’ he asked, his voice sounding slurred.

  Freddy gestured at the chaff bin furthest from the door. Freddy was no fool. He would have worked out that anything concealed in the more convenient bins would have been easily discovered.

  ‘Start there, Jenkins,’ he directed his man.

  The big man shambled over to the bin and Sebastian heard the soft rustle of the chaff as Jenkins rummaged in its depths. Finding nothing, he moved to the second bin and gave a grunt of satisfaction as his questing hand found the sack.

  Freddy looked down at the hessian bundle Jenkins thumped onto the table. When he pulled the sacking away to reveal an old, battered saddle, he swore.

  ‘Wassa matter?’ Matt asked.

  Sebastian stepped out of the shadows, his pistol visible in his hand.

  ‘Found what you were looking for?’

  Freddy whirled to face him. The light from the lantern cast his pretty features into a hard relief and Sebastian could almost see his mind grappling for a logical explanation for his actions.

  ‘Your brother thought it would be a lark to find the saddle,’ Freddy said in a light tone. ‘That’s not Anthony’s saddle.’

  ‘That’s because the saddle I found has been secured elsewhere,’ Sebastian said.

  ‘Now who’s playing games,’ Freddy said with a laugh. ‘I wouldn’t have thought hide and seek was in your nature, Somerton. Now, do be a sport and put that weapon down. What is so special about an old saddle anyway?’

  ‘The interesting thing about the saddle I found is the fact that the girth was cut through. Not enough to snap immediately but enough to fail when put under strain, such as taking a fence. Of course, the cut should have been noticed, but apparently the distressed widow gave an order for the saddle to be destroyed on the morning of Anthony’s death.’

  ‘Dear me! Are you suggesting our dear Isabel cut the girth?’ Freddy ventured.

  ‘I think that is what the killer would have liked the curious to think, except that the order was relayed to the stable hand by you, Freddy, and did not come from Isabel.’

  ‘Nonsense! Of course the order came from Isabel and I would be prepared to swear to that.’

  ‘Your word against hers?’

  ‘If you are implying that Anthony’s death was foul play then dear Isabel had more motivation than anyone else in the house to want Anthony dead.’ The tone in Freddy’s voice had become more confident.

  Sebastian shook his head. ‘However abominably Anthony may have treated her, she’s no killer and, in a court of law, it would be her word against a proven imposter, blackmailer and card cheat.’

  ‘Bas? Whatcha talkin’ about?’ Matt interposed.

  ‘Get out of here, Matt. This has nothing to do with you,’ Sebastian said, not letting his eyes leave Freddy.

  Matthew uttered a short exclamation, his eyes widening in surprise.

  ‘I don’t think I can,’ Matt said, his words suddenly clear.

  Freddy smiled and Sebastian let his gaze move to Matthew. Jenkins stood behind him with a knife at his throat.

  ‘Drop your pistol, Somerton,’ Freddy suggested. ‘Oh, and Dempster, I think you should probably get out here too. I’m certain Lord Somerton did not come alone.’

  The knife tightened on Matt’s throat, drawing blood. Matt yelped.

  Behind Sebastian, Harry uttered a violent oath and stepped out into the light, laying his pistols on the barrels.

  Freddy took a step back out of the immediate light thrown by the lantern, his hand going to his own belt.

  ‘Oh dear,’ he said, producing a pistol. ‘I was afraid this would happen. It seems, Jenkins, that my plans may have gone a little awry.’

  Jenkins gave an interrogative grunt and Freddy waved his pistol at Sebastian and Harry.

  ‘You two, I want you down on the ground with your hands behind your back. Jenkins, you can pass that idiot boy over here while you tie these two up.’

  When neither Sebastian nor Harry moved, Freddy glanced at Jenkins. ‘If you don’t start doing as I ask, my man here will start making your brother’s life extremely unpleasant. He knows how to kill a man slowly.’

  In answer, Jenkins moved the knife to Matthew’s ear, cutting a nick. Matt gave a sharp cry and squirmed in the man’s grasp as the wound began to bleed copiously.

  Sebastian and Harry complied and, from the supine position he found himself in, all he could see of Matt were his booted feet, stumbling across the floor as Jenkins dragged the young man across to Freddy.

  Jenkins set about his work quickly and effectively, securing Sebastian’s wrists behind his back and then his ankles. To make certain there was no risk of escape, he ran a rope between Sebastian’s wrists and ankles, forcing his knees to bend into an agonizing position. While Jenkins secured Harry, Sebastian rolled onto his side to relieve the cramp in his limbs and to give him a better view of Freddy.

  Freddy held his pistol to Matt’s temple and, even in the dim light, Sebastian could see the sweat on his brother’s forehead and the fear in his eyes.

  ‘At least tell me why you killed Anthony.’ Sebastian tried to keep his voice level and neutral as if lying tied up on a dusty floor was of no consequence to him.

  Freddy gave a theatrical heave of his shoulders. ‘I didn’t intend for him to die, just come off the blasted horse and break his leg.’

  ‘That doesn’t answer my question.’

  Freddy gnawed his lower lip for a moment before replying, ‘The bastard had stopped paying me.’

  ‘Why did he stop he paying you?’

  Freddy gave a snort of derision. ‘Said he had run out of money. Told me he had invested everything he had in some gold mine and it had been a fraud. He said he didn’t care what happened to him anymore. Told me to do my worst.’ Freddy giggled. ‘Not sure he anticipated what my worst could be.’

  Jenkins grunted to signify he had secured the two men.

  Freddy’s voice became clipped and efficient as he issued his orders. ‘Excellent. Jenkins, the small coach and the bays are stabled at the dower house. Go and hitch them up. I regret we are going to have to take leave of Lord Somerton’s generous hospitality. Pity. I had such high hopes.’

  Jenkins gave a low growl and stomped out of the room.

  ‘Excellent man, Jenkins. I found him in London and saw his value at once. He had his tongue cut out for some misdemeanour to his lord and master. You are an upstart, Somerton. You have no idea of your place in this world. You wouldn’t have the guts to cut out a man’s tongue for talking back to you.’

  ‘You’re right, Lynch, I wouldn’t. But don’t mistake me, I have killed men without compunction.’

  For the first time, the smile left Freddy’s face and he pushed the pistol harder into Matt’s temple. ‘And so have I. Now, what am I going to do with the three of you?’

  ‘Let my brother go, Freddy. This is nothing to do with him.’

  In answer, Freddy pushed Matt to his knees, keeping the pistol at the back of his head.

  ‘Who are you?’ Sebastian asked, desperate to keep Freddy talking.

  Freddy shook his head. ‘If you are so curious, Somerton, my father was a farrier in Bristol. My mother died in childbirth and my father drank himself into an early grave. Fan and I were left on our own. Let’s just say I worked my way up from the gutter where he left us.’

  ‘How much does Fanny know?’

  His mouth worked as he framed his answer. ‘I love my sister and she deserved a bet
ter life than that she’d been born into.’

  ‘So it was all for Fanny?’

  Freddy didn’t answer and, for a moment, Sebastian almost believed that Freddy’s motives were born purely out of concern for his sister, and then he remembered the card party and the well honed team that guaranteed Freddy’s wins and the petty thievery that had probably netted the Lynchs a tidy sum over the years. Fanny had been no innocent in Freddy’s plans and schemes.

  Freddy tossed his head. ‘This is so annoying! It all started with that silly unpleasantness over the Thompson girl. He blamed me for that. Can you credit that?’

  ‘Did you kill her?’ Sebastian’s blood ran cold.

  ‘No.’ Freddy sounded indignant. ‘I told you I had nothing to do with her death but, for some reason, Anthony seemed to think I did. As if I would succumb to the charms of a female. I blame his wife. Anthony was besotted with the infant and, as for his fawning over Isabel, really!’ Freddy’s tone rose an octave. ‘I had to dispose of the child.’

  Beside him, Harry gave a sharp intake of breath.

  In a voice barely above a whisper, Sebastian asked, ‘You killed the child?’

  ‘Merely ended its suffering. It had been ill, so it was a simple matter of putting a pillow over its head.’

  Sebastian let out a deeply aspirated breath. ‘I’ve come across some monsters in my time, Lynch, and you rank among the worst of them.’

  Freddy put a hand on his chest. ‘Dear Sebastian, so wounding.’

  ‘Did Anthony know what you had done?’

  Freddy shook his head. ‘No. If he had suspected, he wouldn’t have been so foolish as to do what he did next.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘Threaten to expose Fanny and I as imposters and, most hurtful, blackmailers.’

  ‘Does Isabel know any of this?’

  ‘Of course not, but he was going to tell her. He told me so himself that day. Said he wanted us out of the house by the next morning. So you see, Somerton, he had to be punished, and he made it so easy. That night he rode over to see Lady Kendall. I followed and found he’d left his horse saddled in the deserted stable. All I had to do was cut through the girth and slip away. Who’s there?’

  He swung his pistol to the door. ‘Come out and show yourself or Alder dies.’

  ‘Don’t hurt me!’ A small, very young voice came from the doorway and young Peter Thompson took a small step into the room.

  ‘The wretched boy I gave the order to,’ Freddy snapped. ‘It was you, wasn’t it, you little urchin, who decided to keep the saddle?’

  Peter’s lips trembled as he nodded his head. In that instant, Matt moved, jerking his elbow back into Freddy’s knee. The pistol discharged with a blinding flash as Matt rolled away from Freddy and made a bolt for the door where the petrified boy stood.

  Freddy gave a cry of anger and produced a second pistol from his belt. Before Sebastian could shout a warning, the pistol discharged. Matt gave a sharp cry and fell forward onto the ground.

  Freddy reached the door in a bound, seizing Peter by the scruff of his neck. He kicked at Matt’s prone body and relief flooded Sebastian as he heard his brother groan.

  Looking back at the two bound men, Freddy shook his head. ‘Why did you have to make this so difficult?’ he complained, raising his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Now I suppose I should get out of here before the whole household descends on us. You…’ he kicked at Matt again. Matt rolled over and pulled himself into a sitting position, clutching his right arm. Freddy jerked his head in the direction of Harry and Sebastian. ‘Over there with the others.’

  Matt complied, dragging himself across the floor until he sat with his back against the chaff bins.

  Peter Thompson had begun to cry as Freddy’s fingers tightened on his shoulder.

  ‘Sorry, my lord. I was just checking on Millie and the foal when I heard voices…’

  ‘It’s not your fault, Peter,’ Sebastian said.

  Freddy looked around the room, his smile lighting on the three men.

  He walked over to the lantern that still burned on the table, collected the discarded pistols and picked up the lantern.

  ‘Good evening to you, gentlemen.’ Propelling Peter before him, he left the room, shutting the door behind him. In the silence, Sebastian heard a key turn in the lock. He held his breath at the sound of rustling hay on the other side of the door. Freddy laughed. A chilling sound in the dark silence.

  Harry spoke first. ‘Can you smell smoke?’

  ***

  Isabel woke with a start. She lay awake, her senses at attention, listening, but heard only silence, punctuated by the distant tick of the grandfather clock that stood at the head of the stairs.

  She breathed out and turned over but, even as sleep began to claim her, the unmistakable sound of scuffling and whispered voices in the corridor outside her room caused her to sit bolt upright. She swung her feet off the bed but, before she could find a robe to cover her night gown, the door burst open and Freddy, propelling Fanny by the arm, entered the room.

  Isabel wheeled to face them. ‘How dare you!’ she began, but her bravado faltered when she saw the fear on Fanny’s face and the wild look in Freddy’s eyes. Her hand went to the bell pull only to be stayed by the sight of a pistol in Freddy’s hand and another tucked into his waistband.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ she demanded, trying to keep her voice calm and controlled.

  Freddy thrust Fanny down on the daybed.

  ‘He’s killed Sebastian,’ Fanny wailed.

  ‘Killed Sebastian?’ Isabel made a dive for the door, but Freddy caught her and she felt the cold muzzle of a pistol against her throat.

  ‘That’s far enough, Isabel.’ He flung her towards the daybed. ‘Sit.’

  Isabel complied. Beside her, Fanny snivelled. Her lip trembled and a fresh spill of tears coursed down her face. ‘No one was meant to get hurt.’

  Isabel turned to her. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It was that stupid saddle. If Sebastian had never found it, none of this would have happened,’ Fanny sniffed.

  Isabel caught her breath. ‘The saddle? Anthony’s saddle?’ She glanced up at Freddy. ‘Why? What did Sebastian find?’ Fanny’s voice rose to an almost hysterical pitch. ‘Anthony promised! He promised to make a generous settlement for Freddy and I, but then he laughed and said he’d never made such a promise and that he would turn us out onto the street. Freddy was so angry. Freddy didn’t mean to kill him. When he cut the girth, Anthony was just supposed to fall and hurt himself.’

  ‘You cut the girth?’ Isabel looked across at Freddy.

  ‘You’re such a fool, Fan.’ Freddy rolled his eyes. ‘Of course I meant to kill him. He was about to throw us out on to the street, expose us as blackmailers and imposters. It’s your fault.’ He rounded on Isabel. ‘You made him fall in love with you. It all changed after that.’

  Isabel frowned. ‘What do you mean, I made him fall in love with me?’

  Freddy snorted. ‘I haven’t got the time to explain. We need to get out of here. Fanny, pack a bag.’

  ‘But I was supposed to marry Sebastian. I was going to be Lady Somerton,’ Fanny protested. ‘You always spoil everything.’

  Freddy moved to the window and said with a grunt of satisfaction, ‘The stables are well alight. He’ll be dead by now and his brother with him. Your precious Sebastian is probably charcoal by now, Isabel.’

  Nausea rose in her throat as a golden glow lit the dark sky, casting the room into moving shadows.

  ‘No,’ she murmured in disbelief.

  ‘Take a look, Lady Somerton. I left dear Sebastian and his comrades trussed up like pigs on market day.’

  Isabel stared at the golden-red blaze rising above the tree line. Sebastian…dead? She took the thought and pushed it to the back of her mind. Later, she would rail against the unnecessary death, but now she had her own foe to face and she needed to keep her wits about her.

  She looked back at Freddy. ‘W
hat are you going to do?’

  ‘Sadly, I think the first thing is to depart this place and find somewhere a little more conducive to my health,’ Freddy said.

  ‘Where?’ Isabel asked.

  ‘Oh, probably the continent,’ Freddy said thoughtfully. ‘But, make no mistake, Lady Somerton, you’re coming with us. Fanny, be so good as to assist her ladyship to pack for the journey.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Fanny asked. ‘What about Sally?’

  ‘I mean, dear sister, that Isabel may have her uses and I don’t have room for another person, so Sally is not coming with us. Now get dressed, Lady Somerton. I have the coach downstairs. Oh, and do make sure you bring your jewels, Isabel — all of them.’

  Isabel looked into Freddy’s eyes. There would be no reprieve, no mercy. He had killed once, twice, if what he said about Sebastian was true, and he would so again. The thought of Sebastian dead numbed her. He’d been in her life so short a time and yet now she couldn’t even begin to comprehend a world without him.

  Freddy watched as she stuffed the contents of her jewel box into a soft bag, which he took from her. She pulled on the gown, cloak and bonnet Fanny proffered and, with Freddy’s pistol in her back, they made their way silently down the stairs. Fanny carried a bandbox that clinked with a metallic ring as if filled with metal objects.

  In the dark, Isabel nearly fell over Peter Thompson who had been seated on the lower step, tied by his hands to the banisters with a dirty piece of cloth twisted around his mouth as a gag.

  She knelt down beside the boy who turned a tear-stained face to her as she undid the cloth.

  ‘Has he hurt you?’ Isabel asked.

  The boy shook his head. ‘No, but he’s killed his lordship. Shut him in the chaff room and then set fire to a pile of straw by the door. It’s all my fault, my lady. I should never have kept that saddle,’ he wailed.

  ‘Nonsense, Peter —’ Isabel began but, before she could say anything more, Freddy hauled her up by the arm.

  ‘What about the boy?’ Fanny asked.

  Freddy shook his head. ‘He’s served his purpose. Lady Somerton is a far more valuable hostage.’