The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  "I can't. This is madness. It can't be normal. I say, Adam, what have you been giving--"

  His brother stepped closer to the bed, and bunching up his fist, smashed the girl in the mouth.

  Oliver's eyes widened. At first he thought he had been seeing things, but Adam punched her in the face again.

  "Steady on. She's not putting up a struggle or anything. Far from it. I say, Adam, enough is enough," Oliver said in horror, as Adam hit the hapless girl again, until she cowered away from him in a tight, weeping ball.

  "Carnal relations with women is one thing, this is quite another. Get a hold of yourself!"

  "She loves it. They all love it. You can hear her groaning."

  "That's not-" But he could see his brother wasn't listening to him.

  Adam was fumbling with his trousers, and cursed after a time. "Nothing, still nothing," he muttered. "My damned accident."

  "Adam, you can't go around beating women like this!" Oliver said, truly shocked. "Sooner or later someone is going to report you. Us sharing the girls was a bit of fun, but I just wanted a bit of a lark, not to get arrested for rape or assault! We're supposed to be getting married in a couple of months. We can't risk talk."

  "They all keep quiet, don't worry. They don't want to be accused of asking for it. Look at that Neville whore. Her and her husband never said a word about it, even though I gave it to her good," Adam said with an evil smile.

  He uncorked the brandy bottle and took a hefty swig. "I'll be watching and waiting my chance again, just you wait and see. And this time, I will swive her. I've got money now, for both of us. Cleaned out those two dead old bitches, didn't I? I'm going to go to a good doctor in Bristol, said to be an expert. He can help me get my manhood back, I know he can. I'm only young. It's so unfair. What's wrong with these bitches that they can't make me happy?"

  Oliver listened to his brother's tirade in silence, his mind reeling from the enormity of it all. He tried to say in a conversational tone, "When did you do Arabella? You never said a word about your triumph."

  "It was her wedding night. Hah! Only sorry I didn't get to be the first after all. Blake was already poking the fire. But I'll go see the doctor and get it all back. Then I'll poke her fire in earnest. It will sure keep that husband of hers guessing. Did she want me after all, did I give her a disease…

  "She was ours. We could have had her and her money if it hadn't been for him. So now we're going to have her money, and his. He's going to be tried for murder. Once he's hanged, we'll have the widowed Arabella, and all his wealth and hers."

  "Hanged? I don't understand. What's he done?" Oliver asked in genuine alarm.

  "It's what I've done." He smiled proudly. "His two paramours are both dead now. Rotten pair of whores the pair of them, so good riddance. They had some good jewels though, so we're all set for a while. Enough to carry us through to you getting married to Georgina. That Rosalie got hers. Leonore Ross too.

  "I left evidence behind in the beds. A cufflink each from a pair I got the maid to steal. Got her to thieve from them first, and then I did her and all. If they haven't arrested Blake yet, they soon will.

  "As soon as they do, I move in to offer our consolation and help to Arabella, marry her, and we're home free. More wealth than we've ever dreamed of. Then once Arabella is out of the way, I can have Ellen too. Or maybe even both at the same time, once the doctor gets my rooster to crow again..."

  Lost in his fantasy world, Adam turned his attention back to the gasping girl. It was then Oliver realized that in all the time he had been whoring with his brother, he had never once seen him stand at attention. The fall from the horse must have….

  Now he noticed the powder in his hands, which he was rubbing on the girl's mound.

  Oliver understood it all now, and felt sick to his stomach, repelled by what he had allowed himself to be enticed into. He had been so immoderate, he had become involved in what amounted to little better than rape, torture and murder.

  "What is that rubbish?" he asked. "Is this why they've been acting so oddly?"

  "Yes, wonderful, isn't it? Makes them beg for it."

  "Isn't it dangerous? I mean, I heard about some girls in London, around Bethnal Green, who had died of some sort of strange poisoning."

  "I tried it once myself. It sort of helped give me a bit of a rise, but I still couldn't manage and it was painful. I didn't use it again. But it didn't kill me."

  Oliver said, "I think she's had enough, don't you? I mean, if you're not um, feeling well, what are you going to-"

  Adam held up his hand, and bunched his fingers together. Then he reached in his bag, and laid a couple of items on the bed.

  Wide-eyed, Oliver struggled into his trousers and grabbed the rest of his clothes. "I'll see you later," he gasped, and fled.

  He stumbled down the stairs, shaking so badly he could barely control his limbs.

  What on earth was he to do? Adam was his brother.

  But Blake and Arabella were decent people. Adam had attacked her, and they had done nothing? He scarecely knew what to think.

  Adam had harmed Rosalie and Leonore?

  That would be easy enough to discover. He would go find out for himself.

  Then what? If it were true…

  If it were true, then his brother was trying to frame Blake for murder. Kill an innocent man.

  Rosalie and Leonore had not been innocent, but they had not deserved to be killed either.

  Oliver got down to the bottom of the stairs and sat, donning the rest of his clothing with trembling hands.

  When he was certain he looked respectable and could stand up without clutching onto the wall for support, he rose, and headed toward the nearest main thoroughfare where he could find a cab.

  Go to Pulteney Bridge, then Cheap Street. I'll see Rosalie and Leonore. All of this was nothing more than Adam's drunken, drug-induced ravings. Whatever that black powder was, it made people do unusual things, but he wasn't a rapist, a fiend…. All would be well.

  And if it wasn't?

  Then Oliver would have to decide: let Adam or Blake hang.

  It wasn't a choice he wanted to make, but he couldn't think about that now.

  He hurried on faster, suddenly convinced he was running out of time.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Blake was so exhausted after the cataclysmic night he had spent with Arabella, he did not rouse even after she got up, bathed, and dressed in her riding habit. She kissed him, and he opened one sleepy eye.

  "Good morning, love."

  "Good morning, my guardian angel. Last night was heaven, Blake. Thank you."

  "Then what are you doing out of this bed?" He reached for her, and frowned when he saw the way she was dressed. "Darling, you just got thrown yesterday."

  "And you know the solution to that. Get back up on the horse."

  He shook his head. "That's only if you're afraid. Not injured. Darling, please don't overdo things. You need to rest."

  "A quick ride before breakfast, and then we can go over to see Clifford and Vanessa."

  "All right. But if you're not back in an hour I'm coming after you."

  Arabella gave her husband a warm, loving kiss, and vanished out the door.

  He stared at the closed portal before dragging himself out of the bed and performing his morning toilette.

  He had just finished shaving when he heard a tap at the door. Timothy entered, looking timid and rather sheepish.

  "If you please, sir, Mr. Geoffrey Branson the magistrate and his son are here to speak with you," the valet said.

  "Me? Not Mr. Jerome?" Blake asked, his brows raising.

  "No, sir. You, sir."

  "Well, come help me finish dressing, then," Blake instructed, giving his face a last rinse and swiping it with a towel.

  "The good lady wife not here to help, sir?" he asked with a grin.

  "Not this morning, no. She's out riding."

  "And she's far better at undressing you than dressing," he said with
a cheeky grin.

  Blake winked at him in the mirror. "You won't hear me complain. But she may put you out of a job if I never trouble to dress at all."

  "In which case, I'd say I didn't mind. Glad to see you so happy, sir. You and the young lady, of course."

  "Thank you. Yes, we are happy."

  Blake's joy vanished like the early morning mist when Geoffrey and Malcolm, waiting for him in the study, informed him as to the reasons for their visit.

  He felt like a caged tiger as he looked at the three dark-suited men they had brought with them to arrest him.

  "Good God, you can't be serious!" he exploded. "I'm a doctor! I save lives, I don't take them!"

  "Even a doctor can be driven to murder if he's trying to protect himself from, say, blackmail?"

  "I'm telling you, I haven't done anything wrong! I haven't seen either of those two women for weeks. I'm a happily married man," Blake protested as Malcolm Branson and his father Geoffrey continued to question him.

  "Ask my wife, the servants. As for Molly the serving girl, I wouldn't even know what she looked like! We were away from here for weeks. How could I have been having an affair with her?"

  "We know where you were, sir. With a very badly beaten young lady who answers to the description of your wife. Why did you attack her?"

  "I didn't! I found her-" Even as the words left his mouth he realised how lame they sounded, making him seem all the more guilty. "I would never hurt Arabella in a million years."

  "The fact is that these assaults on women began when you came into the district. Your property was found at the scene of each murder."

  "What property?"

  "A cufflink, and a handkerchief."

  "One cufflink? Where?"

  "One at each place."

  "Two different cufflinks?"

  "No, one each of the same pair," Malcolm admitted.

  "But don't you see, if I had lost one why would I wear only one? Were they killed on the same night?"

  "No, three days apart."

  "And which cufflinks are they? My valet has access to all of my things. Indeed any servant in the house would. Some of my things have gone missing. We assumed Molly had taken them. You can ask my valet!"

  Malcolm presented them. They were a black onyx pair, which he had not laid eyes on since before his wedding.

  He shook his head. "I haven't worn them since before I got married. Someone stole them and planted them."

  "We would expect you to say that," Geoffrey Branson said mildly. He was having a hard time believing this heir to the Jerome estate could possibly be such a monster, but the evidence forced him to consider the possibility.

  "We have to pursue every line of inquiry. We need to match up names, dates and places, talk to your valet, the other servants. The fact is that there is a string of beaten, strangled or poisoned women from London to here, from your clinic, right the way through various inns all the way to Bristol."

  "I'll help in any way I can. I know I haven't done anything wrong. I'm happy to answer all of your questions, but I need to find my wife first. I want to make sure she's safe, and she can speak with you, tell you all is well."

  "And who was the woman you pretended to be married to at the inn outside Reading back in December?" Malcolm asked, trying to take him by surprise. "She was brought to London by a kindly apothecary, and vanished from her William Street lodgings."

  "That was Arabella. She didn't vanished. The lease on her step-brother Peter's chambers expired. She moved into my house as my ward, and she's been with me safely ever since."

  Father and son looked at each other in surprise.

  "Please, let me go get my wife. She has a bit of a memory problem after the attack upon her, but she can tell you how we met, and that she was the woman at Rede Village."

  They were about to go out to seek Arabella when Oliver Neville burst into the room, shaking from head to toe.

  "Please, you have to listen to me. You've got the wrong man. Blake hasn't done anything. It's my brother Adam who's to blame for all of this."

  "What?" Malcolm gasped.

  Blake stared at him, stunned.

  Oliver nodded. "I didn't believe him at first when Adam boasted about what he had done, killed them and planted evidence to make it look like Blake had done it. But it's true. They're both dead. I've just heard the news and came straight here. Adam said Blake would be blamed, that he would hang," he panted. ""I also heard that the authorities were here to arrest you. I say, Blake, I'm so sorry--"

  "They haven't arrested me yet, but will if I can't give a good account of myself," Blake said.

  Oliver continued to tremble. "Adam said, oh God, he said he attacked Arabella. On your wedding night. Is this true?"

  Blake nodded, so furious he almost choked. "I found her under a tree that night. It has to be true. It has to be Adam. Whoever attacked her is the only person who knew about it. I kept it quiet so that she wouldn't be accused or thought ill of. He would have lied to ruin her, and said she had gone to him willingly. He beat her to a pulp." He took a ragged breath. "I can't tell, but I think he also raped her."

  Oliver shook his head vehemently. "He didn't. He can't manage."

  "What?!"

  "He had a bad riding accident. He told me himself he didn't. You don't have to fear on that score. But he plans to get rid of you so he can marry her. He says once he has enough money, he know a doctor who can restore his manhood, and then he will-"

  Geoffrey stepped forward now, having heard more than enough to know Adam Neville had to be stopped.

  "Will you testify against your own brother?"

  Oliver blinked, swallowed back his tears, and then nodded. "I have to. He's out of control. He has some sort of strange black powder he's been using on the women we've been-"

  He stopped before he incriminated himself completely. "Well, I thought it was all in fun, a bit of sport, that the girls were willing. Not all of them were, I can see that now. He beat them even if they were. It excited him."

  "Good God, the black powder. All those women in London, and now here," Blake said in horror. "It wasn't a coincidence after all. He really did come to Somerset. Has been preying on women all along. Arabella thinks she can trust him, since you are all cousins. Friends!" He grabbed Oliver by the lapels. "Where's that bastard now?"

  "I thought he was here! We were supposed to go riding as usual with the girls."

  Geoffrey issued his orders at once. "Everyone spread out and find him. If you can't find him, get the girls back here to safety."

  "Oh God, Arabella," Blake groaned.

  "We'll find her!" Oliver moved toward the door.

  "No!" Geoffrey insisted. "You're a material witness, as well as possible accomplice. You stay with this constable. Everyone else, spread out. Alert the Jeromes and all the servants. Search the entire estate, and arrest Adam Neville on sight."

  Blake ran out the door as if for his life. For if anything happened to Arabella, his life would truly be over.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Adam had seen the carriages in the drive, and taken great delight in the thought of Blake being hauled off to prison, leaving him with a clear run at Arabella.

  He had gone around the side of the house to see if he could peep in the library. Though he couldn't see or hear anything clearly through the muffling curtains, the final words of the magistrate had been all too clear, and plunged him into a panic.

  "Arrest me?" he muttered. How could they have possibly found out….

  The clop of horse's hooves approaching made him look around wildly. He ran to the stables and swung up onto his usual waiting mount. He galloped towards Arabella and with a broad grin said, "I'll race you."

  "What about the others?" she asked innocently.

  "They'll meet us at the folly at the top of the hill."

  "All right." She wheeled her mount around, unaware of the sudden commotion in the Jerome household.

  She did her best to keep up with Adam, and smiled i
n triumph as she reached the marble monument and jumped down to rest upon one of the benches.

  "Beat you!" she said.

  "No, I beat you," he said in a low tone.

  "What? I was distinctly first."

  "You told them, didn't you?"