The Dark Regency Series: Boxed Set

by Chasity Bowlin

  With her loot tucked safely away in her pocket, Larissa fled back to the safety of her room. In the hallway, she stopped abruptly. Katherine approached from the opposite end of the corridor.

  “What are you doing up here?” The other woman’s tone was suspicious and, Larissa thought, a tad jealous.

  “I was looking for Mrs. Agatha,” she lied.

  Katherine pulled a face. Her expression clearly conveyed her dislike of the woman. “That stick! She’s all the personality of a piece of firewood!”

  “She’s a housekeeper,” Larissa stated evenly. “Her place in the home requires that she maintain propriety at all times. It’s about duty, Katherine… not popularity.”

  Katherine laughed bitterly. “What do you know of propriety?”

  Larissa maintained her cool expression, “Slightly more than either you or Fergus. Spencer has at least asked for my hand in marriage. Can you say the same of your butler?”

  Katherine shrugged. “The difference between you and I, Larissa, is that I have the sense not to get caught. Half the house has seen you traipsing to and from their lord’s bed. It isn’t important that you retain your innocence, so long as you can give the impression of it… though I’d imagine that’s rather difficult for you. By the way, how is your other fiancée these days? Lord Moreland, I think?”

  Larissa’s blood ran cold. She’d known that Katherine was not to be trusted, that the woman was both a liar and a schemer though the depths to which she would sink had only just begun to become clear to her. “What do you know about Lord Moreland?”

  Katherine smiled, the pretty expression so at odds with the ugliness underneath it. “You’re not very good at secrets… The next time you feel the need to unburden yourself in the drawing room, you should make very certain that there are no prying eyes or pitched ears about! Naturally, I had to send him a little note to tell him where you were. He is your fiancée, after all—or at least one of them!”

  Panic churned through her, twisted inside her. Her heart raced and the blood rushed in her ears, the sound nearly deafening. Would he come for her? The minute she considered she knew that he would. Of course he would! Katherine had laid the perfect trap and she’d given her the tools to do so. “I must go,” Larissa said.

  “Why are you in such a hurry?” Katherine asked with a laugh. “The man you’re after isn’t here for you to rush to!”

  “Neither is yours!” Larissa snapped. “Your lover was sent to Edinburgh on an errand by the Earl. You’ll have to content yourself with celibacy!”

  Katherine chuckled again. “My God! You really are an innocent! Run along and ready yourself, my dear… When Moreland arrives we shall see how long your innocence lasts!”

  Larissa fled the servants’ quarters and raced down the stairs. She needed to reach Seamus. If he could send someone after Spencer, perhaps he could return to Kinraven before Moreland’s arrival, and she would be able to show him what she’d found.

  As she entered the great hall she realized that Katherine’s confrontation had been nothing more than a ploy. Moreland was already there. He and Stydham stood just inside the front doors, Fergus at their side. With only instinct to guide her, Larissa turned and ran, headed for the kitchen and the meager protection that Seamus might offer.

  Neither Moreland nor Stydham gave chase. They didn’t have to. Fergus was only too glad to do it for them. He ran after Larissa and tackled her to the hard stone floor, his bony elbows and knees digging into her as he pushed her down. The rough stone scraped her cheek, but she didn’t utter any sound of complaint. He would enjoy her pain; she could feel that as if it rolled off of him in waves. When he dragged her up by her hair, she lashed out, her elbow slamming into his bony ribs. He let out a breath on a hard whoosh before he shoved her toward Moreland.

  Larissa recoiled as his hands clamped around her arms and he hauled her toward him

  “You’re not as young as you were, but you’re still a fine piece,” he muttered and his wolfish grin revealed rotted, yellowed teeth. “My bride.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Spencer slowed his mount as the riders approached him. Two men on horseback riding hell bent for leather on a muddy road was a sure sign of trouble. As they neared, they slowed their own mounts. They were close enough that recognition sank in. Rhys and Michael. Spencer sighed. That meant only one thing - Rhys had discovered Larissa’s deception and they were on their way to Kinraven to bring him to heel.

  Spencer dismounted and walked forward. He was about to face down Larissa’s brother-in-law, Rhys Brammell, the Duke of Briarleigh. Though he and Rhys had been friends for years, he doubted that it would mean much in the overall scheme of things, at least for the moment. Rhys took his duties seriously and one of those duties included protecting the female relations of his wife. It would be foolish for him to discount Ellersleigh as a threat as well. They were friends also, but given the man’s intense response to any perceived wrong toward a woman and it did not bode well.

  Rhys dismounted and strode toward him. It was only Michael’s called warning that halted him in his steps. He looked tired and none too pleased, not to mention, very ready for a brawl. “Where is she?” Rhys demanded.

  Spencer answered easily and without any prevarication. He noted that Michael remained in the background. He would, Spencer could only hope, attempt to be the voice of reason in whatever would ensue. “She’s at Kinraven. How did you know she’d come to me?”

  “I didn’t until two nights past,” Rhys replied. “I received a frantic missive from my mother-in-law. Stydham extorted money from her to fund his journey here in the company of Lord Moreland. Stydham thought he’d cowed her into remaining quiet, but as soon as he left the home, she sent word to me.”

  Spencer nodded. “We’ll return there at once.”

  “Yes,” Rhys said. “We will, and then Larissa will return with me to Briarwood and you will never darken my door again! Is that clear?”

  “Rhys,” Michael said, his tone easy and painfully calm. “Before you begin issuing edicts, you should hear Spencer’s explanation. He was safely ensconced in his rustic, Scottish retreat long before Larissa ever left Briarwood. Clearly, that was something she took upon herself.”

  Rhys nodded, though his jaw was still locked tight and his fists clenched at his sides. “A valid question, but a more pressing one is how the bloody hell did they know where she was?”

  The controlled fury in Rhys’ voice, given the circumstances, was to be expected. Spencer answered as calmly as he could. His own temper was not yet what it should be, but he tried for Larissa’s sake, to maintain his calm. “I have a suspicion, but no proof. I’ve a distant relative, Katherine, who resides at Kinraven and was less than pleased with Larissa’s arrival.”

  Rhys exploded. “As you should have been! Why the devil did you not send her back immediately before this mess worsened?”

  Spencer looked away. “I could explain it you, but it would take too much time. We need to return to Kinraven at once. If Moreland and Stydham are on their way here, I fear that she has inadequate protection.”

  “Then mount up and lead the way,” Michael said. “Her safety is more important than any disagreement between friends.”

  The pointed phrase was not lost on any of them. Rhys finally relented, the tension eased from his shoulders and he gave a curt nod. “You will talk while we ride,” he said. “I assume we are not far from Kinraven, now?”

  “About five miles,” Spencer stated.

  “Is this the only road in?” Michael asked. “Have any coaches passed here?”

  “No, but it they went to the village first to change horses, they would have approached Kinraven from the other side. If they’d been traveling all night and want a speedy getaway, that’s the more likely course of action,” Spencer answered. Fear made him terse, his words came out in sharp bursts. He looked at their lathered horses. His was still fresh. “I cannot wait for you… Your horses are near run to the ground.”

>   Michael stayed Rhys’ protest with his own answer. “Go and we will follow as quickly as we can.”

  Rhys watched as Spencer turned his horse in the road. He mounted quickly and spurred his mount back in the direction he’d come. “If he’s dishonored her—.”

  Michael sighed. “I had hoped you would have calmed by now. You do realize it is Spencer that you’re speaking of? The man who has lectured us both in turn about our moral ineptitude?”

  “And that’s precisely why this is so damned maddening! How could he have behaved so recklessly with her reputation?”

  “Perhaps he has not,” Michael said. “Or if he has, perhaps it is because he has had it in his head to marry her all along.”

  Rhys squinted at him. “You sound like Emme!”

  “And like Abigail,” Michael said, referring to his own wife. “She’s insisted for years that Spencer was in love with Larissa, and vice versa. Perhaps being alone together, as much as one can be in a manor house, was what they needed!”

  “She is like my own sister,” Rhys stated gruffly. “I would not see her harmed again.”

  Michael nodded. “I can promise you this… Spencer would lay down his life for her. Let us cool the horses as much as possible and then ride on. As angry as you are at him, I doubt you wish for that outcome!”

  Spencer pushed his mount harder than he ever had. The powerful stride ate up the distance as hooves smacked into the mud. It slowed them down some, but not so much that he could not see Kinraven rising in the distance. Sweat beaded on his skin beneath his clothes, in part from the exertion of clinging to the animal’s back as it galloped the distance and in part from the fear that churned in him. His only thought was of getting to her before it was too late.

  As the horse climbed the hill, it slowed, its fatigue finally won out. Spencer cursed and climbed down. He didn’t bother with the road, but instead used the path through the woods. Using tree limbs and jutting rocks, he scaled the steep terrain through the forest. It would bring him directly across the road from the entrance to Kinraven. When he emerged, his thundering heart skipped. The carriage that stood in the drive told him the truth of it. Moreland and Stydham had already arrived.

  Spencer cursed and moved ahead as stealthily as possible. Sticking to the trees that lined the drive, barren though they were, he approached the hired coach. The driver still sat atop the box, his soft snores echoed in the stillness.

  Spencer smacked the man’s muddied boot. He sat up with a jolt. “What the bleedin’ ‘ell?”

  Rather than attempt reason, Spencer resorted immediately to bribery. “Those two buffoons who hired you have only paid you half, correct?”

  The driver, uneducated but not unintelligent, nodded. “Aye. You got a better deal to offer?”

  “Unhitch those horses and take them around to my stable. If you leave them stranded, I will pay you double what they offered and match what they’ve already given you.”

  The driver’s smile revealed more gaps than teeth. “I’ll take that offer, m’lord, and thank ye fer it!”

  Spencer tossed the man a sovereign in good faith and then moved around the carriage toward the house. As he reached the door, he could hear a struggle within. His pistol was still with his horse, but he had the knife he’d tucked into his boot before leaving that morning. He withdrew the blade but kept it concealed in his sleeve as he opened the door and stepped inside.

  Katherine stood on the stairs, her gaze enrapt upon the tableau unfolding below her. Fergus was doubled over in agony while Stydham was breathing like a bellows. Moreland held Larissa against him, her arms pinned to her sides. It had done little to halt the swift and sure kicks landed by her slippered feet.

  Moreland screamed at her. “I’ll throttle you!”

  “You will not,” Spencer said quietly.

  Dorcas and Mrs. Agatha appeared in the doorway from the kitchen. Dorcas’ face paled but Mrs. Agatha stepped forward. As she did, Finella appeared at the landing. The woman grasped Katherine’s chin and forced the younger woman to meet her gaze. Finella spoke a single word. “Jump.”

  Spencer watched in horror as Katherine leaned over the railing at the landing and tumbled to the floor below. Her head struck the heavy wood of the hall table with a sickening thud and then she lay still.

  Even Moreland halted. “What the devil was that?”

  Finella descended the stairs, for once not leaning on her cane. In fact, she moved with an ease that Spencer had yet to witness. She smiled at him. “I am not so very old… but it is sometimes to one’s benefit to appear old and infirm,” she said.

  “What did you do to her?” Spencer demanded. “How could you compel her in such a way?”

  Finella smiled. “It’s the simplest of tricks.” She trailed her finger along the head of the cane she carried and it seemed as if sparks flew from her fingertips and up into the beamed ceiling. “All this time, you thought it was Katherine who wished to be the Countess of Kinraven, and she did, poor thing, but it was never to be. It was my dear Agatha, who will be the Countess as she can still bear a new generation to continue the line. She and Fergus, with my blood running through them both, will provide a powerful heir to the title and to my skills. Katherine’s greed would never have permitted it.”

  Agatha stepped forward and placed her hand in Finella’s. “Mother.”

  “If you want Kinraven you can have it… I’ll happily disclaim the title tomorrow!”

  Finella shook her head. “It isn’t that easy, Spencer… Kinraven, without you, is just an impoverished shell. But it isn’t really you we need, just your fortune. Having you mad as a hatter made it so much easier to siphon off a bit of money here and there from your other properties. But then this little bitch in heat had to arrive and spoil everything!”

  Finella turned then and directed her gaze at Stydham. She clucked her tongue at him in a strange rhythm, the sound growing ever faster. Stydham clutched his chest, his face going a deep shade of crimson.

  “You were the witch all along,” Larissa murmured. “It was never Katherine!”

  Finella didn’t stop. She kept up the strange and vaguely hypnotic rhythm until Stydham collapsed to the floor, the breath gone from his body. Only then did she turn to Larissa. “Of course, it was me! Oh, Katherine liked a charm here and there, but she didn’t have the gift… not like my dear Agatha. Katherine’s bruised ego from your lack of attention has created a very ugly little problem here,” Finella said. Her voice remained smooth, her tone completely casual as she spoke of things that left him utterly terrified.

  “What exactly is that?”

  It was Agatha who answered. “We were going to simply get rid of her,” she said with a gesture toward Larissa, “I’d heard enough from her conversations with you and Dorcas to know she’d come here without telling anyone. It would have been easy enough for her to simply disappear, but then Katherine ruined it by writing to Moreland.”

  “And she paid for her disobedience,” Finella said. “Our little coven might be small, but its strength lies in our unity. We have all been devoted to one goal and one goal only… to reclaim Kinraven and the consecrated power of my grandmother.”

  “The dark mist,” Spencer guessed.

  Finella smiled. “No, dear… that was me. Just a bit of glamour. It isn’t too difficult to manufacture small visions like that. Of course, for the full scale madness we needed in you, the Devil’s Trumpet helped tremendously.”

  “This is a madhouse!” Moreland shouted.

  Finella turned toward him and lifted her hand. She curled her long fingers into a fist and Moreland gasped. His hands dropped from Larissa and he clutched at his throat as if being strangled. Larissa moved away from him quickly, taking her place at Spencer’s side. “How did you know to come back?” she whispered.

  “A feeling,” he said. The arrival of Rhys and Michael might be the only thing that could save them, alerting Finella to their potential rescue party was unwise.

  Finella opened her
fist abruptly and Moreland fell to the floor, still clutching his throat and gasping. “Just a glamour. I can make him think he’s being choked… and it’s as if he is. And your stepfather,” she said, making a sweeping gesture toward Stydham’s prone body, “well, it was only a matter of time before his heart seized. I only helped it along a little!”

  “Why, Finella?” Larissa demanded. “Just tell the truth for once!”

  Finella laughed. “Fine… here’s the truth, dear girl. Due to the annulment between my grandmother and grandfather, I can never inherit the title of Countess of Kinraven. So, I made sure to have a child who could… I seduced the eleventh earl and had Katherine. I seduced the 12th earl and had Fergus. He also fathered dear Agatha here! But alas, they are still bastards, although they are the direct offspring of the earl… thus every legitimate claim to the title must be exhausted first.”

  Agatha smiled. “And you’re the last,” she said to Spencer.

  “Fergus and Katherine were siblings?” Larissa asked in horror. The images she’d seen in his room were burned into her mind.

  Agatha shrugged. “Only half. They weren’t like a real brother and sister. Not like we are,” she said and smiled back at Fergus.

  It was the first emotion other than disapproval that Spencer had ever seen cross the woman’s face. With it, he could actually see a faint resemblance to Katherine. “So you’ve killed Stydham. You’ll have to kill Moreland. Then you’ll have to kill Larissa, Dorcas, and myself. Do you think no one will notice?”

  “I think that you will have an unfortunate relapse of your madness,” Agatha said. “Or at least that is what all the servants will think. Mother is good at glamour, but not nearly as skilled as I am. I can make them remember this day however I want.”

  The words of the spell she’d cast that morning still filtered through Larissa’s mind. One passage stuck out. Any harm from thee to me shall be returned times three. If she could make Agatha lash out at her, then perhaps the metaphysical recoil, as it were, would be enough to level the playing field.