A Heart So Wicked (The Dark Regency Series Book 6)

by Chasity Bowlin

  The weight of the blade against her wrist was like a living thing, pulsing there in anticipation of what was to come. Soon, she thought, very soon. It would be good to be a widow, she thought with a slight smile, for a time at least.

  Kit walked ahead of Malcolm through the woods. The trail was still snow covered, but wide enough to be clearly visible. They had elected to make the journey on foot because it would take longer to saddle horses than it would to simply set out on foot and make the short hike.

  They were almost upon the clearing when Malcolm grasped her arm and pulled her back. Kit looked up, startled. She’d been so intent on where to place her foot with each step that she’d been looking down rather than ahead. But she could see that the clearing and the stone circle within it were already occupied Georgiana and Ned were already there, dismounting from their horses.

  “What are they doing here?” she hissed in a low whisper.

  “Whatever it is,” he replied, his voice pitched low and deep, “It cannot be good.”

  “Do you have a weapon?” she asked.

  “A knife. I didn’t think to bring a pistol,” he admitted. “Conventional weapons, up to now, are useless against anything we’ve encountered.”

  Kit hunkered down behind a fallen tree, Malcolm beside her. “This cannot be coincidence. There must be a reason that she’s here while we are! Do you think it warned her?”

  “Do you really think Ned has the courage or the wit to be involved in something like this?” he asked. “The man strikes me as a coward, and did at first glance, before I even fully understood what had transpired between the two of you.”

  Kit considered it carefully. Ned would never be fully committed to anything that required any degree of difficulty or danger. “No. If she’s brought him here, unaware of her true intentions, then perhaps she poses more of a threat to Ned than to us at the moment!”

  “Whatever she has planned for him,” Malcolm stated firmly, “is nothing more than he deserves. He’s a coward, an opportunist, and lacking any kind of honor.”

  There was only one argument that would sway him. They had to stop Georgiana and the reasoning behind it had nothing to do with any tender feeling or sympathy for Ned. “He’s all of those things, but he doesn’t deserve to die at her hand… and if she plans to kill him, there must be some ritualistic reason for it. The last thing we need is for either Georgiana or this being that she’s linked herself with to have any more power!”

  He was silent for a moment, a muscle working in his jaw. She knew the last thing he wanted to do was play hero for Ned Cavendish, but under the circumstances, she also knew they had no other alternative. Finally, after a heartbeat’s hesitation, he said, “Fine. Stay off the path. Follow me through the trees. And turn your cloak inside out… the fur will blend more into the landscape than the velvet will.”

  Kit did as he bade, removing the garment while still concealed behind the fallen tree and turning the velvet inward. As Malcolm moved forward, she fell into step behind him, using his footprints in the snow as her guide. They zigzagged through the trees until they were close enough to the circle to hear the conversation between the other couple.

  “Can we go now?” Ned groused. “It’s wet and freezing out here, George. Why the devil we came here today of all days, I cannot begin to understand!”

  “I love this place,” Georgiana replied. “Did you know that I came here as a child with my mother? She taught me to read the symbols carved into the stones.”

  He rolled his eyes. “What symbols, Georgie? It’s a bunch of rocks!”

  “Come here,” she said, “And I’ll show you.”

  It was the seductive tone of her voice that alerted Kit to the fact that she was using magic at that very moment. She herself wanted to heed Georgiana’s call and the woman terrified her. Recalling their friendship, she wondered how much of it had been a product of that same kind of spell, that same allure? Had the girl she remembered never actually existed at all? And was the cruel, vicious creature Georgiana had revealed simply who she’d truly been from the start?

  As she watched, Ned moved toward the large stone where Georgiana stood. It was lower than the others, flatter. It was the entrance to the well, she realized. “Malcolm, you have to stop him!” she whispered.

  Her voice had carried too far. Georgiana glanced up, her gaze zeroing in on them. “Who’s there?” she demanded.

  Ned, oblivious as always, continued to walk towards her. He was no more than a yard from her, when Georgiana placed one hand at her opposite cuff and pulled out a heavy, silver dagger identical to the ones they’d found in the secret room. Ned shrieked like a young girl.

  “What the devil is that? What are you doing, Georgiana?”

  “I cannot—I will not let them interfere!” she shouted. She lunged at him then, swiping at him with the blade. He feinted out of reach, but the blade still caught on his sleeve, creating a superficial slice.

  Malcolm dashed forward, charging into the clearing with his own knife drawn. Knife. He’d told her only that he carried one. He had not told her that it was a wicked looking blade nearly the length of his forearm.

  “She tried to kill me!” Ned shouted, still obviously a play or two behind.

  “Yes,” Malcolm replied, never taking his eyes off Georgiana. “She did. And if you have an ounce of sense, you’d be moving further away from her!”

  Georgiana made a sound that wasn’t even human. It was animalistic and filled with rage. She lunged towards Ned, intent upon making fatal contact.

  As Kit ran into the clearing, slowed by the heavy cloak and boots that offered little protection from the remaining snow, she saw Malcolm leap toward Georgiana, tackling her to the ground.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Ned pleaded. “She’s gone mad.”

  There was no response from Malcolm as he was focused on getting the knife away from Georgiana. Kit realized he was only going to be a liability. “Ned, you must step away! She has gone mad, and she is dangerous right now! Let him subdue her!”

  Ned whirled on her then, glaring and spilling his vitriol. “You did this to her! Parading yourself about in polite company as if you had the right! She was fine until the night of the Assembly!”

  “No,” Kit replied patiently. “She was not fine, Ned. Georgiana has been playing with powerful and dangerous things for far longer than anyone realized. She lured you here because she meant to sacrifice you! Look at the dagger she was using, Ned? Can’t you see?”

  The dagger, now lying in the snow, while Malcolm held onto Georgiana to prevent her from reclaiming it, gleamed at them. Ned stooped to pick it up, turning it over and over in his hands. “It’s just an antique!”

  “Ned,” Georgiana called softly, her voice taking on a sing-song quality that was as terrifying as it was mesmerizing. “You cannot live without me. The very idea of it fills you with despair. The agony of your existence would be unbearable.”

  Kit felt a cold dread snake through her. “You did this to my father, didn’t you? You made him take his life!”

  Georgiana didn’t answer, but her lips did lift into a satisfied smirk as she continued to call to her husband. “You’d rather end it all than to go on without me, wouldn’t you, dearest?”

  “Yes, Georgie! I can’t be without you,” Ned said, but his voice was strained and odd sounding, as if some part of him was battling against her.

  “Then do it, Ned… Take the knife and place it to your throat. It only takes one cut!”

  “Malcolm, stop her! Don’t let her speak again!” Kit shouted as she dove toward Ned, attempting to take the knife from his hands. He knocked her aside, sending her sprawling into the snow as he turned toward his wife. Before Kit could even collect herself, he’d grabbed her by the hair, hauling her onto her knees and pressed the knife against her throat.

  “Let her go,” he said to Malcolm. “You let my wife go, or I’ll see yours dead!”

  As Kit watched in horror, Malcolm shoved Georgiana away from him
and rose to his feet. He still held his own knife. “Fine. I’ve let her go… and she’ll see you dead. You do realize that, don’t you? She brought you here to kill you and shove you down that well with countless other victims to this maniacal demon she worships!”

  Ned’s hands were shaking as he moved towards Georgiana, dragging Kit with him. “Show me the well,” he said to his wife.

  “Let her go,” Malcolm shouted. “Let Katherine go!”

  Ned ignored him, as Georgiana led him back to the stone that shielded the well. “It’s covered, but the rock moves easily enough if one knows the enchantment,” she admitted, her eyes glittering with madness.

  Ned coiled his hands tighter in Kit’s hair. She yelped in pain as he uttered, “Then open it.”

  Malcolm moved toward them, but Ned was having none of it. Pressing the tip of the blade to her throat, it pierced the flesh just enough to draw blood. “Not another step from you, Lord Hadley,” he ground out. “Or I’ll slit her throat right here!”

  “Do it,” Georgiana urged. “It isn’t the sacrifice promised, but I cannot imagine that it would not be satisfying for my dark spirit to consume her!”

  Malcolm stopped. Kit stared up at him in abject terror. They were in an impossible situation, but it was evident that Ned meant to see her dead one way or another.

  Georgiana began to chant softly, words that were in a language none but she could understand. The rock covering the well began to tremble and shudder, before rolling to the side and revealing a gaping hole in the earth.

  “You meant to see me dead, and to shove me in the dark hole— forgotten,” Ned said accusingly.

  “But I don’t have to now,” Georgiana said. “I see it now! You will be able to help me!”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “I will.”

  A movement to the right of the well caught Kit’s eye. She turned her gaze in that direction and saw the apparition of the previous Lady Hadley standing there. It was different, no, Kit, thought, she was different. There was a peacefulness and a serenity about the spectre that she had not previously felt. The strength of that calm reassurance seemed to reach out to Kit, as if she’d come there specifically to tell her that things would be fine. The spirit lifted one hand and pointed toward Ned.

  Immediately, Ned began to shake, his hands trembling violently. Before Kit could even fathom what he meant to do, he shoved her aside, flinging her away from the well’s opening. He reached out, clasped Georgiana to his chest and then leapt into the chasm.

  There were no screams. The whole world seemed to go silent in that moment. Kit rose to her knees and peered over the edge, but there was nothing, just blackness.

  “Back away,” Malcolm urged. “I don’t know what’s in there! What just happened here?”

  “It was her compulsion, I think. Ned was never a naturally heroic person. She compelled him to kill himself, to believe that he could not live without her, but she never specified that he had to die without her.”

  “The stone,” Malcolm said, retrieving the heavily wrapped runic talisman from his pocket. As he unwrapped it, the entire circle seemed to come alive. It was as if the stones themselves were humming, vibrating with energy. He didn’t hesitate for even a second, but threw the ancient talisman into the open well.

  Kit glanced over to where Lady Hadley’s ghost had stood only moments earlier. She was gone, and Kit felt to her bones that the apparition was gone for good. In banishing the darker spirit, they’d freed hers. She could not begin to explain how she knew this, only that it was true.

  Slowly, the world began to right itself again. The humming ceased and the ancient rocks around them, became just that—ancient rocks. Whatever power had been channeled through them was now locked away again, deep within the earth below.

  “Can we move that stone back into place?” she asked.

  Malcolm was already ahead of her, gathering fallen limbs to use for leverage. “Whatever it takes, we’re covering that up. I’ll not have anyone stumbling upon it by accident.”

  It took the better part of an hour, both of them using tree limbs to budge that heavy stone an inch at a time. By the time the task was complete, their hands were bloodied and blistered, and both of them were covered with sweat in spite of the frigid temperature.

  “I suppose it’s a good thing Patrice worked me like a dog… else I’d have been useless at this task,” she said with a tired smile.

  “Lets go home… assuming that the Hall is still standing.”

  “Do you think it’s really ours now?” she asked. “Do you think we’ve done what was needed to banish it?”

  “I can only hope so… If not, to hell with Rosedale Hall and to hell with that inheritance,” he said. “I’ve made my way in the world before and I can do it again. I’ll go back to America.”

  Her heart stuttered in her chest. He would leave her. “Oh, I hadn’t thought you’d be so eager to go.”

  He smiled at her. “You’ll like it there, I think… and Joseph. It’s a wild place at times, but a boy like him would appreciate the challenge, I believe.”

  “You’d take us with you?” she asked, surprised at the notion.

  “You’re my wife. Whither though goest?”

  Kit stepped into his outstretched arms and placed her head against her chest. He was her husband, and her home would be with him, wherever that was.

  Epilogue

  Another week had passed. The last of the snow had melted and with a few bright days, the roads were clear enough to travel. The servants had begun arriving, the first few only the day before. Thankfully, since they’d found the talisman and removed it from the house, things had been relatively quiet. Nan had taken care of the rest.

  Malcolm didn’t ask what that meant. He didn’t especially want to know. The truth was, he’d be perfectly content to live out the rest of his days never hearing another word about magic, spells, witches, demons or ghosts. He intended to be a proper and boring country gentleman. To that end, his wife needed to be outfitted as a proper and boring country lady. She was beside him on the bench of their small gig heading into the city.

  There were a few loose ends to tie up, primarily those involving his less than trustworthy solicitor. The local gossip had it that Mr. and Mrs. Cavendish had gone out for a ride and never returned home. The common opinion was footpads or highwaymen. He saw no reason to gainsay that. Not even Nan or Lytton knew the whole truth of what had happened in the woods that day. After much discussion, he and Katherine had elected to keep that piece of information to themselves. No one would believe them anyway and the idea of authorities reopening the well to investigate was simply too much of a risk.

  “I really don’t need an entire wardrobe. Just a few day dresses,” she protested. “But specifically, I do need new petticoats and a new pelisse. My old one simply won’t hold up much longer.”

  They were nearing the dressmaker’s shop. “I knew you would say that, and that is why I have written, along with a bank draft, a note for the dressmaker to ignore your wishes entirely and outfit you from head to toe with whatever items a lady might need… and a few items that a lady’s husband might wish for her to have.”

  She blushed. “I am not wearing anything scandalous. I am not some opera dancer or light skirt that you’ve picked up!”

  “No, you most assuredly are not,” he agreed. “But if in the privacy of our chamber you ever wanted to dress as one, I’d be very receptive to such a spectacle.”

  “And they said I was wicked,” she retorted.

  “You will be,” he vowed. “Just as soon as we return home!”

  “Where are you going while I’m being used as a tool for the dressmaker to commit robbery?” Katherine demanded.

  “I have a meeting with the man who will be Joseph’s tutor and then I have some other things that I need to attend to,” he dodged.

  “Mooney,” she surmised.

  “Perhaps. The less you know the better.”

  The gig stopped and he looped the
reins before jumping down to assist her.

  “I don’t like it,” she protested, a worried frown marring her lovely face. “If he was in league with her all along, he cannot be trusted.”

  “No, he cannot. I am in perfect accord with you on that… but he is a man that can be bought and I intend to appeal to the more mercenary aspects of his character.” Malcolm walked her to the door of the shop, introduced himself to the dressmaker and passed the woman the bank draft and his instructions. She scanned both and a wide, happy smile broke over her rather plain face. Within seconds, she’d whisked Katherine away to see her properly wardrobed. Money was a great motivator. He could only hope it would be just as motivating for Mooney.

  Leaving the shop, he climbed back into the gig and drove it to the livery stable nearest the solicitor’s office. Heading inside, he found a flurry of activity. It seemed that the offices were in the midst of moving. He didn’t knock or even announce his presence. Instead, he stalked toward Mooney’s office and kicked the door open.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Mooney was stuffing papers into a case and looked like he’d been caught in the proverbial hen house. “My lord,” he said, pasting a false smile on his pale features. “What an unexpected surprise.”

  Clearly, Malcolm thought. In a tone that brooked no argument and that relayed precisely how dangerous he could be if pushed, Malcolm ordered, “Sit down, Mooney. We’re going to come to an agreement.”

  The little man did as he had been bade. Sweat beaded on his skin and his breath was labored to the point of gasping. “My lord, I do not know what you think is happening here, but let me assure you everything at Mooney & Drake is above—.”

  “Shut up,” Malcolm snapped. “When I want you to speak, I will let you know. In the meantime, you’re going to listen.”

  Mooney swallowed convulsively and offered a vigorous nod. His whole body trembled. The fear rolling off him was a tangible thing.