Lizzie Tempest Ruins A Viscount (Felmont Brides Series Book 1)

by Maggie Jagger

Chapter 38

  “Highway robbery? Here?” Dace stood in Ma’s garden, while he scanned the tracks leading over the fell and down to the Folly. He glanced with an innocent air at the magistrate, who had stopped him from setting off on foot to go to the Folly. “Has anyone been robbed?”

  “No one,” Mr. Whittaker answered with a sorry shake of his head. “That is why I think it a Felmont prank. When you appear, or rather when you disappear, stories abound of a highwayman searching carriages.”

  “Surely you don’t suspect me?” Dace said. He wished for the thousandth time he hadn’t robbed Lizzie’s mother of the family jewels all those years ago. As it was, he’d let Lizzie throw them into the river. It was that or hide them again.

  “There are strange goings on at the Folly, if one listens to gossip. A highwayman stole Lady Felmont, some say, but Mr. Bertram says she is traveling with you. Miss Dyson backs him up or I’d not believe a word of it. Yet here you are with no sign of your wife. Where is she?” Mr. Whittaker raised his eyebrows in a polite query.

  Dace muttered a curse. He’d ravished Lizzie again and again until she’d fled. Driven hard by love and lust, he’d taken her silence for consent. Damn! What madness not to have waited until he had enough control over himself to stop after once.

  Mr. Whittaker opined, “I suspect Consideration Felmont is behind it all. If he places the blame on you, Felmont, and if you are convicted of highway robbery and executed, then Bertram Felmont inherits the Folly and Consideration lays claim to your lovely bride.”

  “That is going too far even for a Felmont. Then why hasn’t he stolen anything yet?” Dace had difficulty believing Con would dare, not after the beating he’d given him. “It seems odd to me, if he’s trying to lay blame on me, why not steal something and get it over with?”

  “Too many witnesses can testify you were somewhere else. Now you are here, beware.” Mr. Whittaker stared across the fell. “Who on earth is that?” He pointed wildly behind Dace. “Look there! We have our highwayman, make no mistake.”

  A figure dressed in black, mounted on a familiar black horse, approached on the track to the Folly.

  When he got close enough, Dace waved and shouted his invitation. “Angel! Get in here! What the devil are you doing riding that sorry excuse for a nag?” He opened the gate for the pair to enter.

  Lucifer let himself be led into the garden by Dace’s hand on his bridle. Sweat poured from Angel’s face, though Lucifer seemed to have walked the journey.

  “Help me down, Dace. I’ve had to ride through the night. Couldn’t get off.” Angel moaned as he pulled his feet from the stirrups. “Watch out for his teeth. Lucifer is mad as hell.” He wiped the sweat from his chin with the back of his large black gloves. “Had to piss from his back. Couldn’t dismount by myself.”

  “Glad you are here! I need to borrow Lucifer. Let me help you get off.” Dace led Lucifer over to a garden bench. He stood on it to carefully drag Angel from the saddle.

  “God help me!” Angel sobbed as he lay on the bench. After he’d recovered and examined his belly for fresh blood and found none, he sat up and looked around, still pale from his long internment indoors. He ignored Whittaker to ask, “Where is Lady Felmont?”

  Dace closed the gate and gave a half shrug. “My wife,” he put a warning emphasis on the words, “has run away. I need to borrow Lucifer before she gets far.”

  “No.” Angel rose to his feet and said in that soft voice Dace knew so well, “Chasing her once is understandable. Kidnapping a woman once to explain and apologize, I condone, but going after her twice is unforgivable. Let her go, Dace, she doesn’t want to be with you. Set her free.”

  “You are mistaken. Lizzie loves me.”

  “Did your lady say so?” Angel asked.

  “No, but first ... after ... afterwards, she was silent, that’s how I knew. It’s difficult to explain.” Dace let Lucifer amble over to crop Ma’s vegetable garden as they argued.

  “Chase her once, not twice,” said Angel. “Never twice. I’ll go after her myself to make sure she is safe.”

  “Like hell you will! She’s my wife, she is my love. I must find her.”

  “She fled because you made love to her, didn’t you? When you follow my instructions, all goes well. Fornicate like a Felmont and away she runs. How many times do you need to be hit over the head with the truth? Females are delicate creatures and must not suffer male lust.”

  “I’ve got to find her and talk to her. Just talk, if that is all she’ll allow.” Dace gave a Felmont glare. “I have to do this, Angel. I’m warning you, don’t interfere with something you know nothing about.”

  “I know more about the base nature of man than you will ever know.” Angel staggered towards Dace.

  “Yes, no one is arguing about that. When you’ve been married six months come back and we’ll talk about it. Your notions about women are wrongheaded.”

  “They are delicate flowers for man to protect and adore from a distance,” Angel said. “Except the ones in the army, masquerading as men. It’s best to leave those well alone. Almost killed one by accident. Glad you stopped me.”

  A gig stopped at the gate. Molly handed the reins to Ma and jumped down to lead the pair in through the gate. She took one look at Angel Anston, then pointed at him with an angry finger. “What do you think you are doing? Sit down at once! There was no need to run off because the Rackham ladies came to enquire after you.”

  Angel shivered. He sat on the bench. “They were holding a lottery to decide which one was going to marry me.”

  Dace called to Molly, “Have you seen my wife?”

  “No.” Molly shook her head. “Ma did you see Lady Felmont?”

  Ma kept a nervous eye on the two steady plodders standing placidly in front of her. “Don’t say she’s gone and run off, our Dace, because I’ll not believe it. Totally besotted with you, she is. I said there goes history repeating itself.”

  Molly led the team further into the garden. Lucifer gave a snort of welcome. “Nay, Dace, we haven’t seen her at all, not since she was stolen away in the night by that damned highwayman.” She laughed at him. “Don’t say she’s gone missing, has she?”

  Dace ignored Molly’s laughter. He went to help Ma down. “What are you doing back here, Ma?”

  “I can’t stand it down there, our Dace. The house is grand and all, though it is a bit drafty, and full of servants wandering about. I want to do for myself, make a cup of tea when I feel like it, scrub a floor when I want, have an ale without them looking at me like I was queer in the attic. Lud! I would have been, if I’d stayed there much longer.”

  Ma went over to Angel. He lurched to his feet. She reached up to pat his cheek. “Our Molly has told me all about you. I reckon you’re a good lad. You can call me Ma, everyone does.”

  Dace called out, “Don’t be nice to him, Ma. He’s going to try to kill me.”

  “Never! Reckon he has not much chance of doing it, he looks right pale and sickly to me.” Ma peered at Angel. “How about a nice cup of tea?”

  Dace laughed and called out, “Ma, he intends to skewer me. Don’t offer him tea.”

  Molly surged over. “Fighting? There’ll be no fighting. You aren’t killing anyone. Do you want to tear yourself open and die?” she asked Angel while she felt his forehead.

  Dace gave a snort of disgust worthy of Rax. “Thanks for your vote of confidence, Molly. Don’t you think I have a chance of winning?” There was no use arguing that Angel was a suicidal maniac, who would gladly die to save a woman. “You can help Ma make tea for him after he kills me.”

  Molly thought it all a joke. “What are you fighting Mr. Anston for, our Dace?”

  “I want to borrow Lucifer and he won’t let me.”

  Angel spoke with a quiet threat in his voice. “You shan’t ride him or any other mount to go after a woman who has run away from you twice.” He brushed Molly off and limped towards Lucifer, who tried to bite him when he grabbed the reins.

&nb
sp; “Run off?” said Ma, “She’s never run off. Maybe Lizzie strolled down to the Folly to kiss her dogs. I’m warning you, our Dace, that Consideration Felmont will snap his jaws and have her. I think he’s kidnapped her. I ken it’s him going around committing highway robbery. He’s looking for your lady wife, when he searches coaches and steals nothing.”

  “Hellfire!” swore Dace. “Angel! Get away from Lucifer.”

  “Fight you for him,” Angel said, though he swayed on his feet with fatigue. “It’s the only way you’ll have him.”

  Molly and Ma converged on Angel to make him sit down on the bench. Lucifer munched on contentedly, sampling flowers among the vegetables.

  “Who is this?” Mr. Whittaker asked, much amused by the scene, as a carriage with the Duke of Saint Sirin’s arms on the door rolled to a stop by the gate.

  Five females squealed, “Help! We’ve been robbed!”

  Dace saw the Duke of Saint Sirin wince at the sound as he helped them down.

  “Dace!” cried Miss Rackham. “Oh look, Mr. Anston is here.” She straightened her bonnet. “The duke rescued us. He found us beside the road. We were trying to walk to Felmont’s Folly after a highwayman stole our carriage and our brother.”

  “Are you hurt?” Dace rushed over to them.

  “No, but the robber took Rax away with a pistol at his back.”

  “What!” Mr. Whittaker eyed the Rackham ladies in disbelief. “Stole your brother, you say? Did he steal anything else?”

  The youngest girl wailed, “No, he took Raxie away to kill him.”

  Sirrie patted her shoulder. “Don’t cry. We shall find Rackham, never fear.”

  “Hellfire!” swore Dace. “Did he touch any of you?”

  Miss Rackham shook her head. “When he saw we were only females, he declined to rob us. I think the highwayman is insane. He gurgled in an awful way when he discovered Raxie was with us. Nothing could prevent him from taking our brother away from us at gunpoint.”

  “You don’t think it was my wife, do you? Why would she kidnap Rax?” asked Dace. “She said she wanted to rob someone yesterday.”

  An embarrassed silence reigned. The sudden babble of words made him wish he had not asked. They were females, they could not keep their suspicions to themselves. There were numerous theories espoused, none of which pleased Dace.

  Mr. Whittaker approached him. “I fear I must arrest you, Felmont. Your only hope is for the fellow to strike again while I hold you prisoner. That way, no one can believe he is you.”

  The duke bestirred himself to speak. “No one has been kidnapped, my dear sir. We rehearse a comic opera,” purred Saint Sirin. “Ladies, you must learn to sing your parts.”

  The Rackham girls stared at the duke, stunned into silence.

  “I am your highwayman.” Angel Anston waved a black-gloved hand from his place on the bench. “Are we using the Mozart tune in this part?” He lay down on the bench to hum scales to himself.

  Rax’s voice spoke from the stile between the rose bushes. “Would someone kindly inform my kidnapper that I have no intention of being forced to marry her, admirable though her taste may be.”

  He climbed over the stile with difficulty, his hands were tied behind his back. He was followed by a masked individual holding a pistol. “I mean, who can blame her for choosing me? There lies the crux of the matter. Never again shall I fall in love with a pretty face. To be admired for mine is not as great a compliment as I thought it might be.” Rax sighed mournfully. “Approach with caution, the lady is armed and dangerous.”

  He turned to answer his captor’s whisper. “Forgive me, dearest Clarissa, I hesitated to use your name in case you wished to remain unknown.”

  The lady hissed in his ear.

  Rax flinched. “Yes, I suppose witnesses to our wedding may need to know your name.”

  Dace joined in the laughter. Mr. Whittaker guffawed and went quite red in the face until Molly fanned him with a rhubarb leaf. Ma almost sat on Angel by mistake when her legs went weak.

  “Heaven help me!” Rax exclaimed. “Do stop laughing, Dace. I saw your wife crossing the Folly’s garden on my way up here. Was she desperate to wear some clothes? I noticed you were not with her. She looked happy, fairly skipped into the place.”

  Angel raised his head. “Lady Felmont had no clothes? You’ll meet me for this, Dace.”

  “Heavens! Sorry, didn’t see Anston lying on the bench.” Rax hastened into his explanation. “Lady Felmont had clothes, odd clothes, but she was not naked by any means.” He sighed. “God help you, Dace, has your wife forgiven you for what you had painted on the dome? How he talks me into arranging these things for him is—ouch! Really must insist you don’t poke me with that pistol, Clarissa. I shall be black and blue on our wedding night at this rate.”

  Aunt Clarissa breathed heavily behind her mask. Her hoarse whisper reached Dace’s ear. “Marry me now.” The pistol poked again.

  Bertram Felmont’s voice came from the track beside the wall. “That is my pistol, I believe. It cannot be loaded as it is not in working order. Dear Clarissa, Harry has been worried about you. Leave Rackham alone, he is far too wet behind the ears for so sophisticated a lady as you.”

  The Rackham ladies swarmed their brother with squeals of delighted relief that he could not be shot, forcing Aunt Clarissa to look for another to worship. She eyed Angel with interest and went to stand over him, breathing noisily in her odd way.

  Dace glanced over to see Bertram Felmont, dressed in a new set of clothes, sitting next to Gladys in a smart brougham.

  “Gladys, what are you doing with him?” asked Dace. He hoped he was wrong about the bouquet of flowers she held and the expression on her face.

  “Actually,” drawled Bertram Felmont, “Congratulations are in order. May I introduce my wife? Mrs. Felmont consented to wed me today by special license.”

  “Hellfire! Never be rid of you now,” said Dace. “You have my best wishes for your happiness, both of you. Suppose this means you’ll be living in the dower house now, Gladys. What is Lizzie going to do without you?”

  “We could move into the Folly, if you want the company?” said Bertram Felmont with a ghost of a smile.

  Dace climbed up to kiss the bride’s cheek, to her great delight.

  “Oh, Lord Felmont, I am so happy.” Gladys beamed at him. “If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up.”

  “Is that my son over there, with dear Cousin Elizabeth?” asked the old man with less than his usual composure.

  Everyone rushed to line the low wall to see.

  Dace ran to meet Lizzie, to embrace her in front of everyone. “Lizzie, you frightened me half to death. What happened? Where have you been?” he asked in between kisses. Damn the audience! He held her close to his heart.

  His wife took a deep breath. She said loudly enough for everyone to hear her. “I have killed the viscount so you can take his place, my beloved highwayman. I love you.”

  Mr. Whittaker snorted in surprise. “It has come to my attention that there are far too many highwaymen here.” He turned to the Duke of Saint Sirin. “Have any of these people robbed you?”

  Saint Sirin raised an eyebrow. “All of them.”

  “Now is not the time for frivolous answers,” said Mr. Whittaker. “I have been informed that Lady Felmont was abducted by a robber. Yet here she is declaring she has killed the man I see standing before me.”

  Saint Sirin hummed a tune under his breath. “They are all auditioning for a role in my version of the Beggar’s Opera. Do you sing? Bass, if I am not mistaken. You could audition for the part of the magistrate, if you wish?”

  Lizzie laughed at the expression on Mr. Whittaker’s face. “I came here with my husband to audition with our friends. Who said I’d been kidnapped?”

  Charles and Arthur poked Consideration along with great glee, while her dogs ran back and forth in front of them.

  Con spoke up, he nodded towards Dace. “That scoundrel stole Lady Felmont away fro
m the Folly. He ravished her while he kept her prisoner. Damned if I don’t wish she had murdered her husband.”

  Lizzie turned on Con. “Charles, Arthur, remove his trousers!” The three of them stared at her, horror written on their faces.

  She looked over at the brougham. “Gordon told me you had wed, my dears.” She climbed up with Dace’s help to kiss Gladys and whisper in Bertram Felmont’s ear, “Stop your son before someone else does, permanently!”

  Con forced his way to his father’s side of the brougham. “She kidnapped me, Father! She said she’d shoot me. I am to marry the duke’s sister or I’m doomed.”

  “A duke’s sister?” said Bertram Felmont. “Has she any fortune?”

  “How should I know?” Con tried to untie the leash binding his wrists. “I only met her once. Bitter old maid, touched in the head for all I know. Saint Sirin’s sister, the old ugly one.”

  Saint Sirin said coldly, “If you think I’d let you near any of my other sisters, you are very much mistaken.” He gave a Gallic shrug of disdain. “You have a good voice, it might do for the highwayman role.”

  “Good lord, why didn’t someone tell me the duke was here.” Con looked contrite. “No offense meant, Sirrie, none at all. I thought that was Rax imitating you.”

  “That’s right, Con, blame everything on me,” said Rax. “As if I haven’t suffered enough humiliation today.” He tutted at his sisters. “Would one of you stop your cries of delight long enough to untie me?”

  “Lady Estelle is a very scary lady,” called Angel from the garden bench. He muttered to himself, “Almost as scary as Rackham’s sisters. Of course, Lady Felmont is the scariest of them all—she hit me.” With a weary growl, he let Aunt Clarissa hold one of his gloved hands.

  Lizzie giggled and linked her arm with Dace’s. She spoke to him alone. “Con is always getting his lines wrong. Shall I say mine again? I love you and only you. I’ve killed the viscount and want you, my beloved highwayman, to take his place.”

  His heart leaped and bounded in his chest. “Really, Lizzie? Don’t you have a pact with your husband that you need to feel safe?”

  “No, the Beast is dead and so is the silly pact. Love needs no pact and I need only you, my beloved highwayman, to love with all my heart, forever and ever.” Lizzie beamed at him and whispered, “Let’s go home, I have some Spode I want to show you.”

  Everyone cheered as they walked away laughing, hand in hand.

  Angel was glad he didn’t have to try to kill anyone, especially Dace.

  “Are you all still rehearsing?” asked Mr. Whittaker.

  Saint Sirin watched Dace and Lizzie stroll down the track toward Felmont’s Folly. “They are off to practice their roles in private.”

  “Ain’t love grand!” said Ma. “Shall I make us all a nice cup of tea?”