Realm 06 - A Touch of Love

by Regina Jeffers

  She reluctantly admitted in hindsight, Matthew Warren’s selfish nature had thickened into a carapace, no longer easily disguised. Her late husband had taken what he wanted with no consideration for others. Captain Warren was not half the man Sir Carter Lowery was. “Even when he was nothing more than a young Lieutenant Lowery, the baronet walked with confidence. He is a natural leader. Even his older, titled associates bow to the baronet’s wishes.” And despite her best efforts, Lucinda had come to adore the man’s customarily mocking smile.

  “The baronet is a dangerous man,” she whispered a chastisement. “Dangerous to any woman’s heart.” She was too aware of him, and Lucinda feared one day she would succumb to his charms. “And then where shall I be? Sir Carter can never choose me. Even with Lord Charleton’s approval, I am steeped in scandal. It is best for me to accept my ‘uncle’s’ kindness and carve out a life of caring for the earl and possibly for Simon. It shall be enough–more than for which I could have hoped when I departed Brussels.” Yet, her acknowledgement of the truth did little to allay her despair. What Lucinda feared most was how her heart would burst from no longer knowing the baronet.

  From the Peaks to Dove Dale was another long, exhausting ride, and Carter could no longer feel his legs. Numbness had invaded every pore of his being. It had been a very silent journey. Law’s desire to secure his wife’s safety had driven Carter’s brother to distraction.

  “It is the way of men,” the marquis had said sagely. “I would have ridden from one shore to another if in doing so it would have returned Grace to me. A man’s physical comforts are nothing without a woman to share them.” In January, the marquis had foolishly driven his wife from his home in a jealous rage, and Lord Godown had spent nearly three months searching for the former Grace Nelson. It had been quite the humiliation. The infamous Marquis of Godown had married the destitute sister of Baron Nelson, a man on the brink of bankruptcy.

  “What if a woman’s reputation is so riddled with scandal she becomes an encumbrance?” Carter had asked tentatively.

  The marquis scowled–a rueful grimace. “You must recall how I tormented myself and all those within earshot over what I righteously believed to be Lady Godown’s betrayal. Yet, even as I openly listed Grace’s supposed faults, I knew I would never know happiness without her. A bit of outrage will die away with time, but there will never be another Grace. She is my other half.”

  Carter paused, marshalling his thoughts of Lucinda Warren into articulate images. “Then you hold no regrets?”

  Godown shook his head in amusement. “Do you know with a simple smile, my wife can drive away my most foul mood? That Lady Godown can turn that simple smile into a seductive proposal? I have no means of knowing how she has the ability to dispel gloom and fill my house with cheer, but she does. My only regret is Grace will sleep alone in our bed this night and my son will not know his father’s nightly kiss for the first time in his short life. Everything I require in life can be found at Gossling Hill.”

  Law joined them as they dismounted. “What should we do with Woodstone?”

  “Tie him to a tree, and keep the gag on him. We do not want him sounding an alarm.”

  Godown said, “I will see to our prisoner. It will give you time to develop a plan, Lowery.”

  Carter nodded his appreciation. He and Law watched the manor for movement. “Assuming Woodstone has not led us on a fool’s task, we must discover where Ransing holds Arabella,” he whispered.

  Law confessed coldly, “I hope Woodstone speaks with two tongues for if not, I mean to kill Viscount Ransing this evening.”

  Carter had never heard his brother speak with such icy tones. They studied the drive. It wound its way through the woodland. “We must devise a plan to tease Ransing and his men from the house,” he thought aloud. “A rider-less horse, perhaps. Or a fire in the stable.”

  “How would a rider-less horse draw the viscount from the manor?” Law asked with a touch of impatience.

  “If we remove the saddle, it will appear the horse has lost its way and simply seeks a stall and hay. As a horseman, I think Ransing will respond. In addition, the ploy will provide us with a better idea of how many men we face.”

  “What of Lord Godown?” Law remarked sourly.

  A determined smile found a home on Carter’s lips. “His Lordship possesses unique skills. Lord Godown can access the manor and search it for Lady Hellsman.”

  Law took a deep breath and raised his gaze to meet Carter’s. “There is so much of your life and that of your associates of which I was never privy. I am quite discomposed by the reality.”

  “Pennington brought together a group of men whose talents complemented those of the others. It was Pennington’s genius, not mine.”

  “And what is your particular skill, Carter?”

  Carter frowned, “I am not convinced I possess any–certainly none as developed as Godown’s stealth or Berwick’s ability to scale all sorts of heights.”

  An unspoken understanding passed between them. “Design the plan to recover my wife. I await your suggestions.”

  “It is agreed?” Carter asked.

  “Permit me a quarter hour to enter the house,” the marquis instructed. “If I discover the lady, I will deliver the signal.”

  “What signal?” Law demanded.

  “Lowery knows the signal,” Godown said with a smirk before strolling away toward the back of the manor.

  The marquis’s nonchalance stole Law’s words from his lips. If the situation had not been so dire, Carter would have laughed. Instead, his gaze followed his friend’s shoulder line. “Godown really is quite remarkable at intrigue,” he said to reassure his brother. “We often called him the ‘Ghost.’ The marquis will not fail us.” Law nodded curtly. “It is time I prepare the fire and the horse.” They had decided to set fire to the dried hay in the barn to attract the servants from the manor. If that did not produce Ransing, then they would send in the unsaddled horse.

  “Ransing will think the two events in such close proximity cannot be coincidental,” Law argued.

  Carter agreed, “And the viscount will panic. He will expect a full assault, and to protect himself, he will retrieve his bargaining tool in the form of Lady Arabella.”

  “You will place Bella in more danger!”

  “If she is within, your wife is already in peril. We cannot save Bella if we cannot find her. We will force Ransing to deliver her to us.”

  Carter watched the manor for either the marquis’s signal or his reappearance. When neither came, he worked his way toward the barn and exercise ring. By his estimate, it was eleven of the clock, but even so, several of Lord Ransing’s men remained awake. Three played cards about a makeshift table inside the barn’s open door, while a fourth sat upon a low bench watching the curve of the drive. Perhaps Woodstone had not spoken an untruth. Mayhap the servant expected the aristocrat’s return.

  On silent feet, Carter made his way along the back of the structure. Slipping into a side door, he held for several elongated seconds before moving forward. His eyes quickly adjusted to the filtered darkness, and he climbed the lone ladder to the loft. It was odd: as a child, Carter had always loved playing in the Blake’s Run loft. It had made him feel invincible to look out upon his father’s land. To stand above those performing their duties below. To fulfill his mother’s promise of his overseeing all their lives. The memory was a good one, one he would like to share with his own children some day.

  Of course, the thought of children brought the image of Lucinda Warren’s sweet countenance. He wondered upon the look of their children: He was tall compared to many Englishmen, while the lady was quite petite. Carter chuckled with the prospect of short sons and Amazon daughters. It would be justice for a man of his stature to have daughters similar to his middle sister, Maria, who was tall and statuesque. As long as they were healthy, he would know satisfaction.

  The noise of someone moving about below reminded Carter of his mission. He waited for the sou
nd to recede before he edged slowly forward. His nerves vibrated, as taut as plucked strings. Careful not to be heard by the card players, Carter knelt to gather the dry straw into a mound. Removing the flint and striking block from an inside pocket, he rubbed the two hard against each other seeking a spark. With a flash of light, the fire flared, and Carter quickly used several sticks of straw to capture the flame. Shoving the sticks into the gathered straw, he sat upon his heels to watch the flames catch first one straw strand and then another. Satisfied the fire would easily spread upon its own, he gathered the striking block and returned it to his pocket.

  Standing slowly, Carter examined his work once more. It would not take long before the loft would be engulfed in smoke and fire. Turning his back on his work, Carter edged toward the opening, which held the ladder. He would be descending into the darkness. He set his gun’s trigger and lowered his weight upon the ladder’s upper rung.

  Step by step, he moved cautiously into the darkness. Above him, Carter could smell the smoke filling the loft and see the pale glow of the fire consuming more of the barn’s contents. He had reached the last rung before a sound off to his left froze him in place. A sinister growl warned Carter one of the estate’s dogs had discovered his intrusion. Normally, Carter would have cautiously knelt to extend his hand to the animal so the dog could smell it and find him non-confrontational. But this was not a “normal” situation. He could not call the animal over and make friends. Although he could not see it clearly in the poorly lit barn, Carter could estimate the size of the dog as being perhaps four stone.

  Slowly, he placed the toe of one boot on the packed earth before setting his weight flat upon the ball of his foot. His movement brought another warning growl from the dog, along with a barring of the animal’s teeth. Carter bit back the urge to say, “Easy, Boy.” He must remain quiet or risk drawing attention. Keeping the animal in sight, he stepped from the rung to stand alert. As casually as his frayed nerves permitted, he edged toward the still open side door. Although he pretended to ignore the dog’s warnings, Carter kept his gun pointed at the animal. It would pain him to kill the dog, which only acted from instinct; but Carter would choose Bella’s life over the animal’s.

  At a safe distance, the dog trailed behind him, but Carter reached the side door and slipped into the night. Purposely, he closed and locked the door to keep the animal within. He heard it whine and scratch at the door, but Carter had made his escape. Crouching low, he ran bent over toward the cover of the tree line. Reaching the privacy of a stand of oaks, he permitted himself a moment to take stock of his work. He could recognize the glow from the fire had grown more noticeable, and even from the distance, the odor of burning wood and hay could be detected. It would not be long before those inside would sound an alarm, and Carter’s plan would either know fruition or failure.

  As he made his way through the woods to rejoin his brother, Carter wondered upon how things had progressed at Blake’s Run. He had no doubt between James Kerrington and Mrs. Warren’s efforts, Blakehell had survived. He wished he could have been there to comfort his mother when the baroness discovered the peril her husband had encountered. And Carter wished personally to know if Mrs. Warren had suffered beyond the obvious. There had been no time to speak to the woman in confidence. In addition, he required time to examine his father’s actions. The baron had reacted in a manner, which Carter had not anticipated. It frustrated him to know somehow he had misinterpreted his father’s motives. It was not like him. Carter was known for his analytical skills, and he had misjudged one of the most influential people in his life. When this madness knew an end, he and the baron would be long overdue for a father-son encounter. Carter dreaded the likely confrontation. He had always kept his own counsel when it came to the baron, but, obviously, he had erred in his estimation of Niall Lowery.

  “How much longer?” Law asked anxiously.

  Carter knelt beside his brother. “Tolerance is not easy, but I must plead your patience. I am certain the marquis has placed himself in a position to rescue Arabella when the fire draws the estate into action.”

  Law did not turn his head. His eyes remained on the manor’s dark windows. “It should be I who saves Bella.”

  Carter placed a comforting hand on Law’s shoulder. “I know not your despair, but I do know your intelligence. You want what is best for your wife, and in this matter, Lord Godown is the best choice. He has received specialized training in extracting others from difficult situations. Lady Arabella’s chances of escape have greatly increased simply from the marquis’s involvement.”

  Law’s scowl deepened. “For the immediate future, I bow to your advice,” he said grudgingly.

  “Fire!” The alarm sounded. “Fire!” They watched as one of the card players rushed to take up a metal bell to warn the others.

  “It is nearly time,” Lord Ransing said on a taunt.

  Despite her desire not to permit the viscount his satisfaction, Bella could not stifle the words quickly enough. “Time for what?”

  “For you to die,” Ransing announced with a smirk. “It will be a shame for you to suffer because of Hellsman’s folly, but such is the way of men. Women are indispensable.”

  Bella bit back the panic rushing to her throat. “Is that how you view my cousin, Lord Ransing? As indispensable?”

  Ransing stretched out his legs and sipped his claret. “Lady Ransing is the lesser choice,” he declared. “It is another manipulation I can place at your husband’s feet. He and the baronet led me to believe Hellsman meant to make Dryburgh’s daughter his own.”

  Bella knew it was not wise to rile Lord Ransing, but she would not tolerate the viscount’s disparaging either Annalee or Lawrence. “If I recall, you practiced your own exploitations, my Lord.”

  “If I had known of Hellsman’s interest in your assets,” he said as he seductively surveyed Bella’s curves, “I would have called upon you instead.”

  She hid the shiver of disgust racing down her spine. Bella said defiantly, “I would never have accepted your attentions. After all, I had knowledge of the depth of your vengeance.”

  Ransing made no effort to apologize for his behavior. “It pleases me to know I left my mark on your back. I imagine taming a woman with your spirit would be most satisfying.” His eyes raked her figure again. “Perhaps I will have my way with you before I kill you. Anything would be better than begetting your cousin with an heir. I have never known a woman so stiffly unresponsive.”

  Bella could easily imagine the degradation her cousin suffered at the viscount’s hands. She had been fortunate to escape such a fate. “Perhaps Annalee requires a bit of tenderness,” she protested.

  “Mayhap I should consider using my whip upon Lady Ransing,” he baldly countered.

  Before Bella could respond, a persistent tapping at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Come,” Ransing called lazily.

  The door swung wide to reveal the same servant who had assisted the viscount with her abduction. “Pardon, my Lord,” he said anxiously, but word has come from the stables. The barn is on fire.”

  Ransing shoved to his feet. “I am surrounded by idiots! If I have told Stoy once I had told him a hundred times, I will not tolerate his men smoking where we store the hay and the wool.” He jerked his waistcoat into place. “Do we have enough men to fight the fire?”

  “You should decide for yourself, my Lord,” the servant said judiciously.

  “If I hired a deaf mute, would he be more responsive to my needs? I cannot imagine him to be less so than you, Styl.”

  The servant bowed again. “As you say, my Lord.” Bella admired the man for diffusing Lord Ransing’s temper. She imagined the viscount’s man had had a multitude of experience in doing so.

  “Stay with the lady,” Ransing ordered as he strode from the room. With the viscount’s exit, Bella breathed easier. She thought possibly, the fire indicated her husband or Sir Carter had arrived.

  “Would it be acceptable if I had a small glass of t
he viscount’s claret?”

  His eyes sparkling with mischief, the man known as Styl exclaimed, “I hold no objections, Ma’am! In fact, I mean to join you.” He poured the wine into a short glass and took a swig and then topped it off. He poured a second glass and handed it to Bella.

  She took a sip as Mr. Styl slugged down the liquid. “Is the manor in danger from the fire?” Bella asked innocently.

  “Not likely,” Styl assured. He strolled casually toward the open door. “The barn is set well behind the house,” he said cockily. “In fact, there is no one near. No one to disturb us.”

  Bella’s breath hitched in fear. “Lord Ransing would frown upon your assuming liberties,” she dared.

  “I will tell the viscount you thought to escape,” he said with confidence. “Moreover, I know too many of Lord Ransing’s secrets for His Lordship to stay angry with me.” He reached for the door to close it.

  Bella watched him carefully in anticipation of the man’s next move. She chastised herself for having felt safer with Lord Ransing’s servant. He had appeared quite innocent upon his entrance, but she now realized her error. “You must know, Sir, I shall fight you with every ounce of strength I possess.”

  “Your efforts will not be necessary, Lady Hellsman.” A baritone voice in the shadows materialized in the form of the Marquis of Godown. Bella’s knees buckled in relief as Lord Godown jammed a gun to the back of Mr. Styl’s head. “Please give me a reason to pull this trigger,” the marquis said sinisterly.

  Styl raised his hands slowly. “I am your servant, Sir.”

  Lord Godown warned, “I have no need of a Janus in my service.” He prodded the man forward. “Lady Arabella, if you would assist me.”