Realm 06 - A Touch of Love

by Regina Jeffers

  “Certainly, my Lord. What do you require?”

  “Bring me the tasseled ties about the drapes and be quick about it,” he ordered.

  Bella raced to do his biding. When she returned to his side, Lord Godown handed her the gun. “Do not hesitate to use it,” he said softly, and Bella nodded her agreement. The marquis quickly used the ties to hobble Styl’s legs and to wrench the servant’s arms behind his back.

  “Lord Ransing will hunt you down,” Style boldly declared, his speech peppered with colorful language.

  “Tell your master I look forward to the acquaintance.” With that pronouncement, Lord Godown retrieved his gun from Bella’s grasp and used it to strike Styl across the back of his head. Ransing’s servant collapsed face first upon the Persian carpet. “Come along, Lady Hellsman,” he said as he captured her hand. “Your husband awaits you in the woods.”

  It had taken their small party several hours to reach Blake’s Run. Lucinda had ridden in the back of the wagon, tending to Baron Blakehell and Mr. Beauchamp. Her uncle and Lord Lexford had ridden ahead, leading the two prisoners, who were tied to their saddles; therefore, when Lord Worthing turned the wagon into the entrance circle, the baron’s household awaited their master’s return. The baroness stood wringing her hands while groomsmen and footmen ran along side the wagon. Lord Worthing brought the wagon to a halt and jumped down to assist Lucinda from the back.

  “Oh, my Dear,” Lady Blakehell exclaimed as she caught Lucinda up in a tight embrace. “How may I ever thank you? Lord Charleton has shared how brave you were.”

  In a daze, Lucinda asked, “Has someone sought a surgeon? The baron shall require more than I could provide him.”

  Her uncle appeared at her side. “A groom has gone for the magistrate and the surgeon. You must come with me; Lady Blakehell will see to the baron.” He slipped his arm about her waist, and Lucinda gave herself up to the comfort of his concern. “You require tender care, and I mean to see to your recovery.”

  “You, too, Sir. You should find your bed and a much needed rest,” she murmured.

  “After you are safe within,” Charleton encouraged her forward.

  Lucinda glanced over her shoulder to where Lady Blakehell hovered over her husband. “Is there any word from Sir Carter?”

  Charleton followed her gaze. He whispered close to her ear. “It is a good sign that Hellsman, Godown, and Sir Carter believed Woodstone. Lady Hellsman disappeared earlier today. Lord Lexford and I arrived to find a household in complete chaos. The baron’s return will focus the Blakehell staff and the baroness on the immediate future. It will provide the gentlemen with time to perform their duties.”

  With an expression of impatience, Lucinda said, “Sir Carter’s investigation has brought tragedy to his family. The baronet will not rest until he rights this wrong.”

  The earl’s hand stilled their progress on the entrance steps. He directed her from the activity. “Although I have no desire to bring you more pain, there is something of import of which you should be aware.”

  Lucinda’s heart beat agonizingly fast. “I am not certain I am strong enough for more intrigue.”

  The earl caressed her cheek, and Lucinda leaned into his loving touch. It was quite surreal to look into Gerhard Rightnour’s eyes. She saw her father’s countenance, and the lines blurred. She was determined to think of the man as her uncle–not to betray Roderick Rightnour’s devotion–but as she looked upon the earl, the word “father” filled her mind. “I would postpone saddling you with more responsibility if it were possible. As your dearest family, I would gladly shoulder all your troubles; yet, information regarding Captain Warren has surfaced.”

  Lucinda clung to his thick fingers, so like those of the colonel’s. She shut her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Tell me quick.”

  She did not miss how Charleton’s lips tightened in self-chastisement. “In my foolish need to protect you, I have presented you a disservice, one for which I must beg your forgiveness.” The earl swallowed hard and shifted his shoulders in that characteristic slant, which spoke of his resolve. Lucinda found it odd she had come to know Charleton so quickly. “When you stormed from my rooms, I broke my promise to you. I continued to read Roderick’s papers. Please believe me, I meant only to shelter you. I feared my brother’s papers held other secrets, which would bring you more anguish. I could not bear the pain upon your lovely countenance.”

  Lucinda paused, shepherding her thoughts. “I am not angry, Sir. It is strange to have someone who wishes only my benefit, but I am pleased by your concerns. However, I plead for you to share what you have discovered of Captain Warren.”

  The earl nodded curtly. She admired how he never denied his responsibilities. “Roderick speaks of discovering how Mr. Warren had come to be involved with a group of unscrupulous men. The baronet’s investigation has revealed Cyrus Woodstone served as a purveyor of European artwork to English collectors. My brother’s papers show Captain Warren supplied Woodstone with many pieces.”

  “I knew your late husband, and I know your lover,” her abductor had taunted. Lucinda shivered with dread. “Did Matthew’s parents know?” Questions raced through her mind. “Why did the colonel not put a halt to Captain Warren’s manipulations?”

  “Because, like me, Roderick loved you. He hid the captain’s perfidy to preserve your reputation.”

  Lucinda considered Charleton’s assertion. “I thought Papa displeased with me,” she confessed. “I could never understand why the colonel had turned so cold; I thought him grieving for Mama. He was oddly unrepentant of his poor opinion of Mr. Warren as an officer after my husband’s untimely death. It all appears so reasonable in hindsight. Keeping Mr. Warren’s secret must have eaten at Papa’s soul. He was always so honorable.”

  The earl directed her steps to the still open door. Blakehell’s men had carried the baron to his quarters, and Viscounts Lexford and Worthing waited. “We will speak more of this when we are alone,” her uncle whispered.

  “Lady Blakehell has asked her cook to set out a light meal,” Lord Worthing indicated. “Lexford and I mean to wait for the magistrate. If Hellsman and Sir Carter have not returned by the time we finish with the local authorities, we will follow them to Dove Dale.”

  God bless the servants. Lucinda glanced about the main hall. Lady Blakehell trailed her husband to his quarters, and the servants appeared quite preoccupied with their duties. “I am famished. I have not eaten since last evening. If you will excuse me, I shall make myself more presentable. Shall I ask Mr. Malcolm for rooms for you and Lord Lexford to refresh your things?”

  “I have previously addressed our needs,” Lord Worthing assured. “It is quite common for Derby neighbors to call on one another.”

  Lucinda nodded her understanding: She held no status in Blakehell’s home. It was a sobering reality. She often thought her connection to Sir Carter placed her in an elevated position among the baron’s household, but she was nothing more than an inconvenient guest. “Then I shall see to my ablutions.”

  Lord Worthing caught her arm. “May we speak privately?”

  She turned to see her uncle and Lord Lexford entering the morning room. “Is something amiss, Lord Worthing?”

  The viscount led her from the way of servants crisscrossing the entrance hall. He spoke softly. “I have…on our journey…I have been considering how efficiently you treated Baron Blakehell’s wound. How adept you were in the crisis.”

  Despite wondering how to respond, Lucinda held Worthing’s gaze steadily. “My mother and I often assisted the camp surgeon.”

  Lord Worthing’s countenance was ashen, his eyes narrowed. “I do not speak of generalities, Mrs. Warren. I speak of a particular wound. Of a particular man. Of the aftermath of Waterloo.”

  Lucinda’s cheeks reddened, but she managed to say, “I fear I do not understand, my Lord.”

  The viscount’s shoulders stiffened, and he spoke earnestly. “Do not think you will dissuade me with mild protestation
s, Mrs. Warren. You were in the hospital where the military brought Lowery after the baronet replaced your father upon the battlefield. Darek Merriweather spoke of the boy who had followed Sir Carter’s litter to Brussels.” Lucinda’s knees buckled, and Worthing caught her arm. “Sir Carter’s man described how the boy had contributed to the removal of the bullet from Lowery’s leg.”

  She thought to deny the viscount’s assertions, but the words would not come. “Lieutenant Lowery had been cut down because he meant to save me from a French cavalryman. My father had perished when he protected me during the initial charge. I could not permit Lieutenant Lowery to die also. Please, you must not speak of this to the baronet.”

  “Lowery is unaware of your involvement?” Worthing said in incredulity. “Do you not understand the baronet has suffered for years with thoughts of having failed the boy from the battlefield? The baronet believes the boy–you– died at Waterloo.”

  Lucinda schooled her expression to dispassion. “If Mr. Merriweather knew of the boy at the hospital, why did Sir Carter’s man not share that particular fact with his master?” she accused.

  “To my knowledge, no one beyond the Realm knows of Sir Carter’s personal hell.”

  “Not even his family?” A deep, sickening dread spread through Lucinda’s veins.

  Lord Worthing shook his head in denial. “No one other than those with whom he served.” The implications of the viscount’s assertion played heavily against her chest. “You must tell Sir Carter the truth–to release the baronet from his nightmare.”

  “I cannot,” she protested. “It would destroy everything. Do not ask me never to know Sir Carter’s benevolence again.” Before she could say more, the sound of running feet upon the stairs drew her attention from the viscount.

  “Ma’am! Oh, Ma’am!”

  She instinctively opened her arms to Simon. The child rushed into her embrace, and Lucinda closed her eyes to the pleasure of holding the boy. “I am well,” she whispered as she rocked him. She had never permitted herself to care for the boy, but somehow Simon had snuck beneath her defenses.

  “I thought,” he said on a watery sob. “I had lost you, too.”

  “I apologize, Mrs. Warren.” The maid came to a stumbling halt before her. “One of the grooms told Master Simon what occurred. He has been distraught with fear.”

  Lucinda wiped Simon’s cheeks free of the tears with the sleeve of her dress. “It is well, Sarah. I shall return Simon to the nursery after he joins the earl and me in the morning room for a late night meal.”

  Simon whispered loudly, “Could I not stay with you?”

  Lucinda brushed the child’s hair from his forehead. “Would you like that?”

  “I will protect you,” Simon declared.

  “I could ask for no better knight,” she said sweetly. “Come. You will join the earl while I freshen my things. Then we shall have a treat together.”

  Lord Worthing extended his hand to the boy. “I recall when my son Daniel was your age. He could eat at any hour. Let us permit the lady her privacy. I am certain Sarah will be happy to assist Mrs. Warren.”

  “Would you, Sarah?” Simon asked hopefully.

  “It would be my honor.”

  Simon tugged on Lord Worthing’s hand. “Come. I wish to express my gratitude to Lord Charleton. He brought Ma’am home safely.”

  Lord Godown led the way through the empty passageways, and Bella scurried to keep up with his long strides. “As the household has rushed to extinguish the fire Sir Carter has set, we will exit through the study. Stay close,” he whispered. “Once we are outside, stay before me until we reach the woodland.” He tightened his grip upon her hand. Not waiting for a response, the marquis entered the dark study and adeptly led her about the scattered furniture, and Bella marveled at his ability to see in the pitch-black room.

  A brief pause announced his release of the lock, and Arabella looked behind her to what should have been a deserted hall. Instead, a dark figure filled the doorframe. In spite of her best efforts, Bella sucked in a sharp breath. She could feel the muscles of Lord Godown’s back tighten. Instinctively, the marquis shoved her behind him.

  “Leaving without a farewell?” Viscount Ransing sneered.

  The marquis slipped his gun into Arabella’s hand before he responded. “You appeared busy with more pressing matters,” Godown spoke with an air of superiority.

  The viscount stepped into the shadows. “I knew immediately the fire was a ruse. Of course, I thought Lord Hellsman would come for his wife in person. I should have known the future baron to be a coward. Lawrence Lowery has always permitted others to face the dangers.” Only the marquis’s fingers digging into her skin kept Bella silent.

  “What plan have you for us?” Lord Godown demanded. While he spoke, Bella set the trigger.

  The thin wall sconces kept Lord Ransing in silhouette, and Bella could not discern his facial expression or his gestures; yet, she recognized the danger. “Am I to assume you set the fire also?” A bit of doubt played in the viscount’s tone.

  “I possess many talents,” the marquis boasted. Bella noted how Lord Godown slipped his hand into a side pocket.

  Ransing chuckled. “Furtiveness is not one of them.”

  “Are you certain?” Lord Godown taunted. “Perhaps I have laid a trap among the furniture.” He shifted his weight and for a moment Bella felt quite exposed. Then she realized he meant to draw Lord Ransing’s attention from her.

  Ransing stepped boldly into the room. “I will assume my chances.” His arm rose to chest high, and even in the dim light, Bella could see the gun pointed at the marquis. Lord Godown had given her his weapon and left himself without a defense. The viscount cocked the gun.

  Without a second thought, Bella squeezed the trigger of Lord Godown’s gun. The explosion rang in her ears, while the room filled with gray smoke.

  “Run!” Lord Godown ordered and shoved her through the partially opened patio door. Bella lifted her skirt and ran toward the tree line. Somewhere in the woods was her husband, and she meant to find Law. Behind her, she heard Lord Godown involved in a melee; the sound of broken glass and items being thrown about easily recognizable.

  A single shot whizzed by her head, and Bella doubled her efforts. She glanced up to see Carter and Law rushing to her side. Sir Carter reached her first and caught her about the waist. He was alert to a possible assault, but no one had followed her from the house. “Stay with Law,” he ordered as he shoved her into her husband’s arms. “Where is Godown?”

  “In the study,” she called to Carter’s retreating form. “The patio doors!” Then she collapsed against the man she loved.

  Carter raced toward the unknown. It was a common scenario, and that familiarity gave him confidence. Two rough-looking farmers rushed him, but Carter barely noticed. He struck the first one a clasped hand blow to the man’s throat, sending his assailant to his knees. The second received the heel of Carter’s hand to the man’s nose and then an upper cut to his chin. Both had lost their momentum, and Carter vaulted over their broken bodies to charge the incline to the balcony.

  From within, he could hear the fracas. In the darkness, several men struggled. Pausing only long enough to identify Godown’s recognizable form, Carter grabbed the nearest assailant about the neck and gave the man’s head an opposing jerk. A loud crack announced the man’s demise.

  “Here!” Godown shoved another of Ransing’s men in Carter’s direction. Intuitively, he caught the man by the back of his hair and slammed the culprit into the wall. A loud grunt of pain said Carter had incapacitated another of Ransing’s henchmen.

  Turning to rejoin the fight, only Godown remained standing. “Ransing ran out when his men rushed in. He was limping from Lady Hellsman’s gunfire,” Godown announced. “I will settle things here. You should find Lord Ransing before he reaches the lady.”

  “Bella,” Law pleaded, “are you injured?” His wife sobbed uncontrollably. Law’s jaw tensed: He would kill Ransing fo
r the viscount’s insult to his family.

  “I shot him!” she forced out on an exhalation.

  Law tightened his arms about her to quell her fear. “Who? Who did you shoot?”

  Bella whispered harshly, “The viscount.”

  “But you did not kill me, Lady Hellsman,” a voice declared from the darkness.

  Law strained to remain alert. He could hear the desperation in Ransing’s tone and could smell the fear on Bella’s skin. “It is I you seek, Ransing. Leave my wife untouched.”

  The viscount stepped further into the ring of moonlight, and Law noted how his enemy favored his left leg. Although he had not fully comprehended her earlier assertion, Bella had made contact. “Lady Hellsman knows of my involvement with Woodstone. I cannot leave witnesses.”

  Despair wrapped itself about Law’s heart, each beat nearly tearing it apart. “I cannot permit you to harm my wife.”

  Ransing gave a hard laugh. “Then one of us will die.”

  Law placed Bella behind him. He had never shot anything other than a fox or a deer, and Lawrence was uncertain he could look a man in the eye and pull the trigger, but he was all that remained between Ransing and Bella’s safety. Neither Carter nor Lord Godown had emerged from the house. A violent pendulum of emotions coursed through his veins. He concentrated on Lord Ransing’s stature, attempting to anticipate the viscount’s attack. Behind him, Arabella’s soft sobs spoke of her despondency.

  Law swallowed his fear. His senses sharpened as never before. Pure murder spread across Lord Ransing’s countenance. Slowly, Law raised his gun. His gaze narrowed and honed. Ransing was breathing heavily, and Law noted the flicker of hatred in the viscount’s eyes, which signaled his finger twitched upon the trigger. In the space of a single breath, a flare of light split the blackness, and Ransing toppled forward to kiss the dirt.

  Law looked to the gun he still held tightly in his grip to find it unused and then to his right where a puff of white smoke hung upon the night’s air. As the graying mist thinned, Law’s eyes rested upon his younger brother. Glowing white hot, Carter’s gun reflected the moonlight.