“Wish you’d accepted my proposal, my love. Would have avoided all of the rest. You just didn’t understand how much I wanted you.”
Bethany’s head shot up. “I thought I made it quite plain that I didn’t want you.”
His hand flew out and slapped her cheek, staggering her back a few steps. Stars spun in her head and she shook it to clear them.
“Your first lesson in showing respect, my sweet,” Scarbreigh said, strangely calm. “Be glad it was the palm of my hand. My fist would hurt far worse.”
Bethany wanted to curse him but didn’t dare.
“You have a lot of lessons in store for you. Consider your wardrobe. Always were a bit of a hoyden, weren’t you? It was cute when you were small, but there’s a time when a lady must behave like a lady. Your brothers and your father indulged you, but I’m certain a good whipping would have sufficed.”
Bethany, her hand pressed to her stinging cheek, stared at him in shock. She’d never dreamed he felt this way.
“Our time runs short. If Locke comes looking for you and finds your room empty, it wouldn’t bode well for either of us. I’m not so fond of your cousins, think there’s something queer about them, but Locke’s a dear friend, and it’s simply unfortunate that he stands between me and you. He’s safe if you cooperate, but mark my words, if you don’t, I’ll kill him.”
Bethany swallowed hard. She had no doubt the Marquess of Scarbreigh would do it.
“We’re headed for Whitstable. I have a fleet of cargo ships waiting for us, loaded with everything I value, and bound for the Spice Islands. I’ve enviable Indigo plantations there, where you’ll be considered one of the richest, most beautiful women on the Islands. It’s a frightfully long journey and not the best time of year to go, but that also means we’re less likely to be followed.”
“Whitstable?” Hadn’t Scarbreigh suggested they drive there, right after the archer had tried to shoot her?
“We’ve no time for redundancy, dear. It’s where I would have had you taken had the arrow wounded you. I’d have taken Raven and Jack and met you there. The arrow missed, but if you’d all joined me on the trip I suggested, with your cousins and your husband, you and I would have just inexplicably disappeared. As the French say, C’est le vie. Such is life. Things go right; things go wrong, and here we are.”
He grabbed her arm and dragged her down the aisle to the stall opposite Raven’s. He threw the top door open, and the marquess’s sorrel gelding, Jack, thrust his head into the corridor, grumbling a soft equine greeting. Bethany’s chill grew glacial at seeing the horse saddled and bridled.
“You’ll be riding him. I, on the other hand.” He went to Raven’s stall and tossed it wide, too. The stallion’s dark eyes sought Bethany. He was also readied to go. She could even see a bedroll tied to the rear of the saddle. Who had done this? She’d seen nothing of Scarbreigh during the party. Had he sneaked out here and tacked up both horses?
“I’ll ride Raven. And I’ll kill him if you give me any trouble. Now let’s get on our way. We can’t waste another minute.”
“No,” Bethany said, more tearful than belligerent. “I’m married, Kirk. I can never be yours. What about your mother? Your holdings? Your life in England?”
“Mum is a cold, selfish harridan. I don’t care if she starves. I’ve no desire to spend my life in Newgate if I’m caught, which I fear is on the horizon. And as for marriage? I’m not one to care about the legalities. I’ll have you to warm my bed and bear my children, and that’s enough for me.”
The barbarity of it swallowed Bethany up, like another form of torture. She couldn’t bear it, but how could she stop it? Dimity’s workroom was upstairs, in the loft, but he and the stablehands slept in the long-row building to the west of the stables. They had no idea what was happening here. Would Locke come to her room, or play the gentleman and sleep in his own bed tonight? She couldn’t count on his help, either.
Bethany heard a soft click and nearly fainted when Scarbreigh pulled a gun from his waistband and pointed it at her. If he fired it, someone would hear it, but if he merely wounded her, he could still get her on board his horse and make off with her.
“Mount now, or I’ll set the stable on fire and let the horses burn to death.” He reached towards Raven, leaping back an instant later when the stallion pinned back his ears and snapped at him.
A string of profanities escaped the marquess, and he turned the gun on Bethany again. “Bring him into the aisle. Hang onto him till I board. Then open the stable door and get on Jack. You’ll go out before me and head for the main road. Brisk walk only. I want to travel as quickly but as safely and quietly as possible.”
Bethany reached for Raven’s reins, shushing the stallion and petting his nose and then his neck as she led him out. The stallion’s nerves were so taught he trembled. You know something’s wrong, don’t you, Love? I don’t believe he’ll shoot you. He needs you. But he will hurt me. How can you help me?
Scarbreigh pulled Jack from his stall and tossed the reins over the animal’s neck. The horses now stood side by side. Scarbreigh gave Raven wide birth when he passed in front of him, his eyes narrowed and his hand tight on the gun.
At the last second, Bethany dropped the reins and screamed, “Mezair!” Raven squealed, rose to his hind legs and struck at Scarbreigh with his forefeet. Scarbreigh lurched away a split second before the animal’s hooves could strike him, but he tripped and stumbled back, dropping the gun.
Bethany spun around and ran, leaving Raven charging after the marquess. Thundering up the ladder to the loft, she begged her eyes to adjust to the inky blackness of the space. There were two spacious windows on either side of the loft and at the near end, a door. To Dimity’s workroom? She ran for it, but it was locked. Could she get out a window? They were high, but the west side window had a large trunk nestled under it. She jumped atop it, flipped the lock on the sash and strained upward. It was stuck! She wrestled with it, sliding it a bit. How far down was the ground? Fearfully far, but she’d rather jump and end with a broken leg than let his lordship Kirkwood Bannister kidnap her. Again.
She opened the window wider but panicked when she heard Scarbreigh’s boots hitting the rungs of the ladder, his lantern making monsters of the shadows overhead. She raised the window the rest of the way and leaned outside—then screamed when Scarbreigh grabbed her and tossed her from the trunk to the floor. A solid kick to her left leg curled her into a ball of pain and harsh cries.
“Get up! Now!” he hissed. His hair was tousled and a bruise marked his left cheek. Raven must have struck him.
Bethany struggled to her feet, throwing her hair back from her face and glaring at him. “You can’t do this, Scarbreigh. I won’t cooperate. Shoot me if you will, but I won’t go with you.”
Then she froze. Had she heard what she thought she had?
The ladder creaked again, the accompanying thump of boots on the rungs marking someone else’s assent into the loft. Scarbreigh snarled fury at her and pulled her in front of him, the gun pressed against the small of her back.
“Scarbreigh? Lady Bethany?” called a voice.
No! It was Locke! Of all the people in the world who oughtn’t to come up here it was Lord Locke.
“Scarbreigh, we must talk. I’m not armed. I mean you no harm.”
Scarbreigh’s hand that gripped Bethany’s waist grew damp with sweat. “Go back to bed!” he shouted. “You’ll get hurt if you don’t.”
“Hurt? Why would you want to hurt me?”
Locke’s head and shoulders rose above the trap door and the earl came cautiously onto the loft’s floorboards. Slowly he straightened, arms to the side, making it plain he had no weapons. His eyes met Bethany’s, full of anguish.
“Go back down, Marc,” Scarbreigh demanded. “Don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”
“No you won’t, Kirk. We’ve been friends too long, but I heard Lady Bethany scream, and I can’t allow you to hurt my wife. Put aside the weapon and let her come with me. Please
.”
Scarbreigh laughed, but only until additional footsteps tapped their way up the ladder. Lord Matthew joined Locke, more surely cutting off Scarbreigh’s escape.
“What’s going on, Scarbreigh? Lady Bethany, has he hurt you?” Lord Matthew’s eyes were filled with worry.
“She’s fine,” Scarbreigh snapped at the same time Bethany shook her head.
She wasn’t hurt. Scarbreigh had wounded her soul, and the cheek he’d slapped was bruised, but she was more herself than she’d been in a long while. Now she understood who her enemy was. And no matter what else happened, she would not let Scarbreigh hurt any of the people she loved, especially Lord Locke.
More footsteps followed the others, and Mr. Nicolas slipped into the loft with Locke and his brother.
Scarbreigh growled in Bethany’s ear and his fingers dug into her skin, no doubt leaving fingernail marks and more bruises. She gritted her teeth as the marquess yanked her with him, towards the window.
“Scarbreigh,” Mr. Nicolas said. “You can’t get out of this. You’ve been found out. You can’t rob justice, and it won’t serve to hurt anyone, especially Lady Bethany. She doesn’t deserve it.”
“I’ll kill her before I let anyone take her from me. She should have been mine long ago.”
Shock turned Locke’s face ashen. He’d figured out that Scarbreigh was the traitor, but he hadn’t understood any more than Bethany had that the marquess had wanted her as much as he wanted the bracelet. If only she’d confessed her reservations about their old friend a long time ago, they might all have been prepared for this.
More footsteps announced more arrivals. They came like wraiths, men drifting into place behind Locke and the twins, along the opposite wall. More than a dozen of them. All strangers to Bethany.
And then Mr. Treadwell and Seaworth arrived. Dimity and the stableboys. Even Mrs. Callen and Mrs. Ford joined them. And last of all, came Lady Camille, her cheeks streaked with tears. Bethany’s heart was crushed to see her so. There was no sign of dissipation about her, just devastation. Scarbreigh had truly lied.
At least Lady Katherine hadn’t been awakened. Bethany wouldn’t want her mother to witness any of this.
Scarbreigh ground his teeth in fury. His plans were ruined and he was cornered. He was now more dangerous than ever.
One of the strangers stepped forward, his gaze fastened on Scarbreigh. “Kirkwood Bannister, the Marquess of Scarbreigh, I’m Captain Garner, and I’m sorry to say I’m here, with a detail from London and in the name of the Crown, to place you under arrest for treason. You can make this easy or you can make it hard; either way you’ll be in London by evening tomorrow. Now lay down your weapon and put your hands above your head.”
Scarbreigh barked laughter, his grip around Bethany tightening. “Didn’t you hear me? I’ll kill her if you get in my way.”
“And then what?” Locke coaxed. “You’ve only two bullets, my friend. You can do terrible damage with them, but these men will shoot you where you stand. How will that compensate for hurting Lady Bethany? How can you consider hurting her if you truly love her?”
Scarbreigh’s heart pounded against Bethany’s back. He was terrified, furious.
“Scarbreigh, please,” Lady Camille cried. “You’re throwing your life away.”
“Not any worse than if I’d married you. I wouldn’t have gone through with it, you know. I was waiting for the perfect opportunity to get to Bethany. That ring and the necklace I gave you were meant for her, not you. You can have them, but Bethany’s mine. If those fools at the fair hadn’t botched everything, we’d be long gone by now.”
Lady Camille withered before Bethany’s eyes, her sobs tearing Bethany apart. She was grateful when Mrs. Callen clutched her cousin to her ample bosom to comfort her.
“You can’t have delusions about making Lady Bethany yours, Scarbreigh,” Locke reasoned. “Even if you run off with her, you know she’ll never love you. So what’s the point of it?”
“She’ll learn to love me. And you’ve no idea what’s going on here, old friend. I’ve done my best to protect you, but I’ll hurt you myself if you don’t get out of the way.”
Lord Matthew said, “Mr. Collin discovered your network in Portugal, Scarbreigh, and in Spain unveiled your schemes. He was as brilliant at fashioning and deciphering codes as you are and managed to uncover enough of yours, he needed to send a sample of it home. What better way to expose and condemn you than to use your own code against you? He often sent Lady Bethany gifts from the Continent and found the bracelet in a shop in Lisbon. It seemed the most inconspicuous vehicle possible, and with Lord Whitton and Lord Matthew’s input, they had it inscribed and sent to the Prince through Lady Bethany. It not only revealed your conspiracies but also the top five leaders of your band of traitors. Your name is at the head of the list. You know that, of course, because one of your French spies sent you word before he was caught and killed.”
“Not sure what good it did anyone when Bethany had no way of deciphering it.”
“She didn’t need to,” Mr. Nicolas said. “Misfortune strikes all of us, Lord Scarbreigh. I paid my aunt a visit last week, managed to secure a confession from her that the package arrived addressed to Lady Bethany.” He emphasized the title to censure Scarbreigh’s presumptuous use of her name. “It held ordinary missives from the Whitton men for both women, and a smaller package, containing the bracelet and a note for either Lord Matthew or myself. Our aunt admitted she was in a foul mood that day and opened the package meant for us. She couldn’t make sense of the message, but she believed the bracelet was for Lady Bethany. She burned the letters and the code’s cipher, and gave the jewelry to her daughter. If we’d gotten hold of all of it then, you’d have been in prison long ago.”
CHAPTER 24
Bethany’s head spun. If that had happened, mayhap what Scarbreigh and his cronies did to her wouldn’t have happened. For a split second she was angry with her mother for her unwitting part in all of this. Nevertheless, the plot was Scarbreigh’s doing. The realization mocked her from her memories, from the dark recesses of a dilapidated stable near the wharves of the Thames.
“Do you know what they did to me?” she spat, digging her own fingernails into Scarbreigh’s arm. His grip tightened around her shoulders in response.
“Of course.”
“And you allowed it. You gave them leave to beat and burn me, and—and—”
“Leave some bruises. They weren’t to mark your face, break bones or take liberties, and that you have me to thank for.”
Bethany barked caustic laughter. “But they did break bones, and they did take liberties. All the liberties they wanted, and I have that to thank you for.”
He hissed in her ear, and she felt his grip weaken. “You’re not suggesting—”
“There are some things you cannot fix, Scarbreigh. And one of them is the loss of virtue.”
Bethany had never dreamed she could say these words aloud, let alone in front of spectators. She was convinced, however, that these people were sworn to silence and it felt good to confront her archenemy.
Body tense against hers, Scarbreigh was silent for a long while. Then “I don’t believe you.” His head swiveled towards the twins, his arm tightening again, the pistol gouging her right flank. “And you two are what I suspected. A couple of spies. Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ve got the bracelet now. You’ve no proof. Move aside and let us out of here. I’m losing patience.”
Lord Matthew said, “Actually, that bracelet’s a copy and nothing but gibberish. Had it created to trap you. The original is at the Offices in London and anyone who matters knows all about it.”
Locke added, “Forgive us, Lady Bethany, for not telling you our plan. I was on my way to do just that, and to urge you to let Scarbreigh have the bracelet. Instead I found you gone from your room. You weren’t with Lady Camille and, considering Scarbreigh and his personal items were gone from his room, it wasn’t hard to deduce he’d taken you with him.”
“Scarbreigh, your crimes are known,” Mr. Nicolas said. “You’re the ringleader in a plot to assassinate Prince George. We’ve witnesses to your conspiracies, Lady Bethany not the least of them. The bowman and his cronies? We caught them, remember? Two days ago, they piped up like songbirds, rattled off a lengthy list of your lackeys, more than a hundred of them, including the two men who ransacked Lady Bethany’s room and Whitton’s library, looking for whatever might have Lord Whitton’s message on it. Of course, they were looking for a hidden piece of paper or parchment, not a bracelet. Your accomplices were eager to reassure us that it was you who had Lord Whitton and his sons killed in Portugal, to stop them from revealing you. Unfortunately for you, the bracelet had already been sent.”
“No!” Bethany cried, tears welling in her eyes. She twisted in Scarbreigh’s arm enough to look him eye to eye. “It was an accident! Please tell me you didn’t murder them.”
Scarbreigh’s top lip curled with animosity. “Ah, but I did, my sweet. They weren’t ordinary men and needed to be gotten rid of.”
“No!” Bethany sobbed.
Locke said gruffly, “Perhaps it was because we’ve been friends for so long I couldn’t see the truth. It’s taken us more than a year to hunt you down, old friend. You were one of our toughest assignments.”
“Assignments?” Scarbreigh shrilled. “Assignments? You’re one of them?”
The man’s shock allowed Bethany to twist in Scarbreigh’s arm a bit more, trying to work her way free. She bit her lip when he dug the pistol’s nose even deeper into her flesh.
Locke nodded. “Yes. I’m Secret Service for the Crown; as are the twins; as were my father and all three of the Montgomery men. Lord Whitton finished training me as an agent after my father died. I loved him dearly, and Lord Christian and Mr. Collin truly were the best friends I’ve ever had.” He swung his hand towards his servants. “My so-called retainers here at Moorewood work for the Service in a variety of capacities, except for Lady Bethany’s abigail, Melissa. You’ve led us a merry chase, but your conspiracy has failed. It’s time to surrender.”
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