Finally, she reached William’s chamber. Opening the door, she stepped inside. The room was clean enough. The maids would certainly have seen to that. But she still felt as if the space was somehow tainted. By his presence.
Hyacinth went to the wardrobe. She found meticulously folded shirts, underclothes and breeches. There was no gossamer gown and auburn wig. But then he would be smarter than that, she thought. Another armoire rendered waistcoats and frock coats that were beginning to show their wear. His boots and slippers were lined up along the bottom. Hyacinth looked at them and frowned. Stepping back, she eyed the door and then noted that there was a sort of box built into the bottom of that armoire. With both doors opened wide, she knelt in front of it and tapped. It was hollow. A false bottom.
Reaching underneath the heavy piece of furniture, she felt around. For a moment, she feared she’d find naught but dust, but then there it was. A small latch. With her thumb, she flicked it free and the front panel of the box fell forward. A confection of sheer white fabric fell out, spilling onto the floor. Lifting the garment, Hyacinth reached in and pulled out the wig. It wasn’t the quality she expected, but then he hadn’t needed it to fool them at close range. He was only ever seen in the getup from a distance. Recalling the graceful way he moved, the remarkably smooth cheeks and almost effete bone structure, it was no wonder he’d been able to pass easily as the ghost of his sister. But how heartless could he be to disguise himself as her and torment others with her image?
Carefully replacing both items, she closed the box back, eased the wardrobe doors closed and retreated into the sitting room. She had just made it into Mrs. Lee’s chamber when the door opened and William entered the sitting room, Mrs. Lee right on his heels.
Hyacinth’s breath caught as she stared through the crack in the door. They should have been long gone. Were Lady Arabella and Lady Phyllida all right? What had happened to the plan to pursue them north to Gretna Green?
“He cannot marry her, Mother,” William insisted. “He’d still have to petition the House to declare Annabel dead.”
Mrs. Lee was pacing nervously. “We don’t know that. Certainly it would not be a legal marriage, but if he’s moving on—if he’s ready to put Annabel behind him so firmly—our hold on him has slipped and we are in danger of discovery. We’re certainly in danger of being cut off. You think he’ll continue paying our debts, now? No, William. It’s all lost and we should cut and run while we can!”
He slammed his fist down onto the table. It took all that Hyacinth had within her not to jump or scream. But she knew she had to get away. Easing back from the door, she knew she’d never be able to open the panel and slip quietly inside the secret passage. But if she could get under the bed, then perhaps she could remain hidden until they left the room again. Crouching as silently as possible, careful to make no noise at all, she knelt down on the far side of the bed and had just managed to crawl under it when Mrs. Lee came in sobbing. William was right behind her.
“We are not cutting and running now! We’ll get rid of the girl and the meddling old women. He only needs a few more encounters with the ghost of his late wife to be made completely malleable. He already thinks he’s mad!”
“What if he doesn’t change his will? What if he leaves us nothing?” Mrs. Lee asked.
“We don’t have Annabel anymore to fetch us another aging fool to be blinded by her pretty face while we filch his last sovereign,” the young man snapped. “Don’t you understand, Mother? This is our last chance for enough money to never have to do this again!”
“There are other ways. You are such a handsome boy. And there are many lonely widows who would be easily swayed to your side. And as their husband, you could do whatever you like. Enough laudanum and any woman is ready for Bedlam! We can make it work without her, my sweet boy,” Mrs. Lee cajoled.
He sneered at her then. “You weren’t content just turning your daughter into a whore? Now you would have me be one as well? No, Mother! I will not do it. We will get Lord Dumbarton to change the will. If he will not, we will change it for him! But those women have to go.”
“How?”
“Lady Arabella is so old, no one would question it if her heart simply gave out. You can concoct one of your herbal mixtures to take care of that,” William ordered. “Lady Phyllida isn’t such a problem really. Without Arabella’s interference, she’s too bloody stupid to make much trouble. It’s the young one. Hyacinth. Another drowning? A fall from the cliffs?”
He was simply plotting aloud, Hyacinth realized. He didn’t want or need his mother’s input. And Mrs. Lee would go along with whatever he asked of her, she thought. Love and fear were so tangled up in that woman, along with a kind of moral bankruptcy she’d never imagined, that there was no chance of her having a change or heart or conscience. She had to get out of there and warn everyone. She had to get out of there and save herself.
A pair of boots passed the bed. William had crossed to the window. “Well isn’t that interesting,” he said.
“What?” Mrs. Lee asked.
“Lord Dumbarton has returned. Alone. Which means that he and the lovely Hyacinth did not run off together. Where is she, Mother, and what sort of nosy trouble is she going to make for us?”
Her whole body had turned to stone. Fear rendered her completely paralyzed. She dared not even breathe. From the corner of her eye, she watched his boots. Watched as they uncrossed and he rose from his indolent lean against the window. He moved slowly, walking toward the bed with measured, purposeful strides. He paused at the side of it and then, before Hyacinth could even spur her fear-addled brain to action, he reached down and grasped her by her hair.
William pulled her from beneath the bed, pins scattering everywhere and her scalp burning from the abuse. He hauled her up, shaking her violently. “I’ve caught a mouse, Mother,” he said.
Nausea swept through her. That wasn’t the voice of a man doing what he thought he had to do. That was the voice of a man who enjoyed inflicting pain, she thought. He would kill her and he would savor the moment.
Ian dismounted and was heading into the house as the carriage rumbled up the drive. Lady Phyllida and Lady Arabella disembarked with the help of footmen and they were bickering back and forth between themselves.
“There were supposed to be right behind us in the other carriage,” his mother snapped.
“Why did you agree to let them go in a different carriage, Phyllida? If we’d made them travel with us in ours, we might have been able to glean something useful,” Lady Arabella said. “Dear heavens, what a mess all this is!”
“What is going on?” Ian demanded. “Tell me and tell me now.”
His mother clamped her lips together, looking for all the world like a child trying to avoid a scolding. Lady Arabella, thankfully, had more of her wits about her. Or perhaps her fear for Hyacinth overrode her sense of self-preservation. “Hyacinth asked to get the Lees away from the house so she could search their rooms. We made up a bit of story that the two of you were running for Gretna Green and asked Mrs. Lee and William to assist us in finding you before it was too late. There were following in the other carriage and then when we looked back, they were gone. I can only assume they aborted the task or realized that it was only meant as a distraction.”
Rather than racing, his heart seemed to slow its beat to a snail’s pace. It was like everything about him simply froze. Time itself seemed to stand still. Even then, he was taking action.
To the butler he called out to get at least four footmen to guard his mother and Lady Arabella, to put them in a chamber with two footmen inside and two at the door. He was running toward the library as he gave the instructions. From his desk drawer, he retrieved a brace of pistols in a rosewood box. He loaded them with practiced ease. Powder, shot, prime… ready.
With one pistol in hand and the other tucked into his pocket, he climbed the stairs. The butler was following behind him, a hunting rifle in hand.
“I’m better with a long g
un, my lord,” the faithful retainer offered by way of explanation.
“That’s good to know, Brixton,” Ian said and spared just a second to wonder what else he didn’t know about his servants.
As they reached the second floor, he made for the suite of rooms that the Lees had insisted upon. Connecting rooms with a sitting room, where William would be able to attend his mother if she had one of her spells. Considering what Hyacinth had discovered, it was more likely so he could browbeat her and be certain she didn’t deviate from whatever diabolical scheme they’d cooked up.
He hadn’t even reached the chamber when the door crashed open and William stepped into the hallway. Cold fury washed through Ian as he took in the scene. The younger man held Hyacinth before him, one arm about her throat and a lady’s pistol held to her temple. At such close range, a shot would be deadly and impossible to miss. A bruise was already forming on her cheek and her dress was torn, likely from struggling with him, which she still did in spite of the gun.
“I’ll kill her,” William said. “My mother and I will walk out of here, climb into a carriage and leave. You will order a servant right now to disable every other carriage and free all of your horses except those we are taking.”
“You’ll never get away with it.”
“Oh, I will, my lord… because she’s coming with us. And if you can refrain from unnecessary heroics, I’ll drop her on the side of the road and you can collect her yourself later. It’ll be rather like your first meeting, won’t it?” William crowed.
“I know what you did to Annabel,” Ian said, just as Mrs. Lee emerged from the chamber carrying a bag.
“Annabel died at your hands!” the woman snapped.
“No, she didn’t,” Ian said. “She died at his. He was furious with her because she refused to intercede on his behalf with the Hound. He didn’t want to be part of your schemes anymore… marrying your daughter off to man after man and bleeding them dry financially. He wanted to move on to something bigger and better. Didn’t you, William?”
“It’s a lie,” Mrs. Lee said, but her voice cracked with uncertainty.
“He was gone that day wasn’t he, and a few days after?” Ian continued. “And when he came home, he was different wasn’t he, Mrs. Lee? Or should I call you Mrs. Ogden?”
The woman gasped and dropped the valise she’d been carrying, her hand covering her mouth. “Don’t speak that name to me! And I’ll not listen to your lies about my William!”
Ian never allowed his gaze to stray from William. “You were afraid… afraid your sister would abandon you and leave you alone with your horrid mother and her schemes. You resented Annabel because she’d found a way out, because she’d found a man so powerful not even you or your grasping mother could go up against him.”
“Shut up!” William shouted. “Cease your prattling or I will end her right here!” As if to prove his point, he raised the gun higher, jabbing the barrel of it so hard against Hyacinth’s temple that there was no question it would mark her.
Down the hall, behind William and Mrs. Lee, a panel opened in the wall and Mr. Ettinger stepped out. He and the solicitor had arrived amidst all the commotion. The man, big as he was, moved silently. A footman emerged from behind him and Ettinger jerked his head in the direction of Mrs. Lee and the servant followed his direction, moving into position behind the woman. It was all done so silently, and so perfectly, that Ian had to wonder if the other man was a footman at all.
“How did you do it, William? Did you shoot her? Did you strangle her? Did you drown her?” Ian demanded, trying to keep the man’s focus on him until Ettinger could get close enough to disarm him. “What did you do to Annabel?”
“She wouldn’t shut her mouth,” William shouted. “Just like you. She kept saying she was done with it all, done with us! She was going to leave you and go to him, to live in the very lap of luxury in his damned gaming hell!”
Mrs. Lee gasped. “William! No. You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t!” The woman sobbed piteously, but there was little doubt it was mostly an affectation, a calculated move to garner sympathy for herself.
“I did! I grabbed her by her hair, I drug her into the water and I pressed her face into it until she stopped fighting, until she stopped struggling and until she shut her bloody mouth!”
Those were the last words he spoke. Ettinger had moved behind him while the footman placed a cloth over Mrs. Lee’s face and the woman simply fell backwards. Before she even struck the ground, William’s eyes went wide, his arms went limp, and when Hyacinth moved away from him, blood was pouring from a gruesome wound at the man’s neck. Ettinger had slit his throat.
“My God,” Hyacinth murmured and then staggered back until she could lean against the wall. Her once-lavender gown was now coated with the dark and sticky substance.
Ettinger looked dispassionately at the dead man. “You’ll need to send for the magistrates. I’ll be taking the mother back to London and putting her in the gaol there. But there’ll have to be an inquiry about him.”
“And what about his confession?” Ian asked. It was a cold, calculating thing to ask, but he wanted it all done and sorted. He wanted to never have to think of Annabel, William or Vera Lee/Ogden ever again.
“I heard it all. It’ll go in my report when I’m back to London… and then you’ll be able to bring it before the House with your petition and be free of it all. I’ll be waiting below stairs, my lord. You’ll want to see to your lady.” With that, Ettinger walked away, pausing only long enough to clap the young footman on the shoulder. “Good lad,” he muttered.
“Ian,” Hyacinth said, her voice shaking with unshed tears as he knelt before her. “Oh, I was so frightened.”
“If you hadn’t just had the scare of your life, I would literally turn you over my knee for this.”
“You said I should stay away from them… not their chambers.”
“My mother and Arabella make poor conspirators,” he said, lifting her into his arms.
“I’m covered in blood,” she protested.
“But it isn’t yours and that’s all that matters… I won’t be keeping my promise to you, Hyacinth. Not tonight. And tomorrow morning, as soon as all this is settled, you and Arabella are going back to Avondale.”
She glanced up at him. “Are you so angry you would send me away?”
“No. But I’m so close to freedom that I don’t have to settle for stolen moments with you,” Ian replied. “I’ll have you in my bed, Hyacinth Collier, but only as my wife. Do you understand?”
She looked up at him, violet eyes wide. “I love you.”
“Of course you do. You don’t think Arabella could ever be wrong about such a thing, do you?”
She laughed then, a watery and mildly hysterical sound as he carried her down the hall. “If she was, no one could ever tell her.”
“Because they couldn’t get a blasted word in,” he summed up. “But for the record, Hyacinth, I love you, too. So much. And if you ever willfully put yourself in danger again—”
“I won’t have to,” she interrupted. “Because now that all this is done, our lives together will be blissful and perfect.”
“Blissful, yes. Perfect… likely not. But I don’t need perfection. I only need you.”
Epilogue
Four Months Later
The wedding had been a private one. But given the level of notoriety that Ian had attained after the circumstances of his almost-marriage to Annabel Lee Ogden and then the even more gruesome story of her untimely death, it had made him the talk of the ton. That he was marrying a woman who was the illegitimate daughter of a common prostitute and sister-in-law to another scandalous lord had certainly not helped matters. But as they climbed the steps to their chamber in Ian’s London townhouse, Hyacinth didn’t care if all of England was gossiping about them. All she cared about was that her husband would finally, after months of seemingly interminable waiting, make love to her.
Try as she might to tempt him, he had
held firm to his vow. It had taken months to get everything sorted out. There had been the inquest related to William Ogden’s death, then petitioning the House of Lords to annul his marriage, which had never been legal and binding anyway, getting them to officially declare Annabel dead, and seeing that Mrs. Ogden had been charged with fraud. Finally, they’d reached the point where they could be legally wed. And in that time, Hyacinth had all but danced naked in front of him to tempt him and, still, he’d denied her.
“I do not understand how you have such willpower,” she said. “I don’t even know what it is I’m missing and I didn’t want to wait.”
A grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he carted her up the last of the stairs. “You’ll find out soon enough. I don’t intend to let you out of our bed for a week. You, my temptress, will finally have to pay the piper.”
“That sounds marvelous. Can we walk faster? I’m feeling rather impatient.”
He glanced at her then. “You may be as impatient as you like, Wife, but I will not be hurried. I mean to take my time with you.”
“Four months is quite enough time, thank you.”
They’d reached their chamber. All the servants were conspicuously absent, no doubt to provide privacy for them as a newly-married couple. Ian opened the door and stepped into their chamber; he’d been very specific about the fact that they would share one, to the point that her poor lady’s maid had blushed so hotly it was a wonder the girl hadn’t caught fire. As they stepped inside, Hyacinth’s jaw dropped. It wasn’t just a bedchamber. It was a space designed for romance and seduction. Candles and flowers were everywhere. A tray of fruits and exquisite pastries had been placed on the table before the fire.
The Midnight Hour: All-Hallows’ Brides Page 53