“Take Star back to the stable, Michael, and warm yourself until I send for you. I might be a while.”
He started from his reverie and shook his head, refusing to take the reins. “No, milady. Don’t go in there. He’s in there.”
Aubree stared at him. “Who?” she asked in confusion.
“The squire, milady. He’s not nice. Please don’t go in there. We can come back another time.”
“Well, if he’s not nice, I shall send him away. Anna’s much too easygoing to not know how to turn away unwelcome visitors.” Throwing the rein to the worried lad, Aubree turned on her heel and marched toward the house.
The door swung open when she lifted the knocker, and Aubree hesitated. Something was not right. The Sothebys did not possess an army of servants, but usually they had a maid who answered the door. It seemed extremely odd to find the door open in mid-December.
And then she heard the loud voices in the front room, and indecision left her. It was really too much of some rude guest to harass a blind old man like Mr. Sotheby. He could barely rise from the chair on his own anymore. The disability made him irascible, but that was no excuse for this kind of behavior.
Swinging her riding crop in her gloved hand, Aubree stormed into the house, turning in the direction of the voices. She was familiar with the house by now and recognized the room as one in which the family usually gathered. On this afternoon, they were probably waiting for her.
She slid open the parlor door and glared at the intruder. A tall, swarthy man with a scar disfiguring the side of his face turned at her entrance. His eyes lit with inexplicable delight.
“Run, Aubree,” Maria squealed.
But it was already too late for that, Aubree decided even before the intruder spoke. The pistol pointed at Mr. Sotheby’s frail head told her that much. The sight of the maid crumpled on the floor in a corner of the room confirmed it. She could never run fast enough to outpace a bullet.
“I’d advise against it, Lady Aubree,” the stranger admonished, gesturing for her to close the door. “I don’t mean anyone harm, but my life is at stake, and I can’t allow a slip of a girl to hang me. Come in, sit down, and tell your friends how foolish they are.”
Aubree did as told, her eyes never shifting from the gun. The white knuckles on the hand holding it trembled. Any sudden motion might set off the trigger.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” she said, taking a seat near Maria and grasping her hand.
“It’s been so long since I needed manners, I’ve quite forgotten them. Forgive me. I’m Geoffrey’s cousin, Harry Eversly.” His scarred face twisted in a tortured grin. “I’m in a hurry, so if you will persuade your friend to do what is right, we’ll be on our way.”
He glanced toward Anna, who had frozen in the chair nearest her father. Her bright mop of hair had been pulled back from her brow, and her features were pale as she watched the gun.
“I have told you,” Anna said so softly her words were no more than a breath in the tense silence. “I will marry you, but I see no reason to involve my father and Maria. Let them go with Lady Aubree, and I will do as you wish.”
“Never!” Mr. Sotheby roared, slamming his fist against the arm of his chair. “No daughter of mine will marry a monster. Shoot me, Eversly, my life is worth nothing.”
Aubree noted with horror the look of hatred gleaming in cruel eyes beneath Eversly’s lank, dark hair. He must once have been handsome, but a life of dissolution had done as much harm to his features as the scar. Unbathed and unshaved, he no longer could claim the status of gentleman, if ever he could have.
“Shoot you, I will, if necessary, and your daughter still will be mine, but I prefer a life of ease to that of fugitive. A brief sojourn in another climate is needed until the hue and cry dies down, and then we can return and live a pleasant life just as you are now. You owe me a daughter, Sotheby. Anna can never be Louise, but she is the eldest. It’s only fitting that the eldest marry first.”
Aubree interrupted. “But Anna is already promised.” She strove to think of a suitably eligible young lord. “Lord Edgemont would be extremely distressed if his fiancée is spirited away, and since the dowry is already promised. . . I really think you would have to consider the legal ramifications.”
Heath would have been amused at her fabricated legal expertise, but he was not here. Aubree desperately wished he were. The atmosphere in the room was too taut for any other to see her humor, and the squire seemed to be seriously considering her lie.
“Edgemont? Bit high in the instep for a country spinster, ain’t he? But he’s got pockets to let. The dowry must have been a substantial one.” Eversly glared at his captive. “Why didn’t you tell me this from the first? Edgemont’s only a viscount, but he stands to inherit the title from his uncle one day. A marquess in the family is nothing to blink one’s eye at.”
Anna looked startled. Maria squeezed Aubree’s hand as they watched their captor. Surely, if she could delay long enough, a servant would run for help.
Perhaps there would be a moment of distraction. She must plan how to use it.
“He’s a very good catch, if I do say so myself,” Aubree agreed. “And he’s quite fond of Anna. But you know, I can think of a lady who might just be perfect for you, Mr. Eversly. I do love matchmaking. She’s the daughter of a marquess, as a matter of fact. I have not inquired into the particulars, but I understand she can expect a substantial dowry. Really, you must look at this reasonably.”
The squire ignored her prattle this time. His gaze swung to fasten on Maria, who clung to Aubree as she realized the direction of his gaze. Aubree clutched her riding crop beneath her skirt, praying the man had forgotten she possessed it. If he dared come near, she would have no fear of using it.
“Maria is more like Louise, I believe,” Eversly decided, his gaze traveling over golden-red tresses, resting momentarily on freckled but pleasant features, and settling on the girl’s well-developed figure. “I will have to be assured a dowry equal to Anna’s, of course—perhaps better, since it can be assumed I will not be your favorite son-in-law and stand little chance of inheriting any portion of your estate. The quill’s on the table there. Lady Aubree, if you will fetch the ink from the desk, we’ll take care of the formalities.”
Aubree knew she argued with a madman, but she had no idea what he intended to do once a marriage settlement was agreed upon, if it were agreed upon. It seemed far more likely that Sotheby would refuse to sign anything, thereby sealing his death warrant. She must stall, if only to give time for thought.
Hiding her crop in the sofa cushion, Aubree searched the desk for the inkwell. “Of course, you realize, Mr. Eversly, that Lord Agerton fancies himself madly in love with Maria. He’s an extremely volatile young man.” She found the inkwell and carried it to the unsteady squire. He stunk of ale, but did not seem quite drunk. Just fortified.
She stayed on the far side of the chair from him as she set the ink upon the table.
“He’ll have forgotten her before we return,” Eversly declared unfeelingly. “Come here,” he demanded as Aubree turned to go back to her seat.
She gazed at him questioningly. His eyes were dark unfathomable pools burning with explosive passion. He motioned for her to stand in front of him. When she hesitated, he gestured with the pistol.
“I will fare better with the old man dead. The girls will probably inherit equally, and there will be no one to stand in my way if I wish to take both of them with me. Do not tempt me more than necessary. Come here.”
“Leave, Lady Aubree,” Sotheby commanded. “Take my daughters with you. This is between me and this villain. Let it remain that way.”
Aubree understood what he meant. She could run now, dragging Anna and Maria with her, and they could possibly reach safety before Eversly caught up with them, but not before he killed Sotheby. Such a scene would keep Heath uninvolved and mark Eversly for the murderer he was, but she could not do it.
She stepped in fro
nt of Geoffrey’s cousin.
Eversly struck her across the jaw with a blow that would have knocked a man to his knees. She crumbled to the floor, the action freezing the other occupants of the room.
“That’s for thinking you can stop me,” Eversly announced. Then, turning to Maria, he pointed to the spot beside him. “Stand here and we will see how quickly your father can write.”
Heath leaned back in his chair and propped his boots upon the desk as he gazed with satisfaction around his newly refurbished study. He had not intended to renovate this room as yet, but Aubree had insisted, arguing that she could not work on his books for fear of mice and spiders and other unmentionables. But with the fire crackling in the hearth and the thick carpet lying before it, he could think of other things he would rather do with her in here than keep books.
He glanced impatiently at his watch. The Sothebys were expected for dinner; he didn’t know why Aubree had to visit them before they arrived. There would have been time to test the carpet for softness before dressing for dinner.
Turning his thoughts back to business, he glared at the letter on the desk before him. The duke certainly didn’t write like a dying man. The physician who had made that diagnosis must have been indulging in wishful thinking. Heath studied the hostile slope of the words upon the page.
He could never agree to live like a virtual prisoner in Castle Ashbrook—even for Aubree’s sake—as the duke commanded. He had to find some way to placate Ashbrook’s fears before he grew impatient and issued the warrants for his arrest. Perhaps they ought to return to the castle just for a visit, just long enough to reassure her father that Aubree was healthy and happy.
But the journey from London had been difficult for her; Heath could not ask her to endure an even longer one. For all he knew, such a journey under these weather conditions could endanger Aubree and the child. Surely her father could understand those fears.
Picking up his pen, he began to write.
When his door burst open to reveal a dusty, gasping little boy, it so startled Auhimstin he knocked the ink pot across the desk, blotting his carefully worded letter. He cursed and glared at the urchin.
“Lady Aubree! Come quick!” the lad gasped between breaths, clutching at the breeches bagging around his waist.
Heath was on his feet in a minute. “Where is she? Has she been thrown?” Panic flooded through him as he imagined the possibilities.
“The squire! At the Sothebys’! I saw him through the window.” He dived for the iron poker on the hearth.
Heath froze, his mind suddenly cold and calculating. This was an enemy that must be fought and outwitted. He, too, sought a weapon.
Cursing the optimism that had made him store his rapier away, Heath considered his options. The collection of old hunting guns in the trophy room were useless, so long had they sat unused. He had never favored dueling pistols, even if he could have afforded them. His gaze fell on the whip hanging from its nail in the corner. Not wishing to disturb his belongings, Aubree had left it there. Gratefully, he grabbed it, and with the boy at his back, he raced out the door.
Shouting orders at the men in the stables, he mounted his saddleless stallion and spurred him on, leaving a confusion of activity behind him.
In his fury and fear, he outdistanced every man in the yard.
Aubree stirred groggily. Ignoring the madman at the table, Anna left her seat to gather the countess into her arms.
Her father’s blotched scribblings lay scattered about the floor, fluttering in the draft from the fire. Eversly expecting a blind man to write a marriage document proved he had left his mental faculties behind. Maria now sat at the table to write out the document he dictated to her.
The squire paced the floor now that his goal was nearly at hand. All he needed was her father’s Sotheby’s on the marriage documents. He’d already announced that he knew a vicar outside of Exeter who would record the marriage for a bottle of brandy. He had bought the license some time ago. The marriage would be final enough for all legal purposes.
He frowned at Anna helping Aubree to rise. She feared his sick mind would find some way of striking at Heathmont through the countess. He’d made too many references to the earl stealing Louise away, and his frown seemed evil.
Aubree righted herself. If there had ever been any doubt as to who had driven Louise to her grave, the bruise forming along the countess’s jaw resolved it. Aware of Eversly’s attention, Anna did not dare speak.
But her father had no such inhibition. “My lady, I have done your husband a grave injustice these past years, do not allow me to compound it. For you to come to harm at that man’s hands would kill me as certainly as if you were one of my daughters. Leave while you may. He has only the one shot and he saves it for me.”
Trying to hide her terror, Anna helped Aubree to her feet. Anna’s father sat with his back to the French windows, and Eversly stood behind him, a crooked smile on his lips as he studied the slender countess.
“If I wish to kill you, old man, I can do it without a shot. Run, Lady Aubree. I prefer moving targets.”
Maria stopped writing to stared at him in horror. Anna kept her arms protectively around her friend. “Lord Heathmont would hunt you down like a rabid dog,” Anna said vehemently.
Eversly chuckled. “Heathmont would be hanging from a rope. Can’t you imagine what would happen if the lady’s body was found in the bottom of that damned hole? It would only be justice. Putting Blanche there didn’t work, but another one of his wives. . .”
Her father struggled to rise, growling incoherent curses at Louise’s murderer. Anna watched with horror, fearing he meant to strike the squire.
From this angle, Aubree could just make out the road through the windows. If she did not mistake, she saw movement in the bushes. Freeing herself from Anna’s hold, she shoved the older girl toward her struggling father. “Go to him,” she whispered.
Anna hesitated, but Aubree stepped away from her. Her movement kept Eversly facing in her direction, away from the window. The Sothebys huddled between her and the madman, but if he were an expert marksman, he would have little difficulty reaching her.
“An excellent plan, Squire,” Aubree said mockingly. “And what of the maid?” She pointed to the dazed girl in the corner. “Will you convince her that my husband killed me? Or do you intend to take the whole family and the maid, too, when you go?”
Eversly frowned, apparently striving for his lost rationality. “I will think of something. With both you and Heathmont gone, we can return here much sooner than I had anticipated. I have no wish to stay among babbling foreigners longer than necessary.”
He gestured at Maria, who had stopped writing. “Finish it, woman. I’ll not have any more damned females standing in my way. Or do you find my handsome visage too unbearable to look upon?” He smirked as Maria winced and returned to writing.
Hefting his pistol, Eversly returned his attention to Aubree. “Louise did not find me so fearsome to look upon. Neither did your husband’s other mistresses, my lady.” He used the term with scorn. “They called me brave after learning how the mighty earl scarred me for life.”
Aubree could no longer see the movement outside the window and she fought despair. Somehow, she must remain calm and handle this herself. “Whatever Austin did to you, you must have deserved it,” Aubree said coldly.
“His slut of a sister had no reputation to protect!” he shouted as if she had questioned his integrity. “Everyone knew she would sell herself to anyone with wealth. She proved it, too, marrying that upstart American. And for speaking the truth, your husband nearly blinded me! He has much to pay for, my lady. I’ve waited a long time for this, but I will have what is rightfully mine.”
Before any other in the room could guess his intentions, Eversly lifted his pistol in Aubree’s direction and took aim.
The room erupted in shattering glass and screams. The squire’s pistol exploded, filling the room with the stench of sulfur. The snap and whine
of a whip cracked loudly over the reverberations of the gunshot. Aubree crumpled.
The smoking pistol flew from Eversly’s hand, and the squire screamed in agony, pulling his hand to his chest.
Heath strode through the shards of the window. Seeing his wife on the floor, he lost what remained of his temper. His whip lashed back and forth in cracks that ripped tormented screams from the murdering bastard who had taken the lives of too many innocents.
Both Maria and Anna flew to Aubree as he took his rage out upon the man who had done his best to destroy his life—who had destroyed his life, if Aubree did not rise again. Eversly’s pleas for mercy were music to his ears as the whip connected again and again, flaying its victim for the crimes committed against Louise, against Aubree, against even poor Blanche. The whip sung a vengeance that was bitter in his mouth as he kept one eye on the lifeless bundle of blue the girls tried to revive.
“Enough!” Sotheby roared, dragging himself from his chair. “Austin! Stop before you regret it!”
Startled by this intrusion, he hesitated, and Eversly collapsed, moaning. The blood-red rage that had pounded in his brain drained away as suddenly as it had come, and looking at his adversary with disgust, he flung the whip aside and rushed to kneel beside Aubree.
The parlor door burst open and the sheriff burst in, followed by little Michael and half the men from Heathmont. The shabby parlor filled with stomping boots and the stench of horse and leather. Austin paid them no heed as he lifted Aubree’s slight figure into his arms.
Fortunately, the sheriff held his tongue and motioned for his men to surround the squire, leaving Heath alone. Only Sotheby, unable to see the drama, dared break the silence. “Anna! What’s happened? Where’s your sister? And Lady Aubree?”
Anna took his arm, soothing him. “We are fine, sir. Lady Aubree has fainted.”
Indigo Moon Page 36