by Faye Hall
Turning, Lotte fled from the room, knowing she had to escape this woman before she harmed her or her baby. She would have to find Devon and explain everything to him, but for now, she had to find somewhere safe to hide.
* * * *
Elizabeth stormed out of the house.
“Where is Devon?” she demanded from the few servants scattered through the gardens close to the house.
Andrew, the old gardener, struggled to stand up. “He went toward the waterhole about half an hour ago, Mrs. Munroy. He said he had to meet someone.”
“Get my carriage!” Elizabeth yelled.
Ordering the driver to take her to meet Devon, she sat back in her transport, knowing that she would have to put an end to this immediately. Arriving at the pond, Elizabeth stepped out of the carriage, her line of sight immediately going to the pathetic figure of Devon standing there waiting.
“You really are a pathetic son of a bitch, Devon Munroy!” she spat at him. “You will welcome any whore to your bed, won’t you?”
Devon turned instantly. “What are you doing here, Elizabeth? And what are you talking about?”
“My maid servant, Lotte,” Elizabeth said, stopping before him. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
Devon went to turn away from her. “I didn’t care if you did, Elizabeth. I will sleep with whom I wish, as do you.”
She grabbed at his elbow, stopping him from turning away from her. “How dare you! I am your wife!”
He shook off her hand. “By name only,” he reminded her. “You are only my wife because Lotte Higgins was shot dead. Had she have lived, I would have married her and not you!”
“Is that why you’ve been sleeping with my handmaiden? Do you think because they share the same name that she can give you back the woman you say you loved? Did you think she could give you back the woman you shot dead?”
Devon distanced himself from her. “Get out of here, Elizabeth!”
Elizabeth smiled, knowing she had struck a chord. “You did, didn’t you?” She began to laugh. “You sorry excuse for a man. You honestly started to believe that Lotte Higgins had come back from the dead, had come back to you.”
“She has!” Devon shouted angrily. “I know she has.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, she hasn’t, Devon. That woman you’ve been sleeping with isn’t Lotte Higgins. She’s the one who shot her.”
“What?” Devon asked, his composure falling.
Elizabeth smiled cruelly. “You’ve been sleeping with a murderer, Devon, the murderer of your lover.”
Shaking her head at the patheticness of her husband, knowing she had also created enough doubt in his mind that he would never again welcome Lotte into his bed, Elizabeth turned away from him. Hopping in her carriage, Elizabeth knew she would have to put measures in place to secure Devon’s fortunes in her name before she rid him from her life. He had served his purpose in her life long enough. He wasn’t needed anymore.
* * * *
Devon’s mind swam with confusion. He no longer knew what was real or what was another of Elizabeth’s lies. He had been told so much, had seen so much.
Leaving the waterhole, Devon returned to his estate house and went immediately to Lotte’s room, knowing that it was time he demanded she give him some answers. Opening the door, he found the room empty and all her stuff gone. Desperation filled him as he realized that now he might never know the truth. Was this woman really the one who had shot Lotte Higgins?
Devon didn’t know. He had been asked so many times by both his gardener, Andrew, and the bartender, Patrick, what would happen if Lotte Higgins had not died that night in her father’s old cottage. Devon had seen so many similarities between Lotte the handmaiden and the woman he swore his love to years before. He could stand the confusion and pain no more. He needed to know the truth.
Rushing back outside the estate, Devon ran toward the only other person who might know the truth of what happened that night—the man who was left to take care of Lotte’s bleeding body.
“Did Lotte Higgins live?” Devon asked, stopping behind Andrew.
Andrew tried to avoid his direct stare as he continued raking up leaves. “Devon, this isn’t the place to do this.”
Devon grabbed his servant, making him look at him. “There is no other place, Andrew!”
Struggling, he tried to control his growing anger and anticipation. Never before had he been this close to learning the truth.
“Andrew, please,” he begged the old man. “You were the one left with her that night. You know what happened. You must have seen something.”
Andrew nodded. “There were things that happened that night, Devon, things you couldn’t be told about.”
Devon held up his hand, stopping any excuses. “Damn it! Enough riddles and insinuations. I need to know the truth. I need to know if Lotte Higgins died that night on the floor of her father’s cottage. Or did she live?”
Andrew silently held the stare of his master.
“Please,” Devon pleaded. “I have to know.”
Slowly, Andrew nodded. “When I was told to dispose of Lotte’s body she was still alive, though barely. I carried her to a carriage and took her to the Pioneer Hotel. Mary, the young aboriginal woman who works there, she saved Lotte’s life and kept her safe.”
Tears welled in Devon’s eyes. “S-she’s alive?” he stammered in pure disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked desperately. “Why let me think I had killed her all these years?”
“I couldn’t tell you, Devon,” Andrew said sympathetically. “If I did, her life would have been in danger again, and I’m not sure I would have been there to save her a second time.”
Devon took a deep breath. The enormity of the reality he had just learned was starting to overcome him, sending his already frayed emotions into turmoil.
“The girl who worked here,” Devon said, his words spoken carefully and clearly so there could be no misunderstanding. “The woman who worked for my wife. Is she Lotte Higgins? Is she the same Lotte Higgins you took to the Pioneer Hotel that night four years ago?”
Andrew hesitantly motioned his head, giving Devon the answer he longed for.
Shaking his head at his servant, tears welling in his eyes, Devon turned away, both pleased and angry at what he’d just been told. “Bring my carriage!”
* * * *
Devon left his carriage at a run. Rushing into the Pioneer Hotel, he reached across the bar, grabbing Patrick by the scruff of the neck.
“Where is she, you bastard?” Devon yelled angrily. “You tell me where she is now!”
Patrick struggled to free himself from his grasp. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Devon threw him back against the back of the bar, several glasses falling and shattering on the floorboards. “Lotte Higgins,” he said firmly. “Now where is she?”
Patrick just stood, silently straightening his clothing.
“You bastard!” Devon spat at him. “You knew who she was all this time and you never told me. Why? Why make me believe she was dead?”
“You wouldn’t have believed me, Devon,” Patrick finally answered him. “Had I have told you the truth, you would have just thought it was a cruel lie. I tried to hint to you, to make you go looking for the truth, but you wouldn’t.”
“Damn it, Patrick!” Devon yelled at him. “Why play all these words game? Why not just tell me the truth?”
“Because she wouldn’t let me!” Patrick rebutted angrily. “I begged Lotte to tell you the truth, but she wouldn’t. She said it wasn’t safe.”
“Safe?” Devon asked. “Not safe to tell me I didn’t murder the woman I loved?”
Patrick nodded. “Lotte knows who shot her that night, Devon, she saw them, and she knows it wasn’t you.”
“It w-wasn’t me?” Devon asked in disbelief. “If it wasn’t me who shot her, then who was it? Was it her uncle?”
Patrick shook his head. “You’ll have to ask her that yours
elf. I can’t tell you.”
“I would ask her if I knew where to find her. I went looking for her in her room at my estate, but all her belongings are gone. It’s as if she’s disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Patrick asked. “If she has left your estate without any warning, then her life must be in danger again. You have to find her, Devon.”
“But where?” he asked desperately.
Patrick appeared to be deep in thought.
“The old cottage,” he suddenly said. “If she’s in danger, she’d go to our father’s old cottage on—”
“I know where it is,” Devon interrupted. “How could I forget?”
* * * *
Watching Devon run from the Pioneer Hotel and out toward his carriage, Patrick knew things had finally come to a head. His sister might be willing to risk her life to prove Elizabeth’s guilt, but he would be damned if he would.
“Abby!” he yelled out to the back of the hotel.
Waiting until the madam stopped beside him, Patrick turned to her.
“Something’s happened at the Munroy estate to make Lotte go into hiding. Devon came here looking for her.”
“Why would he come here?” Abby asked.
“Devon knows the truth,” Patrick explained. “He knows Lotte didn’t die that night. He’s gone to the old cottage on Father’s estate to look for her.”
“You told him where to find her?”
Patrick nodded. “I had to. If Lotte has gone into hiding, I fear Elizabeth has discovered who she really is. If that is the case, she will need Devon to protect her.”
“What are we to do?” Abby asked. “Elizabeth will stop at nothing until Lotte is dead, nor will she care if Devon dies protecting her.”
“Do you know if Lotte went to see Arthur Davern yet?” Patrick asked.
“He’s dead,” Abby said, shaking her head. “He was found a few days ago with a gunshot to his head and a suicide note beside the body claiming it was he who has been killing all the working girls and servants.”
“I’ll bet you anything Elizabeth set him up,” Patrick said as if from far away. “That bitch will stop at nothing.”
“There must be something we can do, Patrick,” Abby implored him. “We can’t just desert Lotte to her fate.”
Patrick let out a heavy sigh. “There is only one thing we can do.”
Reaching for the bottle of whiskey on the bar, he took a swig from the bottle, hoping the harsh liquor would give him the strength he needed to do what must be done.
“You made a suggestion a while ago, Abby, that the best way to prove Elizabeth’s crimes is for her to confess.”
Abby nodded.
Patrick took another swig of whiskey, feeling as if he was sending his sister to the slaughter. “I need you to talk to your friends at the police department. Tell them the suicide note found with Arthur Darwin was not real. They need to know what Elizabeth has done and you need to convince them to help us prove what really has been happening.”
Abby stalled. “I will, Patrick, but it will take time and money.”
“Tell them I will pay whatever it takes, for we are all out of time.”
* * * *
Sitting in the fast moving carriage, Devon could see the Higgins estate in the distance. Part of him feared what he might find in the old cottage there. Though he was hesitant, he also knew that whatever he found here, he would not leave without knowing the truth.
Leaving the carriage, Devon ran for the cottage door and barged inside.
“Who the hell are you?” Devon demanded as he walked inside the old cottage, his eyes instantly resting on Lotte standing near the fireplace.
She turned toward him immediately, her shock at seeing him there obvious. “Devon?” Lotte gasped. “How did you find me here?”
Shutting the door behind him, Devon leaned against it. “Tell me who you are, Lotte. No more lies.”
She turned away from him. “I’m nobody, Devon.”
He walked up behind her, stopping just inches away. “You keep telling me that. My wife tells me you’re the one who actually shot Lotte Higgins. Now I’ve got my gardener telling me Lotte Higgins never died that night.”
Lotte glanced at him over her shoulder. “What do you want from me, Devon?”
“I want the truth,” he answered her. “All I want is for you to tell me the truth. Are you Lotte Higgins?”
Devon watched her, waiting for her reply, but she was silent.
“Please just tell me the truth,” he begged her.
Finally, she slowly turned to face him. “Andrew carried me from this cottage and to the carriage that took me to the Pioneer Hotel. Mary used her herbal remedies to stop the bleeding and stitch the wound after she got the bullet out. I nearly died. I would have died had it not been for the girls at the hotel.
“By the time I was well enough to walk, I was told someone had tried to kill my brother, and someone had murdered my father. I couldn’t go back home, because I knew that would be the first place the person who shot me would come looking for me. I wanted to come to you, Devon, but my brother told me that barely a few weeks after the shooting you’d married Elizabeth Fanti and moved into your father’s estate.”
Devon’s heart ached at what he was hearing.
“You didn’t shoot me that night, Devon,” Lotte continued. “But I know who did, and I’ve been trying to prove it was them ever since.”
“You’re Lotte. You’re my Lotte,” he stuttered. “You didn’t die.”
Lotte shook her head. “No, Devon, I didn’t die.”
Reaching for her, Devon pulled Lotte to him, his lips taking hers desperately.
Pulling at her dress, Devon begged for entrance. He wanted to see this woman, he needed to, with no lies or secrets clouding her identity. He wanted to look upon her as Lotte Higgins and show her all the love he still had for her.
Pulling at the buttons of her garment, Devon’s lips followed the line of flesh he was revealing. Opening her dress, he pushed it from her shoulders and to the floor. Pulling away from her eagerly caressing lips, Devon looked upon this woman standing before him, admiring all her beauty. His gaze resting on the subtle bump of her belly, Devon’s heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t dare to hope that what he was seeing was real.
Picking her up in his arms, he carried her to the bed and gently laid her down. His kisses trailing down her neck, he took the time to take each erect nipple into his mouth, his tongue teasing them still further as his lips kissed them passionately. Pulling himself away from her beautiful bosom, Devon trailed his kisses down to the near invisible scar.
“How is it I never seen this all the times we were together?” he asked, briefly lifting his gaze to her.
Lotte shrugged. “I guess you saw what you wanted to, or at least what you were made to believe was reality.”
Not breaking their joined stare, Devon lowered his lips, kissing the scar affectionately.
“I never wanted you to see it, Devon,” she said, her fingers lacing in his hair. “I never wanted you to have to look upon me and see something so ugly.”
Devon shook his head. “You are wrong, Lotte. Nothing about you is ugly.”
Before she could argue with him, Devon moved quickly up along her body, his lips joining to hers hungrily. For so long, he had hungered to have this woman back in his life and back in his bed. Now she was there, her naked thighs spreading, welcoming him between them. Devon could feel his passions aching to be released inside of her.
Unfastening his trousers, Devon let his throbbing self spring free. Holding her hip in his hand, his fingers surely bruising her soft skin, Devon plunged himself deep inside of her, forcing from her a pleasure-filled gasp. He moved slowly at first, wanting so much to savor the knowledge that Lotte had finally been returned to him, but Devon knew his control was quickly slipping away from him.
“Lotte,” he muttered, his lips taking hers. “Honey, you feel so… I’m not sure how much longer…”
Feeling Lotte surrendering to her own passions around him, drawing him further inside her warmth, was Devon’s complete undoing. Pushing her back against the bed, he kissed her passionately as he pumped his seed deep inside of her. Holding her to him, their bodies sated, Devon treasured the feeling of this woman against him. Moving behind her, he pulled her against him, her rear nestled into him.
“Why did you never tell me the truth, Lotte?” he asked.
She nuzzled back into him. “I couldn’t risk it, Devon. You were married to Elizabeth.”
“Did you think I had forgotten you so soon?”
Lotte shook her head. “I don’t really know, Devon. All I know is I couldn’t risk Elizabeth learning that I had survived.”
Devon rolled her onto her back, looking down on the beauty she was. “I don’t understand.”
Lotte let out a steadying sigh. “It was Elizabeth who shot me that night, Devon, not you.”
“What?” he asked, his shock obvious.
“Elizabeth knew that with me out of the way, you would be free to be her husband. She would be free to have you and all the wealth of your family.”
Devon laughed slightly. “Wealth of my family?” he asked, humored. “My family has no wealth, at least none that is left.”
Lotte nodded. “That’s why she needed my family’s too. She thought with my family dead, she would be the only one left to inherit.”
“But Elizabeth never inherited the Higgins estate,” Devon stated. “Last rumor said the estate was left to David’s other children, but no one knows who or where they are.”
“I’ve spent years trying to find anything to prove Elizabeth is the one responsible for what happened to my family, but still she remains free and safe and with you.”
Devon studied her intently, realizing he really had no idea what this woman had been made to live through. “Does Elizabeth know you’re carrying my child?” he finally asked.
Lotte shook her head. “Not yet, Devon, though if you can figure it out, I doubt it will be long before she does.”