She expected the slash of the knife then and there, but he had just wanted to see her face.
She was pleased to realize she had half blinded him. His left eye was a closed slit, surrounded by swollen flesh. He was scratched and bruised.
“How does it feel? I should put your eye out!” he thundered.
She did her best to stare at him with scorn instead of fear, but the truth was that she was filled with total terror.
But he hadn’t killed her yet. He was holding off. It must be part of his plan. He must think he could still hide what he was doing.
“What did you do to Thane? And where are you taking us—and why?” she asked, playing for time. The longer she kept him talking, the longer she stayed alive. And the longer she stayed alive, the more time Mark would have to come after her, to save her.
“To the cottage in the woods, of course.”
Something far beyond the sense of panic that had already seized her settled in. The aunts!
“Who would have thought,” he murmured, “that the charming child who grew up in the woods could become such a deadly and wretched enemy. A. Anonymous.” He practically spat the name.
“You followed me,” she said.
“From the fund-raiser. You were oblivious to everything around you. I even read the envelope. I’ll bet not even your oh-so-clever husband understands the meaning of the name Olivia Cottage.” He snorted. “‘I live in a cottage.’”
“I suppose it’s clever if it affords you so much amusement. I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“It doesn’t matter now how clever you thought you were.”
“Well, you’re extremely clever. It took me forever to realize it wasn’t you or Sir Andrew but both of you.”
“But, my dear, it’s neither of us, don’t you see?” He smiled grotesquely. “It’s the handsome young newspaperman who will slit your throat at the cottage. He’s in love with you, you see, but you’re married and can never be his, so you must die. But the pathetic young man did love you, and your death will send him over the edge. He’ll shoot himself in remorse. Your husband will arrive, of course. He’ll despise himself for having trusted the reporter. Who knows? He may complete the evening and shoot himself, as well.”
He still held her hair in a death grip, and she had no choice but to keep staring up at him. “Mark Farrow will never kill himself. And you’re a fool. He knows it’s you—and Sir Andrew.”
Sir Angus shook his head. “If he knew,” he said softly, “I’d be under arrest now.”
“You will be by tomorrow,” she promised.
He shook his head, studying her, at last easing his hold, then finally releasing her and sitting back calmly. From the way he acted, they might have been carrying on an ordinary conversation.
“You know, Ally, despite what you’ve done to me, I’m sorry. You were always the most beautiful, inquisitive, fascinating child.” He laughed dryly. “Always destined for something good. Beloved by Lord Stirling. Secretly engaged to Mark Farrow. Did you think I could be so close and not learn the truth about you?” he asked.
She felt a new whisper of fear tease her spine.
“What truth are you talking about?” she responded.
“Even before you became such an ungodly nuisance, I was afraid that I might have to…take care of you, my dear.”
“You might have to take care of me?”
“I never had proof, of course, but I studied the situation up and down. I knew all about Maggie’s work in the East End and how close she came to being a victim of the man I know they believe was the Ripper. So your sick, addled father was innocent. And then you had to be hidden from the monarchy. Much better that you should die before the truth about you could come out.”
She felt ill, but she forced herself to shrug. “If that is the truth, your logic is flawed. If I were being hidden from the monarchy, it wouldn’t make much sense to hide me under the protection of Lord Stirling.”
He shook his head, seeming confused, on the defensive. She wondered if he was perhaps feeling the beginnings of a trap closing in and was now fighting simply for self-preservation.
“Save my life and you may not hang,” she said.
“I’m sorry, really I am—or I would be if you hadn’t maimed me—but I’m afraid you simply must die,” he returned.
“If you and Andrew hadn’t killed the women, you might have gotten away with it,” she said. “Poor Lord Wittburg would have gone to trial.”
“Yes, I know. You might even have been spared, since, quite frankly, you were like an ace in the hole. Quite opportune, Lord Wittburg going a bit crazy the way he did. What was he so desperate to tell you? Did he know about your birth, as well? I wasn’t there to hear. Andrew was the one to think of that bit of genius, stuffing the bloody cloak into the old man’s carriage. He must have moved like wildfire to get it done without being noticed.”
“What was that?” Ally asked.
“What?” He looked around frantically. She saw the bottle of medicinal ether beside him on the seat. She needed to distract him so she could get hold of it. Though even if she could knock him out, she would still have to deal with the driver.
Andrew.
“Listen,” Ally said.
“I hear nothing,” he said, but he was listening.
“Hoofbeats,” she said.
To her astonishment, she realized that there really were hoofbeats. She had lied at first, but now…yes!
Someone was coming.
HE HAD NEVER RACED A HORSE so fast in his life, but Mark was heedless of what he was doing to Galloway, mindless of the low hanging branches that sometimes caught his face. He could only pray that the murderers thought they could make it to their destination before they were caught. His heart thundered as he wondered how long they had thought he would be fooled by their ruse to get him out of the house. Did they really think he would believe that Thane Grier had killed the driver, then gone back for Ally?
He rode at such speed, it was amazing time could go so slowly….
And then, at last, he saw it.
It was still a fair distance ahead of him. He spurred Galloway to an even greater burst of speed. Amazingly, the horse seemed to share his reserves of desperate energy.
As they came nearer their quarry, Sir Andrew, driving in his black cape and low brimmed hat, looked back. He slapped the reins on the lathered flanks of the carriage horses with a vengeance, then reached for his sidearm.
Mark was forced to pull back for a minute; Sir Andrew was a crack shot.
But he had almost caught up to the carriage.
Gunfire exploded. The bullet barely missed him. He felt the wind of it, passing his cheek.
He spurred Galloway around to the other side of the careening vehicle. This time, he was ready. At the speed they were going, even he might miss with a pistol.
There was greater leeway for error with a whip.
He snaked it out with an expert crack. The lash fastened around Sir Andrew’s neck. He gave a garbled cry as Mark jerked and pulled him from the driver’s bench to the ground.
Mark couldn’t afford the time to discover if the man was alive or dead. The horses were still racing at a breakneck pace. He forced Galloway closer, at last capturing one of the flying reins. Determined not to give himself away, he kept from crying “Whoa!” to the madly galloping animals.
He needed to get inside the carriage.
At last it began to slow and he saw his chance.
He threw himself from Galloway to the carriage, managing to grasp the upper rim of the coach itself.
For a moment his legs dangled precariously, and he thought his arms would snap.
Then he gained a foothold.
“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME?” Sir Angus thundered suddenly.
Something was thumping against the carriage.
He drew his gun and fired wildly. Then he aimed again.
Desperately, Ally grabbed for the bottle of ether.
He cried out,
losing aim, grabbing for her.
Her fingers just barely twined around the bottle. She felt her hair being wrenched hard. She fought the pain, managing to twist the bottle top.
The scent of chloroform instantly made her dizzy. She had only seconds, she knew….
She threw the contents into Sir Angus’s face.
His gun went off, the shot wild again. She could only pray it hadn’t hit Mark.
If it was Mark…
She knew it was Mark.
She knew it….
Even when the drug splashed back into her own face and the world went black.
A SHOT CRACKED, SO CLOSE that the bullet sliced by his sleeve. Another shot shattered through the roof of the coach.
The horses had slowed further, and he was able to get the door open. His heart leapt into his throat.
There were three of them.
Thane Grier.
Sir Angus, his powerful bulk blocking the door.
And Ally, slumped beside him on the floor.
He could smell the sweet, sickening scent of ether. He held his breath as the first wave of dizziness seized him. The carriage was still rolling. He threw Sir Angus’s body from it, still trying not to breathe as he reached for Ally. He picked her up and leapt out of the carriage, which rolled onward for another thirty feet. One of the terrified horses whinnied as the animals came to a halt at last.
He set Ally carefully on the side of the road. As he did, he realized he heard the sounds of other hoofbeats, approaching from ahead.
The first rider to reach him was his father, with Brian Stirling at his side.
“The carriage! Get Thane Grier out. The thing is full of ether.”
Brian dismounted and ran to do as asked. His father knelt by his side.
“Son…?”
“She’s breathing,” Mark said. “She has a pulse.”
Brian Stirling returned, carrying Thane Grier’s limp body. “The castle is the closest place to take them,” he said.
By then Bertram, with several mounted officers, had reached them. Brian handed Grier up to one of them and gave orders to ride for the castle. Forgetting everything else, Mark tenderly cradled Ally in his arms and returned to the sweating, panting Galloway.
“One more ride, boy. One more fast ride.”
Again it seemed that no matter how fast they ran, it could not be fast enough. And yet finally they reached the castle.
Shelby had the gate open. Camille was waiting on the steps. The aunts were behind her, anxious, yet calm when the men burst into the grand entry, carrying their burdens. “Bring Ally to her room, and…Mr. Grier, is it?…to the one beside it. Do you know what has caused this?” Shelby asked.
“Ether,” Mark said briefly.
“Then they will come out of it,” Camille said.
He heard a soft sob. Merry. He forced himself to ignore the aunts as he headed for the stairs, anxious to set Ally down and assess the damage himself.
“She will come out of it,” Camille said firmly, and she called to Molly the maid, begging her to see to Mr. Grier while they waited for the doctor, who had already been called.
Mark burst into Ally’s room and set her down on the bed. He checked her pulse again, and it was strong. He laid his ear close to her chest, and felt the rise and fall of her breath. He looked anxiously up at Camille, his heart in his throat. She offered a smile.
He realized that the three aunts had followed them in, silent, clinging to one another.
It was Merry who stepped forward. “She will live. Our Ally is a precious princess, and she will live.”
He trembled with fear. Her gown was ripped, muddied. Her hair was tangled with leaves and twigs. She had never appeared more beautiful to him, as she lay so silent and pale on the bed. Shaking, he touched her lips with the whisper of his own.
Her eyelids flickered. They opened to his. She almost smiled.
Her eyes closed again.
He fell by the side of the bed on his knees, thanking God.
Yes, she would live.
HER EYES OPENED. At first, she couldn’t quite focus. Then she knew where she was, and that she was alive, though she could have been forgiven for thinking she was lying in some Egyptian tomb, because she was surrounded by busts and urns and papyri. She exhaled, smiling. She was in her room at the castle.
A second later she saw his face, his rugged, terribly handsome face. “For a moment I thought I’d traveled on to meet the long-gone pharaohs,” she whispered.
“No. You’re in the castle. Not our castle, I’m afraid, though we do have one, you know.” He caught her hand and kissed it.
“She’s awake!” Ally heard someone say. She looked around. It was still a bit painful, and she learned quickly that quick movement made her dizzy. There they were. Violet, Merry and Edith. And then she saw Maggie, Camille and Kat.
Ally smiled and turned to the aunties first. Her godmothers would understand.
“I dreamed of you the whole time,” she whispered. “You were the most darling fairies, flitting about, watching over me.”
“Fairies? Good heavens. We’re solid Englishwomen,” Violet said indignantly.
“Ally has always had the most wonderful imagination,” Merry said.
“She’s teasing us,” Edith said, and, brushing past Mark, hugged Ally fiercely.
“Hugs all around,” Ally said, and even Violet giggled as Ally somehow managed to hug and kiss all three together, then offer the same to Maggie, Kat and Camille. With sighs of relief, the six women left the room one by one, Camille assuring Mark that tea would come soon, now that Ally was awake.
Ally clutched Mark suddenly. “You—you’re not injured? Were you shot?”
He shook his head. “You saved me.”
She managed a smile. “And you saved me.” She frowned. “How? What happened to Sir Andrew? And Angus? And Thane!”
“Thane is conscious and enjoying all kinds of attention next door. Sir Andrew is dead.”
“How?”
“His neck was broken. A fall from the driver’s seat of the carriage at a fast speed.”
She nodded and exhaled, then grasped him again. “Jeeter?”
“They only knocked him out. It was expedient, I guess. He’s going to be all right. I haven’t actually seen him. Our next-door neighbor—the ambassador from Sweden, I now know—awoke and went to tend to him. He had the presence of mind to let the police know he’d found him and was taking him to the hospital. He called and said Jeeter will be fine. Of course, he’s going to be distressed, certain he failed us. It will not be an easy task for us to convince him that Sir Angus and Sir Andrew were a lethal pair.”
“What about Sir Angus?” she asked.
“He will hang—if he lives.”
“What happened?”
“I did not madly seek revenge, though…” He cleared his throat and explained, “When he started to come to, apparently he attacked one of Ian’s officers. Ian was forced to drag him off. Sir Angus went for Ian, and one of the officers shot him.”
“Where is he now?” she asked.
“In the prison ward at the hospital. It’s doubtful he’ll pull through.”
She nodded. She couldn’t feel sorrow. Angus had been a sheriff, sworn to uphold the law. Instead he had abused it and stolen others’ lives.
“It will be all right,” he said softly.
Again she nodded. Then she realized that she was no longer wearing the torn white gown but a soft gold one. Had it been hers? She didn’t remember it.
“Lady Maggie,” he said softly, noticing her quizzical look.
“Ah,” she murmured. She shook her head. “So they were taking care of me. I did imagine fairies fluttering about.” She frowned. “Mark, it’s so horrible, if I really understand all that happened.”
He inhaled. “As we’ve pieced it together, it seems that something happened to Sir Andrew when he was in the service.”
“And Angus?” she asked.
He nodded. “
In the creation of our Empire, there have been many soldiers who thought the Crown had betrayed them, sending them out to fight without enough men or weapons. Though he was knighted, Andrew suffered from a slowly simmering hatred. So he used his charm, made friends with many among the nobility, and gained a firm foothold in society. There he continued to nurture his hatred of the monarchy, a hatred that others shared, due to the times we live in. Many people feel that the government needs vast reform, and wonder if Victoria and her family are an expensive liability rather than a diplomatic asset. Apparently Sir Andrew also had a longstanding lust for his cousin Elizabeth, so he conveniently befriended her husband, who shared his hatred of the monarchy. As well, Jack had money, and as Andrew tended to need more than he had—playing tennis, lunching and drinking at the club, filling his wardrobe—this idea began to grow in his mind. As for Sir Angus, it seems that Andrew was instrumental in getting Angus the job, and, sensing a malleable mind, converted him to the anti-monarchy point of view. I believe Angus is the sort of man who wants more power, and he was ready to believe that power would be his if he could bring about a new world order. They committed murder for two reasons—financial reward and the accomplishment of their political goals. When he was afraid that Elizabeth might betray him, Andrew let expediency override whatever feelings he had for her. If they killed the women, they killed their accomplices, who might have become witnesses against them or given them away in some inadvertent manner.”
“Poor Lord Wittburg could have died for their crimes.” Ally looked at him intently. “I don’t understand what happened today. Our plan seemed so foolproof.”
“It seems Sir Angus wasn’t in the village today. He had come into the newspaper office on the pretext of advertising a festival in the village. He’d followed you to the post office earlier and knew something of your secret identity. Today, to him, was a stroke of luck. He was able to reach Sir Andrew at the club, and they began to plan.”
“I see,” she murmured.
“I can only be grateful he didn’t kill you in London.” She was startled by the tremor in his voice.
“They thought if they killed Thane and me at the cottage, you would believe that Thane had killed me out of jealousy, then himself out of remorse.” She hesitated. “And he knew, Sir Angus knew…about me. I think he would have killed me even if I weren’t A. Anonymous. You were supposed to die, as well. I suppose Thane, in his ardent desire to protect the queen, was supposed to have killed all the others, as well.” She swallowed hard, shivering.
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