“What is it? Is it Kit?” Brandon’s face was etched with worry, and he caught Garrett’s arm in a painful vice.
“Kit’s fine. Everyone is fine. Where is Beau?”
Brandon raised a brow, but dropped his hand. “He’s riding with Ned.” His brow furrowed as he waited for Garrett to speak.
Garrett nodded. “Good, that’s good.”
“Christ man, what the hell is it?” Brandon studied him. “You’re sheet white. Look like you’ve seen Lazarus rise from the grave. You haven’t, have you?”
“It’s Arthur, Brandon. Arthur is behind the attacks on my life.”
Brandon recoiled at Garrett’s words. He opened and closed his mouth, eyeing Garrett as if he had spouted two heads. When he recovered his voice, his words shot out in a heated tone. “Are you certain? Do you understand what you’re saying? We’re talking murder here!” he hissed, his gaze hard and sharp. “Your stepfather, for God’s sake! Kit’s father! My father-in-law plotting your murder!”
“I know what the hell I’m saying and what it means, how it touches us all. But this is Arthur’s doing, not mine. Denying his guilt could cost me my life. I choose me over Arthur.”
Brandon raked a hand through his hair and looked around, assessing who could overhear their conversation. He blew out a breath. “I saw his name on the list. And…and it crossed my mind. He’s been talking strangely of late, things about Will, about Beau inheriting my title and Will your fortunes.”
“Not so strange. I don’t have an heir, didn’t plan to have one until recently.”
“Yes, but Arthur talked about things changing soon. How Will won’t stand in Beau’s shadow. The boys are Warrens, but Brown is in them as well. He finally has his boys. What made you realize it was Arthur? What happened?”
“It was the watch.” At Brandon’s confusion, Garrett recounted his belief that the flash of gold tossed for payment at Hammond’s ball was Arthur’s lost watch. “But deep down, I knew, and that’s why I was dragging my feet about pursuing the matter. I can’t fathom a madman’s reasoning, but Arthur always said I wasn’t worthy of my title and should be divested of it as well as control of the Kendall estates. My death certainly takes care of that. And you know how he rants about the Browns’ fall from grace. Perhaps he refuses to stand by and watch Will’s fortunes fall. My death protects Will’s inheritance, which I’m jeopardizing with this new venture into trade.”
Brandon looked at him and his expression hardened. “It makes sense in a madman’s perverse reasoning. But we’ll need proof. Evidence implicating him. We need that watch.”
“We’ll get it. Once we find the man hired to pull the trigger. Once he’s in custody, he’ll squeal like the rat he is.”
“I take it you have a plan?” Brandon cocked a brow. “One that will keep us out of Newgate?”
“I do. Let’s collect Holt and I’ll go over it with you. But there’s something else. We followed your plan with Alex’s uncle, but we’re using mine this time. I need you to back me up, but I can’t have you in the forward guard. This is my fight, not yours.”
Brandon met his eyes. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”
Garrett released his breath. He’d known Brandon would have his back with no questions asked. He always had, always would. Garrett hoped this was the last battle he and Brandon would wage together.
He was looking forward to spending the rest of his life sparring with Alex instead.
ALEX PACED IN the front parlor, seething. Damn Garrett. Damn him for storming off and refusing to listen to a word of explanation. To upset Kit like that. Poor Kit had gone to bed complaining of a headache. When Garrett returned and Alex had said her piece to him, his head would hurt, too. If it didn’t, she’d pound on it herself. However, considering how thick it was, she doubted she’d make a dent.
If Garrett continued with this behavior, she might have to reconsider her answer to any proposal of his. And he could forget making those babies. The world didn’t need any more replicas of Garrett Melrose Sinclair. There would be…She paused, a sudden knocking on the front door interrupting her tirade.
Stewart was visiting the vicar, Ned had moved to work in the stables, and still short of a butler, which Garrett appeared in no rush to hire, Alex blew out a frustrated breath and changed course.
Pausing a moment to collect herself, she swept her hand over her hair, neatened her skirts, and opened the door. Surprised, she blinked at the unexpected sight of Garrett’s stepfather, Arthur Brown, standing on the front landing.
He looked a far cry from the angry, confrontational man who had stormed inside during their last encounter. His clothes were dusted with dirt, his golden eyes anxious. Concern filled her. “Mr. Brown? Are you all right?”
“It’s Beau…it’s…”
“What?” She gasped, rushing outside and grasping his sleeve, the door slamming closed behind her. “What has happened?”
“He’s all right,” he hastened to clarify. He patted her hand reassuringly as he tucked it around his arm. “My apologies. I should have said that first.”
“Thank God,” she exhaled in relief. “Then what is it?”
“I’ll explain along the way.”
As they spoke, Arthur led her down the front steps. They stood before his carriage, her arm still looped through Arthur’s. “But I need to get Kit,” she protested, moving to disengage her hand. “If something has happened to Beau, she needs to know. Beau will want his mother.”
“But it’s you that I need.”
Alex frowned at his enigmatic reply. “I don’t understand.”
“Please, if you’ll come with me, I can explain.” He opened the carriage door and withdrew the steps. “I must insist.”
Despite her concern for Beau, Alex found her hackles rising at Arthur’s officious manner. “Mr. Brown, I’m not going anywhere without speaking to Kit first. She needs—” She sucked in a sharp breath when something jabbed into her side. Hard.
She looked down to see Arthur’s hand curled around a revolver, its menacing barrel lodged firmly in her waist.
“As I said, I must insist.”
Her eyes shot to his face, her heart thundering. She knew that voice, its furious whisper. His lean, hawkish features, aquiline nose and thin lips, and his golden eyes now dark with a hard, feral gleam all came into sharp focus.
It was as if she was seeing him for the first time, recognizing him in all his evil duplicity.
When Arthur had visited previously, she had felt as if she had known him. She had been right. She had first encountered Arthur that fateful night on Hammond’s patio when he had orchestrated the murder of his stepson.
However, she had seen him from a distance and could never identify him again with complete confidence, so it was not surprising that when she met him a second time with Kit, she didn’t recognize him. His voice had also been different, not as nasally as it had been before, as if he had a cold.
“Move,” Arthur barked, prodding her with the gun.
Damn Garrett for his abrupt departure and damn him for not hiring a big, burly butler because she really had need of both of them right now.
She gritted her teeth. If Arthur thought she would docilely climb into his carriage, he thought wrong. Arthur would have to drag her kicking and screaming into the carriage. Her eyes searched out the man on the box, but seeing his averted face, she knew he was Arthur’s man and he would be of no help to her.
“If you value Beau’s safety, you need to come quietly. His life depends upon it.”
Damn it. For Beau’s sake, she had to go. She had to make sure he was all right.
She cast a helpless glance over her shoulder before lifting her skirts to move toward the carriage.
She needed a plan of action and she needed it fast. Nothing came to her. Fear, cold and numbing, clouded her thinking.
“For Christ’s sake, hurry up,” Arthur hissed, giving her a shove.
She stumbled. Anger replaced fear and she vowed to m
uster a plan. If not, Garrett would find her.
She just needed to stay alive until he did so.
It was her last coherent thought before Arthur vaulted in behind her. As she turned to face him, a searing pain exploded across her temple.
She cried out as her knees buckled and her world went black.
Chapter Thirty
WHAT do you mean you thought she was with me?” Garrett exploded when Kit informed him that Alex was not in the house and she hadn’t been seen for a few hours.
Kit’s eyes widened at his temper, her gaze shifting to Brandon as if seeking an explanation. “I thought she had gone to find you after you had stormed off so abruptly. Really, Garrett, I didn’t tell you about Arthur because I knew you’d act like this, and he’s just not worth—”
“Have you looked for her?” Garrett cut her off, a chill sweeping him.
She raised a brow. “Of course, and no one has seen her. She’s not here.”
Brandon held up his hands when Garrett cursed and began to pace the foyer. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. We’ll divide up and search the estate. She could still be here.”
“I’ll look outside,” Garrett said, whirling on his heel. Two years in the Crimea had taught him to heed his gut instincts. His gut told him Alex was not inside and her disappearance was not good.
“Garrett—”
He heard Kit start, but Brandon must have silenced her because she quieted and let him go. He needed to go. He’d speak with Gus first, determine if Alex’s mount was missing.
Quickening his pace, he covered the ground to the stables and burst inside at a near run, startling Gus, who was rubbing down Champion. The chill sweeping Garrett plummeted a few degrees at the sight of Autumn in her stall. “Have you seen Alex?” He stormed over to Gus. “Has she been here? Is Ned back yet?”
Gus frowned. “No, I haven’t. I don’t think she’s been here. Least if she was, she didn’t speak to me. But I was out repairin’ fence in the back paddocks and Ned’s ridin’ with Beau.”
“When you were out, did you see anyone near the house or riding this way?” Damn Keyes for his big mouth in informing Arthur about Garrett’s location. If anything happened to Alex, Garrett vowed the man wouldn’t survive the day.
Gus shook his head. “Can’t say I did.”
Garrett swore. “I need Champion, and I need you to keep an eye open for anything unusual—and for Alex. I fear she may be missing.”
Gus’s expression hardened as he clenched his jaw before collecting Champion’s saddle. He worked with quick efficiency as he spoke. “Do you think she’s all right? Is it her uncle?”
“No, it’s not her uncle.” Garrett’s eyes met Gus’s and he vaulted onto Champion. “As to her being in danger, I plan to find her before it comes to that.” He spoke to himself as much as Gus as he urged Champion out of the barn and into a gallop.
A litany of recriminations spiraled through Garrett. He shouldn’t have been distracted by Alex. Why didn’t he listen to her explanation about Arthur’s visit so that his last words to her would not have been spoken in anger? He should have hired a Goddamn butler and more house staff who would have witnessed Alex’s departure and, more important, with whom she had left. He should have asked her to Goddamn marry him.
Such thinking did him little good, so he concentrated on what helped—vowing to locate Alex and kill Arthur.
He searched the adjacent fields, tenants’ dwellings, and the hunting lodge, despite knowing that absent a mount, Alex could never have covered so much ground. But he couldn’t face returning to the house. Not alone. Not yet.
He alerted Holt to Alex’s absence, instructing him to advise the men to keep watch for any strangers or carriages in the near vicinity. He directed a group to search the area, scouring the grounds for foot tracks or recent carriage ruts. Some of these veterans were expert trackers from the war. Others could pry information from a statue, and two were sharpshooters, trained to spot the enemy before he knew they were upon him. He’d use them all. They were loyal to him and battle trained. He was back at war.
New enemy. Same rules, different engagement.
It wasn’t until he had covered every trail or shelter that he finally conceded Alex had not ventured out on her own.
Reluctantly, he returned home. Brandon walked down the front steps to meet him. His grim expression answered Garrett’s unasked question, and he swore. He needed another strategy, a new plan of attack.
“Look, if Arthur has her, he won’t harm her.” Brandon spoke quickly, keeping his voice level. “He wants you, not Alex. If your reasoning for Arthur’s motive is right, he’s protecting his grandchild’s inheritance that you’re threatening, not Alex. She’s simply the bait. He’ll get in touch with us because you’re the ransom he wants in exchange for Alex.”
Brandon might be right, but he couldn’t wait. “I’m going after him.”
Brandon lunged forward and snatched his reins. “Wait! You don’t know where the hell he is, nor can you be certain if Arthur is behind this. Don’t be daft—”
“But I do! I know Arthur!” He snapped back, yanking against Brandon’s grip. “And he doesn’t know we are onto him, so he can return home and hide there. He’s arrogant enough to do so. I’ll ride to his country estate; he wouldn’t dare try to hide her in London and take the risk of being recognized or seen. I’ll kill him if he’s touched her, Brandon. I swear, I will.” He leaned down to Brandon. “And this time, I won’t be stopped. Don’t even try.”
“For God’s sake, this is Kit’s father we’re talking about!” Brandon lowered his voice and cast a glance behind him before he continued, holding up his hand. “I can’t save Arthur if he’s taken Alex or harmed her. But until you are certain he has done so, you have to back off, Garrett! You have to. This is Kit’s father you plan to murder. Her blood. I’m not asking you to have a care for Arthur, but I am asking you to have a care for Kit.”
The repetition of Kit’s name managed to breach Garrett’s rage. He paused, his grip on the reins slacking. Christ. What a coiled, incestuous mess.
Arthur was his half sister’s father—bloody, murderous bastard or not.
Therein lay the difference between Arthur and himself. Arthur never thought of Kit; Garrett could not forget her.
“We need you here coordinating a plan of action,” Brandon pressed. “You understand how to launch this kind of offensive, and the men are loyal only to you.”
“Fine.” He blew out a breath. “But I’ll be damned if I’ll play defense to his offense. If Alex is anywhere in the vicinity, I’ll find her or some bloody scrap of evidence leading to her whereabouts. I’m sending Stewart into town to collect some policemen, men to each of Arthur’s properties, and a scout to ferret the bastard out. They will have orders to shoot Arthur if Alex’s life is in danger.” Garrett dismounted and slapped Champion’s rump, prodding him toward the stables. “Arthur’s arrogant and has no idea we know about him, so that might make him careless.”
Brandon fell into step beside him. “Let me break the news to Kit. I can do that much for you.”
Garrett clasped Brandon’s shoulder. “She’s strong. She’ll weather it.”
“Yes, but she shouldn’t have to.” Anger laced Brandon’s words. Silence fell as they reached the front door. Stopping, Brandon faced Garrett. “Alex is strong, too. Don’t forget that.”
“She is. She’ll be all right.”
“And we’ll be ready.”
Garrett nodded. “Damn right.”
ALEX WOKE UP with a pounding headache. The pain was reminiscent of the time she’d cracked her head on the door of Garrett’s carriage. She searched the room, taking in the sheets draped over every item of furniture and the curtains pulled across the windows of a large, spacious bedroom. Shimmering candlelight illuminated the area and she sought its source, her eyes widening at the sight of Arthur.
He sat on a sheet-covered chair in the corner, a candle sconce in one hand, the revolver in his othe
r, casually propped against his thigh.
She jerked to a sitting position and grimaced at the bolt of pain that blazed across her head. Groaning, she pressed her hand to her temple, feeling the egglike swelling.
“You might have a bit of a bump. My apologies, but I didn’t trust you to behave.”
She shifted back on the bed, retreating from him. “Where…where are we?”
“Keyes’s estate. He is away for a few days. This wing of the house has been closed off.” Arthur waved a hand over their surroundings and wrinkled his nose. “Keyes is in debt. He thinks to save a few farthings by closing off rooms, reducing his staff and his stables, and of course, selling off parcels of his property. I believe Kendall—”
“Where’s Beau?” She cut him off. She searched the room for Beau’s small figure. Seeing the darkness behind the curtains, she gauged it to be evening, and the passage of time ratcheted up her fears for the child’s safety.
Arthur’s brow rose. “At this time of night, he should be safe at home with his mother.” At her obvious surprise, he simply smiled. “It wasn’t the boy I wanted, but rather his usefulness to you. Using his name served my purposes well enough.”
He had played her expertly. She cursed him to hell and back before another thought struck her. “Is Keyes working with you?”
“No. The man hasn’t the stomach for murder. While he is not a partner in my plans, he, like Beau, is useful to me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s rather simple. He will hang for murdering you and Kendall at the hunting lodge. I heard about Kendall accusing him of trying to kill you both when Keyes’s shot went wild during his hunt. I have no doubt the authorities will revisit Keyes once they find your bodies. Do you recall the incident?”
Alex nodded and slumped back into the pillows, her stomach roiling at Arthur’s smirk and calm, conversational tone. The man could be discussing his gardening plans rather than cold-blooded murder. He was mad. Poised, collected, but stark-raving mad. Due to its throbbing pain, she refrained from giving her head a shake to clear it. Arthur’s sanity or madness was irrelevant; the important point was his proximity to her. She needed to get far away from him. To escape.
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