“Is that not a woman’s lot in life?” She turned to face Brant and could see her husband in him, something that made the fury she was fighting to control churn inside of her, demanding release. “I was not much older when my father sold me to yours. Even as your father bedded me and made me bear his children he was bedding everything else in skirts he could get his hands on. When he grew too old and too poor to play amongst the courtesans he came home and did it again. Bedded me, bedded the maids, bedded the village girls, and made us all bear his children. Then he put those children bred on other women right in front of me, making them our servants so that I had to see them every day.”
“A wretched situation but you cannot blame it for the things you have done.”
She shrugged. “I needed money.”
“Money made off the backs of innocent children. You knew what Dobbin House was. You had been inside. You knew what fate those children would suffer yet you sold them and bought expensive gowns.”
“You did not give me very much to live on, did you? I had a position to maintain.”
He shook his head as if he could shake her words out of his memory. It would be comforting in a way to think that she had completely lost her mind but, although he would freely admit that there was something amiss with her, he did not think she was insane. She was a cold, mercenary woman who did not care what she had to do and who she had to hurt to keep what she considered was her proper place in the world. That, and all the expensive things she felt were truly important in life.
“And now you try to blame me,” he said. “You did what you did for yourself. I begin to think everything you have ever done has been for yourself.”
“I did not go through the hell of childbirth for myself.”
“In a way, I think you may have. It was not only Father who wished to be certain he had an heir. You needed one, needed a son you could mold as you pleased so that you would forever be the true power. Agatha, Emery, and Justin were just security. Two more sons in case I did not turn out as you wished, and another daughter. After all, look how much profit you gained from selling off the others.”
“Your father sold Mary and Alice.”
“No, I begin to think you had a firm rein on Father and knew how to lead him to what you wished him to do. The unfaithfulness? I do not believe that troubled you at all for it left you free to do as you liked, to take control of everything. Father was so busy rutting, drinking, and gambling, he was more than happy to hand you all the work. I should have seen it before but it was easy to just think that Father was a fool.
“And so was I for I never truly looked at how you had your dainty little hand in everything. I realized but recently that you have been stealing from all of us for years. I mean to gather all the papers from all the properties and pay a visit to your solicitor, for instinct tells me that there may have been something left for all of my half-siblings. It would be like you to see that they got nothing, even the pittance Father probably left for them.”
“I did all the work. I built everything that made Fieldgate profitable. I was more the earl of those lands than he ever was and yet he felt he could give the profits of my hard work to his bastards? Fool. I have ruled his solicitor since shortly after you were born.”
There was the ghost of a bubbling fury in her voice and Brant wondered just how far he could push her. For the first time he was getting some information that he needed. Now he knew that his feckless father had indeed left something for all the children he had bred. There could even be an accounting of where each of those children, or men, were.
“Do Agatha and the boys have anything left? So easy for you to steal from them since by the time they were born you truly were in full control of all the accounts.”
“I needed nothing to sell Agatha to Minden, did I? He was willing to pay for a well-bred virgin in the vain hope that she would be his cure.”
“No, you did not need anything.” He sighed. “So that answers my question. You have bled their inheritances dry.”
“I did not bleed them dry. I made sure they never had one to begin with.”
“I will sort that out. Now, I suggest you go and pack for you are going to Hillsbury House.”
He was not surprised to see her shudder. It was a lovely, roomy cottage in a beautiful area in the Lake Country. It would have nothing remotely resembling a society, however. There would be a natural beauty but his mother was not one to care for such things. She would be completely isolated from everything that had ever interested her. And he would make very sure that the guards she had were not the sort she could seduce as she had her footman.
Thinking of that big man, Brant looked around. “Where is your lover?”
“He is gone. He has no wish to leave the city.” She pulled her hand up from where it had been tucked into her skirts and pointed the pistol she had hidden there right at his heart. “Nor do I. I do not intend to waste what remains of my life in a tiny hovel in the middle of nowhere.”
“You would kill your own son to escape that fate?”
“Actually, Brant, at the moment I would kill you just for the pleasure of it.”
Olympia raced out of her bedchamber calling for Pawl. Halfway down the stairs she remembered that Pawl had gone off with Brant. It only calmed her a little for she did not think she would have had such a strong foreboding if Pawl was close at Brant’s side.
“What are you bellowing for my husband for?” said Enid as she came hurrying out of the kitchen, Thomas and the other four boys right behind her.
“I need to get to Brant,” Olympia said.
“Is something wrong?” asked Agatha as she reached Olympia’s side.
“I just know that I have to get to Brant.”
Enid stared at her for a moment and then nodded. She marched to the front door and looked across the street to Sir Orion’s home. “You are in luck. Your cousin’s carriage is still out there.” She looked at the boys. “You lot go with her.”
“What is wrong?” asked Agatha. “Is Brant in trouble?”
“Well, that is what Olympia is about to find out. Now come to the kitchen with me and we can get that hair to dry faster if you sit by the stove.”
Olympia grabbed her cloak and raced across the street. She saw the driver eye her and the boys nervously. The poor man had already had one adventure with her family. She suspected he had no great wish to have another.
“I need you to take us to Mallam House,” she said as she opened the carriage door and all five boys leapt in.
“I have just got back and rested from doing that once. I am not of a mind to do it again.”
“If you do not and Lord Fieldgate is hurt, I will hunt you down and shoot you like a dog.”
“Get in,” he said in a resigned voice.
“And you must get there as quickly as you can.”
“Of course. None of you lot seem to want to go slow.”
Olympia jumped into the carriage and sat down between Thomas and David. As the carriage began to move, she glanced out the window and saw her cousin Orion step out to gape at the sight of his carriage racing off down the street. It might have been a good idea to ask him to come along but she shrugged. It was too late now.
“Exactly why are we rushing to that place to find his lordship?” asked Abel.
“I have a feeling he will be having need of us very soon,” she replied.
“You got one of them gifts the others have?”
“Yes, although I do not often have visions. I just know that we have to get to Brant as soon as we can.”
“Then we will although I be thinking this driver will be running from the sight of us for many a month after this.”
Olympia actually laughed. “Yes, quite possibly.”
She knew the man had gotten them to Mallam House with astonishing speed but it still felt as if hours had passed. With every turn of the wheels she had feared that she would be too late. She was not sure what help he needed but the chill in her blood was too sharp
to ignore.
“Thank you!” she said as she leapt from the carriage. “Stop at the Warren and tell my maid that you need to be paid.” She ignored his muttered curses and ran into the house.
Just inside the door Olympia nearly ran into a tall, thin footman. “The countess?”
“Who are you?”
“The baroness of Myrtledowns and I need to see the earl right away. I know he is with the countess.”
“Drawing room,” he said and pointed out the way to go.
Olympia allowed her instincts to direct her. She did not race up the stairs as her heart demanded but went slowly and silently. It surprised her a little at how quiet each of the boys was. Signaling them to halt when they were near the door, she crept closer. As she heard what was being said her heart hurt for Brant.
“I do not intend to waste what remains of my life in a tiny hovel in the middle of nowhere,” said Lady Mallam.
“You would kill your own son to escape that fate?”
“Actually, Brant, at the moment I would kill you just for the pleasure of it.”
Those words sent a tremor of fear through her body, and Olympia chanced moving a little closer. Lady Mallam stood facing Brant, a pistol in her hand. The woman had a faint smile on her face but nothing else about her expression revealed any emotion whatsoever. What concerned Olympia, however, was how to stop what was about to happen without getting herself or Brant killed.
A tap on her back made her slowly move away from the door and look at Abel. “She is going to shoot him.”
Abel grabbed her by the arm and made her move even farther away from the door. “He will keep her talking in the hope someone comes. I feel sure in my bones that we have some time. How are you at climbing?”
“Excellent. Why?”
“There be an easy climb up the wall right and into the window right behind where that b- er-witch is standing. Can you get up there in those skirts?”
“I can but would it not be better for one of you boys to . . .” She stuttered to a halt when she saw the fear in their faces that they all fought to hide. The climb up to that window was obviously a height none of them could stomach. “I can do it. But, what do you plan to do? I do not want any of you to put yourselves at risk.”
“We will be fine. David, go find Pawl as I know he has a pistol.” He looked at Olympia. “The window, m’lady?”
She nodded and hurried away as fast as she could without alerting Lady Mallam to her presence. Abel would make a very fine soldier she thought as she ran out the door and around to the side of the house. She fleetingly noticed that the carriage they had stolen from Orion was still there and the driver was watching everything. Curiosity or a need to be certain he was paid, she supposed. Stopping beneath the window, she tied up her skirts and silently prayed no one was looking out their windows in the neighboring houses.
Looking up, she realized it was an easy climb. There was so much decorative brickwork on the side of the house that it was almost as if someone had put steps up there. Just as she began the climb she glanced around to be certain there was no one that could be a threat to her in the area. Something caught her eye near the garden wall and once she was a little farther up, she looked again and nearly gasped. A large man was sprawled on the ground just inside the garden walls and even from up where she was she could see that he was very dead. Lady Mallam was cleaning house, she decided.
Praying every step of the way, she climbed up to the window. It was not until she got there that she realized she had trusted Abel too much. She had not even asked him if it was open. To her relief it was and she suspected he had seen that as well in the brief peek he had taken into the room. Olympia told herself that she had to remember to mention those skills to Brant and perhaps one or two of her family. Abel had great potential.
Peering over the sill, she inwardly sighed with a relief so strong she had to tighten her grip on the sill. Brant was still alive. He was talking, making time for some chance of rescue just as Abel had predicted. She just wished she had asked what he expected her to do now that she was hanging on the wall of the house behind Lady Mallam.
Brant stared at his mother and read the intent to kill him in her eyes. He waited for that to hurt and found nothing. Over the past days as he had discovered more and more about the woman who had borne him, the very last of his bond to her, thin though it had been, had been cut.
“I did not come here alone, you know,” he said. “You cannot kill me and walk away. This time you will hang for your crimes, as I begin to think you should have hanged many times before.”
“I never killed anyone.”
“No, I suspect you never dirtied your own hands although not for lack of the stomach to do so. You just wished to make sure that if a body was found and all signs pointed to you, you could turn around and point the finger at someone else.”
She shrugged slightly. “Sacrifices must be made.”
“Do you truly believe all you say or do you just not care?” He thought about what she had replied when he had asked about her lover. “You have killed. You have murdered your lover. Afraid he knew too much to let him live?”
“As I said, sacrifices must be made. Now, for my own well-being, you are forcing me to kill one of my own children. You should have just stayed in the country drinking and wenching and slowly becoming just like your father. Either that or you could have done as a good son should and married the woman I had chosen for you.”
“Which is why you saw to it that Faith died.”
“She was clearly weak. I lost a lot of money when you refused to get yourself betrothed to Henriette.”
“My apologies.” He knew he was not as successful at keeping all his emotion, all of his disgust and fury, out of his voice when she looked at him as if he was some odd curiosity. “You must know you cannot win this. You kill me and you will hang.”
“It is a gamble but one I am willing to take. I have grown quite good at judging the odds.” She frowned as there was a soft noise out in the hall. “What was that?”
“I told you I had not come here alone.”
“Well, it does not matter as I can shoot you dead before anyone can get in here to stop me. I am actually a very good shot.”
Brant wanted to ask her if his father had really died of heart failure as they all thought when he noticed an all too familiar face appear over the edge of the windowsill behind his mother. His heart stopped in his chest for a moment and he had to fight hard to keep his fear for Olympia off his face. Not only had she risked herself climbing up the side of the house but she now risked being shot by his mother. If they got out of this alive, he was going to throttle her.
And then he knew. It was an incredibly awkward time to have his heart reveal a truth to him, one his mind had tried to ignore. He loved the woman now slinging one stocking-clad leg over the windowsill. Loved her more than his own life.
“Pleased to hear it. I would hate to have you wound me and leave me to suffer pain and possible infection.”
“You have developed a very sharp tongue. It is not becoming in a gentleman.”
He blinked and was not surprised to see Olympia pause in her stealthy entrance to stare at his mother in open-mouthed shock. Lady Mallam had sounded very much like some scolding mother for a moment. She was about to shoot him dead and she was concerned about how gentlemanly he was behaving? Brant wondered if he had been wrong in his assessment of her mental state.
Then the faintest sound of cloth tearing broke the silence. Brant cried out as his mother turned toward the sound. He lunged toward her but she fired her pistol before he could reach her. Olympia cried out and disappeared beneath the sill. Brant, not even considering the fact that he was giving his mother a chance to reload or rearm, raced toward the window. The sound of another shot halted him but he felt nothing. He looked behind him to see Pawl standing in the doorway. He then looked for his mother and saw her on the floor, one pistol by her feet and another held in her hand. She had been ready to shoot
him again.
Brant went back to the window. He took a deep breath to steady himself. He dreaded seeing Olympia’s broken body on the ground.
“Is she dead?”
He jerked back a step with surprise. “Olympia?”
“Aye, and could you hurry and give me a hand up, please? I am not sure how much longer I can hold on and I am certain someone must have looked out their window by now.”
He leaned out the window and saw her hanging by her fingertips from the narrow edge just outside. Brant was so relieved to see her alive, he was shaking. He bent over, grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her in through the window. The minute her feet touched the ground he hugged her until a soft squeak from her told him he was hugging her too tightly.
“Your mother?” Olympia asked.
“Dead,” he replied and thought Olympia was looking a little pale.
“Not yet,” said Pawl from where he crouched by Lady Mallam, “but there is no saving her. Sorry, m’lord.”
“There is nothing you need to apologize for,” Brant said as he reluctantly released Olympia and went to kneel beside his mother.
Letitia Mallam, Countess of Fieldgate, was dying. He could see it in her eyes and in the way she was breathing. It would be hard on the younger Mallams but he suspected not all that hard. One thing it did do was give him the opportunity to hide all the crimes she had committed. He only had to come up with a very good reason why she had been shot in her house.
“I think her footman is the dead man I saw in the garden,” said Olympia as she hurriedly put down her skirts, knowing that she could not hide her own condition for too much longer.
“A lovers quarrel?” asked Pawl.
“Excellent,” agreed Brant, “and I know just the man to help us make that happen.” He looked toward the boys all gathered in the doorway. “Can one of you get Dobson for me?” he asked.
“I will,” said Abel and frowned at Olympia, “but . . .”
Olympia shook her head, silencing him, knowing that he had sensed that something was wrong with her. “But you may have to give him some money. The carriage we came in has not been paid for and the one you came in will also require some money to take the boy to get Dobson.” She sat down beneath the window and leaned against the wall to preserve her strength.
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