At Long Last

by Shirlee Busbee

  At the expression on Tony's face, she added hastily, "She is my stepmother. I love her—with all her faults. She hurt me—us—horribly. I'll not easily forgive her, and I am just as angry as you are about the time she cost us, but she was doing what she thought was the right thing. Oh, Tony, don't you see—she was only doing her best to try and save me from making what she felt was a terrible mistake and at the same time trying to make my father happy, too. Can't we just leave her out of this?"

  "Impossible." Tony said flatly. "You have a kinder heart than I, but putting that aside, remember—she is our only link. We have no choice but to use her."

  The three discussed the situation and, despite her misgivings and heavy heart, Arabella eventually agreed that there really was no choice but to use Mary to flush out Boots. With Arabella's assertion in mind that Mary would not give them Boots's name, they agreed that they were going to have to trick her into revealing Boots's identity. Precisely how that was to be accomplished had not been decided. The plan would simply have to evolve as they went along—which made none of them happy.

  "Do you want me to approach her?" Arabella asked reluctantly, when they had decided to confront Mary.

  Tony shook his head. "Absolutely not! Whoever approaches Mary will automatically become a target for Boots. I do not want you in any more danger than you may be already."

  He took a turn around the room. "I must be the one." When Patrick and Arabella started to protest, he held up a silencing hand. Looking at Arabella, he said somberly, "It cannot be you for obvious reasons. And," he continued, glancing across at Patrick, "having you approach her makes no sense. Our long friendship is no secret. She would more than likely guess that whatever you know, I know, and if she didn't, you can wager that Boots would. So your attempt to shield me would be fruitless and would only place you in danger. I have to be the one who approaches her."

  "I don't like it," Patrick muttered. "We already suspect that you are his ultimate target—if the Westbrook fortune is his goal. If he feels that you are on the point of exposing him, he has no choice but to kill you."

  "You'll just have to watch over me and see that he does not succeed, won't you?" Tony said with a mocking smile.

  "How can you jest at a time like this?" Arabella asked angrily, fear for Tony creating a cold void where her stomach used to be.

  Tony took her into his arms. Kissing her, he said, "Nothing is going to happen to me—I swear it."

  "And, for what it is worth, madam, I swear that I shall not let anything happen to him," vowed Patrick, his gray eyes dark with intent.

  Arabella took a deep, shaken breath and stepped from the warmth of Tony's arms. "Very well, I shall hold you both to your promises. So, when and how are you going to approach my stepmother?"

  "The sooner the better," Tony replied. "We cannot announce our marriage or begin our life together until we have exposed Boots." He glanced at the gold pocket watch he had taken from his waistcoat. Putting away the watch, his expression grim, he muttered, "If I leave now, there is time enough for me to pay a call on Mrs. Montgomery this afternoon."

  Patrick discreetly withdrew to the far end of the room, giving them a moment's privacy.

  Her eyes huge and worried, Arabella stared up into Tony's dark, beloved features. "You will be careful, won't you?" she asked huskily.

  "Do you doubt it, sweetheart?" Tony murmured, his mouth inches from hers. "Now, when I have everything to live for? Everything I have ever wanted? Everything my heart desires?" His lips caught hers and he kissed her fervently, all the love and hunger he felt for her in that one, long, urgent melding of their mouths. His breathing erratic, Tony finally lifted his head. He smiled crookedly. "Nothing will happen to me, my love. Remember—I have the Devil's own luck."

  Misty-eyed, fear an icy ball in her chest, Arabella waved them away a few minutes later from the front steps of Greenleigh. Telling herself firmly that Tony was right, that he did have the Devil's own luck, she went back inside and tried very hard not to think of all the things that could go wrong.

  Tony and Patrick wasted no time once they were out of Arabella's sight. Kicking their horses into a distance-eating stride, they galloped down the dusty red road toward Highview. There was little to be said between the pair of them, and their pace made it nigh impossible to converse anyway. Taking a shortcut, they eventually left the main road and plunged into the green wilderness. Of necessity, their pace slowed as they careened through the verdant, vine-strewn, virgin forest, but it was still a silent ride, except for the thudding of their horses' hooves and the snap and crash of the brush, as they pushed onward. It was a half an hour later when they left the road and pulled their sweating, blowing horses to a stop a half mile away from Highview.

  His expression grim, Patrick asked, "Is there no way I can convince you to let me be the one to approach Mary?"

  "You know the answer to that question, my friend," Tony replied softly. "I have to do this."

  Patrick sighed heavily. "And I am afraid," he said, "that you leave me no choice—I have to do this—"

  Before Tony could react, Patrick struck him with a hard right fist to the jaw. Reeling from the unexpected attack, Tony's head snapped back violently. Before he had time to recover, Patrick struck him again, this time on the temple with the butt of his pistol. Tony groaned and, nearly unseating himself, slumped unconscious in the saddle.

  His expression cool and intent, Patrick dismounted and swiftly went to work. Shortly, he stepped away from Tony's horse and viewed his handiwork. Tony was well and truly gagged and trussed, his hands securely tied to the front of the saddle and his boots to the stirrups. At least, Patrick thought to himself, he won't fall off—no matter how rough the ride home may be. Reminding himself of one last thing, he reached inside Tony's waistcoat and found the damning note to Molly. His features set and dangerous, he carefully placed the note in his own waistcoat pocket.

  Remounting his horse and leading Tony's horse, Patrick pushed on cautiously toward Highview. Circling the extensive grounds that surrounded Highview, Patrick studied the layout, before finding a spot to leave Tony and his horse safely tied. That taken care of, he kicked his horse into motion and trotted out from the concealing forests.

  He rode up to the front of the house and tossed the reins to the black boy who came scampering around the corner of the house. Swinging down from the saddle, he said, "Hold him. I won't be long."

  Jeremy greeted him as he bounded up the steps. Puzzled by Patrick's unexpected arrival, Jeremy shook his hand, and hissed, "Everything all right?"

  Patrick smiled reassuringly. "Couldn't be better." Putting his arm around Jeremy's shoulder, he said quietly, "Now don't jump and exclaim—just listen. I've left Tony around the back of the house in that small copse of locust trees. Go to him. But leave him just as you find him, hard as it may be." Patrick's fingers dug into Jeremy's shoulder. "Swear to it—on your honor."

  Utterly at sea, his blue eyes big and confused, Jeremy nodded. "On my honor—I swear it."

  Some of the tension ebbed from Patrick's body. "Good man! I will explain all when I return. I shan't be long—I'll join you as soon as I can. Now go!"

  Jeremy was halfway to the copse before the strangeness of Patrick's actions really struck him. What in blazes was happening? Why did he have to go to Tony? Why hadn't Tony come with him? Worried, Jeremy increased his speed.

  His handsome face giving nothing away, Patrick strolled into the charming sitting room where the butler Lawrence had shown him. Pleased to have found the lady of the house alone, a dazzling smile lit his face. Bowing extravagantly over her hand, he murmured, "Good afternoon, madam. I trust my call does not inconvenience you?"

  Obviously puzzled by the visit of a gentleman she barely knew and whose reputation was rather alarming, Mary said with cool politeness, "No. Of course not, but I must confess that I was surprised when Lawrence announced you."

  "Indeed," Patrick said, as he took the seat across from her she had indicated. Pla
cing his riding gloves on his thigh, he glanced at her. "Actually," he said, "you should have been expecting me to come calling eventually." When Mary looked blank, he shook a teasing finger in front of her. "Oh come now, surely you did not expect your part in the fiasco five years ago to go undetected? You must have known that sooner or later, I, or someone very like me, would appear on your doorstep."

  Mary's lovely face paled and one hand went to her throat. "W-W-What do you mean?"

  Patrick smiled, not nicely. "Why only, madam, that the time to pay the piper has come. You've had five years in which to enjoy the results of your little escapade, and now I'm afraid that it is going to cost you."

  "I do not know what you are talking about," Mary said weakly. Gathering some of her courage, she added more strongly, "I find your words and attitude insulting. I wish you to leave—now, before I ring for my butler to throw you out."

  Patrick leaned back in his chair. Pulling out the much creased and worn missive, he tossed it carelessly onto Mary's lap. "Read that," he said, "and then see if you still wish to ring for your butler."

  Mary picked up the folded note and, opening it, read it. It seemed to take her a long time, and when she finally put it down and looked across at him, she seemed to have aged a decade.

  At the open contempt and scorn in Patrick's gaze, her eyes dropped. She took a deep breath and, with all the serenity she could muster, said, "I am afraid that I still don't understand. What does this have to do with me?"

  "I didn't come here to fence with you, Madam," Patrick replied grimly. "Continue to waste my time and my price will go up." Shrugging off his indolent pose, he leaned forward. His eyes were like chips of ice, his voice thick with fury, "I know the part you played in destroying Tony's engagement to Arabella five years ago. I know that you spied on her and once you discovered when and where she was meeting with Tony, you told Daggett, and he arranged the rest of it. That note in your lap is proof of it. The only thing you and I and he have to discuss is how much you are going to pay me to keep my mouth shut."

  Mary started to protest, but the expression on his face stopped her. Sinking back into her chair, the fight seemed to go out of her, and she said miserably, "I never wanted to hurt Arabella. But her father was so opposed to the marriage and when... a way of stopping their marriage was suggested, I leaped at it." She buried her blond head in her hands. "You don't know how much I have suffered these past years, watching Arabella pine for that man and knowing that I was the cause of all her heartache. It has not been easy." She lifted her head to stare at him. "Believe me, I never wanted to hurt Arabella—I... I thought I was actually helping her." She gazed off in the distance beyond Patrick's shoulder. "But it was all for naught, wasn't it? Tony Daggett is back, and it is clear to me that she still loves him, and that given the opportunity she will marry him. And if that isn't bad enough, now you come to lay all my past sins at my feet."

  Patrick rose to his feet. Plucking the note from her fingers and tucking it back into his waistcoat pocket, he said coolly, "I would offer you my condolences, but I am afraid that all my sympathies lie with Arabella and Tony. As for you—write your partner and tell him that his nasty secret is secret no more and that it will take a great deal of money for me to hold my tongue and not expose the pair of you for the vermin you are. I will let you know when and where we shall meet to make an exchange: You'll get the note, and I'll get the money. We'll both be happy. Tony and Arabella need never know of the viper in their midst."

  A faint flush lit Mary's pale cheeks. "You can't prove anything."

  "I don't need to. But if I were to show the note to Arabella and tell her that you connived to tear her from Tony, which one of us," he asked with a mocking smile, "do you think she will believe, hmm?"

  "Why are you doing this?" Mary demanded angrily. "The extent of your fortune is well-known. You don't need the money."

  "Ah, but there you are wrong," he murmured. "Gentlemen of my reckless persuasions are always in need of money. Isn't it wonderful that I have found such an easy way to recoup my losses?"

  Patrick bowed insultingly and walked toward the door. His hand on the silver knob, he said over his shoulder, "Write your friend. I am an impatient man—don't make me wait any longer."

  Chapter 20

  When Patrick strolled up to where Jeremy and Tony awaited him, a stern-faced Jeremy greeted him. Jeremy was also pointing a pistol at him. A brief glance assured Patrick that Tony was still safely trussed on his horse, but from the blaze in the blue eyes that bored into his, it was apparent that not only was Tony no longer unconscious but he was also furious. Murderously so.

  "I swore to you that I would not untie him, but before you come one step nearer, you have to explain to me what is going on," Jeremy growled.

  "Oh, nothing very much," Patrick said easily. "I was merely keeping an oath that I, too, had sworn." His gaze met Tony's glare. Softly he said, "I swore to your wife and unborn child that I would see to it that no harm came to you." He flashed that dazzling grin of his. "You cannot hold it against a fellow for keeping his word, now can you?"

  Still puzzled, Jeremy regarded him suspiciously. "I don't understand any of this. Why is he tied up?"

  "Put that damned thing down, and I shall tell you," Patrick said without heat, as he brushed past Jeremy and walked over to Tony's horse. He began to unfasten the leather strips that bound Tony to his mount.

  Busy with the task of freeing Tony, Patrick explained over his shoulder to Jeremy, "Your new brother-in-law was determined to set himself up as a target for Boots. I disagreed."

  His hands free, Tony ripped the gag from his mouth, and snarled, "Damn you Patrick! We had all decided that I was to be the one."

  "No," Patrick said calmly, "You had decided. I had another idea. Perhaps not a better idea, but one that is more likely to keep you out of harm's way... for a while." He shot Tony a crooked grin. "And before you start swearing at me, answer me this: If our positions were reversed, would you have acted any differently than I did?"

  Tony grimaced, knowing that Patrick had him there. He shook his head. "No—and you damn well know it. But blast it, Patrick! We know Boots will come after me sooner or later, but now you've put yourself directly in his path. He'll have to take you out first."

  "Precisely," Patrick said with a purr to his voice. "And then we shall have him." He cocked a brow at Tony. "After all, you will not let him kill me, will you?"

  "You know the answer to that," Tony grumbled ungraciously.

  Jeremy, who was still watching the two men with a perplexed expression on his face, finally spoke. "Would someone please tell me what is going on?"

  Tony and Patrick exchanged a meaningful look;

  Telling Jeremy of his mother's part in what happened five years ago was not something either man wanted to do.

  Smiling at Jeremy, Tony swung down from his horse. "There have been some developments since you left Greenleigh. We found what it was that Boots was after when he, er, visited your sister—it was a note he had written to Molly five years ago, making arrangements for the scene Arabella found at the lodge. We figure that Leyton got the note from Molly since he was one of her patrons. But whether she gave it to him or he took it, we don't know. It is more than probable that she and Leyton were in it together. Someone had to explain to Leyton what the note pertained to, and Molly is our only candidate for that.

  "We're only guessing, but we think that they—or Leyton alone—tried to blackmail Boots. Boots wasn't having any of it and confronted Leyton, unfortunately on the same afternoon your sister went to call upon Leyton. It's all speculation, but we think Arabella interrupted them. The note got mixed in with her deeds when he shoved everything on the floor. It ended up in Arabella's reticule."

  "And then," Jeremy said excitedly, "realizing what must have happened, he tried to steal it back that night when Arabella was driving home from seeing you."

  Tony nodded. "Exactly. And Boots, smart devil that he is, after killing Leyton that sa
me night and not finding the note, concluded that Arabella had to have it." His face tight and grim, Tony added, "I don't even want to think about what would have happened to her if she had not fought him off."

  "I wonder why he never made a second attempt,"

  Patrick mused, frowning. "If our suspicions are correct, he'd already killed once trying to get it. Why stop?"

  "I don't know," Tony admitted. "But I'll make a guess: The note had disappeared, and he couldn't be sure where it was. He'd looked for it at Leyton's place and couldn't find it. Arabella was his next best choice. But he'd taken a chance accosting Arabella, and I'm sure that he has cursed himself a dozen times for having made that foolish move."

  "Why foolish?" Jeremy asked puzzled.

  "Because if he had never paid Arabella that visit, we would never have become curious about what it was he thought she had. To be sure," Tony went on, "the note would have been found eventually, but that might have been months from now. It's possible that by then your sister might have forgotten the last time she used that particular reticule, and it's a good bet, she—or any of us—would never have connected it to Leyton or the attempt to hold her up that night on the road. Boots would have been wiser to let sleeping dogs lie, and hope that the note never surfaced."

  Jeremy nodded, satisfied with Tony's explanation. Tony and Patrick could see him turning the situation over in his mind and, both of them knew the moment the question they dreaded was formed in Jeremy's brain.

  Frowning, Jeremy looked at them and asked slowly, "But why are you here?" His gaze fixed on Patrick. "You didn't come to see me, else you would not have sent me away from the house." An uneasy expression in his blue eyes he muttered, "There is only one other person you could have come to see... It's Mother, isn't it? How is she involved?"

  "Ah, she is going to help us," Tony said quickly, after a swift, unhappy glance at Patrick.