Madness

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  He cupped her chin in his long, lean fingers, and met her gaze unblinkingly. "I love you, Gabrielle. Anything you want you have only to say. I’ll do anything to make you happy, you know that.”

  He gathered her into his arms in that unique way he had of making her feel completely treasured, as if not just her body but entire soul were being embraced.

  “Yes, I know it. And you do, Simon. I only wish I could tell you how much. And I wish I could get you to stop worrying about the past, about losing me. I’ll never leave you.”

  He swung his legs off the seat and onto the floor to sit up and look her in the eyes earnestly. “I’m sorry. It’s just that having lost my old family I couldn’t bear anything happening to my new.

  "That includes Lucinda and baby Christopher. I never knew how fiercely protective one could feel over a child. You tell me I have no evil within me, but I swear if anyone tried to harm any of you, I don’t know what I would be capable of.”

  She gave him a reassuring smile. “Oh, darling, it’s the same for me. I would gladly kill someone with my bare hands if they tried to hurt the three of you. Or indeed any of Randall and Isolde’s children, or Michael and Bryony’s.”

  “It's going rather tall order keeping all of them safe through life, though.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “Not really. They adore you. And Lucinda. And I think they’re pretty fond of me too. We have a good life here. I just hope it can content you.”

  “More than content. It fills me with joy. And speaking of filling—” He scooped her up in his arms and headed for the bed.

  “Oh, Simon, you are sooo naughty.”

  “Just let me know when I take the edge off your appetite,” he said with a grin, flipping up her skirts with one hand and opening the falls of his suddenly too tight breeches with the other.

  Gabrielle shot him a sultry look and licked her lips. "Try a hundred years from now when we’re both too old to move.”

  He joined her in the bed, and lifted her ankles up around his neck. “That sounds wonderful to me. But for the moment let’s just make sure we get out of the bed long enough to plan our picnic in Millcote Forest.”

  “Gladly, darling, as soon as I’m not so ravenous.”

  “You mean ravishing,” he said, poising himself for the first deep stroke.

  “Mmm, yes, pleeeeaase,” she purred.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Simon and Gabrielle took great delight in planning the Rakehell picnic, which was to be a full clan occasion with all the children and a vast array of food and entertainment.

  There didn’t seem to be a cloud on their horizon, and in fact the best possible news came to Randall one day shortly before the picnic, which made Gabrielle infinitely relieved.

  He summoned her and Simon at once to tell them the incredible news.

  “We don’t need to worry about instituting divorce proceedings for Lucinda now," he told them.

  "Oh?" they both replied, looking at each other and back at Randall.

  "No, because Oxnard is dead."

  "Dead?" Gabrielle gasped, surprise and relief mingling.

  "Aye, they found his body in the Thames, what was left of it. The fish of course had got an awful lot of him, but now Lucinda and the baby can come out of hiding.

  “Oh, thank the gods,” Simon sighed, though he still felt vaguely disquieted by the whole affair.

  “Yes, indeed,” Gabrielle said, not exactly rejoicing in the death of another, but heaving a sigh of relief that Oxnard could never harm her family again.

  Randall nodded. “And let’s hope Oxnard rots in hell.”

  “What do we do now?” Gabrielle asked eagerly.

  “I shall write to the solicitors who contacted us here looking for news of her, and tell them to—”

  “No!” Simon said suddenly.

  Both turned to look at him, for he had begun to quiver. Gabrielle rammed him into a chair before he fell down, and took his hand. “Dearest, what is it?”

  “You told me the estate is impoverished. What could we hope to gain by writing to them to tell them of her whereabouts, when—”

  “Not for Lucinda, certainly but something may be salvagable for her son,” Randall argued. "A title is no mean thing, after all."

  Simon shook his head. “I know. It's just, well, it's just that I think everything that man touched was tainted, everything except Christopher. If it is a question of providing for them, you know I shall—”

  Randall gestured impatiently. “That's very commendable, but it’s not your responsibility—”

  Simon shook his head again. “Please don’t write. The hell with the Oxnard earldom. It's just not worth it. I can’t explain it. I just feel it’s a bad idea."

  Randall nodded at length, and sought to mollify him. “All right. We’ll leave it for now. It is good of you to take your duties to your family so seriously.”

  Simon shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve been her guardian ever since we met, just as Gabrielle has been mine. It’s part of, I don’t know, a pattern. You know about the castle, Gabrielle, and—”

  She kissed him to prevent him saying anything in front of her cousin which would sound completely mad. “I know, love. Let’s get you outside for some fresh air.”

  After they had gone, Randall gazed at the shut door thoughtfully for a moment, then sighed.

  He thought of his brother Michael, who had willingly give up his title as Earl of Hazelmere, allowed him to have it rather than resume his duties in the world.

  Baby Christopher might not want the earldom and title now, but in time...

  Randall stood at his desk for a moment in an uncharacteristic fit of indecision. Then he sat, and penned the address of Oxnard's solicitor on the letter laying on the blotter.

  He rang for the servant, and when he appeared, told him to dispatch it at once.

  Faking his own death had been a stroke of genius, Oxnard decided as he travelled in the mail coach down to Bath several days later.

  With the authorities looking for him for debts and his other crimes, he would never be able to avoid prison if he didn’t do something drastic.

  As he had thought, as soon as they’d assumed him dead, his wife Lucinda had claimed the estate for her son, and her whereabouts had been revealed at last.

  Now all he had to do was secure the child, Christopher, apparently who was his heir, after all, and see what provision he could make.

  He didn’t really care what became of her, but she could probably earn some good money trawling the docks until such time as her friends could come up with some cash and other considerations to make sure she was safe and didn’t get restored to Bedlam.

  He was sure her bitch of a sister Gabrielle would die rather than let that happen again. Well, he would keep the two women and baby alive for as long as they were useful to him, but that would be as far as it went.

  But women simply couldn’t be trusted. He had learned that the hard way with that bitch Miranda, a mere whore from the London theatre, and that cow Georgina Jerome, who had betrayed him, told them everything she knew about him.

  Oxnard smiled tightly. The time would come for revenge, and it would be all the more sweet for having had to wait for it patiently.

  But first, he would need to tend to his cash flow problem, rather than slake his lusts. Though he might be able to have the best of both worlds too….

  That slut Miranda had managed to escape his clutches, but he had prepared himself better this time. He had a collection of manacles and drugs that would ensure the women's co-operation. The child’s too. He couldn’t abide squalling infants.

  The Howell girls had had little enough money, but the fact that their cousin was an earl was a guarantee that they would want to keep things quiet and pay him whatever he wished.

  Besides, what could everyone say about him wanting to reclaim his poor run-away mad wife? Even if he did get caught, the law would be on his side. At least until they found out from the authorities wha
t he had been up to in London…

  He had enjoyed his vices; so long as other people paid for them his life would be perfect. He clinked the chains in his valise. He just couldn’t wait to get to Brimley…

  When Oxnard arrived, however, he crept around Barkston House only to discover that the entire family had gone on to Millcote Forest for a picnic.

  He debated on whether or not to wait, and then decided time was of the essence. So he got the directions from a passing farmer, and instructed the rented carriage to head there.

  Then Oxnard passed through the forest twice in order to see the lay of the land. There were a lot of people milling about enjoying the fine weather.

  He spotted the gold-haired beauty of his wife Lucinda easily enough and felt a mild stirring in his unpredictable loins. He rubbed his sore back and stared for a time. Who would have imagined his timid little wife would be amongst so many fine ladies and gentlemen?

  It required a slight change in plans, but nothing drastic. It would probably be a lot easier to seize the child first, and then make his demands later, when they had all been sufficiently terrified for the safety of the infant.

  In fact, the more they worried, the more they were likely to pay, he decided, rubbing his hands with glee.

  And of course they wouldn’t be able to do a damned thing. As the head of the household he had the law on his side. What man would ever leave his heir with a mad woman, let alone one who had escaped from Bedlam with the help of her sister, who had apparently seen fit to disguise them both as harlots.

  He had always knows that Gabrielle was a hot little number with that flaming red hair of hers, he thought lustily as he watched her dance with a tall gent with strange golden eyes who seemed vaguely familiar.

  Just think what he would do when he had them all in his power. She would beg for their lives by the time he was done with her. He would love making her jump through hoops in order to keep him sweet so they would remain unharmed. After all, his wife and child were his to dispose of as he would.

  Ah yes, dispose was such an excellent word. So very apt given the circumstances.

  As soon as he was rid of Lucinda he would hunt for greener pastures. In fact, a whole new start in Ireland or the Americas with his son might be just the ticket...

  Oxnard told the driver to wait for for him at the foot of a long path which circled around a large, comfortable-looking house nestled in the heart of the forest in the second of two sizable clearings.

  He strode up the lane and waited, observing the group from a distance, toying with the ropes of a swing which had been erected in the second, smaller glade.

  The beauty of the forest was lost upon him; he could only think what a prime location it would be to accost some buxom country wenches for a bit of sport.

  But at the moment there was only one wench he wanted to grab. He’d get his wife, her sister would rush in to save her, and he would have them both.

  Was Lucinda’s sister still a virgin? The thought excited him no end. Even more thrilling was the thought of having them both together, forcing them to cater to his every whim.

  Or even that bitch Lyons he had tricked and raped. With all her wealth, it would be perfect. Yes, a harem of three, chained and tied...

  Now all his desires seemed to coalesce into reality as he watched his wife head down the path toward the swing, dandling the baby in her arms.

  Her sister Gabrielle wasn’t too far behind, pointing at the handsome house as if they were making there way there. He wasn’t sure who lived in it, but he guessed the residents were probably at the picnic as well.

  Perfect. All he had to do was get the two sluts down the path and into the carriage. Easily done. He would grab the baby and they would hare off after him.

  So he waited patiently like a spider in his web until Lucinda stepped into the arbor and gasped.

  “God, what are you doing here!”

  “Not God, but Master will do. I’m here for my son.”

  “No, you can’t have him! I’d rather die than let you lay your filthy hands upon him!” Lucinda hissed, clutching the child to her convulsively.

  “You don’t have a choice, bitch. He’s mine! So are you. We’re leaving.”

  Oxnard grabbed the baby’s arm and tried to wrest him from her embrace.

  Lucinda screamed and hung on, but he backhanded her across the face and sent her sprawling into the dirt. Rather than risk falling on the child, she relinquished her hold.

  Gabrielle came running up now, alerted by her sister’s shrieks.

  “What on earth?” she gasped.

  “I’m taking back what’s mine. And you, Madam, should never have meddled in my affairs!”

  “They’re mine too! She’s my sister. He’s my nephew. You’re not taking them!” she insisted as she looked for a weapon to attack him with. One good blow to his head....

  Oxnard saw her intent and began to run, knowing full well the women would follow. And once in the carriage, he would make them smell the strange liquid that made people unconscious, and they would be his.

  He tore out of the arbor and down to the left, approaching the house, and beyond it the main road. A quick trip to Bristol, and the large city would swallow them up until he could make his ransom demands.

  Lucinda tried to get off the ground, and Gabrielle was torn between helping her and going after Oxnard. “Simon! Help us!” she shouted as loudly as she could. Then she and her sister both started to run after Oxnard.

  She prayed to all the gods that her beloved could hear her and help save them all in time.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Simon was holding the reins of two of the children’s ponies when he heard his beloved shriek for help.

  Pressing the reins into Michael’s hands, he ran down the path in the direction he was sure the shout had come from.

  He could hear rustling, but saw nothing. “Where are you, Gabrielle! Gabrielle!”

  Then he heard his sister-in-law wailing, and the sound of a gunshot.

  He stiffened for a moment with horror, and then ran even faster. But by the time he got near the arbor, it was already too late.

  Lucinda was down on the ground bleeding profusely from her left shoulder, and Gabrielle was weeping and trembling with fear, doing her best to stanch the blood with her own petticoats, which she was rending and then wadding up.

  He knelt just long enough to hear the words Lucinda gasped out, “It’s Oxnard. He’s stolen Christopher. Please, Simon, we must get him back! He’s heading for the road. Hurry, please.”

  Gabrielle nodded. "Go. We'll be fine. Blake will be here in a moment, I'm sure. You're the one who told me blood always looks worse than it is. Just hurry, please."

  He took in the scene in one all encompassing glance. Oxnard had tried to shoot his own wife through the heart. This was war. And he knew what to do in a battle.

  He kissed Gabrielle hard, and then began to charge through the woods as though trying to breach the defences of a beseiged city. Damn the man, he was not going to take….

  To his shock, he soon spotted Oxnard up ahead dragging an unfamiliar woman toward a coach he could see waiting at the foot of the lane.

  He had no idea who the dark-haired damsel in distress was, but she was clearly putting up a struggle. Simon was damned if he was going to let anyone else become yet another of Oxnard's victims.

  Simon could hear Gabrielle shouting for Blake Sanderson, and the tall dark woman struggle with the demented earl shouting the name George.

  She tried to break free, but Oxnard was relentless, though that was to Simon’s advantage, since the desperate woman was only serving to slow the earl down in his attempt escape.

  Simon’s heart leapt into his chest when he realised that the girl had a pistol with her. Would she be desperate enough to shoot Oxnard even at the expense of the child?

  But no, she brought the weapon back down when she saw the infant squall and flail. She shouted for the man called George once more as she w
as towed inexorably toward the coach and what Simon was sure would be certain doom.

  Simon saw Lawrence Howard emerge from the path leading to their house with another tall dark-haired man. They looked around to try to discern where the screaming was coming from.