IfHe’sSinful

by Desconocido

  “I have worked too hard for this to give up now. Who knows? Once you are dead and I can freely go to a doctor, I may yet be miraculously saved.” He shrugged and started to advance on her. “I do not really care. I just do not want to see everything I tried so hard to get and might well be dying for to go to a bunch of little bastards.”

  He lunged and she barely dodged him in time. Penelope leapt toward the window and was just getting it open when he grabbed her. She began to fight him. Recalling what he had said about his injury, she tried to hit him in the groin, but Charles revealed a true skill at avoiding such attacks. He had obviously done a lot of brawling.

  The ease with which he had subdued her both terrified and infuriated Penelope as he dragged her toward her writing table. It did not give her much hope for escape. For a man who said he was rotting and dying, Charles had an enormous strength that she had no defense against. She could only hope that the boys got away and someone would keep them safe until Charles was made to pay for his many crimes.

  “Write that will,” he demanded, pressing the knife against her throat. “Everything comes to me.”

  “What about Clarissa?” she asked as she picked up her quill.

  “She will be taken care of. Hellfire, with you gone, she will be marrying that fool Radmoor, eh? You can think of that while you roast in hell with the rest of your ilk.”

  Writing a will might buy her some time, Penelope thought as she began to write. She was not sure what miracle might happen to get her out of this trouble, but she refused to give up hope. She was in danger and at least one of the boys had been wounded by Charles’s shot through her door. That could well alert her relatives in the city. Penelope just prayed that there were ones who could easily decipher whatever dreams, visions, or warnings they got. The very things that so often got her family condemned might be all that could save her now.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ashton strolled into the conservatory to find his mother and came to such an abrupt halt he swayed. Sitting with his mother was Lady Olympia Wherlocke, Paul, and Juno. He had meant to ask his mother what all the packages were that he had seen in the hall. It pained him to refuse to let her go shopping anytime she pleased but they could not afford such things at the moment. That was not a subject he could go into right now, however.

  “Ashton, dear, look who I met whilst shopping,” his mother called to him, waving him over to the seat next to her.

  There was something different about his mother, Ashton thought as he moved to join her. She shone. He did not think he had seen her look so happy in years. It was going to be difficult to take that joy away but he would have to tell her that she needed to return some, if not most, of what she had just bought. For now he would let her revel in her pleasure.

  He bowed to Lady Olympia, winked at Paul, and smiled at Juno. Helping himself to some tea, he took his seat next to his mother. Seeing Olympia made Ashton all too aware of how many hours he had been apart from Penelope. He was far beyond besotted, he thought with an inner smile as he sipped his tea.

  “Ashton, dear.” Lady Mary grabbed him by the hand, nearly causing him to spill his tea. “I have such grand news. Paul was right. My ship was not lost. Well, not lost as in sunk, just lost. It came in yesterday!”

  His mother was practically bouncing in her seat. “Your investment brought you returns?” He wished she had not already spent them, but could not bring himself to criticize.

  Lady Mary grabbed up a piece of paper that had been precariously tucked beneath the tea tray. With a wide smile, she handed it to him. Ashton’s eyes widened as he read the amount of her returns. It was not enough to save them, but it was a good start.

  “This is wonderful,” he said and kissed her on the cheek.

  “I even got my necklace back.”

  He eyed the necklace around her neck and found himself wondering how big a bite retrieving it had put in the sum he was looking at. Then he cursed himself for an ungrateful son. His mother deserved her pleasure in what she had done and definitely deserved a few pretty things. The returns her investment had brought were still a windfall for them. They did not solve his trouble with the Hutton-Moores but the money would solve most of the others.

  “It is fine, sir,” said Paul, his words a little garbled as he tried to speak around a mouthful of cake.

  “Paul, dear, finish what you are eating before you try to speak,” said Olympia.

  Even from where he sat, Ashton could hear the sound of Paul gulping down what was in his mouth. His mother and Olympia hid smiles behind their cups of tea but their sparkling eyes gave away their silent laughter. Paul, he decided, was going to take a lot of work before he could be unleashed upon the world.

  It was then that Ashton realized he wanted to help with that. It was not only Penelope who had wormed her way into his heart but also her boys. And girl, he mused with a glance at a sweet-faced Juno. Somehow, he had to get what was needed to shake free of the Hutton-Moores so that he could take on that job. Whether he did it by getting the money to pay his debt or by proving they were murderers, thieves, and kidnappers did not matter at the moment. It was going to be a big job as eight of her children were still very young but he felt no trepidation about it at all.

  “It will be fine, sir,” Paul said again. “It will all be settled soon.”

  Ashton was about to ask just how it would all be settled when both Olympia and Paul went dead white. “What is it? What is wrong?”

  “Penelope,” they said at the same time.

  “Is she hurt?”

  “We have to get to her,” said Olympia as she stood up. “M’lady, may I leave the children here for a while?”

  “Of course,” said Lady Mary, revealing no astonishment at this odd behavior of her guests.

  “But…” Paul began to protest. “She is hurt! I need to see her!”

  Olympia bent to kiss the top of the boy’s head. “You will but, brave and clever though you are, you are but a boy of five. Stay here. I will fetch you when she is safe again.”

  Ashton was on his feet, his heart pounding with fear for Penelope. He realized that, at some point during his time with her, he had become a believer. Not just in Penelope, but in the others. He suspected there would be other things he ran across in her large and somewhat eccentric family that he would struggle with, but most of the doubts he had were gone. There was no doubt in his mind at the moment that both Paul and Olympia had sensed that Penelope was in danger and he ran to fetch his pistol from his study.

  He met Olympia hurrying into her coat in the front hall. “Do you know what the trouble is?” he asked her as he donned his coat.

  “No,” she answered as they ran out to her waiting carriage. “I just feel her fear. And”—she took a deep breath—“at least one of the boys has been hurt.”

  It was not until they were seated and the carriage racing toward the Wherlocke Warren that Ashton asked, “You cannot tell how badly or where the danger is coming from?”

  Olympia closed her eyes for a moment. “Charles. It is Charles. And I think two of the boys have been hurt but neither very badly.” She looked at Ashton. “It ends today.”

  He pushed aside a shiver of primal superstition at the look in the woman’s sky blue eyes. Ashton took her at her word. He just wished he knew where it was coming from. Then he could apply his beloved reason to it all.

  “There!” Olympia cried as she leaned out of the window. “’Tis cousin Leo riding to the Warren. And I think that is cousin Andras with him.”

  As Ashton yanked the woman, he glanced out and saw two men on horses weaving their way precariously and swiftly through the throngs that always crowded the streets of London. “Do they have visions, too?”

  “No. One of ours has been hurt. We all, well, feel it. I suspect young Chloe told Leo what he needed to know as she does have visions. It is the same as what brought Argus and I to London. A connection, if you will. I am of the belief that it was formed many years ago, when what we are w
as a very, very dangerous thing to be.”

  That made a strange sort of sense. They were threatened as a whole, every one of their blood in constant danger of being denounced as a witch. A death sentence until recently. With their skills, developing some sort of warning that danger was near one of their own was merely a way to guarantee that at least some of their blood survived those dark times.

  His thoughts swerved to Penelope. She was in danger and he was not reaching her side fast enough. He knew now that she had been protected by only one footman as he had seen Ned by the carriage. That would have allowed Charles a very good chance of getting to her.

  Nothing could happen to her, he told himself. Fate could not be so unkind as to let him see what he could have and then snatch it away. He was so close to being free of the Hutton-Moores, either through gaining the money to pay them off or proving them guilty of serious crimes. Ashton wanted the chance to stand before Penelope, a man free of debt and with coin in his pockets. That dream was within his reach and he would not allow Charles or fate to deprive him of it.

  The two men who had passed them on horses were already there when the carriage pulled to a halt before the Warren. Ashton nodded to both men, who were tending to the boys as Olympia introduced them. He noted that they both carried the mark of the family, that almost annoying handsomeness and that air of confident power. Ashton supposed one would have confidence if one came from a family that had survived centuries of persecution.

  He wanted to race into the house to find Penelope but beat down that blind, primitive instinct. Seeing Ned tending to his brother, he moved to speak with them. He was astonished by how battered the big man was. Ashton had chosen the twins to protect Penelope and the boys because they were big and strong and excellent fighters. Yet it was apparent that someone had badly beaten Ted. It was hard to believe the elegant Charles capable of such a feat.

  “He ain’t right in the head, m’lord,” said Ted. “You could see it in his eyes.”

  “Just the one man then? Lord Charles Hutton-Moore?”

  Ted nodded and winced. “Just the one. He may look a fine gent but he has done a lot of hard fighting, brawling, m’lord. I thought I was facing a gent and got me instead a groin-kicking, ear-biting, eye-gouging street tough. Confused me and all just enough for him to win.” He shook his head again and winced at the movement. “There truly be something wrong with the man. Something very wrong.”

  “He is ill,” said Olympia as she moved to stand next to Ashton. “The boys say he spoke of how he is dying, of how he is rotting away. They also believe Charles was the one bitten by Killer. He has locked himself and Penelope inside her bedchamber.” She nodded when a carriage careened to a halt before the house. “Ah, here is Argus.” She hurried over to halt the new arrivals from storming the house, the other two men quickly joining her in the effort.

  “You did well, Ted,” Ashton said. “I begin to think Charles had the added strength insanity can often bring.”

  “M’lord, if the man truly believes he is dying, he has the strength of that, too. Man sure he is dying, well, he ain’t going to care what happens to him like most folk would. Ain’t got any fear left, does he.”

  “No, he does not and that makes him very dangerous indeed.” Ashton strode over to where the Wherlockes were arguing about what to do. “We need a plan quickly,” he said. “As my footman just said, we have a man in there who believes he is dying so he has no more to fear, thinks he has no more to lose.”

  “Bad. Very bad indeed,” said Argus. “I could try to convince him to let us in.”

  “Do you not need your eyes for that?”

  “I do but not always and even then it might do more harm than good. Delmar is a healer. He says Charles is right to believe he is dying, that he is rotting away with an infection. The boy says the poison has gotten into the man’s mind. It is, well, unpredictable to try to make a madman do as you will him to.”

  “I can get you in,” said Jerome as he nudged his way into the circle of adults and older boys.

  Ashton looked at the boy and then at the bandage on his thin arm. “You have been injured.”

  “’Tis but a scratch and Septimus has already taken most of the pain away. Charles shot at us through the doors. Once into the parlor, and when we got out and went after Penelope, he shot at us again through her door. The first bullet skinned Delmar on the arm, the second skinned me. It will make no difference to what I can do.”

  “And just what is that?”

  “I can unlock that door. Been practicing. I got us out of the parlor and we were locked in there. If we do it that way, he will not even guess we are coming.”

  “Andras and I will see if there is a way in through her window just in case you need help,” said Leo.

  Watching the two men run off, Ashton had to wonder how they thought they could get in through the window without alerting Charles, but shrugged aside that concern. “Are you certain you can unlock the door without a key, Jerome?”

  “I am, sir,” replied Jerome, “though I cannot say how quick I will be.”

  “What do you need?”

  “I have all I need right here.” Jerome tapped his head.

  “Go,” said Argus. “I sent Septimus to fetch Dobson and I will wait here for now. If you fail and Leo and Andras fail, I will try to use my skill on the man.”

  A cry of pain from inside the house convinced Ashton. He could wait no longer. With Jerome at his side, he entered the house and began to creep up the stairs. It occurred to him that, despite their gifts, the Wherlockes could be as helpless as anyone else in certain situations. Strangely enough, that comforted him even as it annoyed him that none of them had a skill that would be very useful at the moment. Unless, he mused, glancing at Jerome, the boy could do what he said he could.

  Once outside the door to Penelope’s bedchamber, Ashton had to fight his urge to try to kick his way in. He could hear a struggle going on inside and soft cries of pain. There was a low voice to be heard as well and he suspected that was Charles. What the man was doing revealed his madness. There was no way he could kill Penelope now and get away with it. There were seven witnesses to his attack.

  Jerome edged up beside him and stared at the keyhole. Ashton wished there was something he could see to tell him if the boy was successful or not. The only thing he had to judge that the boy was doing anything at all was the look of intense concentration on Jerome’s face and the unblinking stare the boy fixed upon the lock. Hearing what abuse his Penelope was suffering inside made it difficult to just crouch there beside the still, silent boy and wait.

  He tensed as he heard a soft click. Jerome sagged a little and nodded. Ashton was almost afraid to touch the door latch. Afraid that the boy had failed and equally afraid that he had succeeded. To think of a child having such a skill was a little alarming. Cautiously he eased the latch down and his heart started to pound with hope and the promise of an upcoming battle. It was unlocked.

  Penelope signed the will she had written and then swung around to stab Charles with the sharp end of the quill. He hissed a foul curse and swung his fist at her. She managed to elude a straight punch to the face but the hard fist connected painfully with the side of her head, causing her to fall from her chair. She scrambled out of his way when he lunged for her. The glint of the knife was all the impetus she needed to forget the throbbing in her head and fight for her life.

  She ran for the window again. Just as she started to hurl herself out, Charles grabbed her by the skirts and reeled her back in. But as she had been hanging out of the window for that one brief moment, she had seen something that gave her hope. The faces of two of her cousins looking up at her. Her family was gathering, and if she could just stay alive long enough, she would be saved.

  Her life with the boys had taught her how to fight and fight dirty simply through the number of squabbles she had broken up. Her brothers had even taught her a few things so that she could defend herself if she needed to. They were not enoug
h to save her life from a madman if she were on her own, but she no longer was. All she needed was a little time.

  Penelope began to use everything she could get her hands on to beat at Charles. She scratched, bit, kicked, and punched when he grabbed hold of her and threw things when she was free. Despite her efforts, he finally pinned her to the floor.

  “What? No witch’s tricks to save yourself with?” Charles sneered, his mouth so smeared with blood from her fist that it made for a chillingly gruesome expression.

  “I am not a witch,” she said. “You, however, are a thieving, murdering bastard.”

  “Watch what you say, bitch.” He lightly caressed her throat with the flat side of the blade. “I am the man with the knife and now it is only to my benefit that you die.”

  “What was it before? Anger?” Keep him talking, she thought, glancing toward the door and certain that she could see it opening.

  “Fun.” He laughed. “I was annoyed that you had gotten away from me at Cratchitt’s but I also needed to put an end to all the prying your white knights were doing.”

  “You cannot be so insane that you think you will not hang for this. There are witnesses this time, Charles. A lot of witnesses.”

  “It does not matter. I am a baron. A bunch of little bastards and a servant cannot put the noose around my neck. As far as the authorities will be concerned, I will have been in Spain.”

  “Paid liars will not free you of this murder charge.”

  “Let us just put that to the test, shall we?” He raised the knife.

  Penelope braced herself for the blow, praying she would see it coming in time to at least move out of its way enough to make the wound painful but not mortal. He leaned back enough to add strength to his blow and she found her hands free. She reached out to catch him by the wrist and struggled to stop the downward plunge of the knife.

  Just as she feared she was not going to be rescued this time, two gunshots rang out. Charles’s body was flung back from hers. Penelope quickly scrambled out of the way even though every instinct she had told her the man was dead before he hit the ground. Then, suddenly, she found herself in Ashton’s arms and she clung to him.