Wicked Designs

by Lauren Smith

  “He told me.” Emily said.

  “I doubt he told you all.” A pause followed, as if Ashton felt Godric’s pain. “The deaths devastated his father so that he turned to drink. He was a harsh man when deep in his cups.”

  “Did he hurt Godric?” Emily rolled over to face Ashton, her frustration and confusion gone. Godric’s tragic life wrapped her up as it unfolded.

  “Often. Godric was more familiar with the cane than any other young man I knew at Eton. He used to laugh when his professors threatened to thrash him.”

  “But I’ve seen Godric’s back. He has no scars.”

  “Caning, if done well, does not break the skin but leaves only bruises and broken bones. Godric’s father was a master.”

  She shuddered with sympathetic pain at Ashton’s words. She’d never been caned or even spanked. She’d been a well-behaved child, for the most part. But when she was nine she’d witnessed the canning of a neighbor boy and his screams still echoed in her nightmares. She couldn’t imagine the tall, muscled duke brutalized as a tiny boy. What had it been like for him? To have his only remaining parent strike out in despair and fury at the loss of the woman who held them together?

  Emily had been fortunate to never know such abuse, and to discover that pain and torture marked Godric’s childhood was like breathing in smoke. She hated that Godric had suffered the way no child should.

  “How is it possible that he is gentle, at least most of the time?” Emily asked.

  “He has much of his mother in him, more compassion than cruelty. He could have become a brute like his father, but instead he became a champion for those who are abused. You’ve witnessed his tenderness first hand.”

  She ignored that and tried to change the subject. “Then, why abduct me? Where was his compassion when you were all grabbing me and tackling me to the ground, drugging me with that awful laudanum! That was cruel, very cruel. Why didn’t he just confront my uncle?”

  “He has no proof of your uncle’s crime except the loss of money. The way I understand it, he gave your uncle authority to access the investment account.”

  “Dare I ask in what capacity these funds were given?”

  Ashton gave her a devilish smile born of amusement. “It is nothing as horrible as you might have imagined. He invested money with your uncle in a silver mine that doesn’t exist.”

  “Can’t he prove that then? Show that no such mine exists?”

  “There is a plot of land that once was mined for silver, but it no longer is profitable. The investment papers are tied to that land. The only proof lies in the sum of money Godric paid your uncle and how it disappeared entirely.”

  Emily bolted upright on her bed. The vision of her uncle’s ledgers flashed through her mind. She’d seen the figures herself, the very crime Ashton spoke of. He watched her closely now, blue eyes searching for meaning behind her reaction.“You wouldn’t happen to know more about this than we thought?”

  The problem was Emily didn’t know if her knowledge would help her cause or hinder it. “I am a woman, Ashton. I’ve no head for figures or business, but I do remember my uncle mention the mine once in passing to a friend of his. I was shocked by the coincidence, that was all.”

  “It has often been my experience that women make excellent men of business. Your sex can often be far more competitive when pitched into battles of markets and money schemes.” There was a strange look on his face as he said this. A calculating gleam heightening his already vibrant blue eyes. Did he have a woman in mind, someone other than her?

  Emily smiled inwardly. Lord Lennox, you have secrets too.

  “Ashton, if Godric had proof of my uncle’s embezzling…would he let me go?”

  Before Ashton replied, Lucien and Cedric burst into the room.

  “Quick, grab Emily! We’ve got to hide her!” Cedric said, panting.

  Emily took in the sight of their heaving chests. They’d been running to get here. Had something happened? If they wished to hide her, someone must have arrived at the estate and they didn’t wish for her to be seen.

  I have to find whoever’s come and get help!

  She scrambled off the bed and over to the other side near the window, trying to distance herself from the three advancing men.

  “What’s going on, Lucien?” Ashton demanded.

  “A magistrate and another man are riding down the road and will be at the door any moment. Godric thinks Parr must have told the authorities and they’ve come to take Emily back to London.”

  “Finally!” Emily cried out, a little too triumphantly. There were three men plotting to hide her, after all. She threw herself under the bed, just as Cedric’s arms enclosed around the air where she’d stood moments before. Sliding on her belly, she moved further under the bed, praying she was out of reach.

  Lucien’s well-polished boots stepped in front of her, and Ashton’s on the other side.

  She was surrounded.

  “Come on, Emily, we’ve no time for this!” Cedric growled as his hands scraped at her ankles.

  Emily kicked out at him, but in doing so, came too close to Lucien’s side of the bed. He latched on, hauling her out like a kitten by the scruff of the neck. A cloud of dust billowed out, and both she and Lucien sneezed. He nearly dropped her as the sneeze wracked his body.

  “Can’t you stay clean for even half a day?” Lucien pushed her down onto the bed.

  Emily kicked him hard in the stomach. He doubled over with a pained moan, clutching his abdomen and leaving her an opening. She slid off the bed and bolted towards the door. She had to get downstairs and reach the magistrate. He would save her from this madness, get her back to London, and perhaps Anne could help salvage a marriage to a man who didn’t care about scandal.

  She took the stairs two at a time, and skidded to a halt just in front of the entryway, heart lurching high up into her throat, the pounding sound of boots behind her.

  Godric came into the hall from his study, no doubt hearing the commotion. His eyes fixed on her, then the men rushing down the stairs, then flicked to the unguarded front door. The blood drained from his face.

  “No! Emily, no!”

  “Oh, go to blazes!” She spun and wrapped her arms around the door. She flung it wide so that it crashed against the wall, rattling a nearby mirror. The rush of fresh country air was a blessed relief. She’d made it, as soon as the magistrate saw her she was as good as delivered.

  Two figures on horseback were close by. One she was certain was the magistrate.

  “Here! I’m here!” Emily shouted, waving her arms to attract their attention. One of the men, a more rotund looking man sat up straighter in his saddle and craned forward. She would know that man anywhere. Emily dashed back inside and slammed into Godric’s chest. “Quick! I’ve got to hide, he’s coming for me!”

  Godric stared down at her in anger and confusion. “Now you want to hide? Perhaps I’m too busy packing a valise since you’ve so politely informed me I’m to leave for Blazes.”

  “Quit being so stubborn and help hide me or we’ll both be in serious trouble.”

  Godric reached around her and slammed the front door shut. “Who’s after you?”

  “There isn’t time to explain. Can you find a place to hide me or not?” Emily demanded.

  He gestured to the stairs. “This way.”

  They returned to her room where the rest of the League joined them.

  “You have to hide Emily. I think she might have been seen. I must see to the magistrate.” Godric stalked off, shooting a dark glance over his shoulder. Emily gulped.

  “Bloody hell.” Ashton muttered. “Well, does someone have a plan?”

  “I do,” Lucien pulled Emily over to the huge armoire in her chamber.

  It was only half full of clothes and plenty of spare room remained in the bottom. They would be easily concealed.

  “Get in, I’ll join you.” He tucked himself into the bottom of the armoire then pulled her onto his lap before the others shut
the door to cloak them in darkness.

  Godric couldn’t believe it.

  This man—Thomas Blankenship—possessed the nerve to come into his home armed with a representative of the court.

  What Blankenship didn’t know was that Mr. John Seaton, the magistrate, had known Godric and his family for years. In fact, Godric’s father turned down the magistrate position when the Crown offered it, and recommended Seaton in his place.

  Godric asked Simkins to put the two men in the drawing room while he spoke with his friends.

  “You three go to Emily’s chamber at once and see that every bit of clothing, every stocking, is taken below stairs, and hidden with the maids. I want no evidence that she was ever here. Send me her maid, have her dress in one of Emily’s gowns. I’ll require some way to explain this if they saw Emily.”

  Ashton, Charles and Cedric nodded, then bounded back up the stairs.

  Godric stood alone, fists clenched at his sides. It was time to deal with the magistrate and this Blankenship fellow.

  Seaton, the magistrate, was a wizened old man who possessed the refined features of a country gentleman. He flashed an apologetic look at Godric, and Godric reassured him with a nod before he turned his attention to the other man.

  Thomas Blankenship was tall, but his wide girth and sour face took away any chance of decent appearance. Beetle black eyes and a sharp hawk nose contributed to the man’s predatory state, one that unsettled Godric. Blankenship was older, perhaps in his sixties, but the sense of power in him left Godric uneasy.

  Godric gestured for them to sit. “What brings you here, gentlemen?” The magistrate gratefully dropped into the nearest chair. Blankenship, however, watched Godric for a long moment, studying him, before he finally sat.

  “My deepest apologies, Your Grace. I had no wish to disturb you, especially not here—”

  “It’s no trouble, Mr. Seaton.”

  “This man, Mr. Blankenship, insists that you are holding a young lady captive. I refused to listen to such nonsense and he said he would come here anyway. Your Grace, I do not come here in my office’s capacity, but merely to assure you that I know his assertions are groundless. I will not be making any inquires or searches of this home.”

  “What is the name of the lady?”

  “He says her name is Emily Parr.”

  “Who?” Godric masked his reaction to Blankenship’s face. A possessiveness had taken root there, a look Godric didn’t like.

  What was Blankenship’s relationship to Emily?

  “Miss Emily Parr. She is the niece of a gentleman named Albert Parr. I believe, if my facts are correct, you and he know each other?”

  “Ahh, Parr. Yes. I have done business with him. I haven’t seen him in a few months, however.” Godric stretched his legs, seeking to look calm and collected. “Now you say you are here about his niece? What’s happened to her?”

  Blankenship sat at the edge of his chair. A dark shadow passed across his face. “Don’t play the fool, Essex! I know you’ve taken her. We saw her come out of the door, she was shouting and waving at us.”

  “Sir!” the magistrate snapped. “Restrain yourself in His Grace’s presence.”

  “Why the devil would I wish to take Parr’s niece? What would I do with her? I have no need of some young chit just out of the schoolroom. I certainly don’t have to kidnap a lady if I desire one.”

  “You took her because you believe Parr is indebted to you. We saw the girl ourselves and I showed the magistrate your note.”

  “My what?” Godric laughed softly, genuinely amused.

  With a weary sigh, Seaton pulled a note from his pocket and handed it to Godric.

  He scanned the note he’d written and contained a smile. “This is not my handwriting.”

  “Of course it is,” Blankenship said. “Parr recognized your hand.”

  “Well, that is easily put to rest. Come, I shall show you.” Godric stood and quickly walked to a writing desk in the far corner. Both visitors followed.

  He grabbed a sheet of paper and inked his quill. Holding the quill deftly with his right hand he scrawled a few sentences, blotted the paper and handed it to the magistrate.

  Seaton pulled out his quizzing glass and examined the two works side by side. “Mr. Blankenship, take a look for yourself. This handwriting is not at all like the original note.”

  “Nonsense!” Blankenship snatched the two notes out of the magistrate’s hand and studied them.

  Godric fought the devious smile tugging at his lips. He’d written both notes, of course. The real one with his left hand and this one with his right. As a child, he’d had few friends. To occupy himself, he’d learned to write with both hands. The effect was two very different writing styles. Neither of his guests knew that he only wrote a few notes to Parr, always using his left hand—something he had never done in his normal correspondence. There was something he had never fully trusted about Parr and therefore he had never left much evidence by way of letters.

  “But…that’s not possible. I know he wrote this. He’s tricking us. He had a servant write it for him.” Blankenship tossed both notes back at Godric.

  “Mr. Blankenship, I believe it is time for you to leave. You have disturbed His Grace and as magistrate here, I’m telling you there is nothing to see here.” Seaton put a hand on Blankenship’s shoulder, but the man thrust him away.

  “I am not satisfied. You and I both saw the girl on the road. I know it was Miss Parr. I wish to see every room in this bloody place.”

  Godric gave a dramatic sigh. He could easily send the man packing, but he’d rather just show him the rooms and be done with it. He didn’t want the man skulking around his home. “If that will ease your concerns for the lady, then I will happily open my house to your inspection. I daresay you’ll be disappointed. I’m sure she’s merely run off.”

  The three men left the drawing room.

  “Run off? That little chit wouldn’t know where to go.” Blankenship frowned. “Besides, no one would take her in.”

  Godric scowled. Blankenship spoke as though Emily hadn’t an intelligent thought in her head. Emily was nothing if not clever, and possessed two heads worth of knowledge.

  “This way, gentlemen.” Godric gestured for the two men to follow as he led them about the house. He opened every door, and not one contained a sign of Emily. Her chamber had been immaculately cleaned. Emily’s maid, wearing a gown similar to Emily’s, sat on the bed, reading a book. The maid blushed when Godric and the two men noticed her.

  “Ahh, sweetheart, there you are. I’m sorry to have upset you, we must never quarrel again.” He bent to press a kiss on the maid’s hand, and she ducked her head bashfully. Godric turned back to two men.

  “Excuse me, gentleman, this is a dear friend of mine, Libba. She is the lady you saw when you arrived. I’m afraid we had a row. But all is well.” Godric flashed a quick look at the maid. “You ought to go to the kitchens. Cook is preparing those pies you like so much.”

  The maid gratefully escaped the watchful gazes of the three men and departed.

  When they finished their inspection, the magistrate seemed convinced that Blankenship was destined for the nearest madhouse.

  “I’ll show you out now. I have estate matters to attend to today and tenants to visit. I can’t delay any longer.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” Seaton walked outside and took the reins of his horse from the waiting groom.

  Blankenship whirled to face Godric, bringing himself far too close for his liking.

  “I know you took her. But know this. She is mine. Parr gave her to me. I will get her back and she’ll be punished for staying here with you.”

  “You would punish a woman for leaving home?”

  “I would punish her for trying to escape me. The girl belongs on her knees before me and I’ll have her there, soon. And you, with all of your bloody arrogance and pride, I’ll tear you down before this is done.”

  Godric laughed. “Tear me d
own? You, my dear fellow, have no idea whom you’re dealing with. Your insolence is matched only by your stupidity. It’s you who should worry. I’ve destroyed greater men for less than the insult of your presence in my home. Even if I did have Miss Parr, I’d keep her just to spite you.”

  But Blankenship was not easily cowed. “You might want to ask your friend Lord Rochester, what happened to Lord Pitherington. Terrible bad luck can befall even the mightiest of us. Bear that in mind.”

  “And you bear this—I don’t like men who abuse women. When you threaten me, you threaten four more men far above you in intelligence, power and fortune. Should I wish to tell them about your hasty words, you might not wake up tomorrow morning. Good day to you.” Godric finished with such a menacing growl that Blankenship staggered back, then hurried to his horse without looking back.

  “Pleasant journey!” Godric hollered as the horses left a trail of dust in their wake.

  “And good riddance,” Ashton echoed from behind. The others, save Lucien, were with him.

  “Are we in the clear then?” Charles asked.

  Godric turned to face his friends. “I wish I could say otherwise, but the truth is no. We aren’t the only ones with an interest in Emily. I believe our interest in the lady is far better than the alternative.”

  Chapter Six

  Only a tiny beam of light cut through the keyhole of the heavy wood armoire.

  Emily tried to remain absolutely still, focusing on the noises of the manor. Several minutes later, the door opened and Godric entered, followed by Blankenship and the magistrate. Emily bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. Her uncle’s business partner moved through the room, studying it. She held her breath, terrified he would hear her panicked gasps for air. Finally the inspection of the room was over and the men departed. She sagged against Lucien in relief.

  “Christ, that was close,” Lucien muttered. “But they might be back. Keep still.”

  After a quarter of an hour, Godric and Ashton’s voices grew louder out in the hall. Lucien loosened his grip on Emily as the armoire door swung open. Ashton and Godric stared at the pair for a second before Godric snatched her out of Lucien’s lap and tossed her over his shoulder. Sadly, she was getting used to the treatment. It was easier for him to carry her about whenever she couldn’t be trusted to walk. She wasn’t a valise that needed to be carted about by a servant.