Undone by the Earl

by Elizabeth Rue

  He nodded and whispered, “I am unarmed.”

  Should he try and draw Sir Neville back through the marsh, where it would be more difficult for him to move and shoot? It might even the odds more, but it could also put them at greater risk. Or should they press ahead to the west and hope to outrun him before he could get a clear shot at them?

  He took her hand and she knitted her fingers with his, clutching him tightly. The warm press of her hand energized him, fueling his determination.

  He would protect her. No matter what, he would see her safely out of this horror.

  The shot came without warning. A bang followed by a rush of air close by and the sharp scent of powder all too familiar to him.

  He dragged Anna to the ground, rolling her into the shelter of the trees. He held her close, silently waiting for the sound of approaching footsteps.

  There were none.

  He brushed a damp leaf from his face and slowly, quietly, lifted himself off her, just enough to peek above the brush and scan for Sir Neville. He kept her sheltered beneath him.

  The shot had been close, very close, but fortunately—

  He smelled blood. The sharp, coppery scent had become commonplace in his life not long ago but now seemed as strange and startling as if it were the first time he’d ever smelled it.

  He touched something sticky and warm on his sleeve.

  Had he been hit after all? He felt nothing other than the sting of where the ground had burned him as he fell.

  He rose to his knees and glanced down at the dark spatter on his coat. He frowned.

  It wasn’t his blood.

  His gaze flew to Anna. She stared up at him, her face pale, one hand pressed to her side. Beneath her fingers, her yellow dress was rapidly turning dark brown.

  28

  “No,” Adrian whispered. All the breath left his body. A lump formed in his throat, as if he’d swallowed a stone.

  Bushes rustled nearby. He turned to see Sir Neville step into the small clearing, his walking stick gone and his pistol ready.

  As Sir Neville limped rapidly towards them, Adrian looked down at Anna. Her arms had fallen to her sides, and her eyes were closed. The dark stain had spread across her stomach and up to the bodice of her gown. Adrian tore off his cravat, bunched it, and pressed the cloth against her wound, willing the blood to stop.

  At least she wouldn’t have to see what was about to happen.

  Adrian lifted his gaze to meet Sir Neville’s. “If you let me help her now, she may yet live. It could save your neck.”

  “My neck is not in danger.” Sir Neville stopped several paces away and lowered the barrel at Adrian’s head.

  “You would think to hide all this?” Somehow, Adrian kept his voice calm. “When so many have seen you here?”

  “Seen is one thing,” Sir Neville said, “proof quite another.” His dark eyes were unblinking, never leaving Adrian, and his hands gripped the pistol without the slightest tremor. “And these bogs have hidden bodies before, no doubt. The land will hold a few more.”

  Calm, reasoned evil.

  Adrian doubted he could antagonize the man into delaying or making a mistake. He was too far away to make a grab for the pistol, and even if he did, a misfire might kill Anna for certain.

  “You will not find Julia,” Adrian said quickly. “You cannot conceal what happened.”

  “Yes, I can. I’ll not let that whore, or anyone else, ruin my life. One little mistake shouldn’t cost me all I’ve worked so hard for.” Sir Neville’s voice was eerily calm. “Now stand up. With her.”

  Keeping the gun aimed at him, Sir Neville lurched across the edge of clearing. His limp was pronounced, but he still moved quickly. He glanced to the side, checking out the steep slope.

  Still pointing the pistol at Adrian, Sir Neville stepped back from the edge. “Move, Lord Wareton,” he said impatiently.

  Adrian slowly rose, cradling Anna in his arms.

  “Over there.” Sir Neville jerked his head towards the slope. “Move!”

  Adrian moved slowly towards the slope, his eyes on the stagnant pool of water below. If he tried to leap ahead of Sir Neville’s shot, the fall might kill Anna. And once at the bottom, there was no cover close enough that they could likely escape Sir Neville’s aim anyway. His mind raced through options and found almost nothing; all he could do was try and cover her, making it difficult for Sir Neville to hurt her further. If he did that, perhaps he could buy some time and Edmund might find them—

  A branch snapped in the trees across the clearing. Adrian’s heart leapt.

  Sir Neville spun in the direction of the sound. He drew a second pistol from his waistcoat and pointed it towards the trees, all the while keeping the other gun steadily aimed at Adrian.

  A shot came from the woods. Adrian fell to the ground, holding Anna beneath him. He saw Sir Neville dive backward, and heard the ball zing through the trees.

  Damn.

  Adrian lifted his gaze. Sir Neville bent low as he hurried into the cover of woods, rustling branches and pounding earth as he vanished. He was smart enough to know his best chance of success was to slink off and shoot from cover—just as he had when he’d first made a name for himself.

  Trees rustled on the other side of the clearing. A moment later Edmund appeared, peering out from behind a thick tree trunk. He spotted Adrian, crouched, and dashed across the clearing, following Adrian to the shelter of a cluster of boulders several yards away.

  Adrian checked Anna’s wound. Thankfully the bleeding seemed to have stopped, but her eyes remained closed and her face ashen.

  “How is she?” Edmund whispered.

  “She needs a doctor right away.” Adrian looked up. “Sir Neville has two pistols,” he whispered.

  Edmund nodded. “I found Miss Howe and carried her partway back. A servant who heard the gunfire met me and took her to the house.”

  “Sir Neville will circle around and try to get us,” Adrian whispered.

  Edmund nodded. He began to reload his pistol, glanced at Adrian, and frowned. “Your gun?”

  “The mud took it.”

  “You must take Anna for help.” Edmund rose slightly to peer through the trees. “I shall draw him away, try and get him to empty his gun.”

  “At this point he’ll not likely shoot without a good chance of striking.”

  “True.” Edmund crouched and rechecked his pistol. His fingers trembled.

  “I should go after him,” Adrian said. “You take Anna to safety.” Sir Neville was a skilled marksman, and Adrian was almost certainly a better shot than his brother, no matter what Anna had said of Edmund’s practicing.

  “No.” Edmund brushed back his hair, slick with sweat, leaving a streak of mud across his forehead. “We shall stay together until we know where he is. Then I will deal with him while you help her.”

  “No.” Even if Edmund were lucky enough to fire a shot at Sir Neville, he could still be killed. Adrian would lose him.

  He had to protect his younger brother, as he always had.

  “Adrian.” It was Anna’s voice, barely a whisper. Adrian’s gaze snapped to her face. Her eyelids lifted slightly. She slowly raised one hand, just high enough to grasp at his sleeve. “He can shoot rocks off a tree…let him…” Her voice fell to an unintelligible murmur.

  Rocks off a tree? She was delirious.

  “You’ve been ordered,” Edmund whispered, a nervous smile flashing across his face. “Besides which, I have the gun.”

  “Edmund...” Adrian shook his head. For Edmund to insist, terrified as he was, was amazing.

  Edmund met Adrian’s gaze. Despite the tremors in his hand, Edmund’s blue eyes shone with determination.

  “Ever since I let you take the blame for me,” Edmund whispered, “I’ve barely been able to live with myself for being such a coward…I’ve realized I’ve nothing to be proud of. Not like you.”

  A man needed something...a man needed something or eventually all the drink and rowdiness
in the world could no longer hide the emptiness of his soul. Adrian understood that too well. Knew what it was to live in such misery that even love seemed an impossible dream.

  But to let Edmund die—

  Branches rustled behind Adrian. Edmund dropped to the ground and crawled towards the noise, holding his pistol ready between the rocks. He paused and turned to mouth at Adrian, Go. Now.

  Anna stirred in his arms. Her eyes opened slightly, and her fingers brushed his sleeve.

  Adrian gathered her in his arms and rose. Trying to stay low, and keeping himself curled over her as best he could, he hurried in the opposite direction, into the cover of trees.

  After a dozen strides he heard a blast. He staggered, his gait slowing. Behind him it was quiet.

  Now Edmund could also be shot.

  But Anna needed him.

  He couldn’t likely save them both.

  Anna moaned in his arms. Moving her seemed to have restarted the bleeding; a new, circle of brown was growing on her dress. Yet he had to move her. He had to get her out of here, now.

  He pressed his bloodied cravat more tightly against the wound and rushed forward again.

  When a moment later a pistol shot cracked the air behind him, he prayed to the heavens it was Edmund firing again. Holding Anna as tightly as he dared without risking hurting her more, he kept running.

  29

  Anna was certain she must be dead. Dead, and her sins had brought her to purgatory—if not worse—for when she opened her eyes, Lady Carlton was leaning over her, her weight slanting the bed precariously, the scent of her face powder strong in Anna’s nostrils. Most frightening of all, Lady Carlton was smiling at her.

  “At last, my dear,” Lady Carlton said softly. “We have feared for you so, missed you so.” She grasped Anna’s hand in her own, pressing tightly.

  “I am dead,” Anna said hoarsely.

  Familiar male laughter came from somewhere beyond Lady Carlton, from past the filmy curtain at the bottom of the bed.

  “She thinks herself in hell, Aunt.”

  His voice.

  Adrian moved into view.

  He looked awful—unshaven, with deep shadows under his eyes, and his shirt rumpled as if he’d slept a week in it—but he was the most handsome sight she’d ever seen.

  Lady Carlton scowled. “Really, Adrian, how can you jest at a time like this?” She rose, still clutching Anna’s hand. With the other hand she pulled Adrian forward. “Three days she’s been at death’s door, and this is your response?” Lady Carlton jammed their hands together. “Sit with her. It is you she called for all this time.”

  “Get well, my dear,” Lady Carlton added. “May I call you Anna now, dearest? We are family, after all. Now I shall go tell Madeline and Cecelia the good news.” She paused on her way to the door. “Do not exhaust her,” she said, frowning at Adrian. “She may still be in danger. I shall see the doctor is informed that she is awake.” Lady Carlton marched out the door, and her steps echoed down the hallway.

  Anna quickly released Adrian’s hand and looked away from his intense gaze. She touched the sheer curtain hanging at the other side of the bed, and she glanced around the enormous room, strange and so familiar at the same time.

  “I am...in my mother’s bedroom,” she said.

  “My aunt insisted.” He pulled a chair close to her, sat down, and clasped his hands in his lap. “She said you belonged in the countess’s chamber.”

  She sighed. “She knows of my inheritance.”

  “I am afraid so.” He smiled.

  “My own room would be fine.” And her own worn, blue counterpane was far softer than the fancy striped satin one bunched around her.

  “I doubt you have the strength to win that argument now,” he said.

  “I have been asleep for how many days?”

  “Three.” His smile faltered. “Three very long days. Your fever finally broke last night.”

  “I have been sick?”

  “Sick?” He frowned and leaned closer to her. “You were shot. Do you not remember?”

  Shot? That explained the strange pain in her side. Through her nightgown, she felt the soft linen of bandages.

  “What happened?” She tried to sit up and suddenly remembered everything. “Julia is well? Is everyone well?”

  “Lie back.” He pushed her gently against the pillows. “Yes, everyone is well, everyone but Sir Neville.”

  “Is he...?”

  “Recovering from his wounds in prison.”

  “Oh.”

  “Edmund shot him.”

  “Did he?” She looked into Adrian’s eyes and saw something new there. Pride in his brother. And forgiveness.

  “Edmund is reveling in the attention of being a hero.” He sighed. “Perhaps a bit too much. I am already weary of it.” But there was genuine happiness in his voice.

  She smiled. “It was good of you to let him be the hero.”

  He stared into her eyes. “I am indebted to you, Anna.” He spoke her name softly, his tone similar to the one after they’d made love. The memory made her feel suddenly warm.

  “For what?” she said quickly.

  “For helping my brother. And me. If you hadn’t interfered, heaven knows what might have happened.” His expression grew even more somber. “I…regret what I said to you before you left.” He actually sounded apprehensive.

  “I understand why you refused me,” he continued. “But I want you to know that I still wish to marry you. And I would wish it even if…we had never been together.”

  Hope made her pulse quicken. She looked into his eyes, faintly reflecting the square light of the window behind her. Worried eyes that had clearly rested little the past several days.

  “And if I must wait until Madeline marries first to make you my wife,” he added, “I will. I will wait as long as you wish.”

  Her throat tightened as her hope evaporated. He would wait as long as she wished? Of course, he would wait, now that he knew of her fortune. And that was undoubtedly why he no longer seemed anxious about marrying her. Now that it was known she was wealthy, while her birth would likely keep her from ever being fully embraced by the ton, she would at least be grudgingly accepted.

  “I was pleased to learn the old earl was generous with you,” he added. “After how he treated you, it was the least he could do.”

  “The least he could do? It was a horrid, hateful gift.” She shook her head. “I tried everything to be rid of it. The terms would not allow me to give it away, only invest it, so I choose the riskiest investments possible. But I only kept earning more money!”

  He gazed at her as if she were mad. “You tried to lose it?”

  She sighed. “Do you not understand? Four thousand pounds was perfect, just enough money that a gentleman could afford to marry me if he wished, but not so much that anyone would likely marry me only for the money. But fourteen thousand. That changed everything.”

  He frowned. “Then why did you not try to marry anyway, with no inheritance?”

  “As the money only grew and time passed,” she said, “I began to think about how much good could be done with such a fortune. I decided I did want it after all. But…I never imagined Mr. Roland would betray my confidence.”

  Adrian nodded. “Miss Howe told us. You can be sure that everyone will hear of what he did. He’ll not find work again.”

  “He knew I didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “You didn’t wish to end up like your mother,” he said quietly.

  “Yes.”

  She looked past him, staring at the green and gold wallpaper. She could even smell the faint scent of her mother’s perfume. The bottles still sat on the chestnut dressing table, faithfully dusted these past fourteen years. She turned her gaze back to the bed curtains beside her. The bed she now lay in had been a lonely place for her mother after the first few months of marriage. She had died where Anna lay now.

  “I should not have allowed you to be brought to this room,” he sai
d, gazing down at her, his brow furrowed. “It was foolish of me—”

  “No.” She shook her head. “It is all right.” She drew herself straighter against the pillows and clasped her hands.

  “But I cannot marry you,” she said quietly, not meeting his gaze.

  The chair creaked as he leaned forward. “Anna, my wanting to marry you has nothing to do with your fortune. Nothing.”

  She stared at the bedclothes. How she wished to believe him.

  She was no martyr, sacrificing her personal happiness solely for the good of the family. A marriage between them would still be looked down upon by society, even with her inheritance, but that was not her reason for denying him. No, it was far more selfish than that. And it was cowardice as well. She feared the misery her own mother had suffered, feared a life of pathetic sorrow where too much of her happiness depended on one man’s love and fidelity.

  He tried to grasp her hand, but she drew it away, tucking both hands beneath the bedclothes.

  “Anna—”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, fighting to keep her voice from breaking. “I cannot.”

  “Anna.” Madeline burst into the room. Adrian stood to give Madeline the chair but she ignored it, falling onto the bed beside Anna.

  Anna forced back tears and tried to compose herself.

  “I am not hurting you, am I?” Madeline said. “I am so glad you are awake.”

  “You are not hurting me.” Anna managed to smile. Madeline looked sleepy but happy, her dark curls pulled back in a simple topknot.

  “I am so sorry that I ever encouraged you to marry that, that odious man. To think I almost married him myself.”

  Anna gasped. “You what?”

  “Oh.” Madeline looked sheepish. She glanced at Adrian. “You did not tell her?”

  He shook his head.

  “Well, never mind that now,” Madeline said, turning back to her. “But I am sorry, for I learned why you hadn’t married all these years.”

  Adrian stepped away and slipped out the door.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Anna said.

  “Yes, it was.” Madeline glanced after Adrian and turned back to her. “Now I understand why…why you behaved as you did at times.” Pain shone in her eyes.