The Archaeologist's Daughter (Regency Rendezvous Book 3)

by Summer Hanford

  As soon as he was gone, she would free herself. She would go to the militia and tell them everything. Maybe, on her word, they would lock Lethbridge away. Hers was only the word of a woman, not so highly counted in a court of law, but she was daughter to a duke. At least she could try. Lethbridge would have a difficult time marrying Lady Madelina from prison.

  She heard him cross back to his desk. There was a rustle, then the sound of pages being tapped into a neat stack. He was leaving with the will.

  “Lethbridge, you bastard,” a familiar voice roared, footsteps bursting into the office. “Where is she?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  William came to a skidding halt in the doorway, fists clenched, glaring at the attorney’s back. Lethbridge stood before his desk. Lanora wasn’t in the room. Her carriage waited out front, though. Her coachman said she’d entered. The only other way out was through Lethbridge’s window. The curtains were pulled tight. No breeze stirred them.

  “Lord William. I should have expected you.” Lethbridge set a neat stack of papers on the desk, beside another. He turned, brandishing a pistol.

  “I asked you a question,” William snarled. “What have you done with her?”

  “You seem to think I won’t use this.” Hatred glinted in Lethbridge’s eyes. “You nobles. You think yourselves untouchable.”

  “Oh, I think you’ll use it. Never fear.” William kept his voice low, menacing. “I just don’t think one shot will stop me from throttling the life out of you. Tell me where she is.”

  Lethbridge paled, hand shaking slightly. “She’s not here, or are you blind as well as stupid?”

  “She came in. No one saw her leave.” William looked to the only other door, leading to the small room where Lethbridge kept his records. Was the knob moving?

  “She’s not here. What right have you to barge into my office? I have business to attend to. I will be on my way.”

  “What sort of business, Lethbridge?”

  “None of your concern. Something for your father.” He looked at the pistol in his hand, seeming confused. “I will use this if you continue to behave in so violent a manner. Don’t think I won’t.”

  “We established that.” William folded his arms across his chest. “And you can take a seat. You have no business with the marquess.”

  Lethbridge shook the pistol at William, as if the gesture could increase its intimidation. “My business is mine, and the marquess’s. You have no say in it.”

  “No, I don’t, but neither does he.” A hard grin curved William’s lips. “The marquess is dead.”

  Lethbridge staggered back against the desk, pistol dipping. “No.”

  “I assure you, he is. I just came from his townhouse, where I had the distinct pleasure of watching him breathe his last.” William stepped into the room, reaching for the weapon. “The game is up.”

  “No.” Lethbridge scrambled around behind his desk, trying to keep the pistol aimed at William.

  William winced as the attorney nearly tripped on his chair. The man was dangerous with a firearm. He had it cocked. He might shoot by mistake.

  Reaching across his desk, Lethbridge pulled one of the stacks of pages to him. “I will sign it. It will be your word to mine that he didn’t. He could hardly grip a pen of late. Any scribble will do.” With his free hand, he started fumbling at his desk drawer, where he kept fresh pens.

  “Yes. Your word against mine, and who do you think will be believed?”

  Lethbridge went still. He looked up, his expression feral. “They’ll believe me when you’re dead and Madelina is mine, along with the marquess’s fortune.”

  The man was moments from madness. William would not let him slide over the edge before he found out where Lanora was. “Is that how you plan to repay the money you stole from Darington? With the marquess’s fortune? When you drew up that list, you planned all along for me to fail.”

  “Of course I did,” Lethbridge cried. He gestured wildly with the pistol. “What respectable woman would marry you? How was I to know Lady Lanora is England’s greatest fool?”

  He had to calm Lethbridge down before he really did shoot, though he was as like to hit himself as William. “Why take the money? I would have guessed you make a good living.”

  “Toadying to the likes of you? Is that what you call good?”

  “I’ve never been easy to deal with.” William tried to control the anger in his tone. Was she in the record room? If so, why didn’t she call out? But where else could Lethbridge have spirited her off to?

  “Not easy? You’re the worst sort of degenerate. You spend more on each of your mistresses than I make in a year, and all for women you discard on a whim.”

  “Once I marry Lady Lanora, I won’t keep a mistress any longer. You won’t need to worry about the sums.” Or freedom.

  “Not keep a mistress? A man like you?” Lethbridge looked baffled. “You told me you would never be foolish enough to love a wife.”

  “I lied. I told you what I knew the marquess wanted to hear. You know how he was.” William attempted a smile. “You’ll find me a much more reasonable man now, and he won’t trouble you with his demands. You and I, we’ll work something out with the money you borrowed. Darington will understand.”

  Lethbridge’s hand began to shake again.

  “Better yet, we won’t tell Darington,” William hurried on. “I’ll cover the debt.”

  Narrow, suspicious eyes regarded him over the pistol.

  “What did you need the money for? Perhaps I can cover that as well,” William added, his voice the calmest he could muster.

  “I invested in trade. A storm sank the fleet.”

  “That’s rough luck,” William said. “We’ve all been there. I understand.” Would the man ever put down the pistol? To Lethbridge’s left, the door to the record room inched open. William caught a flicker of pale green fabric and silken limbs.

  Lethbridge shook his head. “Why should I settle for some when I can have all?”

  Arm holding the pistol bobbing and shaking, but generally pointed toward William, Lethbridge eased open the drawer he’d fumbled with earlier. He pulled out a fresh pen. His eyes dropped to the closed inkpot. He frowned. He leaned across the desk, arranging pen, ink and one of the stacks of papers on the left edge.

  The door to the record room inched wider. Relief assailed William as he recognized Lanora. Shock followed hard behind. She held a pistol, pointed toward Lethbridge.

  “You will have to sign it,” Lethbridge said. “I can’t open the ink.” He shook the pistol again for emphasis.

  William wanted to roar in frustration. Did either of them realize how deadly the weapons they held were? What mad reality had he stepped into? He should have brought a pistol of his own, so he could put an end to this.

  “Sign what?” William asked as calmly as he could manage. He didn’t dare look full at Lanora, or he’d give her away. What she planned to do, he had no idea.

  “The unsigned will. The one leaving Madelina everything, and giving her into my care. Sign as your father. Try to make it convincing. Your life depends on it.”

  William started toward the desk. Lethbridge was a fool. This was William’s chance. The desk wasn’t that wide. When he reached for the inkwell, Lethbridge was his.

  “Don’t sign it,” Lanora cried, leaping from behind the door, pistol at the ready.

  Lethbridge jumped. He swung toward Lanora. William lunged across the remaining distance to the desk, ignoring the pain in his side. Quicker than William would have credited, Lethbridge turned back.

  “Get back,” he squawked.

  William went still. The pistol was just out of arm’s reach, pointed at his face.

  “Lower your pistol, Mr. Lethbridge, or I’ll shoot you,” Lanora ordered.

  “Lower yours or I’ll shoot him,” Lethbridge countered without taking his eyes from William.

  “For God’s sake,” William growled. If this kept up, someone was going to get hurt. Now
that he was sure Lanora was safe, he didn’t give a damn about Lethbridge, but there was every chance that, once bullets began flying, Lanora could be injured.

  A slow smile spread across Lethbridge’s face. “I propose you shoot Lord William, my lady.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.

  “A lover’s spat. Not that anyone will know. You shoot him, and it will be our secret.” Lethbridge’s words dripped oil.

  “I will not shoot him, but I will shoot you if you don’t put that pistol down.”

  William took some satisfaction in the certainty of her tone.

  “I think you will shoot him, when you learn how he’s deceived you.”

  “I know about the list. I know about his mistress. We have no secrets.”

  Now, Lanora’s sureness knifed into William’s heart. Lethbridge was alive with glee. William’s pulse raced. What did the attorney know?

  “Then you must also know that Lord William never lived in Egypt with Mr. Darington. He lived on the poorest streets in London, as a beggar. He and his whore of a mother. She didn’t go mad, she ran off, and took him with her.”

  Air hissed through William’s teeth. “Call my mother a whore again and it will be your last word, Lethbridge.”

  “William,” Lanora asked, stunned, “is it true?”

  William didn’t look at her.

  Lethbridge smirked.

  Red anger made the edges of William’s vision fuzzy, but he could see the attorney with clarity. “How long have you known? The marquess would never have told you.”

  “She told me. When she lay dying in that cell. I pretended I was there to help her and she told me everything. About your brother, the life you’d been leading. How you begged for bread. Everything. I’ve spent years kowtowing to you, a man hardly better than street scum.”

  “William.” Lanora’s voice was soft.

  He couldn’t look at her. He had to focus on Lethbridge, his enemy. More than that, he feared Lanora’s expression. There would be pity there, if he was lucky. More likely, disgust. It was one thing to hand out bread and treat her gentrified staff as human. It was another to have kissed a man who’d lived in the squalor of London, begging for his food.

  “Shoot him, Lady Lanora,” Lethbridge urged. “Set yourself free of this lying scum.”

  “It all makes sense,” Lanora said, her incredulous tone finally drawing his gaze. “William, you’re—” She broke off, looking from Lethbridge back to him. “It all makes sense now.”

  Was that respect in her voice? Now that William looked, he couldn’t read her face.

  “Yes, now you know.” Lethbridge was triumphant. “He was about to trick you into marrying him, a man unfit for the daughter of a duke. No one will blame you for killing him.”

  “Do you know what I think, Mr. Lethbridge?” Lanora said, her voice firm, strident. “It’s not having to work for Lord William that embitters you. It’s knowing that you, no matter what path you take in life, will never be his equal. No amount of fortune or education will ever make you half the man he is. Not even half the man he was as a boy raised on the streets of London. And you can’t live with that.”

  Lethbridge turned on her, eyes wild with rage. William lunged forward, dove across the desk. He crashed into Lethbridge. A pistol fired. They slammed into Lethbridge’s chair, the wall, the floor. Coming up on his knees, William grabbed Lethbridge by the collar. His fist smashed into the attorney’s face. Bright blood sprayed from Lethbridge’s nose.

  William released the torn fabric. Lethbridge’s head dropped to the floor, bouncing once beside the shattered inkwell. William stood. Pain lanced through his side. He winced, pressing his hand to the gunshot wound to find fresh blood. His leap over the desk must have torn his stitches.

  He prodded Lethbridge with his boot. The man was out cold. Nearby, the pistol lay spent. A glance upward showed the bullet lodged in the ceiling. Finally, reluctant in spite of her speech, he turned to Lanora.

  She still held a gun, pointed right at him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lanora stood motionless, stunned. William stood over Lethbridge’s unconscious form, masculine perfection. Tousled curls, coat askew. She’d never seen anything like his dive across the desk. The way he grabbed Lethbridge, the punch, it was all so…thrilling.

  She’d been scared in the moment. Terrified, really, that William would be shot. When the pistol fired, she’d stifled a scream.

  Now, safe, she felt wholly different. She uncocked the pistol she held and tossed it behind her into the record room, where her reticule remained. Turning back, she saw William’s expression of relief.

  Lanora frowned. “You didn’t imagine I would shoot you?”

  “You were pointing a pistol at me.”

  “Are you that sort of gentleman, then, who doesn’t listen to a word a lady says?”

  A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Only when she’s directing a deadly weapon my way.”

  “That, my lord, is the time you must listen to her most.”

  “True enough.” He stepped over Lethbridge, wincing.

  Lanora hurried to him, her eyes on the hand he pressed to his left side. She pulled at it, seeing blood. A gasp escaped her. “You’re hurt. I didn’t think he hit you.”

  “He didn’t. It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing. You’re bleeding.” She yanked on his arm, dragging him toward the leather couch. “Come, sit. Will he wake soon?”

  William chuckled, the sound only slightly strained, and let her lead him.

  “Does your amusement mean he’ll sleep?”

  “He won’t wake soon,” William said.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’ve hit enough men to know.” He’d reached the couch, but didn’t sit. “Collect your things. I’ll send my tiger for the militia. You shouldn’t be here when they come, or have your name dragged into this. Your man can take you home.”

  Was he mad? “Absolutely not. You need a surgeon, and I am not leaving your side.”

  He shook his head. “A doctor will have questions, and might talk. I have somewhere to go, someone who will see to me, and you must go home.”

  “But why worry over questions? We’ve done nothing wrong.” She scrutinized his face. “What aren’t you telling me? Why can’t I go with you?”

  His look softened. “Do you truly wish to?” He gestured at the room, papers scattered everywhere. Lethbridge’s feet sticking out from under the desk. “This can be covered up, explained away. Once you get in my carriage with me, you will be compromised. That’s not how I want to make you mine, Lanora. I would have you agree to marry me, not be forced to.”

  She stared up into his warm hazel eyes. “Did you ask me to marry you, just now?”

  “I’ve been trying to get you to marry me since we met. All in all, I think I’m doing a splendid job.”

  “Do you?” The nerve of him, so certain, and tall, handsome… She suppressed a sigh.

  “Are you going to come with me or take your carriage home?” The intensity in his tone belied the simplicity of the question.

  “I’m coming with you.” For some reason, the words came out breathless.

  “I love you too,” he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

  Lanora gaped at him.

  He reached out and used a gentle finger to close her mouth. “Collect your things.”

  She nodded, feeling somewhat dizzy as she crossed the room and gathered up her pistol and reticule. She turned back to find William tossing a stack of papers into the fireplace.

  “The unsigned will,” he said. “It’s the one that didn’t get knocked from the desk, of course.”

  She frowned. “That’s because he put it to the left.” Her frown deepened as she studied the desk. “You must have only just got the inkwell. The pen didn’t move. Shall I gather the other?”

  William stirred up the fire. The pages caught, momentarily brightening the room with new flame. “Whoever cleans this
up can gather them.” He turned from the fire. “That should be good enough. We should go.”

  Lanora nodded. It was more important to get William to, well, wherever they were going than to pick up the pages of the marquess’s will.

  She followed him across the clerk’s office and down the steps, aware he was moving more slowly than usual. When they reached the landing, he drew his hand from his injured side and wiped it clean on a kerchief. He quickly ran a hand though his hair, restoring it to its usual controlled disorder. He drew out gloves and pulled them on, covering the knuckles of his left hand, reddened from colliding with Lethbridge’s face. Lastly, he tugged his coat to order and fluffed his cravat. She realized, his coat being black, only close scrutiny would reveal he was injured. He turned to her, looked her up and down, and nodded.

  “Will you send your driver home and then join me in my carriage?” he asked, his tone perfectly urbane, as if he wasn’t injured, and as if he hadn’t, moments ago, broken a man’s nose.

  Lanora nodded. He opened the door for her. Two splendid carriages, one with the crest of his house and one with hers, stood without. Lanora hurried out to reassure her coachman she was well, and sent him home to give Grace the same news. She also informed him that, though it was pending her father’s blessing, she and Lord William were engaged.

  She felt a bit bad as she climbed into William’s carriage, handed up by an expressionless servant. She’d used her coachman’s relief that she was well, and joy at her engagement, to send him away before he realized she wasn’t going with him. She hoped he wouldn’t be too upset.

  It was dark inside William’s carriage, for he had the curtains drawn. She settled into the seat across from him. He knocked on the roof and they set out.

  “Where are we going, if not to a surgeon?” She kept her voice low. “Am I to assume your men are not to know you’re injured?”

  “That is a safe assumption. You will not care for where we’re going, and undoubtedly there will be rumors sparked, but please wait until we’re inside before questioning me. I will explain.”