“For a man who is about to die, you are absurdly brave, Escott.”
Tyler saw the shadow move again. “Let us say that I prefer to go to my grave having solved my last case.”
Doyle laughed and ran a finger over his stiff mustache. “Angelica would have spoiled everything,” he began, waving has gun as he spoke. “She was almost successful at doing just that. She wrote a letter to Tremayne. I saw her give it to a traveler on his way to London. He died, too. It was a drowning accident. I thought at first I would have to cause an accident to befall Angelica’s companion too. But the old hag saved her own skin by sleeping day in and day out. I’m rather good at arranging accidents.”
Tyler raised a brow. “Indeed.”
William nodded, smiling smugly. “Twenty years ago, Marion Tremayne father began asking me questions I didn’t care to answer. He had a hunting accident soon thereafter. His gun misfired.”
“But it wasn’t an accident. You shot him.”
“You’ve a brilliant mind, Escott. As perhaps you’ve guessed, over the years, I have been using the Tremayne fortune for my own purposes and am now a very wealthy man. Of course there are still a few obstacles in my way. A few accidents yet to arrange. You don’t, by any chance, know why Dane Hutchins is in London, do you?”
Tyler thought of Goldie and Marion Tremayne again. Foreboding almost strangled him, but he kept his wits about him. “Hutchins is one of your obstacles?”
“He and Tremayne. They’ll both die, as will you and that bitch on the floor there. No one who knows anything about me can be left alive, you see. Now I ask you again, Escott. Do you know why Dane is in London?”
“Do you really think I would tell you?”
“Then I damn you to hell.”
Tyler watched as William raised the gun, and felt the beginnings of panic. Why hadn’t his man overtaken Doyle yet? What was he waiting for?
“Good-bye, Escott,” William said. Slowly, he curled his finger around the trigger.
Tyler took a sudden dive toward William’s legs and saw the gun drop to the floor. He made a wild grab for it, but Doyle reached it first. Belly on the floor, Tyler froze, waiting to feel the bullet end his life.
But it never came. Instead, Tyler heard a thud and watched his assailant crash to the floor beside him. He looked up, saw his savior, and frowned. It wasn’t Ingram or Dickinson.
Asa Mae stood before him, clutching a heavy silver candlestick in his hand. “God Almighty,” Asa whispered. “I’ve done a lot of things in my life, but I ain’t never killed a man.”
Tyler looked at William Doyle. “He’s not dead, Asa. And Dora isn’t either. How did you know I needed help? Did you see this man arrive?”
Asa shook his head. “I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to have supper with me and Big, is all. I couldn’t find you at first, but ole Miz Crawton? Well, she come to the cottage with a pie for us, and she said she seen you goin’ inside this house. It’s a damn good thing I come up here, ain’t it?”
Tyler nodded, rose from the floor, and strode quickly toward the door, anxious to start back for London. He had to find Dane Hutchins. Had to warn Marion Tremayne that the deranged man was in the city!
Asa threw the candlestick down and grabbed Tyler’s arm. “I heard everything while I was in the hall. Do—Do y’know my Goldie Mae? She went to London to find the duke. Has the man said anything about meetin’ her? Did he tell you anything at all about a real tiny girl with blonde hair and freckles?”
Tyler looked into Asa’s worried eyes. He hated lying to the man who’d saved his life, but until Hutchins was caught, Tyler didn’t want anyone to know a thing about Marion Tremayne or Goldie. “I’m sorry, Asa, but no, he didn’t say a word to me about meeting any girl. I—”
A loud knock at the front door cut him short. “Stay here and watch Doyle.” He gave Asa Doyle’s gun, retrieved his own pistol, then rushed downstairs. Opening the door slowly, he saw the outline of a man in the shadow of one of the pillars. He raised his gun.
“Sir, it’s me,” the man said. “Jensen. I’ve just arrived from London. You left orders for us to inform you of everything—”
“Jenson! What the hell are you—God. Has something happened—Has Dane Hutchins—”
“Sir, is it all right to talk now? I’ve been hiding out here because Ingram and Dickinson said you were with that Dora—”
“Dammit, Jensen, stop your wittering and tell me why you made a three-day trip from London to find me!”
“It may be nothing, Mr. Escott, but—Sir, Lord Tremayne and Miss Mae were shot at in front of their house. Neither was hurt. His lordship described the assailant as a coster. The men and I found no leads to follow.”
“A coster?” Tyler scowled, trying to understand. “Could have been attempted robbery. Maybe...”
His voice trailed away as a glimmer of understanding came. “A coster,” he murmured uneasily. “Or perhaps an East Ender.” Slipping his hand into his pocket, he withdrew the dirty scrap of paper he’d found in Dane’s desk and read the name again.
Diggory Ferris. Tyler felt cold dread when he finally recognized the name. “The Butcher,” he whispered.
Dear God. Diggory Ferris, the most feared assassin in the city, and Dane Hutchins, a dangerous madman...
Gut instinct told Tyler that Ferris was probably in Hutchins’ employ. Together they were hunting their prey in London.
A three-day journey away.
Chapter Eighteen
Addison took a seat by the fireplace, dropping his hand over the arm of the chair to rub Margaret’s ears. “Saber, the night you asked me if you could live here I mentioned the robberies I’d heard about. If you had listened to me, that shooting incident never would have happened. “
“Addison, I have lived for thirty years without listening to you. I daresay I’ll live another thirty without doing so.” Saber sat in the settee across from Addison.
Addison gave his friend an irritated look. “What do Tyler’s men think?”
Saber dragged his fingers through his hair. “They could find no leads. One man left for Ravenhurst to notify Tyler about it, but none of them thought it logical to try and connect a mere coster to Hutchins and Doyle. They, too, believe it to have been attempted theft.”
Finally satisfied, Addison nodded and crossed his legs. “Are you aware that every member of polite society knows you are in London?”
“I thought it would happen. But no one knows where I’m living. If and when Doyle returns, he won’t be able to find me either. How did you come about the news that I’ve returned from Scotland?”
Addison smiled at the absurd question. “I was at White’s last night, and your name was on everyone’s tongue. There is also talk about the vivacious young woman you are escorting about. A writer from America who is researching the English nobility for a book she is writing. The women in question couldn’t possibly be our Goldie, could it?” he asked, chuckling.
Goldie. Saber mused. There was no need for him to bring her image to mind, for it never left.
Goldie. When was the last time he’d held her? Kissed her?
Made love to her?
He frowned. Aunt Clara and Aunt Lucy were never far from Goldie’s side. They were like two fierce, sharp-beaked hens watching over their innocent little chick. Why, he couldn’t even send Goldie a suggestive look without one of them pecking at him! Dammit, they’d gone so far as to put Margaret in her room at night, and the confounded dog barked every time someone walked past her door!
Considering all that, what was a rooster...er, man to do?
“I say, Saber,” Addison said. “The look in your eyes could crack a rock in two. Why are you pulling such a face?”
Saber brought Addison into focus. “Let us just say I was pitying a rooster’s lot in life.”
“Rooster? What—”
“As for the gossip about the vivacious girl I am escorting about, yes, it is indeed our Goldie. The entire thing happened just as she hoped it
would. Lord Chittingdon spotted me, and called me ‘Marion.’ Goldie was with me, and of course launched into one of her famous bouts of vivacious chatter. She nattered on and on until I was finally able to stop her. Anyway, the fact that Lord Chittingdon called me by my real name reinforced Goldie’s belief that we can fool everyone into thinking I’m the one and only Lord Tremayne.”
Addison laughed loudly. “Yes, well, it is also known you will be attending the Chittingdon affair tomorrow night. There’s been much speculation about that. People are quite amazed that you accepted the invitation as it’s been years since you attended a single gathering.”
“Their amazement will fade very soon. I have no intention of going. Goldie will be very disappointed, but—”
“Goldie is not the only one who will be disappointed. Jillian Somerset will be, too. She’s called on you, Saber. She went to your house, only to be told by your butler that you were not in residence. Since she’d already heard that you’d been seen in London, she knew you had to be somewhere in the city. Hence, she came to me for information. I told her I was not your keeper and had no idea where you were. She knew I was lying, and left my house in a rage.”
Saber tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m to see her shortly. I sent a message to her earlier, advising her that I’d be calling on her.”
“Why are you seeing her?” Addison asked, none too nicely.
Saber smiled at the ceiling. “I—”
“Marion,” Clara said as she entered the room. “I have been assisting Goldie with trying on a few of the gowns you gave her a few days ago. While we were doing that, she brought it to my attention that you have objections to taking her to the Chittingdon affair. I have heard the whole story from her, and I understand it from beginning to end. However, I don’t see why you cannot play along and pretend to be Lord Tremayne, who, in truth, you are.”
“Aunt Clara—”
“Moreover,” Clara continued sternly, “most people have undoubtedly heard that you are in the city, so what further need is there to continue hiding away from everyone? It would mean the entire world to that sweet child to be able to attend the assembly. And the Chittingdons are lovely people. I can assure you they will treat her as an honored guest. Lucille and I, unfortunately, will be unable to attend as we have a previously accepted engagement elsewhere. But Goldie has made wonderful progress with her etiquette. Provided you teach her how to dance and she remembers what we have taught her, she should have not a speck of trouble.”
“Aunt Clara, the fact that I am not attending the affair has nothing whatsoever to do with her manners,” Saber announced.
Addison noted the adamant expression in Saber’s eyes. “As Miss Clara said, everyone already knows you’re in the city, Saber. So I see no reason why you—”
“This was to be between Goldie and myself,” Saber growled. “But since the two of you are obviously not about to cease badgering me, I may as well tell you.”
“Yes, you may as well,” Addison agreed, leaning forward in his chair.
Saber cast him a withering look, then turned to Clara. “Auntie, you did not see a single ring in the jewelry I gave Goldie a few days past, did you?”
She took a moment to think. “No, I don’t believe I did.”
“Nor did you see a single diamond.”
Clara frowned. “No.”
“I did, however, buy her a ring. With diamonds.” He waited for his meaning to sink in.
Addison leaped from his chair. “You mean...”
“I do. I am going to ask Goldie if she will do me the honor of becoming my wife. The diamonds I bought her are very special. Rare. They are being cut to my exact specifications. When the jeweler has completed that task, they will be set in a ring of my own design. I’ve promised the man a tidy sum for his cooperation in getting the ring to me as soon as possible, but I’ve yet to hear from him.”
Clara began to cry. “You’re finally going to have a duchess!” she sniffled, digging into her reticule for a handkerchief. “And soon... Soon, you and Goldie will have children, and Lucille and I will be great-aunts! Oh, what a beautiful thought, Marion!”
Saber rolled his eyes. “Aunt Clara, get hold of yourself.”
Slowly, Addison sat back down. “You love her,” he whispered, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.
Saber felt a tender warmth filter through him. “Yes.”
Addison remained silent for a long moment. “But Saber, what does a ring have to do with your not attending the Chittingdon assembly?” he finally asked, completely unable to stop grinning. “It seems to me you would be anxious to introduce Goldie as your fiancé.”
Saber tried to control his anxiety. “I haven’t proposed yet, Addison. She might not accept.”
Clara dabbed at her eyes. “Well, of course she’ll accept, Marion. She loves you.”
“Did she tell you so?” Saber demanded. “Did she say—”
“Well, no. But why wouldn’t she? Every unmarried girl I can think of is in love with you. They have been for years. You’re the most eligible and desirable bachelor in—”
“But they all know me to be the Duke of Ravenhurst,” Saber said softly.
Clara fell silent, realizing the significance of his statement.
Addison’s heart went out to his friend. “You want her to accept Saber West’s proposal, and not Lord Tremayne’s.”
Saber stared at the rug. “I—You could never understand how important it is to me.”
Clara’s tears began again. “I think we do, my boy.”
Saber stood. “If I attend the Chittingdon affair, something may happen that will reveal my secret. Someone might say something that would make Goldie suspicious. I realize she wants desperately to go, and I cannot stand the thought of disappointing her. If she agrees to marry me, I’ll take her to court if she wishes to go. But for now... I—The ring. I want to offer her the ring first.”
And if she accepted it, he reflected anxiously, he would make Ravenhurst their home. She would be his duchess, and as such she’d belong on his ducal lands. Ever since he’d come to the realization he loved her, he’d dwelled on his possible return to Ravenhurst, soon discovering the idea wasn’t painful anymore.
After all, Goldie would be by his side, and that made all the difference.
Addison saw the faraway look in his friend’s eyes, and wondered about it. “Saber?”
Saber blinked, jolted back to reality. It took him a moment to remember what he’d been saying. He raised his chin when he recalled that Addison and Aunt Clara had been trying to talk him into taking Goldie to the Chittingdon assembly.
“Too, there is the matter of keeping Goldie safe,” he argued. “I have told the two of you and Aunt Lucy about what Tyler Escott has learned. I am becoming more and more agitated over the fact that William Doyle hasn’t turned up. I was positive he would have returned to the city by now, and I can’t fathom where the man might be. Every time I turn a corner, I half-expect him to be standing there. And Hutchins, madman that he is... Until those two are in custody, I refuse to take any more chances with Goldie’s safety. Therefore, she and I will not be joining the Chittingdons, and that is all I will hear on the subject. Now, by your leave?”
He left the drawing room before Addison or Clara could say another word. Walking into the hallway, he looked up the staircase, feeling a profound need to be with Goldie. But after a glance at his watch, he realized he had no time to see her. Aunt Lucy was more than likely on guard by Goldie’s door anyway, he thought irritably. With a great sigh, he left the house.
Jillian Somerset did not like to be kept waiting, he remembered as he stepped into his coach. Not that he cared a whit about her impatience.
But he was anxious to see her, too.
* * *
From her bedroom window, Goldie watched Saber get into the carriage, and wondered where he was going. Frustration welled when she tried to remember the last time she’d spent any time alone with him. Though she was
truly grateful to learn all Miss Lucy and Miss Clara were teaching her, she wished the many lessons did not include those that affected her intimate relationship with Saber.
“I miss you,” she whispered down to him, pondering the fact that the day of their permanent separation would arrive soon. “Maybe lettin’ you hold me is ‘highly improper,’ but Lord, how I ache for your arms. Maybe kissin’ is ‘absolutely incorrect,’ but great day Miss Agnes, all I can think about lately is the way you kiss me. That soft, let’s-not-rush-this way, and that hard, give-me-everything-you’ve-got way, too.”
And lovemaking... She didn’t even want to think about how positively forbidden that was. But even so, her body burned for his. The memory of the night they’d made love was beautiful and torturous at once, leaving her yearning for that which only Saber could give her.
“Oh, Saber,” she murmured, watching his coach disappear around the corner. “This proper-lady stuff is pure hell. And I’ve got to go soon. Our time...is comin’ to an end.” Just like good things always do, she added silently. Blowing curls off her forehead, she began to turn away from the window, but just as she did, she saw Rosie coming down the street, a bouquet of roses in her hands. She waved and left the bedroom.
Downstairs, she met Rosie at the front door and got a closer look at the roses. They were way past their prime, little more than velvety black things stuck on the top of thorny stems.
“Rosie, my dear,” Clara greeted the girl warmly. “What have you brought today?”
Rosie grinned broadly, feeling genuine affection for the kindhearted lady. “Brung ya some roses, I did, Miss Clara. They’re fer Miss Lucy, too. They ain’t real fresh, but they still smell good.”
Clara accepted the bouquet, trying not to grimace at the overly sweet odor of the dying roses. “Bennett, put these lovely roses in the finest vase you can find, then set them here in the foyer where everyone may see them.”
Bennett handled the flowers with the greatest reverence he could muster. For Rosie’s benefit, he even smelled them, closing his eyes as if their cloying perfume was the most wonderful scent he’d ever had the pleasure to enjoy.
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