Code of Honor

by Andrea Pickens

  Suddenly Justin's mouth went dry. He felt all too keenly the awkwardness of his situation. It was one thing to have made a spur of the moment decision on the street, quite another to now be faced with seeing it through.

  What would he say?

  By all rights, he should expect to be thrown out on his ear. But he bucked up his courage by reminding himself that was the worst that could happen to him — then he thought about Alex and what could happen to her.

  Swallowing the lump in his throat, he opened the door and crossed the threshold.

  Branford looked up from his papers.

  "Chilton." He appeared surprised, but not unpleasantly so. "Pray, come in."

  "Excuse my intrusion, sir, especially since — that is, I... " He gave up searching for polite words. "Alex has been kidnapped," he blurted out. "I don't know what to do. I... I thought perhaps you might help me."

  Branford shot to his feet, ignoring the pain in his side. "Bloody hell!" he said through gritted teeth. "When?"

  "It must have been sometime this morning." He took the folded note out of his pocket and thrust it at the earl. "I received this at Jackson's as I was leaving not half an hour ago."

  Branford read it, then crumpled it in his fist.

  "I've checked at home, to be sure," added Justin. "She left the house alone and has not returned."

  "Marlowe," he roared. "Bring me my jacket and greatcoat — and my pistols. Have Sykes harness the greys and bring the carriage around immediately!"

  Justin hung his head. "I'm afraid, sir, that I have no idea where to begin looking for her, or who is behind all of this..."

  "Oh, but I bloody do," growled the earl as he took the young man by the shoulder and propelled him towards the door.

  Once in the carriage, Branford immediately set to checking the priming of his weapons. The grim set of his jaw discouraged Justin from saying a word until the earl rapped on the trap and called out a destination.

  "White's?" repeated Justin faintly.

  Branford appeared not to hear him but kept his attention focused on ensuring the pistols were in perfect working order. Only when the horses came to a halt in the middle of St. James's Street did he look up.

  "Wait for me here," he ordered curtly as he made to get out.

  "But my lord," cried Justin involuntarily. "Surely you can't mean to enter White's at this hour with a brace of pistols.... "

  The earl's expression caused him to swallow the rest of his words.

  It was no longer than ten minutes before Branford returned, a look of grim satisfaction on his pale face. He spoke briefly with Sykes before climbing back into the carriage. A spasm of pain crossed his features as he eased himself in against the squabs. It didn't escape Justin's notice. Their eyes met and remained locked for a moment. Strangely, it was Branford who turned away to stare out the window.

  The janglings of the harness mixed with the cries of the costermongers and bustle of the streets as Sykes set the horses to as fast a pace as could be managed. Even with one hand missing, he handled the ribbons with skill. Soon the team was racing towards the outskirts of the city.

  Justin finally summoned the nerve to break the silence. "Sir, I wish to speak to you regarding our... last meeting."

  Branford turned to look at him, an inscrutable expression on his drawn face.

  "I truly regret having caused you injury, my lord. I meant to..."

  "Don't be sorry," said Branford, his tone deliberately rough. "There is a cardinal rule in affairs of honor — never engage in one unless you are quite ready to send the other man to his Maker. Never forget it, if you wish to survive."

  Justin regarded him unwaveringly. "I see. And naturally, you always adhere to your own rules."

  "I missed."

  The corners of Justin's mouth turned up slightly. "No doubt you think me a good many things, my lord, but I would have hoped that one of them would not be a bloody idiot."

  Branford couldn't repress the twitch of his own lips. "No," he admitted. "I do not consider you a fool, Chilton."

  "Then please do not try to fob me off with such a Banbury tale." His eyes shifted down to his boots and his voice became more tentative. "I don't really understand, sir. Why did you miss? We both know you could easily have put a period to my existence if you so choose — and have been well rid of a nuisance to yourself. I cannot but help wonder why you didn't." He hesitated. "I mean, it does not seem as if you should have any reason to care."

  Branford looked uncomfortable. He shifted his position against the squabs and went back to staring out the window at the countryside rolling by. Justin had all but given up on getting an answer when the earl finally spoke.

  "You have not asked me where we are going," he said abruptly.

  "I imagine you will tell me when you see fit to do so, my lord," replied Justin. However he was determined not to let the other matter drop without a last attempt at getting an answer to his question — the fact was, as well as being deucedly curious, he was amazed that someone as cool and self-assured as the earl seemed to have conflicting emotions too. "But you are changing the subject."

  Another slight smile pulled at Branford's lips, followed by a sigh.

  "You may ask me that question after we have found Alex and I have had a chance to speak with her."

  Justin nodded slowly. There was a hint of understanding in his eyes — he had noted the use of his sister's given name, and the nuance of emotion in the earl's tone. "Very well, sir." He considered that the subject had been dropped but after a short time Branford spoke again, almost as if to himself.

  "Lord knows, I've acted in a remarkably stupid manner." His hand came up to rub at his temple. "A complete muttonhead in regard to...."

  He trailed off, shaking his head.

  Justin regarded him thoughtfully. "That is hard to believe, sir. You — well, you always seem in such command."

  "Any man can be a bloody fool at times. Remember that advice, too." He cleared his throat. "But I hope you will soon accept that my faults concerning your sister have been no more grievous than that."

  Justin took his time in answering. "I think that deep inside I've known that all along, my lord. Somehow, I... I believe I can trust you."

  "I thank you for that, Chilton," he said softly.

  Both of them seemed satisfied to dwell on their own thoughts for a time. The silence had lost its edge of tension. The clatter of the wheels and the sounds of the horses pounding over the country roads were the only reminders that trouble still lay ahead of them.

  Justin's expression became serious, his shoulders growing rigid against the soft leather. "Do you really think we can find her? I mean, how do you possibly know where to begin looking?"

  "Your father's letter."

  "What!"

  "I should have given it the attention that Alex wished, then perhaps all of this might have been avoided."

  Justin's eyes grew wide.

  "Your sister was right," continued Branford. "The letter held the answer to everything. I had just figured it out this morning when you arrived." His fist drove into the palm of his other hand. "I was about to send a warning to Alex. It is Hammerton who is behind all this."

  "Hammerton!" exclaimed Justin. "Why ever would he wish to harm either of us? What possible threat are we to a man in his position?"

  Branford gave a curt laugh. "That is exactly the crux of it, Chilton. You see, your father, and not John Plainfield, was the rightful Earl of Hammerton. As you are now."

  Justin's expression changed from puzzlement to sheer astonishment.

  "Alex, with her suspicions aroused by the accidents, was probing a little too close for comfort. It's evident that Hammerton must have had his eye on you for quite awhile. Once it became clear you would be spending time in Town, in contact with the Ton, he no doubt decided he couldn't afford to take a chance that you would stumble onto his secret. If Alex had been a normal female, he would have left her alone. " His mouth tightened. "I should have had you ti
e her to her easel after she went off in the dead of night to a rendezvous arranged by that other note."

  "She did what?"

  Branford colored slightly. "Er, we shall discuss that at a later time as well. Suffice it to say, I was able to extricate her with a minimum amount of damage — the shot merely grazed her shoulder. But you would think it would have knocked enough sense in her not to go haring off a second time."

  Justin bit his lip. "I imagine she felt she had no one to turn to. I didn't take her seriously. And as you may well guess, Alex does not back down in the face of trouble, especially when she thinks those she cares about are threatened."

  They both exchanged rather guilty looks.

  "Even though you know it is Hammerton," continued Justin after a moment's thought. "How are we ever going to find where he is holding her before this evening?" He gestured towards the rolling fields and stands of oak outside the window. "Why, he could be anywhere!"

  Branford steepled his fingers. "Possibly. But I have heard rumors of certain... activities that Hammerton and his dissolute cronies like to indulge in occasionally. One of those men is Baron Whitleigh, who is wont to pass his afternoons in Whites with a bottle of brandy. With a little encouragement, he found he was able to recall that Hammerton has a hunting box in Burnham Beeches. So we are going to pay him a little visit — I believe vermin are in season."

  He made himself a little more comfortable on the seat. "And another thing, Chilton. As we are going to be in each other's pocket for the next while, Branford will do, rather than those incessant ‘sirs' and ‘my lords' — I am not yet in my dotage."

  Justin gave a shy grin. "Yes, sir!"

  "Henry?"

  Lord Ashton handed his hat and cane to his butler and entered the drawing room.

  "My dear, I am so glad you have returned." Lady Ashton's face was clouded with worry. "I have just come from second visit to Miss Chilton's aunt and have received some very disturbing news. The girl is missing. Lady Beckworth is beside herself, as you can well imagine. From what I gather, a note was delivered to Alex early this morning. She left the house shortly afterwards unaccompanied and hasn't been seen since." Unable to contain her agitation, she rose from her seat and began to pace the room. "I was just about to visit Sebastian to inform him of what has occurred — though I fear he is in no condition to do anything about it."

  Ashton's face was grim. "You needn't bother. I've just come from White's, where young Whitleigh is in a near state of apoplexy from having Sebastian wave a brace of pistols under his nose earlier this afternoon. Babbled something about a hunting box Hammerton has in — — shire and why the devil Sebastian was so interested in it."

  "Hammerton? I must say I've never cared for the man — too oily by half." She pursed her lips in thought. "Sebastian must think he has something to do with Alex's disappearance."

  A glimmer came to her eyes. She paused, then went back to the sofa and grabbed up her reticule. "The carriage is still outside, I take it?"

  "Where are you going?" demanded her husband.

  "Not I. We. We are going after them as soon as you fetch your pistols. Sebastian may need our help."

  "Now listen here, Cecelia. You are not coming along. It may be dangerous..."

  The door slammed shut.

  "Bloody hell," muttered Ashton as he hurried after his wife.

  The carriage lurched to a stop. Hammerton grabbed Alex by the arm and shoved her roughly towards the door he had flung open. Her foot caught on one of the steps and she fell to the ground. A flash of anger roared through her, as raw as the scrapes on her palms. Rising slowly, she scooped up a handful of dirt and flung it in Hammerton's face as he was dismounting.

  "Ahhhggg," he cried, his hands clawing at his eyes which were momentarily blinded by the grit.

  Alex turned to run towards a copse of trees she had spotted from the carriage window — and collided smack into a male chest.

  "Hold her, you bloody idiot!" roared Hammerton

  Standish's arm came round her. Scratching and kicking proved ineffective, but a well-placed knee to the groin had the desired effect. Free once more, she bolted towards the shelter of the woods. Though she hadn't seen any signs of habitation for miles, perhaps she could lose her captors and find some way of calling off her brother. However her skirted legs proved no match for Hammerton's booted ones.

  Shaking her hard enough to rattle her teeth, he bent one of her arms behind her back and marched her back towards where his cousin lay writhing in pain.

  "The bitch," moaned Standish, still curled in a fetal position. "I'll make her pay for this. I'll... "

  "Later," snarled Hammerton. "We need her untouched until we have her cursed brother in hand." He gave Alex a nasty leer. "It won't be long. Then you may do whatever you like with her."

  Leaving Arthur to recover on his own, he propelled Alex towards a small, rustic lodge made of thick timber and masonry. It was surrounded on three sides by a tall, crumbling stone wall. To the left sat a neglected orchard whose unpruned branches dangled over its mossy top. The rutted drive snaked to the right, past the wall, down to a small outbuilding that served as the stable. Hammerton lit a taper as he entered the dank center hall, then pushed her through an open door on one side of a narrow hall. The meager rays of sunlight that managed to penetrate into the room did little to relieve the oppressive feeling of the place. Hammerton paused to light the fire, but even its flames seemed unable to ward off the chill.

  "Sit down," ordered Hammerton as he pushed her towards a simple wooden chair. "If you try to escape again, I promise you I will make it very unpleasant for that brother of yours."

  Alex's chin went up. "Do with me what you wish. Justin will not be fool enough to fall into your trap, I assure you."

  Hammerton gave a nasty laugh. "Of course he will, my dear. Family loyalty runs deep in the greener branches of this family, doesn't it." The laugh trailed off into a nasty sneer. "And you cannot expect your erstwhile friend Branford to rush to your rescue this time, can you?"

  Alex's face must have betrayed some emotion for he laughed again. "Oh yes, that was rather clever of me too, wasn't it? The whole thing, I mean." He lifted a booted leg up on the rough oak table and regarded his well-manicured nails.

  "What do you mean?" said Alex in a hoarse whisper.

  His look of satisfaction clearly showed how disappointed he would have been had she not asked.

  "First of all, I conceived of an ingenious plan to force the three of you back to the country — accidents are so much easier to contrive in such a setting. Knowing the earl's reputation with the ladies, I took advantage of finding him foxed one night at our club and bet him he couldn't mount you. That would have been one bet I wouldn't have minded losing to that arrogant son of a bitch." He shook his head slightly. "It would have worked perfectly. Once he had succeeded, I would have oh so carefully seen to it that word spread throughout the Ton. You would have been ruined, and the rest of your family with you. Your aunt would have had no choice but to take the two of you back to the country, that is, if she didn't turn you out onto the street."

  He looked down at his nails once again. "I cannot fathom why he called the bet off. Apparently it was quite a scene when he stormed in and scratched the wager out of the betting book, announcing that he didn't toy with innocents."

  Alex closed her eyes for a moment, feeling slightly sick."

  "Hah!" Hammerton went on, his voice becoming more agitated. "Who is he to flaunt a code of honor? Everyone knows he murdered his cousin for the title and got away with it.

  Why should he be treated as such respect and awe? He isn't nearly as clever as I am!"

  "You are quite mad," remarked Alex calmly.

  Hammerton pounded his fist into the table. "Am I? The mark of a superior mind is flexibility. When that approach didn't work, I bided my time, waiting for another opportunity. You, with your meddlesome ways, provided another way to get at your brother — and deal with Branford as well.. Have you any
idea what I planned for the night you came running in response to my note? Even you would have been hard pressed to denounce as a forgery the letter I had written." He chuckled gleefully in recalling the plan. "You would have ended up in the river and all of Society would have heard the sad tale of how Branford seduced and deserted you. Your aunt and brother would have retreated to the country and Branford would be lucky indeed if he were ever received again in polite company. Of course, after a short time, your brother would also have met with an unfortunate accident"