"It is you who are the dead man," he sneered as Branford painfully dragged himself to his feet.
He raised the pistol and with a wicked laugh took dead aim at Branford's heart.
A shot rang out.
Alex screamed.
For an instant, no one moved. Then Hammerton lowered his eyes, an incredulous look on his face as he watched his white shirtfront slowly turn red.
"No! It can't be..." he said faintly as he crumpled to the floor.
Branford brushed some of the dregs of leaves and moss from his sleeve. "Thank you, Justin. I'm relieved to see that your aim left nothing to chance on this occasion."
Alex staggered to her feet, not quite believing that Branford was still standing. With a small cry, she rushed across the room and flung her arms around him, holding him very tightly and burying her face against the familiar warmth of his shoulder.
"I thought that monster would pull the trigger, and I'd never have a chance to tell
you..." Her voice wavered. "W . w .what happened?"
His cheek came to rest against her hair and his hand stroked the long, curling locks that had come loose in the struggle. "Fortunately, my dear, your brother has become an excellent shot."
Alex picked up her head to see Justin's figure framed in the doorway, the smoking pistol held calmly by his side. "Oh Justin, thank God, you are safe! I was so afraid that you would let Hammerton lure you into his grasp."
"Though you sometimes consider me little more than a child, I should hope you wouldn't think me addlepated enough to fall into such an obvious trap." He grinned. "Besides, I knew you'd ring such a peal over my head if I got us both sent to our Maker that I couldn't even consider the possibility. So I..." He looked rather shyly at Branford, "I went to the one person I trusted could help us."
"I am no magician," said the earl. "It was your father's letter. I finally deciphered the code and discovered it was Hammerton who was the villain behind all this. Remember those little symbols? The hatchets, you called them. Hammers, really. How blind can I have been? I might have spared you this ordeal."
Alex looked from Branford to her brother and then back to the earl. Suddenly she burst into tears.
"Oh dear, I never cry," she managed to croak between sobs.
Branford merely pressed her to his chest and waited wordlessly until her shoulders stopped heaving.
"Really," she sniffed. "I am usually never so weak as to become such a veritable watering pot.
"Alex," murmured Branford as he gently brushed away a tear from her bruised cheek. "You do not have to carry the entire weight of the world on your own, very capable shoulders any longer."
She looked up at his face. It was deathly pale beneath the dirt and sweat, and a trickle of dried blood had formed at the corner of his mouth where another of Hammerton's blows had connected. But his eyes sparkled with a warmth that sent fire throughout her entire being. She reached up and ran her hand lightly along the line of his jaw.
"Oh, Sebastian," she whispered.
His head came down towards hers.
The front door was thrown open with a bang and there was the clatter of footsteps in the hallway, followed by the sound of familiar voices.
"Damnation," muttered Branford. Then he kissed her anyway. Long, hard, possessively.
Justin, the grin still on his face, reached out and pulled the door firmly shut.
At least for a brief interlude, they had only each other.
Moments later, Lord Ashton and Sykes burst in, pistols at the ready, followed by a very determined Lady Ashton brandishing her parasol like a saber.
"Sorry, Cap'n." Sykes lowered his pistol and tried to repress a grin at the earl's current situation. "When I couldn't convince His Lordship and Her Ladyship to stop, I figured I better come along as well."
Ashton surveyed the body on the floor and Branford with Alex wrapped in an intimate embrace.
"You see, my dear," he said rather smugly. "I told you Sebastian would have things well in hand without any help from us."
"A little too well in hand," she retorted. "Sebastian!" she added sharply, turning to face the earl. "What is the meaning of this, may I ask, taking advantage of a young lady behind closed doors?"
"I think you know very well what it means, Cecelia," he answered dryly. "But you could at least allow me to pay my addresses without an audience."
"Of course you may — in due time." She smiled sweetly. "Just so we all understand each other. I have noticed that Mr. Chilton is holding a pistol and I wouldn't want there to be any more misunderstandings."
Branford chuckled. "I think Chilton knows by now that my intentions are entirely honorable."
To her dismay, Alex found herself coloring to the roots. "But Lady Ashton, it's not what you think. Sebas... Lord Branford should not be forced — I mean, he doesn't want to mar...."
"We shall discuss that in the carriage ride back to Town," interrupted Branford.
To her own surprise, Alex fell silent without an argument.
Branford turned to Ashton. "How did you manage to track us down, Henry?"
"I'm afraid half of White's could do so if they wished. Odds are fifty-fifty on whether Whitleigh will recover,"
"Yes, well, I suppose the gossips will have more than enough fodder for their hungry tongues after today." He glanced at Hammerton's lifeless form. "Would you and Chilton — or should I say, the real Lord Hammerton — be kind enough to summon the magistrates and settle matters here. There is another cur out in the stables that must be dealt with as well. I would like to attend to... other things."
Ashton regarded Justin, and then the pistol in his hand. "I take it, Chilton, we have you to thank for keeping Sebastian sticking his spoon in the wall in him today?"
A glimmer of a smile came to Justin's countenance. "I received some very wise advise about putting pistols to more honorable use, sir. And it is I who owe both you and Lady Ashton thanks. Without your counsel, I fear things would have turned out very differently."
Ashton's reserve finally melted away. "The Earl of Hammerton is it? Hmmm. I like the sound of it, young man. I think you will be a credit to the title." He grinned at Branford. "I think his lordship and I would be happy to straighten things up here. I shall send my driver for the authorities right away"
Branford nodded his thanks. "I should like Sykes to drive Alex and me back to Town as soon as possible. She has had enough excitement for the day, and I'm sure her aunt is sick with worry."
Ashton nodded. "No doubt. Pray, don't worry about a thing." He repressed a little chuckle. "Have a most pleasant — and unexciting — journey."
"Miss Chilton," called Lady Ashton. "I look forward to some very long, comfortable cozes with you. I believe we have much to discuss — I consider myself something of an expert on the matrimonial state."
Ashton rolled his eyes. "I fear, my poor friend, you have no idea what you are getting yourself into."
Branford tightened his arm around Alex. "Oh, but indeed I do, Henry. Indeed I do."
Branford settled his bruised and weary body into the carriage seat with a deep sigh. Next to him, Alex sat silently, her gaze averted out the coach window. Now, with the heat of danger subsided, he felt strangely tentative, unsure of himself. What if she truly didn't wish to.... But he remembered Cecelia's advice and knew he must take courage and plunge on, regardless of the uncertainty.
He cleared his throat. "Alex. We must clarify a few things."
She turned warily towards him.
"First of all, about that damnable bet..."
"I know. Hammerton couldn't resist telling me about it." Her eyes fell to her feet. "How..."
He held his breath, waiting for her to go on.
"How can you ever forgive me for not believing in you," she said in a wavering voice.
He dared to breathe again.
"I mean," she continued, "I thought I understood what I saw in your eyes that — that night, but afterwards you seemed so cool, so distant. It made
me think perhaps you regretted what had happened between us. And then you left without so much as a word."
"You never received my letter?"
She shook her head.
His mouth compressed in a tight line. "Hammerton again. I remember now that his carriage was outside the club." He shook his head. "No wonder you thought me the worst sort of blackguard." A deep sigh escaped his lips. "But it is I who should wonder whether you can ever forgive me. I was distant that night because, well, it frightened me that I could care so much for someone else. I had sworn to myself I would never let that happen again."
"It isn't so bad to care, is it? Would you truly have wished not to have loved your cousin? Of course the chance of pain is there. But without it there can be no happiness, or warmth or friendship."
"Just as it isn't so bad to realize you don't have to solve everyone's problems for them — it can be nice to have a shoulder to lean on." His hand stole around hers. "I think you would like Riverton very much, my love. The gardens are magnificent and you can fill the rooms with your wonderful paintings. For you know, I trust, that I would never interfere with your passions — though I should hope they would include me."
She leaned over and kissed him. "Can you doubt it? And I have the first painting ready — your hibiscus."
He returned the kiss. "I hope you shall not make me work quite as hard for all the rest."
They both laughed softly and then Branford gathered her in his arms.
"Alex, my love. My life would be colorless without you. Will you marry me?"
Her heart soared. She stroked her thumb along the line of his jaw. "Yes," she whispered.
He captured her lips before she could say anything more.
"Sebastian, you are hurt. A man in your condition should..." she managed to say a few minutes later.
"A man in my condition needs immediate attention," he murmured as his lips traced a path down the curve of her neck.
"Sebastian! In a carriage?"
"Yes, my love. In a carriage."
Table of Contents
A Passionate Wager
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
Code of Honor Page 21