Despite the moment she had been allowed to compose herself, Henrietta realised she hadn’t been expecting the sudden surge of abhorrence that had swept through her when she settled her gaze on Jeremy Lucas. She only wished Simon was here with her now, or Uncle Matthew, watching over her with his usual care. Jeremy’s clothes were ill-fitting, rumpled and travel stained—far different from what his dandified appearance had been in London. He was thinner and his face had grown leaner. At least his ordeal had proved exhausting to him, she thought with some pleasure.
With a growl Jeremy stepped from the shadows into the room, outraged at this young woman whose disappearance had left him wallowing in debt and dragged him all this way to seek her out. He raked his gaze scathingly over the object of his hatred and felt a bitter disappointment as he took note of the confident girl. His lips twisted downwards snidely as he made comment. ‘Life on the run certainly seems to agree with you.’
‘I’ve stopped running, Jeremy. How did you find me?’
‘That, my dear, Henrietta, was a relatively easy task. I knew you had an uncle in Scotland. When my enquiries in London failed to locate you, I knew this was where you would come, so I followed you.’
‘How did you get here?’
‘I left my horse by the rocks in the lane.’
‘I see. So you intended taking me by surprise. Well, welcome to Scotland. I trust it is to your liking.’
With a sneer he conveyed his distaste. ‘I’ve seen nothing so far but sheep and marauding Highlanders—nothing that would make me ever want to venture so far north again.’
Henrietta managed her most tolerant smile. ‘But Edinburgh and other Scottish cities are most impressive. As for myself, I treasure the space and freedom of Scotland. The spirit of adventure thrives in this land and appeals to my heart. I found the journey to Inverness a very enlightening experience.’
Jeremy wasn’t very appreciative of the tenets of a born Scot, especially one who was the daughter of a traitor. ‘I’m sure you must feel quite at home in this savage wilderness, but I much prefer the civilised refinement of London. Of course only an Englishman would esteem his cultural heritage.’
‘Arrogant men who think themselves knowledgeable beyond the common man. Granted some are, but many are not, and I think such views they express originate from a narrow-minded prejudice. What do you want, Jeremy? It must be important for you to follow me all this way.’
‘My uncle’s will would be a start—the one you stole—the one he had drafted on the sly behind my back.’
Henrietta shrugged. Her poise amazed her. She had never dreamt that she could remain calm in the face of so much danger. She had always been afraid that she’d panic when she finally came face to face with Jeremy and fall to pieces. Silently she thanked heaven for her aplomb.
‘I do have the copy of the will. Mr Goodwin has the original in his possession—which I am sure you will know all about otherwise you wouldn’t be here now. Before you threw me onto the street you were too busy blustering to give me a chance to explain that your uncle had acquired the services of a new solicitor while Mr Braithwaite was out of the country, having him draft a new will.’
‘Which excluded me completely.’
‘Not quite. He left you a few artefacts.’
‘Artefacts! What use are artefacts to me?’ he sneered contemptuously. ‘With creditors snapping at my heels day and night I needed that money. I held them off as long as possible, praying for my uncle’s demise so I could inherit. I grew tired of having to grovel and beg for every penny he threw me.’
‘But he didn’t die, did he, Jeremy? And you became desperate, which is why you killed him and your aunt—and their coach driver—to acquire their wealth.’
Jeremy’s face became suffused with rage. ‘I’ve never heard anything so preposterous,’ he flared indignantly. ‘I don’t understand your purpose, Henrietta, but I do know your accusation is a vicious, slanderous lie.’ His eyes flared with unsurpassed fury. ‘I’m surprised at the lengths you will go to see me shamed.’
‘You shame yourself. You abuse others out of malice and then judge them by your own despicable character. I assure you that whatever shame or slander you reap in this world, you will have brought it on yourself.’ Henrietta cast a glance at Jeremy. In all her years she had never seen anyone look so mean or turn such an ugly colour. ‘I overheard you and your wife confess to their murder, Jeremy, so please don’t take me for a fool by denying it.’
‘Aye,’ he roared crazily, uncaring what she thought, since she would soon be out of the way. ‘I admit it. Tired of waiting, I took matters into my own hands. It was easy. All I had to do was think how rich I’d be once they were out of the way. I ran their carriage off the road and finished them off, making it look like an accident. My one regret was that you weren’t in the carriage with them.’
‘I can imagine,’ Henrietta said, her mind reeling. ‘How disappointed you must have felt when Mr Goodwin presented you with the new will. Even then you didn’t give up, did you? What do you hope to achieve by coming after me?’
‘I want that copy.’
‘So you can destroy it?’ She smiled thinly. ‘It will do you no good. Mr Goodwin has the original draft. Uncle Matthew has written to him on my behalf explaining what has transpired. Unfortunately he has mysteriously disappeared. His son has taken over his father’s law practice. We will meet when my uncle and I arrive in London.’
‘Do you think I would allow such a meeting to take place?’
With a sense of premonition, Henrietta turned suddenly cold. ‘What do you mean? What have you done?’
‘Goodwin and the new draft have been removed.’
Henrietta’s brows gathered in confusion. It took a moment for her to comprehend his meaning. She had known Jeremy was evil, but she hadn’t counted on him actually admitting to another murder. ‘You—you mean you killed him?’
‘Not immediately.’
‘Do you think to frighten me with a simpering account of your murders?’
‘Frighten you?’ Jeremy snorted derisively, his pale eyes raking her boldly. ‘Why, of course not.’ He slowly paced the carpet and instructed her further in the most casual and offhanded tone, ‘I did consider coming after you and taking you back to London, ensconcing you in the house and then rendering you feeble and incapable of communication with strong medicines. Then I’d have buried you. Without a legal heir to your name, Braithwaite would have drafted your will and after forcing you to sign it before I killed you, all of the old man’s wealth would come to me. But that would take time—time which I could ill afford. When I have snapped that beautiful neck of yours and destroyed the copy of the newly drafted will, no one will be able to contest its authenticity in a court of law. It will be as though it had never existed and the earlier draft leaving everything to me will be the only one.’
Henrietta’s skin crawled as he casually talked of her death. Slowly, carefully, she backed away from him. ‘You would have had difficulty taking me to London. My uncle would not have allowed it.’
Jeremy chortled smugly. ‘He would have been taken care of. The area is swamped with dead Highlanders who did not survive Culloden. One more dead man would not be noticed. Now hurry and get the will. Do not make this any harder for me.’
Henrietta shook her head, becoming quite obstinate. ‘If you think I’m going to give it to you and then let you kill me, you’re insane.’
The speed of Jeremy’s movement took her completely by surprise.
His face twisted with hatred as he grabbed her wrist and jerked her arm behind her back. ‘Tell me where you have hidden the copy of the will, or I’ll break your arm.’
He increased the pressure, making Henrietta cry out in agony. Her shoulder felt on fire and tears stung her eyes. Too late, she realised the depth of Jeremy’s hatred of her.
‘Tell me,’ he snarled. The pressure on her shoulder brought her to her knees in agony. ‘Tell me, or I’ll have your uncle hanged from the nearest tree. Perhaps that will loosen your tongue.’
‘I—I won’t tell you while you’re hurting me,’ she uttered bravely. ‘The—the pain—my arm... Please...’ The leverage was lessened slightly, but his grip remained firm. And then he released her with such violence that she fell flat on the floor. Jeremy’s eyes blazed down at her. ‘If you don’t tell me, it will be the worse for you and your uncle.’
Henrietta struggled to her feet, still trembling with shock. Sensing a small movement behind her, she turned from the shadows of the room to find Uncle Matthew standing in the doorway.
Chapter Nine
On returning to the cottage Matthew had come across the horse that had wandered into the lane from the concealing rocks. He entered as Henrietta was getting to her feet, her distress testament to the intruder’s assault. It was the threat the stranger uttered that sent his temper soaring, but before he could cross the room and take the stranger by the throat, the man had drawn the pistol he carried in his coat, cocked it and aimed it steadily at his chest.
‘Back away,’ Jeremy hissed. ‘Stay back, or I will kill you. So help me I will.’
In the face of such a threat, Matthew could do nothing but come to a halt, but it took a fierce effort of will for him to curb the goading temptation to drive his fist into the man’s face. All the reasons for refraining from such an assault were there before him in the shape of a gun levelled at himself and Henrietta.
Quite suddenly, the door was swung wide and Simon appeared. Emerging from the cave and also seeing the horse, wary of the nature of the visitor within the house, he’d glanced in at the window. On seeing Matthew and Henrietta being held at gun point, alarmed for their safety and with little time to form any kind of plan, he’d cocked one of the two pistols he carried for such an occasion as this and for the sake of safety before entering the house.
Jeremy glanced around in sharp surprise and immediately swept his own weapon around and centred its bore on Simon’s chest, not having expected the old man and Henrietta to have company.
Henrietta could see that every muscle of Simon’s body was tensed, hard and motionless as stone, but pulsing with furious energy, ready to explode into action. She glanced at him with alarm. ‘Have a care, Simon. This is Jeremy Lucas—the man I told you about. He does not make idle threats.’
Comprehending, Simon narrowed his eyes dangerously. ‘So, the wretch has managed to track you down.’
‘As you see,’ Jeremy ground out. ‘Put down your weapon—on the floor—or I will shoot the old man.’
‘He will, Simon,’ Henrietta gasped, moving closer to her uncle as if to protect him. ‘Do as he says.’
After a moment of indecision, reluctantly Simon placed his pistol on the floor. Without lowering his aim, Lucas kicked it out of reach. Simon studied the man who had made such a misery of Henrietta’s life from his superior height with a cold and barely controlled anger. He realised he was not entirely defenceless, but the time it would take to draw the pistol from his belt would take longer than for Lucas to carry out his threat and shoot Matthew. The air crackled with tension as the two men glowered at each other. Simon wanted to launch an assault right then, but he just couldn’t dismiss the dreadful prospect that Matthew or Henrietta might come to harm. For once, better judgement took precedence. All he could hope to do was to gain time until circumstances could be turned in his favour.
‘Stay back,’ Jeremy barked, reading what was going through his mind and tightening his grip on the butt of the gun. ‘I know how to use this thing, so don’t think I won’t.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that you’re able to, Lucas,’ Simon replied, slowly straightening to his full height. ‘You seem very cold-blooded about getting what you want out of life.’
‘He is, Simon,’ Henrietta remarked angrily. ‘More than you realise. Not content with killing his aunt and uncle, he has just confessed to killing Mr Goodwin. You planned it all, didn’t you, Jeremy, yet except for your aunt and uncle’s death, none of it will ever come to pass now. Did Mr Braithwaite help you in your murderous deeds?’
‘He knew nothing about that. He only became an accessory when I offered him part of the inheritance if we could prove the validity of the original will.’ He laughed sneeringly. ‘Braithwaite is partial to the little luxuries in life.’
‘Little wonder your uncle never liked the man.’
‘Like I said, two options were open to me. I could either find you and destroy the copy of the will—you along with it—or take you back to London and force you to sign a new will leaving everything to me before I got rid of you. The latter seemed a little far-fetched and long winded. Better to kill you here and be done with it. So you see, Henrietta, either way, you’ll be dead.’
‘You have to get hold of the copy before you can do that,’ Henrietta retorted.
‘If you mean to shoot any one of us,’ Simon said, ‘be assured that I won’t stand here and take it meekly. I’ll finish anything you start, believe me.’
The cold gaze piercing the dimly lit cottage cooled Jeremy’s temper effectively. The memory of the pain he had suffered when he’d been set upon by two ruffians intent on stealing his horse on the road from Inverness was too fresh in his mind for him to willingly invite further injury. But he held the gun and could shoot both these men whenever he liked.
‘You’re proud of what you’ve done, aren’t you?’ Henrietta said. ‘You actually boast when you talk of your aunt and uncle being killed and how you planned it all. But you’re not as clever as you think. Truth has a way of coming out eventually. The three of us know what you are guilty of.’
Jeremy waved the pistol threateningly, beginning to run out of his short supply of patience. ‘Then I’ll have to kill you all.’ He looked at Henrietta. ‘Now get me that will, or your life will end right this very moment.’
‘You’re going to have to shoot me. And if you kill me like that,’ Henrietta gritted out, ‘it will be difficult for you to get your hands on it, because I am the only one who knows where it is.’
‘Then maybe I should shoot your lover—because that’s what he is, is he not, Henrietta? In fact I’m beginning to wonder what he’s doing here at this time. Is he one of those damned Jacobites who escaped Culloden?’ Henrietta’s sudden pallor gave him his answer. He laughed low in his throat. ‘Good God! What a turn-up.’ His eyes held Simon’s in a cold, level stare. ‘I don’t have to shoot you after all. A far worthier death awaits you. After I have spoken with the captain of the Dragoons and they hang you for being the traitor that you are, I shall make my way back to London. They might even hang the two of you side by side. That would even be worth hanging about in Inverness a while longer—if you’ll pardon the pun.’ He laughed.
Simon made a sudden move, his expression one of aggression, but he halted when Henrietta put her hand on his arm in alarm, fearful he was about to get himself killed.
Though they never wavered from Simon, Jeremy’s eyes gleamed in eager invitation, as if he anticipated such a move. ‘Try it and I will blow your head off.’
‘Stop it,’ Henrietta cried. She knew only too well that Jeremy was accomplished with sword and pistol. In fact, there were many things Jeremy was adept at, not the least of which was the skill of verbally baiting men who antagonised him.
‘And you would like that, wouldn’t you, Lucas?’ Simon uttered coldly. ‘But I don’t intend letting you kill me or her uncle so you can drag Miss Brody back to London.’
‘I have told you that I have no intention of taking her back. Although,’ he said, a plan of how he could get his own back on this upstart beginning to form in his mind, ‘I think the Redcoats might be interested in knowing who she really is. That her father was hanged for treasonable and seditious acts ag
ainst the king. It should be interesting hearing her defend herself, and with tempers running high in the Highlands as the English search out escaping rebels, I doubt they will be convinced of her innocence.’
Jeremy noticed a slight movement. Having allowed his attention to become firmly fixed on Simon, he suddenly became aware that the old man had moved stealthily to one side, his eye firmly fixed on the weapon Simon had thrown down. Jeremy swung his pistol aside to aim at Uncle Matthew. In swift reaction Simon withdrew his pistol from his belt. It took only a split second to pull back the firing mechanism and fire.
Blood flew outward from Jeremy’s chest as the lead shot burrowed deep. He convulsed forward, and a wry smile twisted his lips as he peered at Henrietta, who, surprised by what had happened and the speed of it, could only look death in the face as Jeremy centred the weapon on her.
‘Nooo...’ she cried out, her heart all but stopping. It was a fleeting moment of terrifying, wrenching suspense as she waited for the hammer to fall. But as quick as a flash, Simon launched himself forward, sending Henrietta sprawling on to the floor and at the same time knocking the gun out of Jeremy’s hand. The gun barked in an ear-numbing explosion, projecting the small leaden ball through the air and becoming embedded in the roof.
Jeremy swayed and stared down at his rapidly reddening chest before slumping to his knees. Then he turned his head up and looked at Henrietta, who was scrambling to her knees. His thin lips stretched awkwardly.
‘I should have killed you before you left London—you...you...’
He collapsed forward to the floor and breathed his last.
Unable to believe what had just happened, Henrietta froze while her uncle bent over the dead man. Quickly Simon went to her and, taking her hand, raised her to her feet and held her trembling body close.
‘It’s over,’ he murmured, his mouth close to her ear. ‘He can’t hurt you any more.’
Harlequin Historical May 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Unwed and UnrepentantReturn of the Prodigal GilvryA Traitor's Touch Page 64