by Lauren Smith
“People have told me when my grandfather was the Earl, before my parents married, Clereston Castle was a wonderful place. The tenants were happy, well-fed and well-housed. The land was in good heart. Rents were good. The castle itself had thirty-five servants. Do you know how many we have now? Three. Martha, Bentick, and Cook, all of whom should have been pensioned off years ago. We did not have the money. When my father took over the title, things were fine for a few years. He always liked to gamble, but it was under control until my mother died – ” she broke off with a gasp of pain.
Adam raised her fingers to his lips. “Hush, my darling. Hush. There’s no need…”
“You have to know. Pappa seemed to go mad. He gambled everything away. Half our farmers left, left the land their families had farmed for hundreds of years because they could not feed their children. There are abandoned, half-ruint farmhouses everywhere. Most of the land lies fallow, because there is no one to work it. It came to the point that Pappa had either sold or wagered everything that wasn’t entailed – land, furniture, even the family jewelry and portraits – everything! And Pappa honestly believes that he’ll have a winning streak soon that will set everything aright. I had to do something… We had to eat…” Her voice trailed away as fear entered her eyes. “You do understand? I had no choice.”
“Yes, my dearest one,” Adam said through emotion-tightened lips. “You are so incredibly brave. There’s not a woman alive who could do what you have done. And you do not have to worry any more. I will take care of you. And your father. And this place.”
She smiled weakly, her eyes glazing with pain.
Martha bustled in, her arms full. “Now let’s get you bandaged, my lady.”
It was softer and more muffled on this floor, but there was no mistaking the funereal tolling of the great door bell.
“In the name of all that’s holy, who can that be?”
Lady Amelia groaned. “Doubtless Lord Waite, come to crow about how his men shot the highwayman…”
“You have nothing to worry about,” Adam said. “I will talk to him. Your horse! What about your horse? If he sees it… I will go see to it myself. Martha, you will take care of her?”
“I have since the day she was born, Mr. Ferrour.”
“Adam… Stovall has Thunderer. Waite will never find him.”
“Then I shall go downstairs and come back as soon as his lordship has been routed.” Adam bent to drop a gentle kiss on his beloved’s sweat-glazed face.
“Be careful,” she whispered. “Waite is clever and unscrupulous…”
“I’m not afraid of him,” Adam said in perfect truth.
“Perhaps you should be. The man is evil,” Martha muttered. “Hanging around all the time, trying to force my lady to marry him, pushing his lordship further and further into his card-sickness… Do not trust a word he says, Mr. Ferrour. Not a word.”
Chapter 12
“He wanted to marry Lady Amelia?” The idea of his beautiful, brave, blonde hellion shackled to that common, swaggering poseur bid fair to making Adam ill as well as angry.
Martha nodded. “Badly. That way he could control both the Earl and the Radston lands. And Lady Amelia. I’ve seen the way he looks at her, sir, and a sorry thing it is.”
Adam kissed Leah’s hand again and stood. “You will never have to fear him again,” he promised.
“If you are going down,” Martha said, pointing with her blood-smeared hand, “you had best take off that waistcoat. It’s ruined.”
For the first time Adam realized his striped satin waistcoat was soaked with blood. His beloved’s blood, which made him even more furious. Stripping it off, he threw it to the floor. “Thank you. Are there any more stains or do I need to change clothes?”
Martha gave him a sharp look-down even as the sound of angry voices floated up to them. “Don’t see anything, thanks be to God, because you have not time to change. Best go quickly. I’ll take care of my lady.”
The old stone staircase acted as a funnel, carrying the voices up but oddly distorting them into voices that did not sound quite human. It did not surprise him that the Earl was trying to inveigle Waite into a card game, but what did surprise him was Lord Waite demanding his men be allowed to search the castle.
Demanding as if Clereston Castle and the Earl should be subservient to him, Adam noted with distaste.
Soft-footed in his slippers, Adam descended the grand stair without the notice of the two men, pausing three or four steps up to give himself the advantage of height.
“Search the castle? You have gone mad, certainly.” Once again the Earl sounded like the nobleman he was supposed to be instead of a card-addled gambler.
A cool breeze whispered through the hall, gently ruffling the sole, more than slightly moth-eaten tapestry that remained. Through the open door Adam could see a small group of men standing just outside, almost as if they were hesitant to enter.
“Hardly mad, Radston. I am tired of your constant harboring of this criminal – ”
“I resent that!” the Earl snapped. “You will regret such calumny!”
“Gawd’s Teeth, Radson!” Lord Waite’s voice dripped with fury. “More to the point, I have merely come to claim what is mine.”
“Yours? There is nothing of yours here. Come – sit with me in the library. We’ll have a brandy. You know nothing can soothe a man’s mind like brandy and a nice game of cards.”
Lord Waite snarled in frustration and looked as if he would enjoy nothing so much as striking the Earl. He restrained himself, though, and gave a display of teeth masquerading as a smile that would have done justice to a stalking wolf.
“My mind does not need soothing. I have come here to claim Lady Amelia as my bride.”
Adam’s blood boiled at the thought of his Leah, his delicate, strong, beautiful Leah in the arms of this vulgarian, but he kept his voice calm and as aristocratic as he could make it. For all his title and land, Waite was nothing but a low-bred bully.
“Aren’t you a little behind the times, your lordship? I believe the Earl told you that Lady Amelia is betrothed to me.”
“It makes no difference if she is or not. I have the superior claim.”
“See here, Waite,” Adam began, but the older man interrupted him.
“No, young Ferrour, you see here. I have asked Lady Amelia to marry me several times.”
“I didn’t know that!” the Earl said, indignant to the core. “It’s not proper. You should have spoken to me first.”
“You were too intent on your damned card games,” his lordship said without heat. “Not that your permission has anything to do with me getting what I want.”
“And she refused.” Adam came down a single step. His hand was clenched tightly around the balustrade, mainly to keep him from planting the repulsive creature a facer. “Every time.”
“Yes,” his lordship said, his face a mask of anger, “she did. My lineage is just as old as hers, but she made it very clear I’m only a lowly baron – not good enough for the daughter of an Earl!”
“I say now…” Radston began, but Lord Waite ignored him.
“Then suddenly she decides that a title and a lineage can be sold to a horse coper’s son if he has enough money.”
“That is enough!” Adam said in a voice of flint.
Lord Waite chuckled darkly. “How soon you have learned to mimic the ways of your betters, but you are still and never will be any better than a stable boy. Now both of you listen to me, and listen well. I know what has been going on. Small wonder you held out for a richer prize, Radston, but it will not do you any good. Lady Amelia is going to marry me, or I will contact the Chief Constable about your foray into highwaymanry. Attaint and prison will be the most pleasant things that happen to you.”
Adam’s stomach tightened into a knot, sending a rush of bitter fear into his mouth.
The Earl of Radston looked at him with blank astonishment. “Have you run totally mad? Are you actually suggesting that I…?�
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Waite’s face twisted even more, becoming a mask of scorn. “No. You aren’t daring enough to do what this miscreant has; besides, you couldn’t play your damned games of cards from a horse’s back. What I am saying is that you give aid and succor and a hiding place to this scofflaw, which makes you as guilty as he. Even if he is a wastrel and a womanizer, our Regent takes a very dim view of thieves along our roads.”
“That is enough, sir!” snapped the Earl, drawing himself so high he resembled a pouter pigeon in high dudgeon. “I will not have anyone insult our sovereign in my house. You will leave my land at once.”
“Be quiet, Radston. I have been watching you. It has been obvious for a while that you have been behind this thief. How else could you have kept this place going for so long? Certainly not on your gambling winnings and I know you have nothing left to sell.”
“I have had a streak of bad luck…”
“I told you to be quiet!”
“Do not speak to his lordship like that!” Adam snapped, coming down the final step and stepping between the two men. It was an empty gesture; Waite might be comparable to his father in age, but there was a hardness, a roughness in him that made Adam leery of any sort of physical confrontation. He did not look like the sort of man who would follow the rules of fisticuffs as laid out by Gentleman Jackson. “He is an Earl, and you should respect that.”
Waite’s eyes glittered. “So, stable boy, let me assure you that you have finally found something that your papa’s money cannot buy you. Pack and leave, and now; there is a tavern down the way that opens its doors to servants.”
“You have indeed lost your mind,” said the Earl, his fingers for once still around his ever-present pack of cards. “There is no highwayman at Clereston.”
“He has been seen more than once coming in this direction, tonight especially, since I hit him.” Lord Waite smiled with ghoulish satisfaction.
“There are any number of places beyond here,” Adam said even as he grieved for his Leah’s unfortunate belief in her invincibility and what it had cost her – what it could cost her. He should have figured it out earlier, been able to protect her more. “What makes you think this highwayman – if he is not indeed a figment of your fervered imagination – was coming to Clereston?”
“I told you to leave, stable boy, or I will have you thrown out. There is nothing for you here.” As if he had dismissed a lower servant Waite turned to the Earl. “We will search this place, Radston, with or without your permission, and we will find this rapscallion boy you have been helping. Then Lady Amelia will have the choice of seeing her father hanged or marrying me.”
“And what makes you believe that I would accept such a devil’s bargain under any circumstances?” asked Lady Amelia at her haughtiest. Wearing a voluminous and very much out of fashion robe, she stood halfway up the stairs, gripping the bannister with white fingers. Her face was pale, and her blonde hair floated loose around her like a nimbus that might surround an angel, but the glowing look of distaste in her blue eyes gave her the look of a particularly warlike avenging angel.
“My dear,” said Lord Waite, making a very credible bow. “Surely you should be abed, as your father told me you had a headache. When you are my wife I shall look after you better.”
“An eventuality that will never happen, sir. And why should I stay abed when my home is being invaded by barbarians?”
“As the daughter of an Earl you should have better manners,” his lordship returned, his face hardening with an expression that made Adam fear for her ladyship should she ever have the misfortune to fall under his power. “Surely you cannot wish that a highwayman, a criminal of the lowest order, go unapprehended.”
“I would rather see a highwayman in my home than you, sir. Now leave.”
“No. The miscreant came here, and I intend to see that he is caught and summarily punished. Either that, or see that your father suffers the rightful consequence of having harbored a criminal.”
“It seems that you are determined to arrange it so you win either way,” Lady Amelia said with a blighting hauteur. “The unmistakable mark of a scoundrel. I give you my word that there is no highwayman hidden in Clereston.”
Waite smiled tightly. “You must pardon me, Amelia – ”
“Lady Amelia,” Adam snapped, the effort of planting this rogue a facer almost too much to be restrained. Behind him he could hear small cries of distress from the Earl and the nervous whirring of cards.
“I told you to leave, stable boy,” his lordship snarled but without taking his hungry eyes off Lady Amelia. “Now, my future wife, you must forgive me if I cannot help but doubt your word?”
“Doubt what you will, Lord Waite, but do not doubt that I will never be your wife under any circumstances. However, if you insist on searching the castle, feel free. However – be very certain you look everywhere you wish, as I can assure you that you will never set foot within these walls again.”
A flush of rage covered what little of his lordship’s face that was not obscured by the untamed tangle of his beard. “You are not master here, my high and mighty lady. Your father is the Earl, and I will listen only to him.” He whirled to face the Earl, his visage as frightening as any antique gargoyle’s.
With an effort the old man pulled himself straight and with the dignity due his title faced the interloper squarely. “In this matter, Waite, my daughter and I speak as one.”
“Oh, my lady, what are you doing down here? It will not do your poor head any good.” Martha clumped ungracefully down the stairs and took Lady Amelia’s arm. “Let me take you upstairs and bathe your forehead with cologne…”
To Adam it appeared not a moment too soon, as her ladyship was now so pale she looked almost transparent. He bounded up the stairs and took her other arm, more than alarmed at how much she needed the support.
“Let me help you, beloved. You really should not be so unmindful of your health.”
“You come back here, stable boy! I am not finished.”
Adam barely spared him a quick glance over his shoulder. “Yes, you are. I must look after my betrothed. I strongly suggest that you leave. Now.”
Chapter 13
Lady Amelia was silent until the door of her room was closed behind them; only then did she allow a slight groan to escape her lips. Carefully Adam swept her up into his arms and carried her to her bed, waiting only for Martha to hold up the covers.
“Her robe?”
“Leave it on,” she replied, tenderly tucking the coverlet over her charge. “It will help keep her warm.”
Adam knelt by the bed, placing his hand over hers. He wanted to hold it, to hold her, to kiss her, to celebrate the wonder of her, but he was afraid that anything more than the touch of their fingers might cause her pain.
“You were magnificent, my darling. I am so very proud of you…”
Lady Amelia twitched on the bed, but lay still when Martha put a gentle hand to her forehead. With her eyes fast shut, her pale face and the spill of her blonde hair flowing like frozen water over the pillow she resembled nothing so much as the carvings Adam had seen on ancient tombs.
“Is she in that much pain?”
“No, sir. I rubbed a salve of my own on her wound to cut the pain. Sometimes when people have it, they talk or move, but it is nothing. Her dear mother…” The old woman’s voice broke.
“You have been with the family that long?”
“I was maid to her mother, Mr. Ferrour, and a nurse to her ladyship since she was born. When her mother was dying I looked after her, and I made her the promise I’d always look after Lady Amelia. I have tried my best to, but she is a headstrong girl with a strong sense of duty.”
“I will see that she never has to put herself in danger again, that I promise you. And I also promise that you will have a comfortable home, either with us or in a cottage of your own as you choose, for the rest of your life,” Adam said sincerely. “You are as family.”
“Thank you, sir. I do
love Lady Amelia, whatever scrapes she gets in to. I honestly do not know what we would have done had she not... done what she did. She knew it was wrong, but there was no other thing save to accept Lord Waite’s suit. He has always coveted her beauty as much as he wants to control the Radston lands. She would never surrender to him, no matter the cost. She loathes him.”
“I must admit I am fair to feeling the same emotion. You treated Lady Amelia’s wound; will she stay well until I can ride for a surgeon?”
“Lord love you, sir, there is no need for a surgeon. The ball passed straight through along her side and went right out without touching anything vital. I just cleaned the wound and bandaged her tightly. It is painful and bloody, but nothing that could threaten her life, please God.”
“Yes. Please God.”
They had been whispering, which made the clatter of heavily booted feet on the stone floor outside that much more startling.
Adam swore softly. “That unspeakable vermin! He really thinks he can find… The bloodied stuff! If he finds – ”
“Do not worry, Mr. Ferrour. I took care of it. They won’t find anything.”
“You are indeed a treasure, Martha.”
Adam could have sworn that the old woman was blushing, for she murmured something and looked away. Lady Amelia had certainly been blessed to have this woman love her. Even then Martha picked up a handkerchief and a plain bottle full of clear liquid, then moistening the handkerchief she dabbed it on Lady Amelia’s marble temples.
“Cologne,” she said in answer to Adam’s questioning look. “My own distillation. Sovereign for a headache.”
The door flew open and Lord Waite strode into the room. Angered beyond reason, Adam stood and faced him, fighting every impulse to toss his lordship out by the scruff of his neck.
“What do you mean by this intrusion?”
His lordship’s face was sour. “What a touching scene. I should have thought Lady Amelia would have better taste than to sell herself to a stable boy.”
“Get out.”