by Lauren Smith
He strode up Richard’s front steps and dropped the knocker a few times. The butler let him in, and once again, he found Richard in his study.
“My lord, to what do I owe the pleasure,” Richard asked.
“I need your help in protecting Colleen, to which end I would ask that you help me procure the Duke of Canterbury’s cooperation in that endeavor.”
Richard sat down carefully, as if ensuring complete control of every bone in his body. “And, what, pray tell, does Colleen need protecting from?”
“Lord Warwick,” he answered and tossed the letter found in the ancient vase over.
“I see. You are certain this is Warwick?”
“Quite. He is the only male, besides myself of course, who has shown interest in her, and he has asked her to marry him. And, as far as I am aware, the only one with motive, and one of only a few who knows about the salon, much less her ties to them.”
Richard sat back, hand on his face. “Hardly conclusive, but most definitely solid reasoning. I agree she needs to be protected from him, or whomever this letter is from.”
“Can we go on the assumption it is him until any other evidence comes to light which might suggest otherwise?”
“Yes, of course. So what are you thinking?”
“That we bring in people to watch over the ladies and the salon at all times.”
“That would cost a fortune.”
“Way I hear it, you have it. As do I. Not near as much as you do, but I am well off. Father is very good at keeping his risks at a low, keeping our lands healthy and bringing in plenty of money.”
“Might be easier to have someone watch him,” Richard said mildly.
“My lord, I think we need someone on him, yes, and I hope for that end, the duke can point us in the right direction. I have the sense he has some experience in all this intrigue, as does the viscount.”
“Correct on both accounts. As it happens, our barristers are meeting us here shortly to fill out papers about the joint venture. Your father as well. Perhaps, you should stay and explain to them what you are wanting.”
“Okay.”
They talked of land management and holdings for the next half hour, though Henry kept worrying about Colleen’s strange withdrawal before he left. When his father showed up, he took his father to the side.
“Father, I intend to convince Colleen to marry me, but I may have run into a snag. I shall go into more detail during the meeting with all of you. However, I am asking you to release some funds if needed to protect her and follow someone I deem to be a threat. I will pull some from my part of the estates I am managing as well, but it may not be enough.” Henry stood rigid still, trying to keep himself calm.
“Henry, my boy,” his father said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Of course. You have however much you need. Protect her at all costs.”
Relief had his knees trembling. “Thank you. I—I cannot lose her. Every day, my feelings for her grow.”
“Then make sure you do not lose her, then, son. That is my advice.”
The others called them into the study. His father’s advice was solid, but worry niggled at the back of his mind that something more was amiss with Colleen than just a sick friend.
The viscount was there, and he spoke first. “I hear you have a situation. Tell me, would Lady Daphne have a problem with my wife and I showing up for the next meeting of the paranormal? I think it would be good for us to see the others in a setting that is not contrived.”
“Of course. I will send her a letter of warning to expect two more guests, but from my understanding, it is open to friends of those already attending.”
“Good. Then we shall attend. My wife truly enjoys the paranormal, so it shall be an easy thing for us to show genuine interest. In the meantime, we think you need to stay around Lady Harrington as much as possible to ensure her personal safety. We shall work on finding people to watch over the others as well as Lord Warwick.”
“Thank you. I am not as adept at these matters as my father.”
“You were too young for the war, my boy. Be thankful you do not have the experience. I am grateful I did not have to choose between personal honor and having you fight, or having to buy out your commission so my only son did not go to war. It is a messy business.”
Henry threw a sharp glance at his father. Tones he had never before heard from him in all his life emanated from those last words. However, he could not very well ask him about it now. They would speak of the matter later.
“Nonetheless, it would come in handy now to defend Colleen.”
A few raised eyebrows showed his slip had been noticed. Grateful no one remarked upon it, he simply waited for the others to chime in.
“As you are staying at my estates while there,” the Duke of Canterbury began, “it should be natural for you to bring the viscount and his wife as they shall stay there as well as myself.”
Surprised, he opened his eyes a bit wider with eyebrow raised in question. “I find it personal when someone threatens people who are weaker than they are. And my wife had a brother who proved to be less than honorable, shall we say. This Lord Warwick sounds to be made in the same mold. It will give me personal pleasure to take down a man like that.”
Henry fought to hide the shiver sneaking down his spine. The Dark Duke. Definitely some steel in this man. He could almost feel sorry for the Lord Warwick. He thought of Colleen’s tears. Almost.
“Then it is settled. I will head back now. I do not want to be out of the vicinity for long. I am worried that Lady Harrington may feel guilt and do something drastic because of it.”
“She feels Lord Warwick’s actions are her own fault. As does his sister.” The duke said it as a statement, but Henry answered.
“Yes, I am sure she does. As for the sister, I would say the same. And the sister is even more cowed from ongoing abuse and the fact he controls her in every way. That is my assessment. I have only seen her twice, though, so I could be wrong about her.”
“So far, I can find no fault in your judgment,” the viscount said. “Though I am having trouble finding information on the Lady Daphne. Do you have more details.”
Henry hesitated. Yesterday, he had had a flash of instinct. He believed she used to be a courtesan and had managed to find a way out of the life. Before or after she married…he could not say…or if the marriage was even real. But the loss was. She had definitely loved and lost a lover she cared for. That much he was sure of. Grief sat on a person differently than people who had never lost someone close.
“None that I can say with any sort of definitive accuracy,” he said in a choice to prevaricate.
“I see.” Viscount put steepled his fingers together, the two pointer fingers resting against his lips.
However, the need to help them protect her prompted him to say, “But I do think that Daphne is not her given name. If that helps.”
The viscount nodded. “I will come down tomorrow with Sarah—my wife. I need to clear it with my superiors first. However, Lord Warwick has been put on our list of suspicious traitors, so there will be no issue on that front. And if there is, I will take some leave.”
“I appreciate it, my lord.” Henry bowed to them as a group. “I wish you well with your business ventures, but I feel the need to get back to be near Colleen. Oh… I should probably tell you. I have no proof, but more than once over the past week, I have sensed someone watching us.”
The other men acknowledged his words, his father frowning in concern. “I have the pistol you gave me when I came of age, Father,” he reassured him. “I am not without protection. Now, I must be off. Good day, my lords.”
He executed another quick half bow and left as quickly as he could. He would stop at his estate manager’s offices on the way back and see if any new information had been procured, but then he would not be leaving Colleen again. Not until he could be certain she was out of danger.
Chapter 11
Two days later…
Co
lleen picked at her breakfast, surprised and quite displeased at how much she missed Henry’s input to her days and plans. He had been most insistent on wanting to protect her. She had relented to the point that he could stay with her aunt and Jane, but not with her.
Besides, she informed him she did not need an erstwhile protector. What she did not inform him is she was sure she already had one. And was grateful. It still annoyed her. But she could not depend on Henry, no matter how much she wanted to just throw herself at him and allow him to protect her. No. He already meant too much to her.
With a sigh, she pushed her plate away and stood. She would go visit that haunted castle she wanted to see before Henry. She picked up her things, a crudely drawn map by the vicar who had reluctantly shared the directions with her, the book she had discovered the origins of the castle in, and her shawl and a satchel for her things.
Trying to at least pretend the enjoyment she had anticipated for the trip, she took her favorite horse and left on her own…much to the consternation of her servants. “I am not going far,” she said primly to the stable boy. “It is barely beyond the boundaries of the nearest village. No need to inconvenience anyone.”
The stable boy nodded, but something in his eyes made her believe that he knew the real reason she wanted to be alone. She swallowed hard and took the reins. With a quick click and flick of the reins, she was on her way.
The sun dropped behind some rain clouds, reminding her it was spring in England. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her, the slight breeze biting through all her layers, despite the woolen coat she wore over her riding habit.
The map proved to be quite accurate, and surprisingly easy to follow. As reluctant as the vicar spoke of its whereabouts, she had feared an inaccurate drawing. She sat upon her horse as the sun broke free of the clouds, shining upon the castle.
Its stonework gleamed in the sunlight which showed some of its best features from her vantage point. A small valley lay all around it, before one would have to trudge back up a steep hill if one were trying to siege the castle. A long road lead into it, and she walked the horse down it, the clip clop of the horse’s hooves eerily echoing against the valley she was almost sure was manmade.
It rose like a castle out of a grim fairy tale, made even more so by the gargoyles around the gates. Purported to be abandoned, she still watched for signs of life. Nothing. Only a few birds whose wings rang loud once she found her way in cared to show their displeasure, and rodents squeaked and scurried their way into the shadows at her presence.
The book had been written ages ago, at a time that writing it would have been an expensive undertaking, one only the very rich could afford to do. And one only someone with an education would have undertaken with such skill and dexterity with words.
Even the dry and boring bits seemed rather exciting the way the writer put it. And when she read about a hidden cache, one given to the finder of such—and the words all seemed legal to her, though she did not know the rules about historical finds…and was this castle part of the crown’s findings?—she had determined she would make it her quest to find it, see if it still existed.
Go on her very own treasure hunt. Though she had spent months tracking down the accuracy of the book and the authenticity of the book itself, she still had the melancholy wish that Henry had come with her. Though new at the paranormal, he had shown great interest and promise. And telling him things about each castle or ruins or home they came across had renewed her love for her chosen hobby, had sharpened the details in her mind.
“I will simply have to enjoy myself, nonetheless,” she said aloud to her horse. “At least I have you.” She slid off her horse, giving it an affectionate pat on the neck, and then turned around, only to come face to face with Lord Warwick.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing here?” she demanded indignantly, though fear had her hands shaking and her heart pumping as if she had run a great distance.
His lips twisted into an evil smirk, his dead, cold eyes raking her up and down, like she did when surveying a horse she was interested in buying. “I have come for what is mine. I saw you first. Lord Strathford has no claim.”
“You forget yourself. You are the one with no claim. You want one. However, both myself and my guardian have denied you any such status.”
“Mere women. I am sure I can convince your brother.”
She let out a derisive laugh. “My brother thinks even less of you than I do.”
Lord Warwick stood up straight and sputtered. “Your brother is a nobody.”
“He is a duke. He has higher rank than you. More importantly, in my book anyway, he has more honor and compassion in him than you could ever fathom.”
Lord Warwick stomped over to her, grabbing her arm. “You know nothing of honor or the ways of men. I must have a rich wife to save my estates. You are nothing compared to my family name, which you will one day wear so should have more care for it.”
Jutting her chin out in a false show of bravado, she replied, “If you care naught, then why should I? If you had a care, you would not gamble such high stakes.”
The resounding crack as he slapped her hard enough to jerk her body around and twist her arm still captured in his hand echoed in the courtyard. She did not pause or hesitate or even think it through. Her other hand came back around and slapped him back.
He dropped her arm then, more in shock than actual pain she figured, but he did finger his cheek where she slapped him. His face turned white except where her finger’s hand print lay across his cheekbones.
“You dare strike me, a man?”
“I dare that and much more. I will not be cowed by you.” Mother and all the saints, where did this courage come from? Despite the fact her knees shook and everything in her screamed run, she stood her ground.
Fury rode his features like a storm the sea, and he reached into his vest and brought out a pistol. Everything happened in a blur then. Her mind registered the weapon and finally gave in to the urge to run. Unfortunately, the only thing she had to hide behind was her horse.
She screamed and screamed. And the castle screamed back at her. No. That could not be right. That had to be an echo… Or maybe that of the woman said to haunt these hauls. Lord Warwick changed his stance slightly, and she saw him take aim at her partially showing body so moved more fully behind the horse just as a loud boom of the gun went off around them. It startled the horse who reared and fell forward just as she heard a masculine voice yelling, “Hey!”
She fell under the weight of the horse, but managed to keep from being stuck under it. She knelt by it, trying to keep one eye on the struggling fighters while checking her horse. Then the other man came into view.
“Henry!” she cried in both relief and fear he might be killed. All her reasons for staying away seemed silly to her now.
She found blood across the mare’s broad chest. Not deep, more a graze she thought. Hoped. But then she realized the horse had lost its balance, so must be a little more. She kept rubbing her hands across the horse, soothing and searching at the same time.
Then she found it. Blood oozed out. If her horse died, she would kill Lord Warwick with her bare hands. “You monster!” she cried as the blood continued to pour out between her fingers. Luckily, it did not believe it would kill her horse unless they could not get it back to her home.
The fight needed to end. Now. She could no longer see the weapon or ascertain who might be winning the fight. She searched for something, anything to help, and saw a loose stone. She picked it up and waited. When they circled around again, grunts and guttural cries filling the courtyard, she brought the large stone down on Lord Strathford’s head. He stiffened, then collapsed.
She and Henry stood facing each other, panting and gasping for breath.
“Thank you,” he said through it all. “What are you doing here?” they both said at the same time.
“You first,” Henry said with a tension behind his words that she could not place. Surely
he was not angry with her now?”
“I… I came to be alone and pout, if you must know,” she finally said. “I missed you.”
His gaze softened, and he came closer to her, putting his hands on her arms. “As I have missed you. Why did you push me away?”
“I am afraid of losing you. Jane… She was hurt by a person unknown and could have died. What if I lost you? Death has already cheated me of my parents. I could not stand the pain of losing you. Not now, not later.”
A watery laugh escaped her as Henry stood, mouth agape, eyes wide. Finally, he spoke. “That is… I want to say a load of nonsense, but I can understand. Since I lost my mother, I catch myself hoping to never feel that pain again.”
He took her hand and raised it to his mouth. Somewhere in her travels, she had lost one glove. Or maybe when she fought against Lord Warwick. Whenever did not matter not near as much as his mouth which was a mere whisper away. His tongue darted out against her wrist, only to be followed by a full on kiss and a nibble from his teeth. She mewed. There was no other word for it. She sounded like her cat when she was happily being scratched and wanted more.
They stood there and stared for many long minutes. “How did you find me,” she asked when she was too tempted to jump into his arms and beg for more.
“Your aunt told me. Sue had seen the vicars map often enough to give me a good idea. I was close when I heard a noise which sounded like someone being slapped.”
Her whole body trembled as flashes of her ordeal and the accompanying fright swamped her belatedly. She dropped to her knees. “My horse…” God, her horse. Tears swamped her.
She crawled over to her horse. Henry beat her thought. “She’s hit!”
“Yes. I think she will be alright, but I do not know. And how do we get her back to the stables so we can call someone?”
“If we push her now, she might not make it. She has lost a bit of blood. It’s hard to tell. Here, let me see.”