IT MUST HAVE BEEN CLOSE to two in the morning when they finally reined in their horses at the gatehouse and passed through the side gate. However, all hope of slipping through undetected died when a man stepped out of the gatehouse and into their way.
“Who goes there?”
It took Henry a second to place the speaker’s voice, but once he recognized it as the young man’s who had rescued Lady Jane at the abbey, he decided to make himself known in the hope Mr. Ben would see the wisdom of helping him rescue Isabella.
“Sir Henry March. I travel with a Bow Street runner, and we have reason to believe the Viscount Ridgeworth has abducted a young lady and brought her here.” The whole thing sounded gothic and farfetched even to his own ears, but to Henry’s astonishment, Mr. Ben raised his lantern a little higher and let out a relieved sigh.
“Oh, thank God! I just sent a man to your rooms at the Waterfront. Ridgeworth arrived an hour ago with an obviously frightened and unwilling Miss Chancellor. The viscount insisted on waking the earl, and the earl sent word to fetch the vicar from Hove.”
Henry’s horse reared up, sensing its rider’s impatience. He had to take a moment to calm the steed. “Where are they now?”
“Ridgeworth and Miss Chancellor are waiting at the chapel. There is a path leading directly there, not five hundred yards along here on the left.” He indicated the driveway to the castle.
Henry pointed his horse in the direction indicated. “Thank you! Mr. Ben, is it?”
The young man looked a little surprised. “Ben Sedon, at your service. Whatever the earl is up to, I’m certain Lord Didcomb wouldn’t approve.”
Henry and Allen were already on their way to the indicated path, but Deeks, his horse dancing beneath him, held back long enough to answer, “I take it he will like it even less when he finds out George Bradshore is accused of murdering the previous viscount and his family.”
Standing in the middle of the drive, Ben let out a low whistle. “By thunder, not even the earl will be thrilled to be associated with a murderer.” He then pulled his horse from under a lean-to at the side of the gatehouse, mounted, and rushed back to the castle.
THE MOON PERFECTLY ILLUMINATED THE path and the chapel at the far end of the meadow. Henry sped through it with only one thought in mind: to get to Isabella. The hour was desperate, but Henry had tasted hope in the kisses they had shared, so hope spurred him on now.
There was light in the little church. Henry slowed his grunting, foaming steed, jumped off, and ran into the chapel, pistol drawn.
Behind him, Allen brought his horse to a skidding halt. “Wait, Henry! You don’t know what you are walking into.”
Allen was right, of course, but Henry’s need to get to Isabella was greater than his ability to rationalize, so he crashed through the doors. He was amazed at the sight greeting him. His gentle damsel in distress held a short pocket knife to the obviously furious viscount’s throat. She had him trapped against the altar stone, but at the noise of Henry’s entrance, she turned to see who had come, and in that split second of inattention, George knocked the knife out of her hand and grabbed her by the throat, forcing her between himself and the barrel of Henry’s pistol. With the other hand he brought forth his own pistol and forced its mouth directly against Isabella’s temple.
Having his target obscured by the woman he loved and her so gravely threatened, Henry came to an abrupt halt.
“Isabella, are you unhurt?” As he spoke, he moved farther into the chapel and around the pews toward the altar, hoping to keep George’s attention on him and away from the door so Allen could get a good shot. He himself didn’t dare attempt the shot for fear of injuring Isabella. The viscount’s pistol wasn’t cocked, but just then the vile man used his thumb to force open the lever and commanded, “Halt right there, March! You may stay and witness our nuptials, but only the preacher and the earl will be permitted to come closer. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly.” Henry recognized there was nothing he could do for the moment, and thought to appease the viscount, especially as noises could be heard from the chapel door. Allen had company out there, and not just from the Bow Street runner. Words were exchanged, but the three inside the church couldn’t make out what was said.
George, however, gloated. “There comes the earl with the reverend. We are on his land, and even you won’t get away with shooting a peer on another peer’s land.”
Isabella, George’s unforgiving arm holding her in a vise grip and the cold steel of his pistol jammed into her temple, nearly wept with joy and relief upon seeing Henry. He had come for her. When George had dragged her from her pew and trapped her against the altar stone, she’d had no choice but to reveal the knife and hold it to his throat. But Isabella wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to use it. However, now they were both in danger, and she needed to warn Henry about George’s state of mind.
Unable to take a shot, Henry found Isabella’s frantic gaze. She clearly was terrified, but to his surprise, he also read relief there, and concern—concern for him. Her eyes repeatedly flicked up to the viscount, so Henry took a closer look at the man he knew to be a rapist, a kidnapper, and most likely a murderer.
The condescending smile was firmly in place on the viscount’s face, so Henry tried to draw his eyes, but found the man focused always just above his gaze. It was rather disturbing, but not as troubling as the unhinged light in his eyes. All at once, Henry realized what Isabella was trying to warn him about: the man had lost his mind. And Isabella was more worried about what George would do to Henry than she was about her own future. That part was gratifying to know, but dealing with a madman was ten times more dangerous than arresting a murdering rapist. With a cunning murderer you could at least count on his self-interest: in this case, that he would need Isabella alive in order to marry her and claim her dowry to pay his creditors. But given the circumstances, self-interest could not be relied upon. Henry had to put Isabella’s safety above all else. He lowered his gun and stepped back slightly, although still away from the door.
George beamed with triumph. “Very good, March. Now lay your pistol on the ground.”
Isabella gave Henry an almost imperceptible nod as George eased the gun away from her temple, and they both started to breathe a little easier. All three turned their attention toward the growing commotion in front of the chapel.
The door at long last opened, and the earl, leaning heavily on a carved ivory cane, and flanked by Allen and Deeks, walked in. Henry took in the Earl of Warthon’s wild white mane and steely blue eyes and knew at once nothing would happen from here on out the old man didn’t decree to happen. His gaze fell on the cane, and another thought formed in his mind. He felt certain to be in the presence of one of the men who had watched from the antechamber three years ago as Henry and Robert had confronted and ultimately killed Astor in his dungeon. The old man’s eyes came to rest on him, and there was such hatred in them, Henry had to ask himself who Astor had been to this man. The earl’s hatred felt entirely personal.
George, of course, took no notice of the exchange between his former employer and Sir Henry, laid his gun behind him on the altar, and cheerily proclaimed, “Splendid! Now that you are here and you brought more witnesses, we can get on with the ceremony. I’m rather anxious to get to the consummating part. Where is the preacher?”
Warthon didn’t even look at the viscount. “Your idiocy surprises even me, Bradshore.”
George looked affronted and was about to protest, but the earl’s eyes snapped to him as he raised a small silver gun and fired at the stunned George.
“Not another word!” thundered the earl, and a second shot followed almost at once. The first went through George’s open mouth, the other straight through his heart. A bloodstain pulsed outward over his white shirtfront even before his legs collapsed beneath him.
Isabella scuttled backward, convulsively trying to catch her breath as bile rose in her throat. One moment he had held her in an iron grip, the next he lay
unnaturally still, a blood puddle forming under him, and bits of grayish matter stuck in his hair. Isabella couldn’t tear her eyes away. She had held herself together during the entire ordeal, watching, planning, waiting for the moment to act. But now that she was free of George, suddenly and permanently, seven years of dread and the last three hours of terror combined to paralyze her. Darkness hovered at the edge of her vision, and all that kept her from blacking out was the cold stone beneath her hands. How could George be so alive and terrifying one minute, and dead the next? It was incomprehensible.
Henry had no thought except getting to Isabella and shielding her from whatever the hell was happening. He vaulted over the pews and straight through the line of fire and pulled her farther back with him, down behind some prayer benches to the right of the altar, rubbing her back, silently encouraging her to breathe.
Behind Henry, Deeks was clearly annoyed. “He was to be tried in the House of Lords.”
Warthon turned toward Deeks and Allen. “My apologies to the crown, but I couldn’t let the man get away with the murder of a peer.”
Henry suspected the earl of covering his tracks rather than avenging a fellow peer, but there was no way to prove it. Besides, Isabella was rid of George Bradshore for good, so he was willing to let the earl’s actions go.
Deeks evidently figured his job would be considered done whether he brought the suspect back dead or alive. He simply picked up George’s body off the ground, threw him over his shoulder, and walked out of the chapel with him. “I’ll be making a report. I expect the Lord Chief Justice will send for you if he has any further questions.”
“Give him my regards and tell him not to bother,” was all the earl grunted before he turned to Allen. “Can I rely on you to restore Miss Chancellor to her family?”
Allen bowed and stepped toward the bench where Henry stood now, his arm wrapped around Isabella’s shaking shoulders. “Absolutely, my lord, that’s why we came.”
The earl’s and Henry’s eyes met once more, and Henry saw such rage and malice in them, he was surprised to be unscathed when the spell broke and the earl turned away.
“You better get on with it, then.” To Ben, holding the chapel door for him, the earl added, “Get this mess cleaned up and send word to the reverend to get back to his bed.” Then he was gone, leaving Henry to puzzle over where he had seen those eyes before. It was a true mystery, since he was certain not to have crossed paths with the man previously.
“TAKE ME AWAY FROM HERE, please.” Isabella’s words called Henry back to the present. The woman trembling in his arms had been through so much in the past day, he could barely conceive of it. He turned her to take a good look at her. She was pale and exhausted, and when he lifted her hands to kiss them, he found red welts and cuts on her wrists. “You were bound. Did you cut them?”
Isabella nodded, her eyes so full of trust and gratitude, they made Henry want to be a better man. “Yes, the young man, Ben, slipped a knife into the pocket of the cloak he draped around my shoulders before we left the castle.”
“Ah yes, the helpful Mr. Ben.” He didn’t elaborate any further, but made a mental note to find out more about the man. There were so many odd aspects to this scenario, it might take him a while to untangle them all. But he had found his Isabella in the nick of time, so he chose to rejoice for the moment. He led her outside where Deeks was making arrangements with Ben Sedon. The night was still dark, but George’s lifeless body had been flung over a spare horse, head and arms dangling as the animal scratched the dirt in front of it in search of a snack.
Henry pulled Isabella’s face into his chest. “Don’t look, darling.”
She made no answer, but leaned into him and let him guide her to his horse, where he boosted her into the saddle, then mounted behind her.
Allen climbed into his saddle as well. “Where to?”
Henry hesitated, as he considered the impropriety of the situation. “The Posting Inn on North Street in Brighton. We can rent a carriage there. Neither the horses nor Isabella are in a fit state to make it all the way back to the inn this night, but reach it by morning we must, if we are to preserve Isabella’s good name.”
Isabella shook her head at the conventions of her time. “I’ve been kidnapped by a madman and watched him get shot and die, yet the thing I have to worry about is to get back to my chaperone before anyone finds out?”
Henry pressed a soothing kiss into her hair and chuckled. “It’s absurd, I know.”
PERHAPS HALF AN HOUR LATER they trotted into the deserted yard of Brighton’s second-busiest posting inn. Once a grouchy stable master had been roused from his bed, it was a matter of minutes before Isabella, Allen, and Henry were ensconced in a light chaise pulled by four swift horses, and breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Henry drew Isabella against his shoulder. “Rest, darling. Sleep if you can; nothing else will happen tonight, I promise.”
Allen smiled at his friend and the lovely Miss Chancellor in his arms. “Do you think you could finally introduce me before we all settle down to sleep?”
Henry looked up in some consternation, but when the sleepy woman in his arms fell victim to a fit of the giggles, the penny finally dropped, and he burst out laughing. “Good Lord, it never occurred to me you don’t know Isabella.” He straightened a little and gestured toward his friend. “Isabella, meet Allen Strathem, one of my two best friends. Allen, meet Isabella Chancellor, the bravest woman I know.”
Isabella blushed at the praise. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Strathem.”
Allen bestowed his best smile on the woman who had so clearly captured his friend’s heart. “Call me Allen, and we shall be the best of friends.”
Isabella smiled, but it was clear it took effort to keep her eyes open. “I would like that.” Then she settled back against Henry’s shoulder and gave in to the urge to close her eyes.
Henry’s and Allen’s eyes met, and all that needed to be said passed between them silently. Allen now fully understood what had driven Henry this night. He couldn’t have been happier for his friend, particularly since it also removed the last remaining hurdle to his own complete happiness. He smiled, stretched out on the rear-facing bench, and pulled his hat over his eyes to catch some sleep.
Henry took a little longer to close his eyes. He knew there were still obstacles to his happiness with Isabella, but there was hope. Surely there was hope.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THEY REACHED THE INN SHORTLY AFTER DAWN. Henry sent Thomas ahead with a message for Lady Greyson, explaining his need for a little subterfuge, and the whole company set off at a leisurely pace. Isabella’s dreams had been full of corpses and childhood friends turning into demons, but now that she was back amongst her friends, she felt remarkably calm, considering the ordeal of the previous night. Sitting was obviously still uncomfortable, and she wore a long-sleeved dress to cover the welts at her wrists. But she laughed with Emily, conversed with the old ladies, and met Henry’s gaze openly and with a smile in her eyes just for him.
They arrived in London in the late afternoon and descended on Lady Greyson for tea. Henry’s godmother took the invasion in stride and declared herself delighted to get to know a female painter. Her sharp eyes immediately determined Isabella to be Henry’s choice for a bride, and that the girl was in love with him. She pledged her support as soon as Henry detailed his plan.
TO ENHANCE THE FICTION THAT she had been dropped off at Lady Greyson’s, Isabella said an elaborate goodbye to Henry, Emily, the dowager, and Lady Kistel on the front steps of Lady Greyson’s town house. Then she went back inside and was led to a bedroom upstairs where she took the time to change out of her serviceable light-brown traveling costume into a simple but elegant blue muslin walking dress with little mother-of-pearl buttons and puffed sleeves. She also had Sally dress her hair in a Greek style, piled loosely on top of her head and secured with two ribbons. Once ready, she was ushered through the house and down to the end of the garden,
where Thomas waited to take her to Sir Henry the back way. Sally was to stay behind at Lady Greyson’s to front for Isabella, should her mother arrive in town while she was still at Henry’s house.
They arrived through the mews. She was again led through a garden and entered Henry’s house through the music room. From there she was ushered to the library, where she could hear Henry talking to Allen and his daughter even before she reached the open door. The moment she entered, Emily jumped up from the sofa and rushed toward her.
“Allen is getting married to Eliza, and everyone is going to be happy. Isn’t it wonderful? I’m to be a bridesmaid!”
Isabella was pulled into an exuberant embrace, then the girl twirled away, swooning over the role she was to play in the wedding of her friends. Isabella could only marvel at Emily. She seemed to have put the events of the previous day behind her, but it also occurred to Isabella that Emily might be putting on a performance for the sake of her father. Isabella herself was still shaky inside, but as soon as Henry took her hands and kissed them in greeting, all the apprehension in her stomach seemed to settle, despite the reason for her presence in his house. This was Henry; he loved her. He had come to her rescue. If there was one man in the whole wide world she could trust, it was him.
“Welcome to my house, dearest.”
The smile on Isabella’s face was so open and trusting, it was like the benevolent rays of the sun. Isabella had come to his house despite all that had happened to her in the past twenty-four hours, and now it was up to them to find a way to their “happily ever after.” Allen evidently had already found his with Eliza, and Henry couldn’t have been happier for them.
Isabella smiled at the dark-haired man with the youthful grin, Allen, who had helped Henry rescue her the previous night. She marveled at how a shared experience such as theirs had the power to bond them in such a short period of time. “Congratulations, Allen, I hope you will be very happy.”
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