by Alyssa Drake
The twin shock on both Miss Hastings’ and Morris’ faces was evidence they both believed his deception. Miss Hastings’ stood frozen, her mouth open in a tiny “o.” The color drained from her face, further accentuating the purple bruise on her cheek. The audible shattering of her heart felt like an icicle plunged itself deep into Benjamin’s stomach.
Benjamin embellished the story. “Imagine my surprise when I discovered Mr. Hastings named me guardian over his ill-mannered little sister and all of her holdings. It was the answer for which I had been searching. Unfortunately, I had the laborious task of discouraging every suitor who inquired about Miss Hastings, not to mention the painstaking steps I took to woo her.”
Benjamin forced a grin, his eyes locked on Morris’ face. The image of Samantha’s raw pain floated through his mind. Even if she never forgave him for his deception, he would spend every moment of his life fighting to convince her how much he truly loved her.
“Mr. Lockhearst’s proposed bribe for her hand tempted me. However, he was unwilling to match the sum I requested.”
“A true businessman,” said Morris in approval.
Benjamin nodded, accepting Morris’ praise. “When Mr. Hastings shockingly reappeared, so did my entire monetary obligation. I realized he would never force Miss Hastings to repay my loans and increased my efforts to pursue her hand. Mr. Hastings did consider me an inappropriate match at first; however, I was able to convince him otherwise.”
Morris studied him with curiosity. “How did you manage that feat?”
Benjamin shook his head with a wink. “Trade secret, Mr. Morris. I cannot reveal all my tricks.”
“Oh ho,” laughed Morris, joyful tears streaming down his face. “Samantha, you really are a terrible judge of character. You never should have involved yourself with such a notorious rake. I only hope you did not fall prey to his charms.”
Morris spun Miss Hastings around in his arms. Grasping her chin, he lifted her face and stared into her despondent eyes. “My, my, my, I guess you are a ruined woman after all.”
Benjamin held his attention on Morris, watching the exchange silently. Miss Hastings swayed unsteadily on her feet, her pale face haunted and empty. She refused to look over at him.
“Lord Westwood, I must tip my hat to you.” Morris’ eyes flicked to Benjamin. “You are a kindred spirit. I, myself, attempted a similar plan. However, I had no idea I was competing against such a master in the art of seduction.”
“My proposal,” said Benjamin with an encouraging smile.
“Yes, what sort of arrangement did you have in mind?”
“It will take some time to find another wealthy bride.”
“Of course, of course.” Morris nodded, gesturing impatiently
“I would need some sort of compensation to survive until that happy event occurs.”
Morris’ eyes narrowed. “What sort of compensation?”
“Five thousand, no less, and I will walk away right now. I will inform Edward I discovered Miss Hastings’ body with the actual killer, a previously unknown gentleman. You will be free to do as you wish.”
“How am I to guarantee you will not return for another payment?” asked Morris, thoughtfully stroking his chin.
Benjamin paused a moment, contemplating the question. Then he leveled his gaze at Morris and spoke in an even tone. “I will help you kill Miss Hastings.”
Miss Hastings gasped and fainted, her limp form slumping against Morris. Surprised by the sudden weight in his arms, he dropped her. She landed in a graceless lump at his feet. He stared down at her with disgust, yanking his foot out from underneath her immobile form.
Taking advantage of Morris’ momentary distraction, Benjamin launched himself across the room and caught Morris around the middle of his torso, knocking Morris off his feet. However, he reacted quickly to the sudden attack, punching Benjamin in the stomach. The two men rolled in a ball of limbs, sending the knife skittering across the floor.
Benjamin, stronger than Morris, used his weight to pin him to the ground. Morris swung wildly, connecting his left hand with Benjamin’s chin, the crack causing stars to dance in front of Benjamin’s eyes. Stunned, Benjamin felt himself rolled to the side as Morris made a desperate grab for the knife, glittering ominously under Mrs. Hastings’ ruined desk. Benjamin’s hand closed around Morris’ leg, yanking back. Kicking his free leg, Morris struck Benjamin’s temple, then scrambled toward the desk.
Shaking his head to clear his vision, Benjamin rose, chasing after Morris. Morris’ fingers grasped the knife handle and blindly slashed it backward in the air toward Benjamin. Benjamin jumped sideways to avoid the blade and crashed into an overturned chair. Pain detonated in his left leg and Benjamin collapsed, tangled in the rungs of the chair. Morris descended with a depraved smirk.
CLICK!
The men paused and turned mechanically toward the sound. Frozen, Morris hovered over Benjamin, the knife raised in striking position. Miss Hastings stood, pistol gripped tightly in both hands, glaring lividly at them. Her terrifying expression sent chills racing down Benjamin’s spine. A woman scorned.
Did she intend to shoot both of them?
“Samantha, what are you doing?” Morris patronized as he lowered the knife. “You do not know how to use a pistol.”
“Of course, I do.” Miss Hastings laughed mirthlessly. “If Edward was willing to teach me something as inappropriate as fencing, do you not think he would allow me the courtesy of learning to use a pistol?”
She tilted her head to the side and smiled winningly at Morris. “Would you like me to show you?”
“You really should not antagonize her,” said Benjamin, his eyes trained on the barrel as he remembered Aidan’s description of Miss Hastings’ shooting prowess. If she shot half as well as Alana, both men were in extreme danger.
Morris took a step toward Miss Hastings, his hand outstretched in a nonthreatening position, the knife hidden behind his back. “Samantha, my dear cousin, you know me. I am your family, your true friend, I have been since your birth.”
“You are a murderer.”
Morris bared his teeth and lunged at Miss Hastings with a growl, the knife slicing through the air.
“No!” Benjamin yelled from the floor, still tangled up in the chair.
Miss Hastings squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck Morris in the right shoulder. Shock crossed his face as pain spread down his arm, causing him to drop the knife. It landed with a clink. Blood spurting from the open wound, his face paling, he sank down onto the floor.
“Why Sammie?” He mumbled pitifully, his chubby face frozen in agony.
Miss Hastings plucked the knife from the floor before Morris could react, her eyes never leaving his face. She slid the penny knife closed, palming it in her left hand. The pistol she aimed directly at Benjamin’s heart.
Benjamin slowly rose from the floor and with a grimace, limped toward Miss Hastings, holding his hand out. “Give me the gun, Miss Hastings.”
She glowered at him and shook her head fiercely. “No.”
“Samantha.” His voice strained. “Please, hand me the pistol.”
She refused to lower the gun, glaring at him, her hand quivering, the air shimmering with her fury. “You lied to me.”
Chapter Seven
“You said you loved me.”
“I do.”
“How can I believe anything you say?” Sam swiped at the angry tear sliding down her cheek.
“Sammie?” Edward’s disembodied voice echoed down the hallway.
“Edward!” Sam called out, refusing to lower her weapon. “We are in the study.”
The knob rattled. A moment later Edward burst through the locked study door, followed by Mr. Walton and Mr. Reid. Their eyes quickly scanned the scene. Edward whistled under his breath as he drank in the room’s destruction. His gaze stopped on Sam whose trembling arms pointed the pistol at Benjamin’s chest.
“Sammie, hand me the gun.” Edward moved to Sam’s side, wr
apping his arm around her waist, extricating the weapon from her shaky fingers.
“Perhaps you should confiscate the knife too,” said Lord Westwood, his arms still raised.
Edward nodded and held his hand out again. Sam relinquished the weapon with a scowl at Lord Westwood who shrugged apologetically and lowered his hands.
“What did Benjamin do?” Edward swallowed his gasp as Sam turned toward him.
She must look worse than she felt.
“I told Franklin I was ruined and only wanted to marry your sister for her fortune,” said Lord Westwood, taking one step forward. Edward froze him with a glare.
“Are you?” asked Edward, his voice hard.
“Yes, are we?” asked Mr. Reid, darting around Edward.
“Of course not.” Lord Westwood snorted and shot his brother a glare.
“Prove it to me,” whispered Sam. Prove to me you love me.
“I will.” Lord Westwood stared into her eyes.
“Prove it to me also,” Mr. Reid said.
“I keep the business ledgers at my lodgings. Will that be sufficient evidence to verify my holdings?” Lord Westwood refused to break his gaze, speaking only to Sam.
“Yes.” Sam’s teeth sunk into her lower lip. Beside her, Edward nodded his consent.
“I would like to see them as well,” replied Mr. Reid.
Lord Westwood pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thomas, who will stay with Morris until the constable arrives?”
“I will.” Mr. Walton stepped forward from the doorway. He accepted the pistol from Edward and pointed it directly at Franklin.
Glaring at her cousin, Sam walked over and stared down at his heaving form, kicking his boot. “If he moves, shoot him through the heart.”
“Without hesitation,” replied Mr. Walton, upending one of the chairs and sinking into it, the pistol cocked.
Edward joined Sam, hatred burning in his blue eyes. “It will be my pleasure to watch you hang, Franklin.”
Spinning, Edward wrapped his arm around Sam and helped her hobble out of the study. They walked at a snail’s pace, taking measured steps through the foyer and down the stairs, every movement dragging an anguished moan from Sam’s lips.
Sam felt Lord Westwood trailing behind. He passed them on the sidewalk, leaning heavily on Mr. Reid’s shoulders. Both men maintained a silent stride apart from barely audible grunts which escaped Lord Westwood when he placed too much weight on his left leg.
He was injured…
With Edward’s arm wrapped securely around her waist, Sam stumbled down the footpath. Dark spots swam in front of her eyes. She stopped, waiting for the darkness to recede from her mind, Edward anxiously hovering in her peripheral. Sam attempted to wave him off and slumped against the rough bark of a nearby birch tree, one of many which dotted the street. Her stomach rolled.
“It would be easier if you allowed me to carry you,” Edward said half-heartedly. It was the third time he made that particular suggestion.
“No,” Sam replied, although her voice held none of the conviction she felt. “I would prefer to walk.”
Edward glanced up. Lord Westwood paused several meters in front of them, his face conflicted. He took a step toward Sam, but Edward shot him an angry glare. Lord Westwood recoiled. He allowed Mr. Reid to turn him and continue their slow progress toward his lodgings. Mr. Reid whispered earnestly in his brother’s ear as they walked.
Dizzy, Sam rested her head against the tree, hugging it closely. The world spun, colors flying past her eyes. She squeezed her eyelids shut and vomited. An acidic taste filled her mouth, remnants of the medication Franklin administered while she was unconscious. Her hands slipped from the tree trunk, and she collapsed, falling sideways into the road. Automatically, she tensed, bracing for the hardness of the street, but the pain never appeared.
She flew through the air, lifted by strong hands. Sam twisted angrily to admonish Edward, but it was not his arms which held her. Lord Westwood cradled her to his chest, his face contorted with agony. Mr. Reid lay supine on the pavement—wearing a similar grimace—knocked aside when Lord Westwood leapt to catch Sam.
“I have already informed Edward of my capability,” she said indignantly, glaring at him.
“I am quite aware of your abilities,” Lord Westwood replied, a cheeky grin pulling his lips. He squeezed her tightly and limped down the street again.
“We still have business to resolve,” he said to Edward without breaking stride.
Sam wiggled unhappily, frowning at Edward and Mr. Reid over Lord Westwood’s shoulder. Mr. Reid shrugged, smiled, and climbed to his feet. He clapped Edward on the back, who muttered objections under his breath. Mr. Reid shrugged again and offered Edward the same cheeky grin.
A gasp drew Sam’s attention, her gaze sliding to Lord Westwood’s profile. His jaw, set firmly, twitched with each step. A couple of words came to mind as she watched him struggle—stubborn, inflexible, and obstinate—definitely obstinate.
“This is ridiculous.” She pushed her hands against his muscular shoulder, trying to slip out of his grasp.
“I am not setting you back down,” Lord Westwood replied, clutching her closer. He glanced down.
Sam glowered at him, folding her arms in aggravation. He returned her hard stare, his nose millimeters from hers—eyes blazing as they melted into liquid emerald pools of varying layers of annoyance and frustration. Sam exhaled loudly in acquiescence. Breaking the mutual glare, she twisted her head to check Edward’s location. He maintained a respectable distance, grumbling at the modified traveling arrangements.
Mr. Reid whispered indistinguishable words of reassurance. His soothing tone and strong grasp—for Mr. Reid gripped Edward’s shoulder with iron fingers—prevented Edward from physically ripping Sam out of Lord Westwood’s arms.
“Thank you for saving my life,” she mumbled begrudgingly, returning her gaze to Lord Westwood.
“That was much better than your first apology to me.” He smirked. “Did Edward request that heartfelt sentiment of you?”
“No. Although I suspect he will make that particular suggestion once he inspects your ledgers. He is very keen on proper behavior, and I would like to have the advantage over him, just once.” Sam sighed.
Lord Westwood raised his eyebrow. “Does that mean you believe me?”
“I believe you lied to me,” replied Sam. She shifted again, causing Lord Westwood to readjust his hold. A moan escaped his lips.
“Not one word,” he called over his shoulder to Mr. Reid who grinned and resumed placating Edward’s irritation. Lord Westwood touched his forehead to Sam’s. “I lied to save your life.”
“I believed you.” Sam hissed through clenched teeth. Her eyes moistened, threatening to spill angry tears. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, willing the tears away. Opening her eyes, she returned her blazing glare to Lord Westwood. “I am not pleased with you.”
“Nor I with you,” replied Lord Westwood. “Did I not ask you to remain on the estate?”
“You did.” She dropped her eyes the street, watching the footpath shuffle slowly beneath her. Her fury deflated.
This whole ordeal could have been avoided if she had just listened to Lord Westwood… not that she would ever admit that to him.
He pulled her chin back toward his face. “Do you not think I had reason to make that request of you?”
Of course, he had reason.
“Why do you want to marry me?” She bit her lip. Lord Westwood’s cruel words slashed scars through her heart.
Halting the crawling convoy, he tipped Sam’s chin until they were nose to nose again. His burning green eyes captured hers with unparalleled intensity. “I love you, foolish woman. If you cannot remember anything else, remember that.”
His mouth descended with the same passion in which he spoke, demanding immediate satisfaction. Sam melted, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly, pulling him nearer. Her fingers intertwined in his hair, a satisfied growl rumbled in Lo
rd Westwood’s throat. His lips nibbling the lightest of kisses on the corner of her mouth, a tremor vibrated through her body.
“I hope this is not an indication of how you will respond to my future requests,” he said as he pulled away.
“You seem extremely confident about your forthcoming role in my life,” Sam replied breathlessly, leaning her head against his shoulder.
“I am,” Lord Westwood said, resuming his slow pace. He took a misstep off the pavement and pain flashed across his features, the playfulness replaced by agony.
“Lord Westwood, I must insist you put me down before you injure yourself further.” Sam struggled again, kicking her legs.
“I am quite satisfied with your current location, Miss Hastings.” Grinning wickedly, Lord Westwood responded by tightening his grip. “It allows me to keep a close watch on you, which apparently is a full-time occupation.”
“Now I am an occupation?” She planted her free arm on her hip.
“More like a delightful diversion.” He nuzzled her neck, sending a cascade of shivers down her back.
“Benjamin, I have no idea what quality you possess that gives you the ability to influence the fairer sex. Kindly stop endeavoring to seduce my sister until you can prove your intentions are honorable. I have not approved your continued engagement.” Edward increased his pace, but Mr. Reid reacted quicker, situating himself strategically between Edward and his brother, giving Sam a jovial wink.
Sam smiled at Mr. Reid. “My brother has other ideas regarding the safety of my present position.”
“Indeed,” Edward bit off. “Benjamin, may we proceed with the current task at hand?”
“Certainly,” replied Lord Westwood with an obliging tone. He turned up the stairs to his townhouse, balancing Sam carefully in his arms. Unable to prevent herself, Sam pressed her face against the open collar of his shirt, inhaling his intoxicating scent, her eyes closing as her head spun.
