by Lynda Hurst
On impulse, he burst out, “You can’t marry Collingwood.”
“Oh?” she scoffed, a sardonic brow raised. “And whyever not? Don’t tell me that it’s because I don’t love him nor does he love me. I already know all of that.”
Grabbing her gently by the shoulders to bring her closer, he earnestly said, “You deserve a marriage with love, one that will make you toe-curling happy for the rest of your days.”
Mockingly, but through tears glistening on her lower lashes, she said, “And is this a proposal? Now that you are faced with wanting something another man wants? I’m sorry, but if this is truly your way of proposing, it would have more credence if I hadn’t been made to feel like a fought-over toy.”
Shaking his head, he said, “No, that’s not what I meant to do. I mean, it is, but I did not mean for it to be this way. If I had the time to plan, I would have done this with flowers and sweet words.”
“None of which would affect my decision now. I am marrying Jeffrey,” she said with a stubborn lift of her chin.
With her face uplifted, he couldn’t resist the magnetic pull of her lips. Before she knew what he was about, his lips caught hers, and in the instant his lips made contact with hers, she was lost. Everything outside of the kiss was forgotten, including Jeffrey, and she rejoiced that she was once again within Jackson’s embrace.
Before he could forget his purpose, Jackson pulled away from the kiss. With her so close, he looked into her eyes, glazed from the passion of their kiss, and said, “I love you and only you. I want to marry you because I love you for you and not for what you can do for me. I hate that you feel you have to subject yourself to a loveless marriage when you have someone, me, to love you for all of our natural days. Marry me, Margaret, and I will spend all of my days convincing you how much I love you.”
With cheeks glistening with fallen tears that mirrored her overflowing heart, Margaret was overwhelmed at his words. Words she had waited years for. Now that he had uttered them, she savored the ecstatic feeling that they were finally directed at her.
Glancing up at him, she found his anxious eyes upon her, awaiting her response. “But Jeffrey—”
He cut her off with, “I proclaim my love for you, and another man’s name falls from your lips? Shall I kiss you again to make you agree to marry me?”
Her eyes crossed at the suggestion of another mind-blowing kiss, but she managed to croak, “I promised him his answer. Which this time will be a resounding no, thank you.”
“And what of your answer to my proposal?” he asked, hope blooming in his heart.
“Why, it’s a resounding yes. Yes, I’ll marry you. You have to know you’ve always held my heart, even when we were children. I allowed a courtship with Jeffrey because I believed that you would never be mine.”
“And for that, I am sorry I made you wait so long. I swear I will spend the rest of our lives together making it up to you.”
“I like the sound of that. How would you go about making it up to me?”
Instead of answering, he pressed her closer against him and kissed her soundly. For him, it was a celebratory kiss as well, as Jackson was relieved that she was finally his, and the kiss was a proper release for his earlier tension. But before tension of another sort could arise between them, a male voice sounded behind them,
“I apologize for being late, Margaret. Lord Prestonridge had intercepted me with some questions as to our—” Jeffrey stopped as he took in the sight of his intended wrapped within another man’s embrace.
Mortified, Margaret pulled out of Jackson’s arms to address the other man, who looked disbelieving upon her. “Jeffrey, we must talk privately. Let me explain—”
Pulling her back to his side, Jackson stated, “There’s no need, Collingwood. Lady Margaret has agreed to marry me. I have been after her hand for some time, and I am glad that I was able to convince her tonight.”
Taken aback at the news, Jeffrey mumbled his congratulations and avoided looking at Margaret as he turned back around to leave the way he came. Margaret called out a weak apology after him, to which he momentarily stopped and nodded before he made his hasty exit.
Pity for Jeffrey welling in her, Margaret rounded on Jackson, and admonished, “You could have left me to the explanation! That poor man was stunned beyond words as he believed he would be marrying me himself.”
Jackson shrugged and said, “There would have been no other way to soften the blow. I did what I did so that we could have a little more time in private together before we announce our news.”
“Oh? Need I remind you that I have a brother with a pistol and good aim waiting for me. If I’m gone too long, they would be demanding recompense.”
“But now that I have your agreement to marry me, your point is moot. I’m marrying you, and if it means I can do it sooner, then let them come looking.”
Unfortunately for Jackson, their private time was promptly interrupted by the arrival of Frederick, joining them on the terrace with Devlin bringing up the rear.
Groaning, Margaret watched as her brother threw both her and Jackson a suspicious look. Before she could issue an explanation, Jackson offered, “Your sister has just agreed to marry me.”
Margaret was thrown by Devlin’s barked laugh and closed the distance to grasp Jackson’s hand and shake it. “So, you’ve finally come to your senses and recognized my sister for the brat that she is? When Faith told me that you were going to prevent Collingwood from claiming her hand, she made it expressly clear to me to divert him from leaving too soon. It took some doing, but I was able to buy you enough time to convince my stubborn sister over to your suit.”
Shocked, Margaret cried, “Devlin, I cannot believe you were party to this and that Faith was also involved!”
“Come now, Margaret,” he cajoled. “Jackson has made his intentions known, and I give my blessing. What more do you want?”
Stalking down the terrace steps, angry beyond reason, she shot back, “The less interfering my family does for me, the better.”
Jackson called after her, “Where are you going?” She didn’t answer, but from the lawn below she threw him and Devlin a disgusted look before continuing down the lawn.
When Jackson turned to Devlin with a wordless plea for help, Devlin only shrugged and said, “Leave her be. She’ll come to her senses once she collects herself. As her groom, you will soon discover her emotions tend to run high when provoked.”
Frederick, who watched the previous exchange with amusement, said, “I’m sorry I arrived too late to catch all of the excitement.” To Jackson, he said, “Congratulations on your choice of bride. I can tell you from experience that she will be quite the handful when riled.”
Wryly, Jackson replied, “I appreciate the warning. Are there any other words of sage advice you would like to offer?”
Grinning, Frederick replied, “No, but I did come looking for you to discuss the matter about a plot of land you had plans for. Apparently, there’s been some kind of mistake, and—”
Frederick was stopped in mid-sentence, as a blood-curdling shriek cut through the night air. With everyone else in the house, the sound could only have come from one other person outside with them.
Jackson looked at Devlin and said, “Margaret.” On high alert, all three men sped down the terrace steps in the direction she had taken earlier. Scanning through the area with what little light the moon provided, Frederick shouted, “Over there. Through the trees.”
Frantic, Jackson ran past the tree line where he could make out an outline of a cloaked figure who now hoisted an unconscious figure wearing evening silk over the back of a horse. Before he could reach them, the cloaked figure, a masked man, pulled out a pistol and held it to Margaret’s temple and wordlessly signaled for Jackson to back away. Anger surged through him at the threat to her life, but he wisely stepped back only to allow the man to ride away with her.
Eyes wild, he turned to run back to the house only to be caught by the arms by Devlin who demanded, “Where i
s she? What happened?”
He managed to choke out, “A masked man grabbed her, and they went off on horseback. He held a pistol to her to make his escape so I couldn’t follow.”
“We will find her, Jackson. We ride out to look for her now. And I’ll have someone alert Nobley and the regiment currently headquartered at his office. We can enlist their help to look for her.”
Frederick, who had caught up to them, offered, “I can help look, as well.”
“Let us hurry, then,” Jackson replied, running towards the Prestonridge stables.
“Jackson, wait,” Devlin called after him. “Let us wait for Nobley and the militia stationed here. A lone man would have too much ground to cover on his own. If the man was on the one horse, he can’t have gone too far without being noticed in this parish.”
Acknowledging Devlin spoke true, Jackson reluctantly followed after him and Frederick into the house. Inside, Devlin discreetly alerted Hugo of the message needing to be delivered to Nobley, as Faith and Mary rushed out of the parlor at their thunderous entrance. Before the women could ask what was the matter, Devlin ushered them straight into his study, silencing them with a finger to his lips and a nod of his head towards the open parlor, indicating their guests with straining ears.
Once concealed behind the closed study door, Devlin quietly announced, “Margaret’s been stolen away.”
The ladies gasped before their voices intermingled in discordance with an onslaught of questions aimed at Devlin. But before he could explain what had happened only moments before, Hugo entered the room, apologized for his intrusion, and handed Devlin a folded note.
Accepting the note, Devlin quickly unfolded it and scanned it quickly as everyone watched expectantly. “It’s addressed to Margaret,” he declared. “And it states that the sender is Frederick, who has requested her to meet him after supper in the gardens.”
Jackson muttered darkly, “Popular meeting place. What were you doing, inviting my fiancée to the gardens alone, Revelstoke?”
Both Faith and Mary screeched in unison, “Fiancee?!”
From Frederick, “That is not from me.” Snatching the note from Devlin’s hand and giving it a quick glance, he looked up and crowed, “And this is not in my hand. Whoever wrote this has excellent penmanship, whereas I know my own is no better than chicken scratches.”
With that revelation, Jackson almost tore at his hair in frustration, realizing the author of the note intended to lure her out of the house with the intent to kidnap her and God knows what else. With worry for Margaret at the forefront of his mind, there was no real clue as to why Margaret had been taken or at the very least, where she would have taken. All he knew was that whoever was responsible for kidnapping her, he would dearly love to meet with fists flying.
21
For once, luck was on his side as he spied Lady Margaret through the trees, and happily, he was able to deviate from his original plan and snatched her at the first available opportunity. As part of his formulated plan, he had sent a short missive to the house earlier. He had written it under the guise of being Frederick Revelstoke and requested for her to meet him out in the gardens after supper.
Thankfully, he had discovered who it was that had cut in on her dance with Collingwood at the Haversham ball, and was able to use the information to his advantage. His forged note must have reached her, for there she was, ripe for the taking at the estimated time.
Once he had properly lured her outside to answer the summons of her latest lover, it was an easy thing to use her moment of shock to club her across the temple, just like all of the other girls before her. His blood fairly sizzled at the anticipation of once more joining in the hunt, only this time he would be the one to hoist the bow tonight.
Even if Prestonridge and his allies were to give chase, he was confident that they would never find his direction. Again, he had been blessed by the gods in that the late Earl of Revelstoke had coffers empty enough to warrant selling him a small parcel of his land. Upon his possession of it, he was surprised to find an old cave which he eventually would use for their full moon activities, using the pretense of mocking the moon goddess to justify his wickedness.
Stealing a glance at the woman balanced precariously on the horse before him, he smirked in oily satisfaction, deliciously awaiting the moment she would realize she was powerless and subject to his dominance. Although she would be the last woman he would ever trust, she would not be the last to feed his need for blood and vengeance, a need in which he exulted in its never-ending hunger.
22
Prestonridge Manor—Devlin’s Study
It wasn’t long before Nobley arrived with a sizable contingent of British soldiers accompanying him in response to Devlin’s urgent note. The soldiers waited outside the house as Nobley alone met with those still assembled in Devlin’s study. After hearing from Devlin and Jackson the events leading up to the kidnapping, Nobley only nodded, thinking hard on all of the facts presented before them.
Frederick supplied, “Before I arrived, I was about to inform both Devlin and Jackson here that there was a portion of land I was expecting back as part of our recent transaction. Only to find that it was not included and that it is currently under the possession of an anonymous buyer during a private sale. I was about to ask them about it before the kidnapping occurred.”
Faith’s head snapped up at Frederick’s observation and excitedly burst out, “Margaret had discovered who the buyer is, not more than a few days ago. It was in Father’s account book, and it so happens that Margaret’s fellow correspondent is the buyer.”
Jackson immediately understood. “Mensforth,” he said, and Faith nodded in confirmation.
Nobley interjected, “Where is this plot of land you’re referring to?”
Frederick described it for Nobley, who nodded and said, “That isn’t too far from several of the places where we’ve found the bodies. It confirms our suspicions that whoever is responsible for the death of the baronet’s daughter and of those previous has been using that area to hide their activities. It is quite possible that this Mensforth may be the killer we have been searching for. Our investigations have led us to believe that the actual killings have occurred on his land. ”
Faith suddenly sat up, back straight, eyes wide, and Devlin could tell that his wife had suddenly received a revelation. Without warning, she bolted out of the room, leaving those present extremely puzzled at her odd behavior. When she arrived back minutes later, clutching a single sheet of paper, everyone’s eyes were on her, questioning her wordlessly.
Grinning from ear to ear, she seized the note meant for Margaret and held it up against the mystery piece of paper she held in the other hand. Explaining to the room, she said, “I had a gut feeling that the handwriting here looked familiar and I needed confirmation.” Showing both sheets to the rest of the room, she clarified, “I grabbed one of Mensforth’s letters to Margaret to verify that the handwriting in the forged note is indeed Mensforth’s. I knew that I had seen the handwriting in this note before, but I couldn’t recall where until now.”
“That was brilliant,” Jackson praised her. “We now know that Mensforth is behind the kidnapping. As to the where…” Jackson did not finish his sentence, already knowing that Mensforth would take her to his property that was formerly Revelstoke land.
Nobley interrupted, “We must make haste if we are to get there in time. If my suspicions are correct, Lady Margaret may be Mensforth’s next victim.” To Frederick, he commanded, “You would be familiar with the lay of the land, my lord. Show us the way there.”
23
Coming to with a throbbing headache, Margaret felt like the very dickens as she slowly took measure of where on her body she felt varying degrees of aches and pains. Nothing alerted her to anything serious enough to require a surgeon, but she wasn’t exactly feeling comfortable, to say the least. Her eyes flew open as she took stock of her surroundings and was dismayed to find herself on the cold, dirt floor of a dimly l
it cavern, her wrists and ankles bound. A slight movement in the shadows to her right informed her that she wasn’t alone.
“Abraham,” she croaked, recognizing the figure. “Help me, quick. Before the masked man comes back.”
As he stepped closer, she noted he was enrobed all in black, bringing to mind that her captor had also been fully hidden beneath black attire. Everything had happened so fast, she hadn’t seen the figure running at her full tilt until it was too late, causing her to emit that piercing shriek at his approach. Only a man would have accosted her with little to no effort, bringing her down so efficiently with one blow.
Struggling against her bonds in an attempt to somehow loosen them, her blood ran cold when Abraham tsked at her pitiful effort, effectively telling her that he was not there to assist.
Recognizing the exact moment that she fully understood her situation only made his face split into a grin that hinted at the madness he had hid underneath the veneer of the gentleman she thought she knew. Chuckling, he said, “My dear, it was only a matter of time until we arrived at this point. I should have known that you would be just like the others, a betrayer of men, glorying in your wickedness as a woman.”
