Raven (Gentlemen of the Order Book 2)

by Adele Clee

  Sophia’s stomach roiled. “Something is wrong.” The hairs on her nape prickled in agreement. “The drawing room door is closed.”

  Finlay exhaled slowly. “Perhaps they wished to keep out the draught.”

  “But Mr D’Angelo positioned the chair so he could observe anyone approaching through the great hall.”

  “Then we must assume there’s villainy afoot.”

  Sophia swallowed down a whimper. “What are we to do, Finlay?”

  “The only thing we can. Assess the scene and attempt to negotiate.”

  They moved closer to the door.

  “Move out of my way!” came Maud’s sudden demand from inside the drawing room. “Else I shall pull the trigger!”

  Trigger!

  Maud had a pistol?

  Jessica must be terrified.

  “I am not moving from this door, madam,” D’Angelo countered. “You can fire if you wish, but you’ve got one lead ball in that pistol, and there are three of us.”

  What the devil? What if Maud shot Jessica?

  “Finlay, do something!” Sophia grabbed his arm as her pulse soared. “Mr D’Angelo is almost goading Maud to shoot Jessica.”

  “D’Angelo knows what he’s doing.” Finlay patted her hand. “But we’re about to make the situation more troublesome for Maud.” He threw a glance at Mr Archer. “You’ll enter the room with us, but take one step in the wrong direction and I’ll kill you myself.”

  “I can reason with her,” the rogue replied, “get her to stop this nonsense if you let us leave Blackborne. We’ll return to India, and you’ll never hear from us again.”

  Did he think to escape punishment after everything he’d done?

  Finlay made no reply. He was true to his word and would never make false promises. He knocked gently on the drawing room door. “D’Angelo? We’ve returned.”

  “What! Don’t let them in!” Maud exclaimed. “If you open that door, I’ll shoot. I swear.”

  Mr Archer cursed. “Let me speak to her before she kills someone.”

  Finlay nodded.

  “Maud!” Mr Archer moved closer to the door. “It’s Bartholomew. Mr Cole knows there has been a misunderstanding. Let me in so we can discuss our return to India.”

  Silence ensued.

  “Do you not want to tell them the truth about their father?”

  Their father? Clarence Draper was an honest man, and so Sophia knew to expect more lies.

  After some muttering, the click of the latch preceded D’Angelo opening the door. “Maud could grace the stage with her distressed damsel routine,” D’Angelo grumbled, looking somewhat ashamed he’d lost control of the situation. “She caught us all by surprise.”

  “Where did she get the pistol?” Finlay openly expressed his annoyance. “I thought Mrs Friswell checked for weapons.”

  “Maud must have hidden it earlier in the evening. She asked to use the bourdalou behind the screen. Blent and I stepped into the hall briefly. That’s when she grabbed Miss Draper.”

  D’Angelo moved aside, and Finlay gestured for Mr Archer to enter first.

  “Anger burns inside like an inferno,” Sophia whispered.

  “Give me the pistol hidden in your muff,” he said firmly. “It’s unwise to wield a weapon when suffering heightened emotions. Trust me. You do not want a man’s death on your conscience.”

  Sophia hesitated.

  “Have you fired a pistol before?”

  “Never.”

  “I can shoot a man in the heart from two hundred yards.” He held out his hand, palm up. “Give me the pistol.”

  Sophia drew the pistol from her muff and placed the weapon in his hand. “They must pay for their treachery. All three of them. Do you hear me? I want retribution for Jessica’s lost years.”

  He inclined his head. “You shall have it. You have my word.”

  His gaze of assurance wrapped around her heart. Finlay would keep his vow.

  They moved to step into the room—heaven knows what horrors awaited them tonight—but she touched his arm and said the only thing he needed to hear.

  “Should anything happen to either of us, know this.” She paused. “I’m in love with you, Finlay. I’ve always been in love with you.”

  Sophia didn’t wait for a reply. Now he knew the depth of her feelings it was time to deal with Maud. Conniving didn’t begin to describe the woman who’d sobbed hysterically and claimed to be in fear of her life. But her schemes would come to nought.

  Yet one look at Jessica’s fear-stricken eyes dashed Sophia’s hopes. Maud held her in a choke hold, the muzzle of a pocket pistol pressed to her temple. For seven years, Goodwin had held his finger on the trigger, too. One mistake with his dosage could have ended Jessica’s life.

  “Don’t come any closer,” Maud kept repeating.

  Tears ran down Jessica’s cheeks. Her bewildered expression had nothing to do with having a fragile mind. She must wonder what she’d done to deserve this mistreatment. All those she’d trusted were false-hearted scoundrels. All those except Blent.

  “What do you hope to achieve by shooting Miss Draper?” Blent said calmly, though the pain behind his eyes told a different story. “Why risk your life? Until now, you’ve committed no crime.”

  “You cannot hope to take her place,” Finlay added. “There are too many witnesses here, witnesses who will give a true account of events.”

  From the firm set of her jaw and the devilish look in Maud’s eyes, Sophia knew it would be impossible to reason with the woman.

  “You don’t understand,” Maud snapped. She firmed her grip on the pistol, causing Jessica to whimper. “People step over me like I’m something foul in the street. My husband married me for money. My father refused to acknowledge me, giving all his praise to his pretty young daughter. What about me? He made me empty the pots and scrub the grate, sleep in the dusty attic. Look at us!” She tightened her grip on Jessica’s neck, forcing her head back. “We have the same eyes, the same golden hair and slight frame.”

  But they did not have the same blood flowing through their veins.

  Sophia knew it with absolute certainty.

  “You believe Clarence Draper was your father?” Sophia began, ready to undermine Maud’s argument. “And you confronted him with your suspicions?”

  “My mother told me my father was a wealthy gentleman from Godstow.”

  “Did your mother not work at The Trout Inn in her younger days?”

  Maud nodded. “And she said Clarence Draper was often seen creeping about the yard late at night.”

  Another fact concocted by the serving wench to embellish the tale. Perhaps the woman saw the similarity between the children and thought to spin a yarn.

  “Remind me how old you are, Maud.”

  “Twenty-seven. Two years older than Jessica. I’m the bastard daughter your father despised. The likeness is uncanny.”

  Everyone in the room listened intently to the conversation.

  “And when you confronted my father, what did he say?” Sophia knew the answer. Her father despised gossips and did not want to draw undue attention to his family. The reason for which Sophia would soon reveal.

  Maud grunted. “He denied ever knowing my mother. He said if I mentioned it again, he would send me off without a reference. Clarence Draper would dismiss his own daughter to protect his precious reputation.”

  “And his reaction angered you.”

  “Had he welcomed me with open arms, none of this would have happened. But he carried on pretending I didn’t exist.” Maud ground her teeth at Jessica. Jealousy distorted her features, twisting them into something ugly and abhorrent. “Not like this pretty creature who had everyone pandering to her whims.”

  “And so you sought to rob Jessica of everything she treasured—her sanity, her memory, her hopes for the future. I doubt it proved difficult to lure Mr Archer into bed.”

  Jessica glared at the unprincipled fool. “Should I meet my end tonight, Mr Archer, know
that I didn’t love you, not like I love Mr Blent.”

  Tears sprang to Sophia’s eyes. Jessica could still have a bright future if they escaped with their lives tonight. The thought would give Sophia the strength to overcome Maud.

  “And yet Bartholomew risked everything to come back to England,” Maud said. “But don’t fool yourself, deary. He didn’t come back for love. He wants to kill me and marry you, all because his business partner stole and lied and left him in desperate need of funds.”

  Life provided countless opportunities to learn lessons. Yet after being tricked by a dishonest rogue, Mr Archer continued in the same selfish vein.

  “This is ridiculous,” Mr Archer blurted. “Put the pistol down, Maud, else you’ve no chance of escaping the noose.”

  Mr Archer had conveniently forgotten about his crimes.

  “Me!” Maud exclaimed. “You should be shot for the way you’ve treated me. You abandoned me in India, paid that fool Kamara to poison my tea. Oh, perhaps I should mention you came to England for an alibi.”

  Mr Archer ground his teeth. “Be quiet, witch. No wonder your father abandoned you. You’ve the morals of a sewer rat.”

  Maud’s eyes widened. The pistol in her hand shook as her entire body trembled with rage. With the hammer cocked, one slip of the finger and Jessica would meet a grisly end.

  Sophia had to act quickly before the foolish woman pulled the trigger. “You’re not our sister,” she said, her voice quivering with panic. “And Clarence Draper cannot possibly be your father. The facts work against you, I’m afraid.”

  Maud’s gorgon gaze shot from Mr Archer to Sophia. “Facts?”

  “Well, to begin with, Clarence Draper was not our father. He was our uncle.”

  Everyone in the room sucked in a sharp breath, even Finlay.

  “Liar!” Maud countered.

  “It’s true,” Jessica confirmed.

  Sophia gave a contemptuous snort. “Our parents died in a carriage accident when Jessica was three months old. The Drapers brought us from the wilds of North Yorkshire to the house in Godstow. They were our guardians but wanted everyone to believe they were our parents.”

  Hence the reason her father wished to avoid a scandal.

  It took Maud a moment to process the information. “Then it’s worse than I thought. Clarence Draper preferred his nieces to his own daughter.”

  “No,” Sophia said, relishing telling the next part of the tale. “The Drapers treated us like their daughters because they could not have children of their own. During her first marriage, Mrs Draper had a babe who died in infancy. So you see, it was Mr Draper who could not sire a child.” Sophia let the information take root before adding. “We came to Godstow when Jessica was three, when Clarence Draper inherited the house from his uncle. Before then, a merchant leased the property. So you see, you were wrong in your assumptions about my father.”

  Maud’s face flushed with humiliation.

  No one spoke. No one moved.

  Maud’s panicked gaze flitted wildly about the room like a trapped bird seeking escape. But then something shifted. Fear turned to fury. Her beady eyes narrowed as though she might swoop and peck out their eyeballs.

  “Then I suppose there’s only one solution to my problem.” The cold, hard look in Maud’s eyes had Sophia’s stomach churning.

  “Jessica doesn’t deserve your disdain,” Sophia choked. “She has suffered enough for your ignorance. I can’t explain why you look so similar.” Perhaps it was just another cruel trick of fate. “But it’s not for the reason you think.”

  “Yes,” was all Maud said before releasing Jessica.

  Jessica gasped with shock, then relief. She raced into Sophia’s arms, and they both sobbed until Finlay’s loud curse captured their attention.

  With a trembling hand, Maud pressed the pistol to her temple.

  “Lower the pistol, Maud.” Finlay raised his hands in mock surrender. “This isn’t the answer. Do you want to condemn your soul to hell?”

  “The world is cruel.” The first of many tears dripped off Maud’s nose. “People are cruel. What is there to live for?”

  Mr Archer stepped forward. “Perhaps we might leave England and promise never to return.”

  Maud shook her head and laughed—the sound carrying a lifetime of resentment.

  “What? So you can poison my tea when my back is turned? So you might conduct your sordid affairs? Treat me as a maid?”

  If only Mr Archer possessed the wisdom of hindsight, then he might not have said, “Loath me to point out the obvious, but you were, in fact, a maid.”

  Maud laughed again, a high-pitched cackle which saw her aim the small flintlock pistol at Mr Archer and fire.

  A thud, a choking puff of smoke and a blinding orange flash from the ignited charge made them all instinctively drop to their knees. Mr Archer dropped to his knees, too. But while everyone else patted their chests, checked for blood and scrambled to their feet, Mr Archer glanced down at the hole in his shirt and the deepening burgundy stain.

  “Bloody hell!” Finlay cried. “Quick, lie him down.”

  D’Angelo sprang forward to offer his assistance. “He’s taken a shot to the heart,” he said gravely.

  Maud stood in stunned silence while Finlay worked on Mr Archer. The man deserved to die, but not before being held accountable for his crimes. Besides, they would be inhuman, just as wicked as these devils, if they stood idly by and watched a man die.

  “Give me something to stem the bleeding.” Blood glistened thick and red on Finlay’s hands and cheek.

  “It’s too late, Cole.”

  “Still, we must try.” Finlay glanced up. “Fetch linen.”

  Only then did Sophia notice Mrs Friswell wasn’t in the room. She turned to Jessica. “Fetch a bed sheet from the ottoman. Run—”

  But it was Maud who ran. She darted past them as if the house were ablaze. Consumed with guilt, one might have thought she’d rushed to fetch the linen, but instinct said it was her one opportunity to escape.

  “Hurry upstairs, Jessica! I shall find Maud.”

  Sophia caught Finlay’s concerned gaze. He shook his head. “Let Maud go. She won’t get far on foot.” He turned back to the convulsing body on the floor. “Damnation!”

  There was no time to waste. Sophia picked up her skirts and darted from the room. Besides, Maud was unarmed.

  Maud tried to escape via the front door, but Mrs Friswell had the key on her chatelaine.

  “There is no point running,” Sophia called out as Maud whisked along the narrow passage leading to the rear of the house.

  The maid could run. Like a frightened doe, she was through the herb garden and racing across the grass by the time Sophia burst through the door. At this rate, Maud would tire before reaching the road.

  “Maud!” Sophia cried, struggling to close the distance. With the ground obscured by a thick mist, it was difficult to know where to place one’s feet. “Maud! Stop!”

  But only a fool would choose the noose over a chance of freedom.

  The distant barking of dogs pierced the night air. Had the gunshot left them spooked? Had Dr Goodwin found a way out of the woods and disturbed the volatile animals? The harsh cries grew louder. Had the beasts escaped their shelter and were hunting for blood?

  A shiver ran the length of Sophia’s spine. She cast a backward glance while chasing Maud, expecting the hounds to come charging across the damp grass, teeth bared. The woman scanned left and right, too, searching for the source of the vicious sound.

  Mrs Friswell appeared, swamped in a black cloak and limping behind two hounds tugging on their leash. She gripped the leads firmly in her gloved hands while wrestling to keep them under control. Spotting Maud fleeing the scene, she let go of the restraints, and the hounds bounded across the lawn.

  Sophia came to a crashing halt and froze, so terrified she could scarcely speak. But Blent had trained the dogs to track their prey, not attack. Still, Maud darted across the courtyard, swer
ving this way and that to avoid the slathering beasts’ jaws.

  “Maud! Stop!” Sophia cried again when she realised the woman was heading straight for the moat.

  She had spoken to Blent about draining the moat, fearing Jessica would tumble into the deep water. But he had persuaded her it brought a measure of security and so taught Jessica to swim instead.

  Clearly, the hounds had caught a whiff of Jessica’s scent on Maud’s clothes because they bounded past Sophia and headed straight for the woman.

  “Watch out!” Sophia saw the tragedy seconds before it occurred.

  With visibility reduced by the thick ground mist, Maud ran straight into the moat. She screamed as she plunged into the cold water. The hounds stopped somewhere near the water’s edge and barked and barked.

  Sophia reached the moat before Mrs Friswell. She stripped off her cloak and shuffled her foot closer to the edge. “Maud!”

  Frantic splashing and a gurgling cry was the only reply.

  Sophia sucked in a sharp breath.

  “You can’t go in there, my lady,” Mrs Friswell panted. “Wait. Wait for one of the gentle—”

  But Sophia jumped into the moat.

  The cold hit her hard, shocking her muscles, seeping deep into her bones. Finlay had taught her to swim years ago when they’d used any opportunity to sneak away from the house. In cold water, the key was to float, to regulate one’s breathing until the shock abated.

  “Maud!” she cried through chattering teeth. “Maud, can you hear me? I shall reach out. See if you can grab my arm.”

  Sophia stretched out her arm, knowing she had but minutes before she lost dexterity and could no longer tread water. She listened, moved towards the gasps and violent thrashing.

  “Try to remain calm.”

  Maud’s head breached the surface. The woman tried to breathe but swallowed a mouthful of water. Maud’s limbs must be so cold she lacked the strength to float. And then she sank down, down into the murky depths and never resurfaced.