Within the hour he claimed the last of her coins and sat back and crossed his arms with a satisfied smile.
The clock struck four. “It will soon be dawn.” Beth pushed away from the table. Beyond the window the trees dripped, and the moon appeared through the misty clouds, the storm having finally blown away. “I would like to go home now. If you intended to damage my reputation, you have succeeded.”
“That wasn’t part of our agreement.” He climbed to his feet, his eyes roaming over her. “Come to the bedchamber. You agreed to spend some time with me, if you lost the game.”
“I made no such promise.” A chill spread down her spine beneath her shift. She jumped to her feet and began to back away. “Let me go, please.”
With two strides he was upon her, his hard hand on her arm, his fingers tightening around it.
Beth struggled within his grasp. “Don’t give me any trouble. I warn you.”
She gasped and her spine slumped with a sense of impending doom.
A loud crash came from somewhere below. “What the devil was that?” Ramsey released her arm.
“Ghosts?”
He scowled back at her, but she saw fear in his eyes. Another crash sounded below. Ramsey ran to the door as he searched in his pocket for the key. Producing it, he turned it in the lock and hauled the door open. In his haste would he forget to lock it?
She heard him fumble with the key and the clunk as the bolt turned. With a moan of despair, she hurried over to search the walls for a hiding place.
Ramsey’s voice rose in anger from the hall below. She couldn’t make out his words and wondered who it could be. Might someone have come to help her? She couldn’t make herself believe it and had no time to wait to find out. The servants’ stairs Lilly had spoken of must be here somewhere.
Desperate, Beth moved along the walls, her fingers prodding the carved border atop the drawing room panels. Suddenly, the dining room doors, which Ramsey had closed, were thrown open.
Beth spun around.
Lilly beckoned from the doorway. “Come quickly,” she whispered.
With a smothered crow of delight, Beth ran to her. A cleverly concealed door in the dining room wall, half-timber half-papered, stood open revealing a set of wooden stairs. She scrambled with Lilly into the confined space.
Lilly closed the door behind them, and darkness descended. “Best we don’t light a candle in case he comes into the stairway.”
“Lilly,” Beth murmured heaving in breaths of stale air. “I am so grateful to you. What was that noise downstairs?”
“I pushed over the armor in the hall,” Lilly said.
“But how did you get back up here without him seeing you?”
“I ran fast up the stairs and into the bedchamber.”
“Can we get into the parlor downstairs? There might be a window we can open.”
Lilly shook her head. “Those rooms are locked. He has all the keys. He carries the housekeeper’s chatelaine with him. He locks every one, the library, the salon, even the door to the cellar. There is no way out. He locked me in after I brought the shopping yesterday. And he won’t let me go again, until he wishes to.”
“Can’t we break the kitchen window?”
“It’s barred.”
“He will know of these stairs. Where can we hide?”
“This leads to the tower steps. He’ll come after us though, and we can’t lock ourselves inside the tower.”
Beth followed the maid up the winding stairs. “but we shall have to hide somewhere. He has had a lot to drink and must eventually grow tired.”
“I doubt it. ’Is lordship plans to marry ye this morn.”
Beth froze on the step. “Marry me?”
“Me and the gardener, Johnson, are to be witnesses,” Lilly called back.
“But surely the vicar won’t agree to that. I’ll tell him…”
“’e’s not from our parish,” Lilly said with disgust. “Another rascal he be.”
“But still… he can’t marry me against my wishes,” Beth said, catching her breath. Her legs felt leaden. Distress and tiredness had begun to take its toll.
“Who’s going to try to stop ’im? ’E’s a baron.”
“I shall have to.” It sounded hollow. Ramsey was strong and could easily overpower her. “We must find somewhere to hide until we can escape, Lilly,” she said desperately.
“Nothing in the tower to ’ide us. We’d be caught there like rabbits in a trap.”
“Then let’s not go there. You have the key to the bedchamber door, don’t you?”
“But if we go out into the passage ’e’ll find us.”
“Not if we’re quick. He’ll be busy on the floors below trying to find me. We can hide in one of the other bedchambers. There might be a cupboard.”
“Never been into any of those rooms,” Lilly said. “What if there ain’t a cupboard?”
“Under a bed then.” Beth bit her lip. “I can’t think of anything else. Can you?”
“No,” Lilly said shortly. “We’ll do it then.”
They emerged through the open panel into the bedchamber. The fire in the grate was almost out, but the embers provided enough light for them to find their way to the door.
Lilly seized the door latch. “It ain’t locked. I found it this way when I ran up from the hall.”
Beth felt a rush of excitement to discover Ramsey had not locked it. He had erred. He was not such an implacable enemy.
In the passage, flames guttered in the wall sconces. Beth drew Lilly along by the hand until they came to another solid oak door. She held her breath as the maid fumbled for the latch. She turned it, and she and Beth darted inside. “There’s no key,” Lilly said after a moment.
When the door shut, they stood in darkness. Beth struggled to breathe in the dense dust-laden air as she stumbled across the carpet to a tall block of shadow against one wall. She ran her hands over smooth wood. “There’s a cupboard here! It’s big enough for us both.” She turned the handle, but couldn’t budge the door. “It’s locked,” she cried in despair.
“Let me see.” Lilly took hold of the handle and pulled hard. It swung open. A strange odor seeped out.
“It was just stuck. There’s something inside, clothes I think, but I can’t see,” Lilly said. “Wait. I’ve got me tinder box and spills in me apron pocket.”
Lilly struck one and held it up.
Huddled inside was a mummified skeleton, a green gown hanging off its frame. It gaped down at them.
Beth fell back, a hand to her mouth stifling a scream. Beside her, Lilly sank to the floor with a frightened moan.
Chapter Six
Frustrated, Marcus rode Zeus along the road. Through the trees the river glinted. The water had risen, threatening to overflow the banks. The rain had eased at least, but the going was slow. There was unseen danger in the deep puddles which could hide treacherous potholes. He could not be far from Ramsey’s house, but he would not risk an injury to his horse. They followed along beside a rambling stone wall, behind which shadowy gardens spoke of rampant neglect.
“I believe we have found it, Zeus,” Marcus murmured. As clouds drifted away to reveal a star-studded sky, the name on the brass plate over the pair of gates was easy to discern: Whittemore House. While the name meant nothing to him, his confidence grew as he rode Zeus down the avenue of oaks. They emerged from the overgrown gardens. Ahead, an ancient gray stone mansion loomed with a tower at one end. There were several old houses nestling among gardens close to the river, but this one seemed to fit the description he was given. Waning moonlight slanted onto the roof revealing the missing slates. As he approached, the house appeared to be in as sorry a state as the gardens. Smoke spiraled into the sky from two of the chimneys, but there was no sign of activity within as he rode past the front entrance and on to the stables at the rear.
A black carriage stood in the coach house, the horses stabled. Marcus dismounted and walked over to inspect them. One of the horses had f
our white feet. With a long, drawn-in breath, he patted the pistol in his pocket. Was he about to interrupt a romantic liaison? He doubted it, for no lady would relish this kind of treatment. To be whisked away in secret to a place like this was hardly romantic in his view. But should he be wrong, he still intended to speak to Beth. His hands curled into fists. And he would have a few words with Ramsey. But that would follow a different line of questioning.
He left Zeus in one of the stalls, then crossed to the front porch where lamplight threw out a faint glow.
Marcus rapped on the brass knocker. The sound echoed within, but after several minutes no one appeared. He took hold of the latch and cursed. The door was locked. A glance through the narrow windowpane beside the door revealed a dimly lit great hall. A lamp turned low on a table sent light over a suit of armor strewn across the floor in pieces.
Marcus spun around and went in search of an open window. All were locked the rooms in darkness. What that might mean sent a shaft of unease through him. Some act of violence had sent that armor tumbling. He abandoned any measure of civility. Returning to the garden, he found a small stone statue of the goddess Diana in among the weeds and returned to thrust it through a long window. The glass shattered. He kicked the shards away with his boot and stepped inside. No one came to investigate the noise as he strode across the stone floor. Were the servants all in bed?
A woman’s evening cloak hung alongside a gentleman’s coat. A reticule sat on the table. He tried the doors leading off the hall. All were locked. As no light or noise rose from the servants’ quarters, Marcus retreated to the main staircase. He mounted the uncarpeted treads, while loud creaks accompanied him to the upper landing.
Here at last were some signs of occupancy. Marcus strode through the drawing room door without ceremony. It was empty and appeared to have been recently vacated. A fire burned in the grate, and a set of open doors at the far end revealed the remains of a meal on the dining table.
Fearing the worst, Marcus left the room. As the rest of the doors on this floor were also locked, he took the stairs. On the floor above, candles guttered in the wall sconces. He was halfway down the passage, when a man’s angry voice split the quiet air. “I’ll make you sorry when I get my hands on you.”
Ramsey. Marcus pulled his pistol from his pocket, cocked it, and proceeded cautiously toward the noise. He edged around the corner. Ramsey, a candle held high, stalked through the room, talking, apparently to himself.
“I’ll find you!” he yelled, so distraught he failed to take note of Marcus who stood observing him.
Ramsey pulled open a cupboard door, then staggered back. “Nooo.” Terror distorting his features, he dropped the candlestick. It rolled around on the floor, the wick still alight, as he stumbled toward the door. He pulled up sharply when he encountered Marcus blocking his exit.
Marcus aimed the gun at his chest. “Pick up that candle before you start a fire.”
Ramsey silently scooped up the silver candlestick. The candle flickered but stayed alight.
“Where is Miss Harrismith?” Marcus asked.
Ramsey shook his head his mouth working. “Did Harrow send you?” he finally asked.
“Surely you’re not surprised? Where is the duke’s sister-in-law? If you have hurt her…”
The baron gulped audibly. “Nyeland. We met in Vienna as I remember. Work for the government, don’t you? Some shadowy business no doubt.” He eyed the gun dispassionately. “Are you going to shoot me?”
“If you’ve laid a hand on Beth, I’ll make you sorry you were born. Where is she?”
“Are you on intimate terms with the lady?” Ramsey made an attempt at a lewd wink, but his eyes were scared, and his lips trembled.
Marcus scowled at him. “Don’t tempt me. I am fighting a strong desire to take you apart. Where is the young lady?”
Ramsey shrugged. He waved his arm holding the candlestick and sent light rocking across the walls and ceiling. “I don’t know. I found a body in that cupboard. I always thought this place was haunted. I just want to get out of here.”
Keeping Ramsey in his sights, fearful of what he might find, Marcus stepped into the room. A glance in the cupboard made him hot with relief. Not Beth, but a skeleton with a gray wig askew dressed in a green gown, a cameo pinned to the lace collar.
“Do you know who that is?”
Ramsey groaned. “It might be an aunt.”
“The lady who left you this house?”
He shuddered. “No, her sister.”
“Did you murder her?”
He raked his hands through his hair. “I bloody well didn’t. Why would I?”
“I believe you’re capable of it.”
“She disappeared years ago. My aunt said she left the country. She probably killed her. They didn’t get on.”
“I’m not interested in your charming family. Where is Beth?” Marcus growled.
“I didn’t lay a hand on her. She ran away. I’m not sure she’s still in the house.”
“She must be here. The place is locked up tight as a drum.” He pushed Ramsey toward the door. “We’ll go and find her. Move.” He prodded Ramsey in the back.
They walked down the passage and stopped at a door. “Whose bedchamber is this?”
“I use it.”
Marcus waved the gun. “Inside.”
Ramsey, holding up the candle stepped into the room. “Empty! As you can see.”
While keeping a close eye on him, Marcus backed into the adjoining dressing room. “Where else could she be? What about the servants’ quarters? Or the tower?”
“I was about to go up there,” Ramsey said. “Until I found the body. Scared the daylights out of me.”
“How do we reach the tower?”
Ramsey grunted. “Why should I tell you?”
Marcus raised the gun. “Because something unpleasant will happen to you if you don’t.”
“There’s a staircase on this floor, at the end of the passage.”
Marcus eyed the wedding gown and veil which was arranged on the bed. “Whose is this?”
“I planned to marry Elizabeth,” Ramsey said. “I’ve a preacher coming.”
Marcus stared at him. “What? Are you mad? Beth would never agree to it.”
“She wouldn’t have had much option. She’d be my baroness. She would have grown accustomed to it.”
“But for God’s sake, why?” He couldn’t believe Ramsey capable of anything as unselfish as pure love.
They walked the length of the passage before Ramsey answered. He opened a door to reveal a set of narrow timber stairs winding upward. He paused on the first step. “I don’t see that it’s any of your business. Why the devil are you here?”
“I’m making it my business.” Marcus prodded him hard between the shoulder blades to move him along. “I intend to return Beth to her family. But I shall deal with you first.”
“I have a damn good reason.” Ramsey’s voice rose a notch. “Harrow knows what it is. Ask him. Bloody dukes have such power.”
“And Harrow tends to use it wisely. Supposing your mad scheme succeeded. What were your intentions? To escape to the Continent with Beth? Your life wouldn’t be worth living in England.”
“She’s a spirited lass. But I would soon grow tired of her, I do quickly enough. Then she could go home again.”
“You really are deranged aren’t you.”
“Want her for yourself, eh, Nyeland?”
“You turn my stomach,” Marcus said. As they climbed the stairs, he steeled himself from the impulse to strike the man down. That would have to wait until Beth was found and brought to safety.
They had reached the upper landing. An arched door led into the round room at the top of the tower.
“Open it,” Marcus ordered.
At the sound of voices on the stairs, Beth and Lilly carried out their plan. Lilly crouched in a far corner while Beth waited behind the door. She held a heavy silver candlestick above her head.
&
nbsp; The door opened and Ramsey stepped through it.
Beth brought the candlestick down as hard as she could. She missed his head but caught his shoulder. With a bellow he fell to his knees.
Apparently indifferent to Ramsey’s groans, Mr. Nyeland appeared round the door, his brown eyes wide with concern. “Beth! Are you all right?”
She dropped the candlestick and gazed at him wordlessly, swiping away the lock which had tumbled into her eyes. Regaining her wits, she raised the skirts of her crumpled and soiled gown and stumbled over to gaze up at him. “Is it really you, Mr. Nyeland? I’m not seeing things?”
“Best call me Marcus, Beth. You are safe now.” Her knight in shining armor folded her into his arms.
Behind them, Ramsey staggered uneasily to his feet, swerved away, and disappeared down the stairs.
“He’s gone!” Beth clutched Marcus’ lapel not wishing to relinquish her hold on him. She drew in his reassuring masculine scent.
“He’ll be dealt with later. I need to get you home.”
“Ramsey tricked me into coming here. There was a letter…,” Beth gasped.
“You can tell me all of it later, Beth,” Marcus said, his arm around her.
“You can’t trust ’im, sir,” Lilly said, her voice trembling as she came across to them.
Marcus smiled at her. “Who am I to thank for helping Miss Harrismith?”
“This is Lilly,” Beth said. “She’s been wonderful.”
He eased Beth away and raised her chin with a finger to study her face. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head.
Thank God! “Do you know why he wanted to force you into marriage?”
Beth shook her head. “He didn’t explain why. I thought he must be mad. I doubt he even liked me very much.”
Marcus’ lips twitched. “I suspect Ramsey anticipated dealing with a wilting flower and not a spirited girl like you, Beth. I am eager to hear more. But we should go. Ramsey has become distracted, but that might not last.”
She nodded. “How did you get inside? Everything is locked.”
Beth Page 6
