“Stop where you are.” Eversham’s order cut through the air.
Cecelia did her best to raise her torso so she might get a better view. Mounted on his chestnut, Lind emerged from the trees, one plodding step at a time.
“Stop,” Eversham repeated. He remained where he was, close to the edge of the trees, his back to his captives. “Unless you want to see your lovely wife and young son harmed.”
“You’ve to the count of ten to release them both and disappear, and I might be willing to forget this whole sorry incident,” Lind drawled as if he were discussing the weather at a garden party. Good heavens, how could he manage to sound bored, of all things, when Cecelia’s heart was slamming into her ribs at an impossible cadence?
“Do you imagine you can fight both of us? In your condition?” Eversham let out a bark of laughter and brandished his knife. “I can be on one of them in a trice before you’ve a chance to charge me with that beast of yours. And you’d never run the risk of trampling one of your family, would you? One of your loved ones?”
Lind cast a distant glance at Cecelia and Jeremy, and his expression chilled her. Cold, calm, calculating were all descriptors that sprang to mind. She’d come to suspect ice ran through the man’s veins, except where Lydia was concerned, and here was proof. Eversham had certainly erred if he thought Lind might be motivated by any sort of tender feelings for either one of them. He’d married her to protect her reputation, and Jeremy wasn’t even his own flesh and blood. A look into those jade-green eyes told her nothing. He could well spur his horse toward any of them and the consequences be damned. As long as he took out Eversham, even if his main target lay elsewhere.
And Battencliffe. Lind had even more reason to wish harm on his former friend.
Cecelia shifted her body as best she could, inching along the soft ground like a snake. The least she could do was shield Jeremy should Lind decide to charge.
For now, however, he remained immobile, his posture rigid in the saddle. She imagined his hands tightening about the reins. For the briefest of moments, his glance flicked to Battencliffe. A chill raced down the back of her neck. If she didn’t know better, she would have said they’d exchanged an unspoken message. No, impossible. The two were mortal enemies now.
At any rate, the moment was gone almost before it had begun.
“You’ve no idea what I might be willing to risk.” Lind’s bored drawl hardened to granite. “Why don’t you tell me how much that damned ring of yours is worth so I can send you on your way?”
No! If not for the blasted gag in her mouth, Cecelia would have shouted. It didn’t matter if Lind paid the scoundrel off. The moment Eversham ran short of funds, he’d only be back with threats of exposure.
Eversham let out another spate of laughter, not a bark so much as a chuckle, low and evil. “So your darling bride saw fit to confide in you. I’ll wager it was after your wedding, though, wasn’t it? Otherwise, you’d never have deigned to marry her. Unless, of course, your proclivities run to, shall we say, certain tastes?”
“Name your price.” Another man would have shouted. Lind’s voice cut through the air, clear and low and commanding. A shiver of an entirely different sort passed down Cecelia’s spine.
“That ring was quite unique and costly. I don’t know if I can put an exact amount on such an heirloom.”
As Eversham spoke, a presence at her back made itself felt. Beside her, Jeremy started. Cecelia stiffened, and a scream gathered in her throat, despite her gag.
“Not one sound,” a voice breathed in her ear. Battencliffe. Somehow he’d managed to creep to Cecelia’s side while Lind kept Eversham occupied. A tug at the back of her head, and the bindings about her mouth fell away. “Lie very still and do nothing to draw attention to yourself. I’ll have you loose in a moment.”
“Why?” She restricted her response to a single whisper and prayed Battencliffe would understand the full import of the question.
“He promised me we could get some funds without harming you or the boy.” She held her gaze riveted on the two men in front of her, afraid to even look and see what Battencliffe was up to. If she so much as turned her head, she might give the whole thing away.
“An heirloom?” Lind’s brow arched upward, and he assumed his familiar expression of skepticism. “Surely you’d have kept closer watch on such a costly object. You wouldn’t have bothered showing it to Miss Sanford.”
Battencliffe worked at her bonds, and she gritted her teeth against the renewed pain in her hands.
“Call it a weakness for a comely female,” Eversham said. “I’m sure you understand the attraction. You’re willing to excuse her stealing from me.”
“I understand utter stupidity when I see it. If you valued something so much, you’d have kept it in a safe, away from all eyes. I’d say you deserved whatever happened after that.”
Eversham shrugged. “Believe what you will. I might say the same about you. Clearly you cannot value your wife so very much if you let her be taken so easily. Perhaps I’ve misjudged you, but there’s still the matter of your son, and if that’s not enough to convince you, there’s always your reputation. I wonder what society will make of your marriage to such a scandalous young lady? Word of our association only needs to reach the right ears.”
“Do you think that can harm me? Do you not realize I’ve enough scandal attached to my name already that Cecelia’s doings hardly matter?”
As Lind spoke those words, the ropes about her wrists eased. Blood rushed back to her hands, like a thousand tiny needles pricking her fingers.
“Just lie where you are for a bit longer,” Battencliffe breathed. “I still need to release Jeremy, so give nothing away.”
She indicated her understanding with a brief jerk of her head, while a hundred questions flooded her mind. Why had he waited so long to act? Why had he let Jeremy be taken in the first place?
Lind’s disregard for Cecelia’s transgressions seemed to place Eversham at a loss for words. Good heavens, hadn’t he known of Lydia’s suspect pregnancy? But then, perhaps he’d never had reason to pay heed to Lindenhurst’s doings until now. He couldn’t have known Cecelia would take refuge here, and if he’d been following her, he wouldn’t have access to any of the ton’s gossips to overhear any rumors about Jeremy.
Lind spurred his horse forward a step. “I don’t believe I’ll pay you so much as a pence, after all.”
“I’ve still got your son.”
Eversham whirled, knife raised, but Battencliffe leapt over the boy’s prone form to stand before him. “Only one problem there. He’s my son, and if you think I’ll let the likes of you harm him, think again.”
Eversham stabbed wildly, but Battencliffe dodged the blow.
Cecelia lunged toward Jeremy, intent on placing her body between him and the blade. “Jeremy, quickly! Get out of the way.”
He crawled toward her, and she met him halfway, wrapping her arms about his small body to shield him. Just in time. Lind spurred his big chestnut into the fray.
Cecelia tucked Jeremy more closely into her embrace. She needed to get out. She ought to take the child and go, but he couldn’t move quickly. And part of her yearned to watch Eversham get his comeuppance.
A shout pulled her attention back to the fight. She’d missed something. Suddenly Lind’s gelding was rearing, up and up. Eversham had somehow approached Lind, but the horse’s body blocked her view. In the next instant, Lind toppled from the saddle. His body hit the soft ground with a dull thud. Judas galloped away into the trees.
No! Cecelia bit back a cry.
Jaw set, Lind struggled to right himself, but the terrain worked against him. He floundered on the spongy grass, his bad leg buckling beneath him. Eversham was on Lind in a flash. His fist still held the knife. The blade glinted dully in the low light. A triumphant grin spread across Eversham’s face as he raised the weapon.
“You think you’re high and mighty,” he gloated. “We’ll see, now that I’ve got you at my mercy. I bet you
bleed the same color as the rest of us.”
“No!” This time, Cecelia couldn’t stop her shout.
Jeremy struggled in her grasp. If it weren’t for the boy, she’d have thrown her body at Eversham long since. Instead, she covered Jeremy’s eyes. No sense in him witnessing such violence.
Another form raced past her. Battencliffe. In the confusion, she’d nearly forgotten him. He grabbed Eversham by the wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. Eversham let out a cry of a pain, and the knife thudded to the ground.
Thank God. Cecelia rarely prayed these days, but now she closed her eyes and sent up a silent thanks. Her pulse pounded painfully, and her breath came in sharp pants.
Calls echoed through the surrounding trees. Presently, Regan appeared astride a gray mare, other mounted servants hovering in the background. “Is everything in hand, my lord? I’d not have come this way, only Judas crashed through the woods without you.”
Lind struggled to his feet. “I believe I’ll need your assistance with a bit of rubbish in a moment or two.”
“Let go.” Jeremy shoved at her shoulder.
She loosened her grasp, and pushed herself upright. Beneath Lind’s glower, Battencliffe had managed to subdue Eversham. His arms were now bound with the very ropes he’d used on Cecelia and Jeremy.
Slowly, Cecelia made her way over to look down on the man who had ruined her.
Red-faced, Eversham twisted his shoulders against Battencliffe’s restraining grip. “Come to gloat, have you? Do you think you’ve won?”
“I don’t need to gloat,” Cecelia said. “And I have won.”
“This isn’t over. You’ll see. Men like these”—he jerked his head in Lind’s direction—“they follow the rules. They’ll try to turn me over to the law, and I’ll escape. It won’t be the first time.”
Despite the fear of the past hour or so, Cecelia felt an incongruous urge to laugh. “You think my husband plays by the rules? Truly, you don’t know him at all.”
“If anyone ought to decide the fate of this scum, it’s Cecelia.” Lind’s voice rumbled like thunder from a distant storm cloud, quiet, but threatening nonetheless. She glanced in his direction, to find his gaze on her, an intense green flame of emotion. At the sight, her pulse pounded. She’d only seen such depths in the privacy of his bedchamber, when she could just as easily have written his sentiment off as passion.
Not now, though.
The air in the glade seemed to dissipate.
“My…my goodness.” Speech was suddenly a difficult prospect. “What would you have me do?”
“Anything you like, my dear,” he said through his teeth. Despite the day’s chill, a drop of perspiration ran down his cheek. “He’s yours to dispose of.”
Revenge. He was giving her a chance at revenge. And hadn’t he just spent the past five years consumed by the same sentiment? And yet unlike him, she could claim vengeance while seeing justice done. There was something poetic about the entire affair.
“You ought to turn him over to the authorities,” she said slowly. He also ought to take the weight off his leg, but she hesitated to point out such a thing in front of Battencliffe and Eversham.
Eversham released a derisive bark of laughter.
“Put him under strict watch and send him to Lord Anstruther with my compliments. I’m quite certain Anstruther would like a certain ring back.”
At that, Lind cast her a sharp look. She replied with a slight nod. Go along with the story. She’d told him the truth that day in his study, but Eversham could not know Lord Anstruther was already in possession of his ring. As long as Eversham believed the lie, he could spend a few sweaty nights fretting over the legal consequences of grand theft.
“One Mr. Eversham is unable to produce,” she went on. “And if the magistrate should accompany them in this venture, I imagine we’ll see justice done.”
“You…I’ll ruin you. I’ll make sure everyone finds out just what kind of whore you really are.”
Lind let out a growl, but Cecelia stepped in front of him. “No, you won’t. Because Anstruther will take you in hand.” Certainly, he’d preserve his reputation even at the expense of a lie. That much was a smaller sin in comparison to any other stories that might emerge. “Whatever claims you make about me, I can ensure that no one will believe anything you say. What’s more, whatever happened between us in the past only has power over me as long as I allow it to. And I have decided that it will not. Nothing you can say or do will change that. I am well and truly finished with you.”
Eversham turned an even darker shade of red, and he opened his mouth to retort, but Lind stuck a foot into his ribs. If he’d been stronger, he’d doubtless have given the man an outright kick. “We’ve heard enough from you. And count yourself fortunate my wife has shown you mercy.”
Cecelia smiled. “But I haven’t. If Anstruther chooses to prosecute him for the loss of his ring, I imagine Mr. Eversham will become more closely acquainted with Tyburn Hill than he’d like. That is merely justice, and I’ll be satisfied. And now…” She cast a telling glance at Battencliffe, who stood to one side. “As long as we’re putting the past aside, I believe you have something to say to Mr. Battencliffe.”
Lind glared at her for a moment or two before swaying on the spot. The color drained from his face. A man like Lind would want to remain standing for such a pronouncement as he was about to make, but his leg clearly would no longer support him. “I? I do not owe him the least explanation when he allied himself with such scum.”
Cecelia moved to his side and lent him her shoulder. “He believed Eversham.” She had learned to lie from the best, after all. “He’s not the first to do so, nor will he be the last. Battencliffe was only waiting for a chance to free me, and he did come to your aid.”
Lind leaned his weight against her, and she nodded encouragement.
“I owe you thanks for that much.” He glanced at Battencliffe. “It looks as if you’ve saved my life. And God knows you didn’t have to. I appreciate the gesture, though, because I suddenly find myself in the position of having something to live for.”
Battencliffe stared at him, expressionless. “More than your old grudges, you mean.”
“Yes, well, about that.” Lind reached into his topcoat and pulled out a fistful of bits of paper. Vowels, if Cecelia didn’t miss her guess. “Boff brought these back from London. Here.”
Battencliffe raised his brows. “What are these?”
“Your accumulated debts. I’ve acquired them all, enough to send you to debtor’s prison.” He held out his hand. “Here. Take them.” Quickly and get this over with so I don’t have to see you again. That last bit hung unvoiced in the heavy air.
Battencliffe stared at the papers in Lind’s hand while the silence stretched. Somewhere off in the trees, a mockingbird gave its raucous cry. Closer by, a horse shifted restively.
“Well?” Lind prodded. His jaw was set in finely chiseled lines of tension. While he may have a voiced appreciation for Battencliffe’s help, he wanted the other man gone from his estate. That much was clear.
Battencliffe put out a hand and shoved the papers back at Lind. “Keep them,” he said gruffly. “I don’t know how or when, but I’ll pay them back, every one.”
Without another word, he stalked off through the trees, leaving Lind staring after him.
—
Lind stared at the flames on the grate as they twisted and turned against the blackness of the hearth, slowly licking their way through a thick log. His thigh throbbed in time with the fire’s dance, in time with the beat of his pulse. God, he’d been mad trying to stand on his leg after taking a fall and a man’s weight on him, but the urge to protect Cecelia, to leap to her defense, had originated somewhere deep inside, way down in his gut. Completely undeniable.
She hadn’t needed him, though, had she? A part of him felt a little hollow at the thought, but pride filled a greater measure. He had given her a gift in allowing her to choose her means of revenge.
He set his glass of brandy aside and cupped his hands about his thigh muscle. His fingers dug in and his muscles screamed in protest. Neither alcohol nor touch dulled the pain. Soon, he’d have to grit his teeth and ask for a dose of laudanum.
You know what you really want. You want her hands on you.
God, he did. Her touch, her lips, her body, her entire being.
If only he could convince her he was worthy. Good Lord, he wasn’t even certain of that any longer. He wasn’t certain of anything.
The door to his study drifted open. As if his thoughts had summoned her, Cecelia stood on the threshold, hands folded before her. “I was wondering if I might come in.”
“Of course.” He attempted to straighten himself in his seat. Her stance and the odd shyness in her gaze struck deep within somewhere in the region of his heart. “Is anything amiss?”
What an idiotic question. After all that had happened today, just about everything was amiss.
“At some point, you’ll need to have a talk with Jeremy. He overheard Mr. Battencliffe…” She trailed off, but he knew what she was getting at.
It was a conversation he’d hoped never to have with the boy, one he certainly didn’t want. To hear such news at his age; he might only barely understand. Good Lord, what a mess.
“If you thought I might be of help,” she added.
“You don’t think we need to explain the situation at this very moment, do you?” How odd to even be having this discussion with Cecelia. How utterly domestic. The notion triggered an odd pang in his chest.
When he’d offered her marriage, he hadn’t considered the little day-to-day details. He hadn’t stopped to think of her role as Jeremy’s mother—even if she had stepped into that role from her first day here.
No, you were thinking of protecting her, and mostly you were thinking with your cock.
“Perhaps not now,” she said, “but soon. He’s already started asking questions, and I can put him off only so long.”
What a Lady Demands Page 25
