Then shortly after, her brother had gone off to fight in the Crimea with Michael. But even before he could get to the battlefront, he’d died a pointless death in a drunken fight. The very thought of the futility of his death brought with it the usual sense of anger and frustration. For him to be taken from them, after they’d only recently lost their father, was cruel beyond measure. A need to ask Michael exactly what had happened rose within her, but as with the many times before, fear of not wanting to delve too deeply into the matter suppressed the desire.
Shaking the memories away, Holly knew she had to concentrate on her task at hand. She couldn’t get caught trying to get inside Pembrook safe as such a thing would bring with it dire consequences, and if something happened to her, who would look after her sisters? Michael’s dowry would only make them targets for fortune hunters. Reaching into the pocket of her dress, Holly pulled out her trusty set of lock-picks, which she always carried with her.
Quickly, she got to work, softly cooing to the lock as she manipulated it with her picks. Within about a minute the sound of the pin-tumblers falling into place was like music to her ears. A delightful melody, that she never tired of. She twisted her pins and the door to the safe unlatched and opened. “Thank you, my darling!” she whispered to the lock, knowing most would think her crazy for doing so, but it had become somewhat of a routine, after all.
She pulled the door of the safe wide open and jackpot! Well at least she hoped so. Unlike the safe at Pembrook’s townhouse, this one actually had papers inside it, and she prayed that Lady Clare’s letters were amongst them. She reached out and grabbed them all, quickly rifling through them. A moment later she found what she’d come for. Thank the Lord.
It was the two letters Clare had begged her to retrieve. Two letters, that would ruin the lady’s marriage if the truth ever came out. Stuffing them into her pocket, Holly was about to replace the other correspondence back into the safe, when she noticed the names of several prominent ladies and gentlemen scrawled on the papers.
Her eyes skimmed over the letters and she quickly realized that Lady Clare wasn’t the only one Pembrook may have been blackmailing. All of the documents were either letters or notes outlining various historical events that if released, would cause great embarrassment and scandal to those names written upon the sheets.
Her heart fell when Michael’s name appeared. Not that she should be surprised, he was an extremely well-known libertine. But Pembrook was a fool to think of blackmailing him. Michael would never heed any sort of demands for payment, instead he’d rip the man to shreds.
Did she dare read what sort of scandal he’d been involved in? She didn’t think she could, but then, she gasped when she read Edward’s name too. Edward had never been involved in any scandal. Had he?
She took in a deep lungful of air and began reading. With each word, her heartache grew.
If what she was reading was correct, Edward hadn’t died in simply a tavern fight as they’d all been led to believe, but he’d died saving Michael.
A heaviness settled deep in her stomach. Michael had been responsible for Edward’s death? No, surely that wasn’t right. If he had been, he would have said something. He couldn’t think to be intimate with her, marry her even, without telling her such a thing…could he?
There had to be a mistake. Once she spoke to him about the matter, he’d surely confirm it was an error. That he hadn’t been the cause of her brother’s death.
Quickly, she stuffed all of the papers into the two pockets of the skirts of her dress, then retrieved her picks from the lock, before closing the safe and then the picture frame.
For a moment after, she simply stood there, with her hands up on either side of the frame, leaning against it, thoughts of Michael spinning around in her head. He would tell her it was false. He had to.
The very distinct sound of the hammer of a pistol being cocked brought Holly back to the reality of her situation with a jolt, and she spun around to face the threat.
Fear gripped her when she saw her uncle standing there, pistol in his hand and pointed directly at her. Lady Pembrook was standing next to him, in front of what had been a portion of the bookcase, but which was now swinging wide open with a dark passageway behind it. A secret passageway. No wonder she hadn’t heard any noises to alert her to the danger.
“Hello my dear niece.” Her uncle’s pinched voice was about as welcoming as the sound of nails scraping over the surface of a blackboard. “How wonderful it is to have finally found you. I’ve been searching for quite some time, you see.”
“And looks like we’ve caught her in time before she could get into the safe,” Lady Pembrook remarked, her voice even and steady, almost as if she were discussing the weather.
“What are you doing here, uncle?” Holly asked, her eyes scanning across the room for an exit. She could possibly make a run for the door, but by the time she wrenched it open he could shoot her. But would he? Surely he wouldn’t dare risk such a thing? But then again if no one knew he was here, he could easily do so and then flee back down the passageway, with none being the wiser. Except for Lady Pembrook. “And Lady Pembrook, why are you helping him?”
The lady shrugged. “I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but Lord Pembrook has got the estate into a bit of a financial bind.”
“Is that why he’s trying to blackmail Lady Clare?” It would make sense.
“My husband, try to blackmail someone?” Lady Pembrook burst out laughing. “Oh, how hilarious. My husband is a complete buffoon, who has neither the vision nor the courage to do any such thing. No, it was I who was blackmailing Lady Clare.” She strolled over to the door of the study and twisted the lock.
Holly’s hopes fell. That had been her only way out, apart from the secret passage behind her uncle.
“Obviously, I cannot have you interfering in my very lucrative endeavors,” Lady Pembrook announced. “Which is why I contacted your uncle and alerted him to your whereabouts.”
“But how did you know I was searching for the incriminating letters?” Holly asked her.
The woman shrugged. “When my husband mentioned he’d found Lord Blackthorn and a lady in his study on the night of our ball, I knew straight away something was amiss as Blackthorn is far too sophisticated to bother with such nonsense in someone else’s study, instead of his own bed. Considering my little hobby, I thought I may have been found out and perhaps he and whoever the lady he was with were actually searching for any evidence of my blackmail.”
“Well you certainly have been discovered now,” Holly pointed out, knowing that she needed to get out of this room, and now. Perhaps if she ran at her uncle, she could topple him over? She doubted Lady Pembrook would lower herself to wrestling her, if her uncle was knocked out.
“Only by you my dear,” Lady Pembrook pointed out. “In any event, as soon as I found out you were the lady Blackthorn was chasing, I did some digging and discovered your maiden name and your details. Which is how I alerted your uncle to the situation.” With a sweep of her hand, Lady Pembrook motioned to the passageway. “Feel free to take her, Sir Reginald, for she is all yours.”
“Come along then, Holly,” he said, with such a look of satisfaction in his gaze that Holly felt like stalking up to him and punching him in the nose. Something she probably would have done, if he hadn’t been aiming a pistol at her. “It is time for you to properly be married, rather than pretending you were.”
“If you think I shall meekly go with you, you’ve clearly forgotten our last encounter, uncle,” she reminded him.
The man’s face twisted into a cruel smiled. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten, my dear niece. In fact—” he pulled back some greying brown hair from his forehead, “—I still have the scar to remind me.”
A thin white line, over an inch long, stretch along his forehead, just below his hairline. The remnants from having swung the carriage lantern at the man’s head on their last meeting, Holly supposed. Good. She was glad it had left a mark. It was
the least he deserved. “I’m surprised you’re trying again then,” Holly responded. “One would think; you might have learned your lesson that I do not take well to being kidnapped!”
His whole body seemed to clench tightly in anger. “You will do as you’re told, for once in your life, girl, or you shall feel a bullet in your stomach! My brother let you all run ragged. Fancy allowing you to work on his gadgets and pick locks. Why, it simply isn’t done! No wonder you’ve turned into such a headstrong, recalcitrant female!”
“Why thank you, uncle. I think that may be the very first compliment you’ve ever paid me.” Holly smiled over at him, hoping such a gesture would agitate him enough that it might give her an opportunity to flee.
“Shut up, you stupid girl,” he growled, using the shaft of the weapon to motion her toward the passageway. “Once you belong to Bernard, I am going to take great pleasure in showing him exactly how to punish you properly with a bloody good beating! Now, unless you want to be shot, I suggest you start walking.”
Holly had never been prone to panicking, but her palms were starting to get clammy, and her throat felt as dry as sand-paper. Without the smallest doubt, she knew she couldn’t go down that passageway. “What do you actually intend to do?” If she could get him talking, maybe she could think of some way to get out of this mess. “I will never agree to marry Bernard.”
“Then I shall have to kill you,” he purred as he walked across to her, stopping barely a foot away.
“I think death would be preferable to having you as my father-in-law.”
He slapped her hard across her cheek, and Holly nearly fell over, stumbling to her side and toward the wall, her ears ringing and her cheek stinging like it was aflame.
“If I die you won’t get my dowry.”
“No,” he agreed. “But one of your sisters will do equally as well. Perhaps even the youngest one will be more biddable than you.”
She blinked for a moment, slowly regaining her footing as his words penetrated into her awareness. Glancing across at him, Holly saw he had a tight smile on his face, but there was such cunning blazing in his eyes that suddenly she knew that was his plan all along. With her out of the way, it would be much easier to kidnap Daphne who was only seventeen.
A burning rage unlike anything Holly had ever felt, consumed her. Without thought, she lunged at him.
They began to wrestle before the pistol roared, deafeningly, around the room.
Chapter 13
“I would leave her be, my friend,” Huntington’s hand gripped around Michael’s arm.
Michael wrenched away from Devlin’s grip and twisted around to confront the man, his lips drawn back in a snarl. “Friend? You dare to call yourself my friend, when you’re trying to keep secrets with my…my…well with Holly? Were you planning to seduce her and think to keep it a secret from me?”
There was neither anger or upset on Huntington’s seemingly implacable face. “Don’t be a fool, Michael. You know I wouldn’t do anything of the sort.”
“Do I? Do I really?” Michael felt the frustration roll over him in waves. A part of him knew he could trust Huntington, even if no one else in society shared that belief. But he also knew what his friend was like with the ladies. Dangerous, because they were all so bloody attracted to the man.
He hadn’t thought Holly had been taken in by Huntington’s charms, but after overhearing them talk of secrets, he was suddenly doubting everything.
Particularly his own feelings for her.
Because damn it, he was starting to care for her, well beyond what he should or what was safe for him to. He’d never cared for a woman as much as he was coming to care for Holly and it scared the hell out of him.
“She has no interest in me,” Huntington said, almost knowing what Michael had been thinking. “And goodness knows why she’s so keen on you, but she is. So, after you’ve given her five minutes or so to calm down, stop being such a fool and go and apologize.”
“Apologize?” Michael blinked. “For what?”
“Good lord, Blackthorn, you cannot be serious?” There was disbelief in Huntington’s gaze. “Even I know one does not dictate to a woman without having to grovel in apology after.”
“I can’t imagine you ever apologizing.”
Huntington grinned. “That’s because I never earn their ire. Much more fun to pleasure them instead.”
“Just you wait until you meet a lady who gets under your skin, as Holly does mine.” Michael shook his head and exhaled harshly. “Then you’ll be dictating left, right and center. Trust me.”
The smile dropped from his face and though Huntington was looking at Michael, it felt like he was miles away, lost in memories. “Now that is a mistake, I will never make.” Huntington blinked, almost as if he were pushing some bad memories aside and then returned his attention back to Michael. “But I am glad to see you’ve finally recognized you have feelings for the lady.”
“Feelings?” Michael scoffed. “I don’t have feelings for her. Well, except for annoyance. That, I regularly feel in her company.” He didn’t know why he didn’t want to admit the truth to his friend, and why his cravat suddenly starting to feel far too tight. Of course, he cared about her. A part of him always had, not to mention he’d promised her brother he would. But it didn’t go beyond caring. Did it?
“Well, I dare say that she’s also feeling that particular emotion about you at the moment,” Huntington said. “Annoyance, in spades.”
“Oh, for goodness sakes,” Michael exclaimed. “Surely she can’t be that upset?”
“We are discussing the same woman who stormed out of here a short time ago, aren’t we? The one who said she was done with you?” There was disbelief on his friend’s face. “That woman is going to require groveling of the highest order to appease her ire.”
Michael crossed his arms over his chest, much like Holly had done a short while ago. “I do not grovel.” Though he had a sinking sensation that his words were mere bravado.
“Says the man who will be sleeping in a very cold bed until he does.” Huntington walked over and patted him on the back. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I shall see you in London next week for my ball, I’ve decided not to stay after all.”
Michael rubbed at the stubble on his cheek as he watched his friend walk away. Feelings and groveling? What on earth was happening to him? He felt like he was starting to fall down a rabbit hole and he didn’t know how to stop himself. But Holly had always had an unsettling effect on him. Partly why he had stayed away from her, because he didn’t trust his feelings when he was around her.
Huntington paused and looked back over his shoulder “Oh and Michael? Don’t be a stubborn idiot and let her get away. Because if you do, I give you full warning, I shall pursue her.” He winked at him, before striding through the doorway and out of sight.
When one had friends like that, who needed enemies, Michael thought darkly. As if he would let Huntington anywhere near Holly. Surely, she had only been venting when she’d broken things off with him? A part of him felt unusually panicked that perhaps she hadn’t?
For a minute, he stood standing there ignoring the rather pointed looks from his peers, while he thought over what had just occurred and what Huntington had said. Unfortunately, it made sense as Holly had been furious. Which meant he probably would have to apologize, damn it. Especially as he knew he couldn’t let her go. The very thought sent a shaft of fear all the way through him.
He’d have to tell her he was sorry and grovel in the process, he was sure of that. But damn it, he hated groveling. Perhaps if he spoke to her rationally, she would see his point of view and accept an apology, without any need to grovel.
With his mind made up, he left the veranda and strode down the hallway toward the front of the house, intent on getting to his room and the adjoining door to their bedrooms as soon as he could.
But the sound of a gunshot echoing further up the corridor brought him to an abrupt holt. Instinctively, Michael
knew it involved Holly and that she was in danger. He broke out into a cold sweat.
Launching into a sprint, he ran down the hallway toward where the sound had come from.
Someone was screaming behind a closed door, up ahead on his left.
Racing over to the door, he rattled on the handle, but it was locked. Using his shoulder, he began ramming it against the door, desperate to get through to the other side. When the door barely budged, he took a step back and kicked at it with the sole of his boot. “Damn it! Open you stupid thing!” After two more attempts, the wood of the door frame split and the door flew inwards. It felt as if everything inside him froze upon the nightmare that greeted him.
Michael blinked, a tightness gripping his throat and anchoring his feet to the floor for a second, that seemed like an hour as his eyes stared at Holly, who was lying un-naturally still, in the middle of the floor, blood splattered over her dress and gushing from her head.
Blood roared to his head as he willed his feet to move. He rushed over to her, paying little attention to a man laying a few feet from her on the rug, with a hole in his chest and his eyes staring vacantly up to the ceiling, or of Lady Pembrook who was standing in the far corner of the room still screaming her head off.
“No, no, no…” Michael pleaded, skidding down onto his knees next to Holly. Dread knotted his stomach like a vice that wouldn’t let go. “Please, be all right. Please, sweetheart, wake up.” He wrenched his cravat from his neck and pressed it against the blood flowing from her forehead. “Holly wake up, sweetheart. Wake up!”
Images of Edward bleeding to death in front of his very eyes, swam across his vision. He’d been so helpless, pressing his cravat against the wound in his friend’s chest while the white material quickly turned crimson as his friend’s life blood soaked into it.
He’d lost his best-friend that day and he’d never fully recovered. But if he lost Holly… He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose the only woman he’d ever truly cared about. His life simply wouldn’t be worth living without Holly in it. He felt sick even thinking of such a possibility.
The Mistletoe Mistress Page 10
