Sam pointed a steady finger at him. “Do not interfere.”
Stockard said nothing to that warning, stunned into silence.
Elinor hesitated in her stride as she reached the foyer floor, though her chin remained high. “My, my, your grace,” she fairly snorted. “You’ve now resorted to threatening me and my staff? It’s no wonder your former good name has been tarnished far and wide. I suppose you’d like to murder me, too—”
Will was upon her in two strides, one hand grabbing her braided hair and wrapping it around his fist, yanking her head back so that her face met his, his other palm laid firmly against her throat, poised to add pressure.
“The only woman I’ve ever wanted to kill was you, Elinor,” he admitted in a dangerous whisper. “For every calculated lie, for every wicked deceit that cost me part of my life. And yet here you are, still alive for the moment.” He paused, his upper lip curling snidely. “But for the first time you are at my mercy, in my very strong grip.”
Her eyes widened in absolute shock at a demeanor she had never expected from him. Will relished in it.
She attempted to recover her composure, spitting at his face; he ignored it, securing his fingers around the smooth hollows of her neck, forcing her lower back firmly against the staircase railing so that she couldn’t move unless he allowed it.
“Tell me where she is,” he demanded, his tone ominous.
“You killed Elizabeth,” she hissed, pushing her palms into his chest to no avail.
He shook his head, tightening his grip ever so slightly. “This is not about Elizabeth.”
“Murderer,” she choked out, her face reddening from rage and an ever growing fear she could no longer hide.
Calmly, beyond pity, Will said, “It is only murder to you because you could never face the shame and scandal of her suicide. What I’ve found sickening is that you and your brother would rather lie to the court, your peers, and to God to see an innocent man die in prison, than admit the truth of Elizabeth’s illness.” He leaned very close to her. “But it’s over, and I am through with you.”
The disgust in his voice was unmistakable. Suddenly Elinor’s eyes flickered over the men standing off in the distance, and she began to claw at the hand that clung ever more forcefully to her throat.
“Help me,” she managed to plead. “He’s insane.”
They simply watched from a distance; Colin crossed his arms over his chest nonchalantly.
Will gripped her tighter, pulled harder on her hair, his face now only inches from hers. “Where is she?” he whispered.
Elinor began to panic. She gasped for air, tried to swallow and gagged instead. Water welled up in her eyes while she fought him bitterly, scratching the skin on his fingers. “Stockard—”
Innate barbarity and base terror outdid him. He squeezed, shoved her body hard into the railing, and shouted into her face. “Tell me where she is!”
His outburst was of such magnitude it echoed across the great walls, stunning everybody, including himself. But he did not release his grip, or look away.
She began to tremble. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Then in a soft raspy wisp of defeat, she said, “Wh—with Steven.”
“Where?” he charged, shaking her again.
“In Li—Lizard.”
He loosened his hold of her just enough so she could draw a deep breath, though he didn’t let her go.
Seconds later she added, “He has a cottage—” she gasped, then swallowed, “out—to the west—of the peninsula.”
Will released her at once. Elinor’s knees buckled and she shrank to the floor, coughing, gripping her neck, moving away from him and panting for breath as she tried to raise herself up on one unsteady hand.
“Bastard,” she sputtered without looking at him.
Fiercely, in a voice a shade above a whisper, he stared down at her and replied, “If she is harmed in any way, you will rot in prison for the remainder of your despicable life.”
With that, he turned and headed for the door.
After clearing his throat, Colin spoke for the first time to the butler, who remained rooted to the floor, his face pale as he gaped in bewilderment.
“I’m sure you won’t remember anything that happened here this morning,” he stated in a fashion almost cheerful.
Will saw the butler give a rather wobbly nod. It had been a warning well taken.
In silence, the three of them walked quickly out into the cool and misty dawn air, mounted their steeds, and headed south.
Chapter 21
Vivian lay on her side on top of the tiny cot and stared at what she could see of the wall in front of her. There were no windows so the only light available came from one short, narrow crack below the door that led to the main room of the cottage where the continuous quiet remained almost unbearable.
She’d been here for many hours now, although she couldn’t keep track of time enclosed as she was in relative darkness. They were close to the ocean, though it had been nighttime when they’d arrived the day before, so she also wasn’t certain of their distance from the Lizard Peninsula. But he’d told her that’s where they were going, and she didn’t think he had reason to lie to her about their destination. Gilbert, or Steven if one could believe he spoke the truth now regarding his real name and identity, had talked freely to her on their journey. She had been tense, extremely frightened and physically uncomfortable—cold and nauseated; he’d been relaxed and rather content under the circumstances, expecting her complete submission. And she had given it. She continually reminded herself not to act without thought in an attempted escape, since she knew that at least for now he wouldn’t randomly kill her unless she gave him reason to. That she would not do, not only because she valued her person, but because she refused to hand him the satisfaction of exercising his power over her demise.
She’d been at first surprised and confused to learn that Gilbert Montague was really Steven Chester, Will’s brother-in-law, and that the man and his sister had been planning this conspiracy against him for more than two years. Steven had been quite revealing on their journey south, relating how he and his sister, Elinor, had accused the Duke of Trent of the murder of their sister, Elizabeth, after the duke had refused to help them financially beyond what was required and expected at his wife’s death. At Will’s subsequent acquittal, due in part to the testimony of his noble and well-respected friends, Elinor had become enraged at what she felt was a complete lack of justice. Gradually, she put her thoughts, talents, and efforts into at the very least acquiring the one piece of property that had belonged to Elizabeth, property that had physical, emotional, and financial value to all of them. Since that idea had apparently failed, it had been Steven’s notion to kidnap Vivian for ransom.
Since their arrival at the cottage the night before, he’d fed her a small meal of cold potato soup with bacon. It had tasted like melted lard to Vivian, but she had eaten it, knowing that keeping her strength would be paramount to keeping her senses sharp and her body alive. She’d been left alone in the small room since their arrival, with an old and sagging cot in one corner and a chamber pot in the other as the only items at her disposal. But what bothered her most was the lack of light. Vivian thought she could truly go insane not knowing what time of day it was and having nobody to talk to, hearing nothing but the sea wind bluster against the stone walls as hour after hour ticked slowly by.
She’d tried screaming when they’d first arrived, but Steven had only snickered at her willfulness, which forced her to accept the fact that they were isolated on the coast and there would be nobody nearby to hear her cries and attempt a rescue. From that point on, she’d admonished herself to conserve her efforts. Time was all she had, and only God knew if it would be on her side.
Will remained constantly in her thoughts. Keeping him there allowed her to concentrate on all that was good in her life, and the man who would surely be her savior. At least that was her greatest hope. She had no one else. Steven seemed fairly confid
ent that the Duke of Trent would pay his ransom demand, and he was apparently awaiting word of that fact. So far he hadn’t touched her in any injurious or illicit manner, but she could never trust that he wouldn’t So, until there was communication of some kind from Will, she was at Steven’s mercy; more than anything she prayed he would just drink himself into a stupor and forget she waited, restless beyond belief but painfully quiet, just a few feet away, locked in blackness and counting the minutes as best she could.
Suddenly, through the minuscule crack in the floor, she noticed a shadow shift, heard the muffled sound of a chair being shoved a few inches across the floor. Vivian sat up abruptly, her senses attuned to every faint whistle of the wind, every creak in the floor timber. Then she realized Steven was coming for her, and her body froze in an icy twist of fear.
It took only seconds for him to unlock the door, and then it swung open and he stood beside her, grabbing her by the wrist as he yanked her off the cot. He twisted the arm he held behind her back and pushed the sharp, cutting edge of a knife blade against her throat.
“Keep your mouth shut, Vivian, and you might live through this,” he whispered as he pushed her toward the door. “Your duke has arrived.”
Will braced his boot against the thick wooden door of the cottage. The small light he saw in the window as he rode in had abruptly gone out, telling him with no uncertainty that they knew he was there. It didn’t matter. He’d seen his share of stone cottages and could guess the layout of this one well enough, so by placing Colin, with his quicker, nimbler stature, at the back door, he knew no one could escape without confrontation. He was fairly certain there were only the two of them inside anyway, and surprise didn’t mat-ter because he knew Steven wouldn’t kill her until he had money in his filthy, greedy hands, until he knew his greatest adversary watched in horror. Will understood how the man’s mind worked.
Pistol poised in his right palm, Will motioned to Sam, who stood on the other side of the entrance; then without a second thought this time, he shoved the heel of his booted foot against the latch in two fast, hard thrusts. The door gave way immediately, and just as quickly the two of them moved inside, crouching low to avoid the outside light streaming through the open door, making use of the total darkness surrounding them until their eyes became adjusted. They didn’t have to wait. Almost at once, Steven lit a lamp and illuminated the room.
Standing tall and cautious, Will saw Vivian first, and with one look at her haunted eyes and terrified expression he nearly shot the man who held her without a word between them. But she stood too close to Steven, more or less in front of his rather large frame, her wide skirts shielding him as he held a twelve-inch blade horizontally against her smooth, dove-white neck. It was all Will could do to stand his ground and bide his time.
“Well, your grace, I was beginning to doubt your ability to find us,” Steven remarked with feigned cheerfulness. “What took you so long?”
“Are you sweating from the sudden surprise?” Will asked in a cold, deadly whisper.
“Sweating?” Steven repeated through a chuckle. “You are still so pathetically predictable. I’ve been waiting for hours.”
Will shook his head with purpose. “You’re a very bad actor, Steven. You didn’t expect us at all.”
Steven’s eyes narrowed. “I expect to be paid. Where that transaction occurs is unimportant.”
Will’s jaw tightened as he leveled his weapon with both hands. “I took time to visit your aging, malicious sister, to put an end to what power and prestige your family still holds. Rest assured that the past is finished now, and when I am through with you today, you and Elinor will be scandalously ruined.” His top lip curled upward in derision. “Securing that outcome is what took me so long.”
Steven’s eyes flickered negligibly before he grinned snidely. “I thought surely this woman meant more to you than my family’s reputation.”
“She means everything to me,” he replied, his tone firm despite the rapid beating of his heart in his chest. “But my rescuing her from your clutches was never in any doubt.”
“And yet you left me ample time to toy with her,” Steven added.
Will’s mouth went dry; his anger threatened to bubble over the surface. Still, he stared the man down, undaunted. “Don’t attempt to goad me with your base thoughts and useless tactics. It won’t work. What you’ve done is irrelevant now. I’ve found you and I’m here. The outcome of this match is not in question.”
Sam remained silent during the exchange, all the while stepping very slowly around the back wall of the cottage to stand near the small kitchenette, hands behind his back. Steven didn’t look at him, kept his eyes focused on Will, but he did grasp Viv-ian a fraction tighter and backed the two of them up against the small stone fireplace to provide himself the safest view of the otherwise fairly bare room.
“You clearly have a flair for the dramatic, your grace,” Steven said, his voice taking on a raw edge as his expression turned black. “You should have been the actor.”
Without lowering his gaze to look directly at her, Will took note of the fact that Vivian trembled as she was forced to stand against the man, blocking him from direct assault as he firmly gripped her arm behind her back, held the knife at her neck. One false move on her part and it would surely slice her skin. But her eyes remained open and alert, no doubt beseeching him to help her. He didn’t dare glance into them, though. If he did he would falter and lose control, and she would most certainly die.
“Speaking of actors,” he asked as evenly as he could, “what happened to the real Gilbert Herman?”
“You murdered him, your grace.”
Will’s eyes narrowed as he hid his confusion. “I’ve never murdered anyone before you, Steven.”
Steven chucked again. “You really are stupid,” he replied. “Of course it wasn’t a direct kill on your part. All these years you’ve been living in seclusion and self-pity, ignoring all that was going on around you, absorbed by the death of your wife.” His countenance instantly sparked with a hatred he no longer chose to hide. “But if you had just paid me what you should have, what we deserved, his death, Elizabeth’s death, none of this would have happened.”
“What you deserved?” Will asked, incredulous.
Steven’s face reddened. “Elizabeth married you for your goddamned money!”
His booming voice shook the lone window at the panes. Will remained motionless, pulse racing, thoughts, memories spinning in his head as he tried to understand. And then the light suddenly struck him.
Steven had been the one to arrange his and Elizabeth’s marriage. It was true that a union between their families had been discussed, even expected, since Elizabeth was a child, but it had been Steven who took the initiative of setting up the courtship after their father’s death. Steven had pushed, and Will had relented, only when he knew it was time to settle down and provide an heir. Elizabeth was a logical, practical choice, in many ways, and it was true they liked each other well enough. But the motive, he now understood, was a fabrication from the beginning.
“I see you didn’t know,” Steven said, his smooth, casual demeanor returning in a flash. “How pitiful that someone of your power, your wealth, could be so bund. How utterly unfortunate your longtime greediness has been for you.”
Will continued to subdue the rage burning inside of him the best he could. He refused to act until he had received all the answers he sought.
“Greediness was never the issue. You may have used me, Steven, but I was never blind,” he murmured, jaw tight, his gaze formidable as he stared directly at the man. “If I had been so ignorant of your deceit and intentions, you and your sister would be living in luxury to this day. As it is, you’re practically penniless.”
For the first time, Steven hinted at a lack of assurance, as if such a thought had not occurred to him. He shifted ever so slightly from one foot to the other; perspiration broke out on his forehead.
“So what did you do with Herman?�
�� Will asked softly, although the pieces of the puzzle were already beginning to take form in his mind.
Steven grinned wryly. “I sliced his throat and buried him. I’m very good with a knife.”
He jerked Vivian back against his body once more, and she whimpered either in pain or in a sudden sense of panic. Will clutched his weapon tighter, tried to breathe deeply.
“Why?” he whispered, a certain dread enveloping him.
Steven cocked his head a fraction. “Because he and Elizabeth were in love and had been for years. But I could never allow her to marry a working man with no title, a Jew and an actor no less. The gossip would be appalling. I’d never be able to show my face in society again.”
Those words were a physical pain that sliced hard through his chest, wounding him on many levels. Without any doubt, he knew that Elizabeth had cared for him, had tried to make him a good wife, and in general, she had succeeded. But hearing of her love for another, a love she carried through their short time together, was not only reasonable, it actually put many of his memories of her and her actions in perspective. As he considered it now, she was never truly happy with him, even during their best times together. Something was always missing in their relationship, in social gatherings and in bed. He’d rationalized at the time that it was her extreme turns of mood that kept her from enjoying married life to its fullest. Now, with such a shocking revelation, he realized that along with her particular affliction, her depression flowed from the knowledge that she could never be with the man she loved. Her own brother had seen to it.
Indeed, he believed Steven, and although it hurt to know that his wife loved another man while she’d been with him, he had to respect her deeply to this day for her ability never to mention it. To her good credit, Elizabeth never used her affection for Gilbert Herman as a weapon.
“She must have hated you for denying her that one bit of happiness,” Will said in a tone of disgust.
Steven feigned an exaggerated sigh. “Alas, so did he.” With a focused calculation, his eyes black and intense, his expression hardening, he added, “Elizabeth took her own life because she couldn’t have one with him. Did you know that, your grace? I did. And so did Herman.”
Duke of Sin Page 22
