Reunited With Her Viscount Protector (Lords And Their Ladies Book 6)

by Mary Brendan

  When she judged the smugglers to be far enough in the distance she stepped out from her hidey hole...primed to make a dash for it. But she was unceremoniously dragged back. A hand was fastened over her mouth before she could take a lungful of air to scream. She squirmed to liberate herself, simultaneously trying to bite her captor’s muffling fingers.

  A pair of strong arms yanked her back against a muscular torso that felt familiar. A mingling scent of tobacco and musky verbena that had wafted to her nostrils also held a pleasant redolence.

  ‘Hush...be still, sweetheart,’ Jack murmured against her small ear, trailing his lips on her cheek to soothe her. ‘There are more of them coming.’ Lifting her feet from the ground, he took them both swiftly and silently backwards into the shadows cast by the boughs of a tree.

  Dawn felt such overwhelming relief at being with him that tears started to her eyes, blurring her vision. She roughly cuffed them away. The vital, shocking news contained in her stepdaughter’s letter that had caused her to brave the dark this evening, was again at the forefront of her mind. She desperately wanted to garble it all out, unburdening herself. But that difficult conversation must wait until the coast was clear. And what an unbelievable tale she had to tell!

  To convey feelings she couldn’t express, she simply pressed her spine trustingly against him as he imprisoned her about the waist. Had he not been so fortuitously right here she would have been seized by the smugglers about to burst into view. Jack pointed a finger to indicate where they were. She had been on her way towards that very copse when he stopped her headlong flight to the Grange.

  * * *

  She could hear them now: a rumble of low voices and clopping hooves. More lights became visible, a string of them this time, and marching feet heralded an imminent sighting of a caravan of free traders and beasts of burden. Jack’s warm breath was on her temple a second before his lips traced a wordless reassurance that she was safe and protected. She tightened her fingers on the hands clasping her midriff. She felt quite calm now...and if the worst happened and they were discovered she would battle to protect him as she knew he would fight for her.

  The flowing robes of the Reverend Peter Mansfield emerged from the trees as the vicar led his cohorts into view, holding on to his pony’s bridle and steadying the large barrels slung over the animals’ haunches. Just a glimpse of that hated individual had made Dawn tense and glance up wide-eyed over her shoulder at Jack.

  Half-a-dozen smugglers and horses filed forth, both men and beasts laden with contraband. She wasn’t surprised to see Peter in the company of criminals. He was their ringleader, she knew that about him from Eleanor’s letter, and much more besides.

  Although it seemed that hours passed while they stood like statues, in just five minutes the convoy had gone and the only sound was the music made by nocturnal creatures bringing the woodland back to life. Momentarily Dawn felt webbed in serenity, resting in Jack’s embrace with the darkness enveloping them. He, too, felt the entrancement and didn’t immediately turn her to face him but rocked her gently in his arms as though to apologise in advance for the scolding he was about to deliver.

  * * *

  ‘You little fool! Had you been caught spying on that motley crew, Dawn...’ He abruptly swung away from her, thrusting his fingers through his hair, unable to describe her likely treatment at the hands of those miscreants. He knew only too well what young women endured at the hands of their captors. Yet Sarah was happy again and Jack couldn’t claim credit for making her so. But he knew who he had to thank for doing it. He turned back to face Dawn, attempting to control his anguish as he said, ‘What in God’s name were you thinking of, risking your life like this?’

  ‘You’re risking your life, too!’ Dawn retorted. ‘After what you went through in Tangier I would’ve thought you’d learned your lesson about tangling with cut-throats.’ She was genuinely concerned for his safety...but it seemed he wasn’t.

  A flash of white teeth in his dark visage, and a grunt, told her he’d given a soundless laugh. The brace of duck’s-foot pistols he’d got from his pockets, ready to defend them, were slipped back whence they came. ‘A run-in with villagers dabbling in free trading isn’t the same as battling professional brigands, Dawn.’ He touched her face in thanks for her concern. ‘You’ve no need to worry about me, I promise. That incarceration, and the months that followed tracking those barbarians, taught me a lot about how to toughen up and survive. I’ll never again be the easy fellow I once was.’

  ‘I know,’ Dawn murmured. And indeed she did know that Jack Valance, the man she had fallen in love with years ago, no longer existed. The guns he’d handled with casual skilfulness had seemed to form an extension to his swift hands. The looks she’d slanted up at intervals at him had shown her a perilous glitter in his eyes. Oh, he knew how to survive and to kill, she suspected. And yet...sometimes she caught glimpses of the old Jack when he was kind to Lily or she caught him watching her with an expression that sent her spinning back through the years. And there was no doubt that this hardened Viscount appealed to her, too. Far too much when he had a fiancée waiting for him at home.

  Thinking of Sarah always stabbed a pain beneath her ribs, making her feel horribly guilty for sinking to jealousy. Yet she found it hard to control. She moved away from him, with a quiet warning. ‘Don’t underestimate the vicar’s wickedness. I’ve found out he is a devil.’

  ‘Has another calamity taken place at the vicarage?’ Jack approached her, drawing her closer as he saw a sparkle of tears on her lashes.

  ‘Yes... No...not in the way you mean,’ Dawn badly explained. ‘I’ve left Lily with the housekeeper and was on my way to Croxley Grange to find you. I fear Lily is in danger. I must take her away from there, Jack.’ She gazed at him, her eyes large and frightened. ‘I’m sorry to draw you into this again, but I need your help.’

  ‘You can have it. Anything you need you only have to ask.’ He paused, then admitted, ‘I wasn’t out tonight stalking smugglers. I was on my way to speak to you.’ He cupped her face in his hands, turning it up to his. ‘I intended climbing up to your bedchamber window and making plans for you to escape that damnable man once and for all. If I’d known he was from home, I would have brought a carriage to get you quickly out of the house tonight. He’ll accompany you tomorrow and eavesdrop on everything we say.’

  ‘Indeed, he does do that,’ Dawn admitted on a sigh. ‘He even spies on me talking to the housekeeper.’

  ‘I want you and Lily to stay at my house as my guests and damn the consequences. I’ll deal with him. Let him sue for the return of his daughter; I’ll put the best barrister in the land on to him. Mansfield isn’t fit to rear a dog.’

  ‘Indeed, he isn’t!’ Dawn agreed vehemently.

  ‘He and his gang are responsible for the deaths of Revenue men shot on the beaches. Once evidence is gathered and a case is made against him, he will face gaol if he doesn’t swing. Until that happens you and Lily must stay away from him.’

  ‘I didn’t know he’d killed Revenue men as well!’ Dawn covered her mouth with a shaky hand, feeling overwhelmed with fear for Lily. ‘He is indeed a murderer and I have the proof of it. Oh... I must quickly go back to my granddaughter in case that monster returns and finds me gone. She isn’t safe with him. He hates her. I know he does.’ She tried to pull free of Jack’s arms to run back the way she’d come, but he restrained her, giving her a little shake to calm her.

  ‘Hush...he won’t harm his daughter.’

  ‘She’s not his daughter.’ Dawn gazed up wild-eyed at Jack. ‘That’s what I was coming to tell you. Lily’s father was a man called Ben Grove, the nephew of the retired housekeeper. Peter Mansfield found out about Eleanor’s lover and killed him in a jealous rage. He knows that Lily isn’t his child, but has maintained the sham rather than be known as a cuckold and a criminal.’

  Jack’s dismay on learning that was limited to a bla
sphemy ejected through his teeth. He knew that without a bond of blood as meagre protection, the child would indeed be in peril from such a brute. ‘Are you quite certain?’ he asked calmly. Who has told you all of this?’

  ‘Eleanor. She concealed a letter addressed to me in her room. After her death it was discovered by the housekeeper. I thank the lord her message eventually got to me.’ Dawn quickly recounted her meeting with Mrs Grove earlier that day. ‘I’m sure Mrs Grove is unaware Lily is kin of hers. Perhaps she has had her suspicions over the years while working at the vicarage. But she is a God-fearing woman and was dedicated to serving Eleanor. She told me months ago when Eleanor was still alive that her mistress was unhappy and that the vicar was the cause of that unhappiness. I didn’t give the matter enough thought at the time.’ Dawn gave a regretful shake of the head.

  ‘If Ben Grove’s murder is proven the vicar will face a noose, and his vestments won’t save him. I’ve heard of Ben Grove. He ran his own smuggling ring in Kent. He has a brother named William.’

  Dawn was about to say that she’d met William earlier that day and not only that, he’d been loitering outside the vicarage not two hours since. But she didn’t get the chance. Jack took her hand and urged her in the direction of the vicarage.

  ‘Come... With any luck we will beat the fiend back and get Lily away from there. Mansfield and his tub men will be busy at the churchyard secreting their booty for many hours yet.’

  Dawn skipped to keep up with his long stride and when he broke into a trot she jerked her hand free of his to gather her hampering skirts from her feet. Gamely she kept pace with him though she knew he limited his speed to accommodate her. By the time the looming outline of the vicarage was visible her lungs were burning and she was glad she’d kept quiet and conserved her energy for the race to rescue Lily before the vicar returned home.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Reverend Peter Mansfield’s nocturnal business had kept him out until just before first light and thus he had risen later than usual. On entering the dining room to have his breakfast, he had been enraged and astonished in equal part to hear from Mrs Broome that, notwithstanding her presence, he was alone in the vicarage. At first he’d believed that the woman must be raving and had barked that at her. But his housekeeper wasn’t a meek mouse like her predecessor. Planting her hands on her hips, she had insisted that Mrs Fenton and her granddaughter had gone with Lord Sterling before midnight and she’d not been told when they would return.

  Having stomped up the stairs to satisfy himself it was a fallacy, he instead found that his housekeeper had spoken the truth. The nursery and bedchamber were empty but for the clothes that had been left behind. He’d found it hard to believe that Viscount Sterling would risk a charge of abducting the child with his paramour, therefore had reached the conclusion that the man had intended to return his doxy to her own bed, but had got delayed in the matter.

  Forgoing his kippers, Peter had immediately set out for Croxley Grange to discover what in damnation was going on. To his surprise, he hadn’t been fobbed off with excuses, but had been granted an immediate audience.

  For some ten minutes now he had been kicking his heels amid ancient tomes soaring ceilingwards behind leaded glass. Peter darted bitter glances hither and thither; undeniable proof surrounded him of his opponent’s wealth and exalted status. The library’s heavy oak furniture and hide upholstery was of the finest quality, the rug carpeting the polished boards butter soft beneath his restless feet. Contrarily, Peter was exasperated that he was unable to fully appreciate this opulence now the meeting with His Lordship must take place under a cloud. He heard the door being opened and ceased prowling to adopt a pained expression and a puffed-out chest.

  ‘I’m sorry to call so early, my lord,’ Peter began saying in a tone of weary stoicism as the master of the house strolled in his direction. ‘But I have been given some alarming news by my housekeeper. I believe that my daughter has been brought here without my permission. I have come to collect her and take her home.’ While delivering his grievance, Peter had eyed the distinguished-looking fellow from silvery fair head to expensively shod foot, greatly resenting his rival for being such a damnably fine figure of a man.

  Jack moved a languid hand. ‘I’ve been expecting you, Mansfield.’

  Peter had hoped for an immediate apology. But Sterling didn’t look or sound sorry, or guilty. Yet the man obviously knew what he’d done was wrong or he wouldn’t have acted under cover of darkness. ‘I know that you and Mrs Fenton have a liking for one another and how you go on is your own business.’ Peter paused to curl a scornful lip. ‘But the child is my concern and that woman had no right removing her from her bed at dead of night in order that you and she might...’ The obscenity was swallowed before it could roll off his tongue. ‘Enjoy one another’s company,’ he finished stiffly.

  ‘We do and I’m glad you understand that,’ Jack replied smoothly though this pantomime of manners was making his guts roil. What he really wanted to do was beat the wretch to the ground for his devilry. But Jack knew he couldn’t start a fight when so much was at stake. And he wouldn’t, although he’d felt sick to his stomach on reading Eleanor Mansfield’s letter. Dawn had produced it rather than relate its heartrending contents in full. By the time he handed it back Jack was thanking his lucky stars that he hadn’t delayed putting into action his plan to bring Dawn and her granddaughter to Croxley Grange. He had encountered many wicked people in his life, but he found it particularly despicable that Mansfield had sunk to concealing his depravity behind the respectable façade of his marriage and his church.

  ‘Understand this, too, Mansfield,’ he said. ‘Mrs Fenton and her granddaughter are my house guests for the foreseeable future. And as that is all you need to know at present, I see no reason to detain you.’ Jack thrust his hands into his pockets to prevent using them to drag the vicar out of his house by the scruff of the neck.

  Peter put a finger to his lips, frowning contemplatively. It suited him to retain this man’s patronage and for that he must appear docile...until the time was right to get even. He could curb his wrath at having been summarily dismissed as though he were the butcher’s boy. But something else was incensing him that was harder to control. Peter was certain that the Viscount had not long since risen from a warm bed, with Dawn in it, and that was stoking his jealousy. He was berating himself for not having kicked down her door and tumbled her himself. A hint that he’d been first between her thighs last night would have wiped the arrogance from her lover’s handsome features. He could see Sterling was impatient for him to leave; his tall figure was stationed close to the door as though in readiness to show him out.

  ‘Mrs Fenton may reside wherever she wishes, but the child will return to the vicarage with me.’ Peter peered earnestly over a steeple of his fingers. ‘Beg pardon, but before I take the girl home, my lord, I should like to speak to Mrs Fenton. We have unfinished business to conduct.’ He still hoped to coerce Dawn to marry him and he knew to do that he needed his late wife’s bastard in his custody. Dawn would do anything to keep the child with her...even give up this illustrious fellow.

  ‘She can’t presently see you. If you have a message, I’ll relay it.’

  ‘I’m afraid what I have to say is of a personal nature, my lord. I really must see her and the child this instant.’ Peter crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I don’t mind waiting while Mrs Fenton makes herself presentable.’ His mouth twitched slyly.

  ‘I thought I made myself clear. Mrs Fenton has no desire to speak to you and her granddaughter is asleep. If you wish to write a note, you may do so and I will deliver it.’ Jack opened a drawer in the table and withdrew paper. He skimmed that, and the inkstand, over the leather table top, gesturing at them.

  Outside the library door, Dawn frowned and put her ear closer to the timber panel. The sudden silence within was as worrying to her as had been the preceding hostile conversation
. Her fingers began creeping towards the doorknob, but she withdrew them. She had promised to wait for Jack to return and relate the gist of his conversation with the vicar. He would be expecting to find her where he had left her: at breakfast. When the butler had entered the dining room to announce their foe’s arrival, Dawn had shot up from the table and offered to speak to him. Jack had sensibly argued that he was more likely to rid them of Mansfield without a fuss. But a need to know what was happening had got the better of her. A few minutes after he’d quit the dining room she had been unable to stop herself following him.

  A little after sunrise Jack had slipped a message beneath her door, requesting they talk downstairs. Comfortable as the bed had been she hadn’t slept and had felt certain that he hadn’t got any rest either to be up so early. They had a daunting task in front of them and needed private time to discuss how to bring Mansfield to justice.

  Though hungry, Dawn had been too preoccupied to do more than move scrambled eggs on her plate and nibble at toast. Jack had done justice to the savoury assortment laid out before him on a chalk-white cloth. As she’d watched him eating heartily, her mind had travelled back to that snowy sojourn at the inn, cherishing it again as a good time even though it seemed so long ago and had been the start of the troubles enmeshing them.

  Much had happened yesterday between taking the dog cart to town and ending the day sleeping in a silk-sheeted four-poster bed. On their return to the vicarage to collect Lily Mrs Broome had assured them the master hadn’t been back. Lily had unprotestingly got dressed in warm clothes, then let Jack carry her out into the darkness. From the start she’d seemed to enjoy the adventure and had obeyed her grandma’s whispers to be still and quiet in this game they were playing. During her second trek through the woods Dawn had constantly squinted into shadows to locate lurking dangers. Though on high alert, she had felt quite safe, her hand snug in Jack’s as they headed for the sanctuary of his house.