by Sharon Page
“Thank you. That should be perfect.”
She was tremendously worried about why David Carstairs had come—until she reached the drawing room and he smiled at her. He reached out. Warmed by the gesture, she went to him and clasped his hands.
“I had to come—forcing a lot of footmen to carry me downstairs and put me in my chair,” he said, wearing that endearing, self-effacing smile. “I had to come and thank you. I heard Cal was angry with you at the ball. He was afraid I was going to be hurt when Alice told me she is in love with someone else. I’m actually happy. When you really love someone, you just want them to be happy.”
Her heart stuttered. Was Cal the person Alice loved? “I was afraid I had meddled and hurt both you and Cal,” she admitted.
“I know Cal told you not to do it. I’m really glad you didn’t listen. It was good to see her again.”
“But didn’t it hurt?”
“Yeah, there was some pain. But that’s how I know I’m alive—because I can still feel some pain in my heart. Cal was trying to spare me pain. But he’s wrong. I can take it.” He squeezed her hand gently. “I know you understand. You survived losing your fiancé.”
“I managed to get through it. Survived is probably too generous a word.”
“I told Cal he has to apologize to you, Julia. For his outburst. When he returns, he will come and tell you.”
“Returns? Where is he?”
“He’s found the man who beat up Miss Lambert. I guess that’s the same man who attacked you.”
16
Fight at the Sawmill
“Who is this man?” Julia gasped.
“A gypsy woman named Genevra came to the house,” David explained. “Wiggins tried to tell her to run off, but Cal saw her and insisted she come in. She read my palm, told me I had a long life line, and that I would find great love. Then she talked to Cal and he took off in his automobile. I thought he should go to the police, but he said he wanted to take care of things himself.”
David looked satisfied about that, not in the least worried. And she was pleased Genevra had read such a wonderful future for David, but her heart slammed against her chest. What had Cal been thinking? What did he plan to do? “Where did he go?”
At her frantic tone, David’s blue eyes stared at her in shock. “Genevra told him that the man he was looking for works for the Worthington sawmill. She told him to beware, but Cal thought that was funny. I didn’t know the estate owned a sawmill.”
“The estate owns everything upon it,” she said distractedly. Cal was going to confront that brute of a man. She stood abruptly. “I must go to the police station in the village, to tell them where Cal has gone. They can arrest him.”
David touched her arm. “Cal doesn’t want the police involved.”
“Cal will have to have the police involved.” She couldn’t imagine why he would not. That simply made no sense. “I must go.” Her heartbeat, hard and frantic, filled her head. “It’s impolite, but I must leave you here. I’ll tell Zoe—the duchess—she’ll look after you.”
“Lady Julia, wait!”
She hesitated at the door.
“Cal can take care of himself,” David promised.
“That’s what I fear.”
Leaving the house caused a flurry of panic. Zoe agreed to stay with David, to play hostess after Julia was racing off rudely, but Nigel stepped in front of her and refused to let her go. “He’ll be killed because of me if I do nothing.” Or worse, he would kill. And then what? Cal might think earls were above the law but they really weren’t. His American belief that titled men could do whatever they wanted might get him in terrible trouble.
Nigel tried to take charge. “I’ll take care of this, Julia. You stay—”
“No! We must get the police constable. You can do that, and I shall try to stop Cal.” She raced out through the front door, not caring about a coat, or gloves.
Nigel took the front steps in one leap, which gave him the advantage and he caught her. “I don’t want you going anywhere alone, Julia.”
He insisted they go together to the police. She was about to go mad but Nigel drove faster than she’d ever seen him. He drove rather like Zoe for once—like a race car driver. At the tiny stone building used as the police station, complete with small cells in the basement, he pulled ducal privilege when the police sergeant refused to see why he should rush to the sawmill. If a duke demanded the sergeant go, the man was not going to refuse, and the balding, craggy-faced sergeant traveled with them in the Daimler. The constable followed on his bicycle.
Dust and a smoky, sweet smell filled the air as Nigel raced down the lane to the large stone building used as the Worthington sawmill. Lumber was stacked all around and carts stood, carrying logs. The air was filled with the screech of saws.
Julia had the door open before the motor stopped and Nigel stomped on the brake, halting them with a lurch.
Men milled about, forming a circular crowd, catcalling and shouting, and she knew at once Cal must be in the middle of it.
“Julia, wait,” Nigel called, but she tried to push her way between two of the men—bulky, barrel-chested specimens with bulging biceps, who smelled of sweat. One lifted his huge arm, yelling something, and she was almost knocked back, but she ducked in time.
Her slender size was an advantage—she slipped between the men, stopping on the inside of the rough circle. Ellen’s pimp stood there, his pockmarked face red with fury, his fists doubled up. His cap was gone, revealing thinning brown hair, and his biceps strained at his sleeves. He was even bigger than she remembered.
Then she saw Cal. Blood ran down from his temple. Sweat soaked his hair to amber. The pimp lunged and threw his fists with intense speed. Cal ducked the blow to his head but took a punch in the gut that made her want to be sick. The brute was fast and powerful. Cal landed blows, but the pimp’s fists were hard, as huge rocks, and were damaging Cal in a horrible way.
But Cal bounced lightly on his feet, seeming able to take the horrifying punishment. Truly, he should be unconscious.
Ellen’s pimp—the men were shouting, calling him “Lowry”—grinned. The smug grin of confidence. He lunged again, ready to fell Cal.
Fists flew, but they were Cal’s fists. Cal moved so fast, she could barely tell what was happening. She was almost swaying from lack of breath, from her heart forgetting to beat, when Cal slammed his fist into the man’s gut, and as the fiend doubled over, Cal’s blow to his jaw sent him sprawling.
Cal towered over the fallen man. His mouth twisted into a snarl. His eyes blazed. Pure rage flashed across his face—the heat and rage seemed to glow from him, so hot and different than the cool, controlled anger she’d seen before.
She remembered how he said he’d done far worse than fighting a goon like this man. She could believe it. He looked...lethal.
Cal lunged down and clamped his hand around the man’s throat. For all the man had a huge neck, Cal’s powerful hand spanned it. “I’ve broken men’s necks before. Hand to hand. In battle.”
Lowry blubbered. He was pleading for his life. This vicious man who hadn’t listened to any of Ellen’s pleas or screams...
“No! Stop!” She hurried forward, into the center of the circle on the muddy ground, aware of murmurs halting, men staring.
“Break this up now. Move out,” commanded the police sergeant. He pushed the men aside with aplomb.
“This man, Jack Lowry, attacked Ellen Lambert in her cottage and almost beat her to death. He also assaulted Lady Julia Hazleton,” Cal declared.
“It was an attempt at an assault,” Julia said to the sergeant, “thwarted by the earl. But this man has been abusing Miss Lambert. He’s stolen money from her, forced her into prostitution.”
The sergeant’s eyes bulged in shock as she declared that. Lowry sna
rled, “I didn’t force her into nothin’.”
“You did, and you took money from her. Then you almost beat her to death,” Julia cried, glaring down at the fallen brute. She realized she’d drawn back her shoe. She wanted to kick him, and she had to stop herself.
The constable, a young, strong lad, came up, puffing. Between the constable and sergeant, they got Lowry to his feet. “I’m innocent,” he growled. “Never touched ’er ladyship.”
“You assaulted her outside Ellen Lambert’s cottage and tried to drag her away with you. What was your damned intent?” Cal stalked up, glaring down at the man, even though Lowry was two inches taller.
“What’re you talking about? You’re trying to pin somethin’ on me. I never touched her.”
“You touched her outside the Boar and Castle in the village,” Cal barked. “Then, because Lady Julia stood up to you, you went after her again.”
“I talked to her at the village, but she came up to me. I never saw her near the cottage. That’s a lie. I swear.”
“There are other women missing from this estate,” Cal said. “Maybe you know something about that.”
Lowry stared with panic.
The sergeant pulled Lowry’s thick arms behind his back and snapped on metal shackles with a swift, careful motion. “You’re coming back to the station. You’re going to be charged with assault, Lowry, likely attempted murder.”
“You can take him in my car,” Cal said.
As they hauled Lowry away, she stepped toward Cal. There was blood all over his face, but he held up his hand. “Listen up,” he shouted to the workers. “I want you to see I don’t allow this kind of behavior. No one working for me beats up a woman, hurts his wife, hits his kids. No one bullies or hits anyone weaker than he. You want to work off some anger, we’ll set up a ring and you can do it with some boxing. As for the conditions in that mill—things are going to be changing around here. Starting with the fact I need a new foreman. I’d appreciate applications dropped off with—Who’s in charge of keeping the accounts here?”
The smallest man, a slim one in an old suit, lifted his hand. “Stevens, my lord.”
“Give them to Stevens.”
“There are good men who cannot write,” Stevens pointed out.
“Hell,” said Cal. “Then you take down the information about who they are and what qualities they’ve got for the job. Can you take charge for today, step in for Lowry?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Now go back to work, all of you. Stevens is acting as foreman until I hire a new one.”
The men began moving back to the mill, all murmuring, realizing any of them could apply to be foreman. From the lighter expressions she saw on faces, she had no doubt Lowry bullied men here, too. Pleased, she fished out a handkerchief and briskly went to Cal. “We must clean you up. Thank you—thank you for capturing the man who hurt Ellen. But still, you shouldn’t have put yourself in such danger.”
“Julia, you shouldn’t have come forward. You could have gotten hurt,” Cal said.
“I was afraid—” She broke off. How did she politely say what she’d feared?
Cal’s expression darkened. “I saw it in your face. You thought I would kill him. You thought the wild, violent American would murder a man in cold blood.”
“I’ve never seen you angry like that.”
“I thought you’ve always seen me angry.”
“Not like that. That was hot and wild and for a moment, I thought it was out of your control. All the other times, your anger has been cold and obviously controlled. I don’t understand why you were fighting. You should have telephoned the police. You are the earl. You had no need—”
“This isn’t entirely for Ellen Lambert. Lowry, as foreman of this mill, was cutting corners on safety, endangering men. When I told him things would be run differently, he thought he could scare me with the threat of physical violence. I gave him the chance to show me what he could do.”
Cal tried to make his blue eyes look guileless, but he failed.
“So you let him beat you up, then you took control and pounded him into the ground—” She broke off. She saw respect in the eyes of the other men around, and they were all large, muscled specimens. They all respected Cal, the Earl of Worthington. He wasn’t a weak man given power by the accident of birth. He was a man who believed in their rights and safety, and who could fight as rough as any of them. He had shown them he was an honorable man and a tough one.
“I’m going to clean this place up,” Cal said. “Improve conditions. Then I guess I’d better take a look at the other industries on this estate—Stop smiling, Julia. This doesn’t mean anything.”
But it did.
“But if Lowry was the foreman of the mill,” Julia mused, “why did no one identify him?”
“I guess he hasn’t lived here long. Came from Yorkshire originally. Most people were afraid to get on his bad side.”
“And you have stopped his reign of terror.”
He grinned at her, one of those slow grins that made her ache, and melt, and yearn.
Nigel came forward. She realized he had been unable to get through the crowd and stop her, and she’d never seen him look so worried over her. “Don’t do that again,” he said, as he escorted her back to their car.
“I had to ensure Cal didn’t hurt that man badly,” she said softly, trying to recover from—and hide—the devastating desire Cal’s smile had evoked. “I had to ensure there could be no charges against him. We must take Cal back with us.”
Nigel frowned, then nodded. The three of them traveled back to Worthington Park.
“How did you know I was there?” Cal asked.
“David told me. He told me Genevra had looked at the sketch, told you the man worked at the sawmill.” She shivered as she thought of Lowry fighting Cal. Lowry might have hit her like that, if Cal had not rescued her.
Her stomach felt rather strange. Oddly weightless and funny.
“I asked Genevra if she thought he was responsible for the other girls’ disappearances,” Cal said.
He had done that. He had looked into a different possibility than Anthony.
“Disappearances?” Nigel asked, at the wheel.
Cal explained. But he did not tell Nigel what they had found in the car, what he suspected.
“Genevra pointed out the women must have been laid to rest somewhere or else they would have been found. I’ve been searching the estate. Driving around where the women were likely taken from. Now I’m expanding the search.”
“I could—” Julia began.
“No.” Both men said it at once.
“Genevra suggested I ask you,” Cal said. “She said there is no one who knows Worthington Park as well as you. I told her no. I’m not putting you through that.”
“I want to help. And both of you cannot dictate to me.” Her head did feel oddly dizzy. It must be from seeing the force and violence in that fight and fearing Cal might lose control.
“Genevra said that Lady Worthington is suffering, just as the curse decreed. But this has nothing to do with a curse. This is human evil. And for that reason, I’m not asking you to help, Julia. I asked Genevra why she thought it stopped. She told me a hunter might search for prey farther away. Or he might have a reason to stop. She told me to look farther away to see if any girls with black hair and blue eyes had disappeared. Genevra has more brains than the police sergeant—”
“Those women look like you, Julia,” Nigel said suddenly. His hands gripped the wheel. His face went white. “And you were attacked outside Ellen Lambert’s cottage. Julia, you will have to stop your work. You cannot be putting yourself in danger.”
“But that must have been Lowry and he has been arrested.”
“No, Julia, I’m putting my foot down,” Nigel said, i
n his ducal tones. “You are to stay close to home.”
“No—” she began.
“You are under my roof and this time you will listen to me.”
She knew he was scared, but he was going beyond unreasonable. “But there is no danger now.” Even as she said that, she had to admit, she didn’t feel completely sure. There was something wrong. She remembered her attacker gripping her throat. He’d been so strong—
But had he really been that big? She struggled to remember. Thought of the horror. Thought of how Cal had been covered in blood and now in cuts and bruises. She had thought the attacker was the same height as Cal, but that was when Cal had his arm captured behind his back. Could that have made him seem shorter?
Her attacker hadn’t spoken. He had dragged her, struck her in terrifying, creepy silence. If he had spoken she would have known for certain if Lowry had been that man. Still, she wasn’t going to point out that her memory of her attacker didn’t quite match Lowry. Instead, she protested, “You can’t forbid me from doing the one thing I can do.” But they’d arrived at Worthington.
Cal got out. Julia wanted to move to the front seat to argue with Nigel all the way back to Brideswell. But as she stepped out of the car, her legs seemed to disappear and the ground rushed up toward her.
* * *
She opened her eyes to a darkened room, the flutter of pale ivory drapes and a gentle breeze that eased the too-hot feeling of the air.
“Are you all right? I’ve never seen you faint, Julia. Not even when—I mean, you have always been so remarkably strong.”
Julia recognized Diana’s voice. Wearing a loose dress with many layers of tulle, Diana sat down on the edge of the settee Julia lay on. She also recognized the pale pink decor—this was the most feminine drawing room at Worthington.
Julia sat up. “What happened? Did I really faint?”
“You did. Cal fears it was his fault, because you saw him fight. He fears you have been through so much. Both he and your brother feel you need rest.”
