by Adele Clee
Vane seemed surprised. He dragged his unblemished hand down his face. “What happened in Italy, it … it broke her.”
Evidently, it had affected Vane, too. Anyone could see that a wealth of pain lingered behind his stone facade.
“Then know I intend to do whatever it takes to help her heal.”
“I pray you do. Lillian deserves some happiness after everything she’s been through.” Vane paused and glanced at the door. "Send for her. Let her see you’re still alive so that it may ease her fears.” He grabbed the poultice and pressed it gently over his knuckles. “That is unless you wish to take this battle of wills to round two.”
Fabian chuckled. “I make it a point never to hit a man while he’s down.”
“Oh, I’m not down. I can hit just as hard with my left hand.”
Fabian didn’t doubt it. “Perhaps some other time. Besides, I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“Gratitude?” Vane arched a brow. “Why do I sense you’re mocking me?”
“It is thanks to Lillian’s shooting skills that I stand here today.”
Vane shrugged. “Then perhaps I made a mistake in insisting she take lessons.”
The ancient door creaked open, and Mackenzie entered. “Is there anything else you need, my lord? If you’ve no objection, I’d like to venture over to the cottages to check on Mary.”
Heavens, the man truly was besotted. “I think we have everything in hand now, thank you, Mackenzie. But can you find Lady Ravenscroft before you go, and ask her to join us?”
Mackenzie hesitated. “Aye, my lord.”
Fabian watched him leave. His friend looked troubled. But then unrequited love often made a man sullen and morose. He turned to Vane who was staring at the fan of swords on the wall. “You have the look of a man desperate to demonstrate his parrying skills.”
“Not at all.” Vane made an odd puffing sound that carried a hint of amusement. “I was admiring the display. Sitting here, one cannot help but feel as though they have journeyed back four hundred years.”
“I have always preferred a simplistic life.”
“You consider sailing the seas and living on a desolate island simplistic?”
“I consider living anywhere free from the hypocrisy of the ton to be an advantage.”
Vane gave a nod of approval. “Do you intend to remain here? A community of brigands is hardly an ideal place to raise a family.”
“Brigands? They are the most honest, hardworking men I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet.” Well, not always honest. They cheated at cards. Told tales to relieve their boredom. Had shared the odd woman or two. “I’d take my crew over the pompous lords you hold in high esteem.”
“Trust me. I care nothing for those weak, insipid sots who live to tour the ballrooms. I have yet to meet a gentleman deserving of my respect.” He paused. “That is not entirely true. Lord Farleigh is the only exception.”
“Then Lord Farleigh must be a king amongst men.”
“He is.” Vane gathered his glass and swallowed a mouthful of brandy. “So, have you sent my sister out shooting rabbits for your supper?”
The odd question came as a surprise. “What, you assume because we live a simplistic life Lillian must behave like a peasant?”
“Did you not praise her fine shooting skills?”
“I said she saved my life. Did you happen to see a man-eating rabbit on your journey from the dock?” Fabian couldn’t help but chuckle. Nonetheless, the incident with Aubrey was no laughing matter. “During a fight on the heath, Lord Cornell’s man pulled a blade and would have used it had Lillian not shot it out of his hand.”
Pride flashed in Vane’s eyes but faded when a frown marred his brow. “If you have a gripe with Cornell, I would rather you didn’t involve my sister.”
Fabian recalled Vane’s ignorance when it came to Cornell’s involvement in the scandal with Lord Martin. Any other time he would have relished breaking the news. But after hearing Lillian’s tragic story, it left a bitter taste in his mouth now.
“Cornell is the man who bribed Lord Martin to ruin Lillian.” Fabian watched Vane’s expression darken. “Cornell’s man has been following you for some time, hence the reason he came here. We have him in the dungeon should you wish to question the prisoner.”
Like the Devil bursting out of a fiery grave, Vane shot up. “Cornell? You mean to tell me that weasel is the one responsible for ruining my sister’s life?” He dragged his hand down his face. “I swear I’ll drive my fist through his chest, rip out his blasted heart and eat it for supper.”
Under the circumstances, Vane’s volatile reaction was to be commended.
“The motive for my recent visit to London was not only to inform you of Lillian’s whereabouts but to punish Lord Cornell for the part he played.”
Fabian told Vane how he had stripped and taunted the shackled lord.
“Then it seems I am the one who owes you a debt of gratitude.”
“I did it for Lillian. To bring an end to her nightmare. To bring her peace.”
Vane covered his heart with his hand and inclined his head respectfully. “You should not have let him live.”
“If you think that is the end of the matter with Cornell, then you are mistaken.” Fabian would not rest until the lord was lying destitute in the gutter. “Sometimes death makes a man a martyr. Humiliation is by far a more just and lasting punishment. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Vane sat down. “I don’t profess to be a patient man. But the thought of seeing Cornell suffer has appeal. Once I’ve spoken to Lillian, and I am assured of her happiness, I should like time alone with the prisoner.”
Poor Aubrey. A few minutes with Vane and the thug would confess to all manner of misdemeanours. “As you wish.”
Mackenzie returned. He strode towards them but seemed flustered. “Forgive me, my lord. I know you asked me to summon her ladyship, but she’s left the castle.”
Left the castle? Where the hell had she gone? A frisson of fear coursed through him. But with Aubrey locked in the cell, he had no reason to worry. Had she absconded to avoid Vane’s wrath?
“No doubt she’s gone for a walk while we settle our dispute,” Fabian said to reassure Vane. He turned to Mackenzie. “Inform me the moment she returns.”
Mackenzie lingered, his anxiety evident in the way he tugged and played with his beard. “I believe she’s gone to the cottages, my lord. I was to accompany her, but errands kept me here.”
As a lady trained to manage sprawling country estates, perhaps she thought it her duty to visit the tenants. “She has probably emptied the kitchen of sweet treats and taken a basket to Mary.”
“Aye, she intends to visit Mary. After the attack in the bedchamber, no one has seen Mary for two days, and her ladyship is eager to find the culprit.”
It took a moment for the words to penetrate. “Someone attacked Mary?”
Mackenzie shook his head. “No, my lord. Someone attacked Lady Ravenscroft. Did she not tell you about the intruder?”
Fabian frowned as a cloud of confusion filled his head.
“Did I not say you lived with a band of brigands?” Vane’s hard tone penetrated the silence. “And I heard your men had the utmost respect for you.”
“We do.” Mackenzie puffed out his chest. “No man here would dare cross the Raven.”
“Evidently, you’re wrong,” Vane countered. “Only a traitorous brute would attack a lady in her home.”
“Her ladyship believes a woman attacked her.”
Fabian jumped to his feet. He couldn’t think clearly. His racing pulse pounded in his ears. “Is there anything else you need to tell me, Mackenzie?”
Mackenzie paused. “Only that in your absence someone has been digging for treasure. Lady Ravenscroft saw two figures on the heathland.” His shoulders slumped. “I would have told you sooner, but you’ve not left the bedchamber since your return.”
Vane muttered a curse.
Good Lord! The men had run amok
in his absence. “May I borrow a pistol?” Fabian gestured to the duelling pistols on the table. “And your coat.”
“I’m coming with you, and only one pistol is loaded. I fired a shot when your man refused me entrance.”
“I’m coming, too, my lord.” Mackenzie stepped forward. “Anyone who harms the lass will have to deal with me.”
“The lass?” Vane raised a reproachful brow. “Are you not taking simplistic living a little far?”
Fabian ignored the comment. “Fetch two swords, Mackenzie, and meet us in the bailey.”
They were about to leave when the door burst open, and Ursula rushed in, her clothes sodden and water dripping from her straggly locks. She dropped to her knees before them. “Please, my lord, you must come quickly. Lady Ravenscroft needs your help.”
Fabian’s blood froze in his veins. He gripped Ursula’s arm and brought her to her feet. “Why? Where is she? Is she hurt?”
“I don’t know. We went to the cottages to find Mary, but she wasn’t there. And so we went down to the dock.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“We walked the coastline looking for Mary, but someone attacked us from behind.” Ursula gasped for breath.
“Attacked you? Was it one of the men?”
She shook her head. “There were two of them, Mary and a man I’ve never seen before.”
“Mary?” Mackenzie spat. “She’s lying, my lord. Mary would never hurt her ladyship.”
Fabian did not want to suggest his friend was naive, or that love was blind. Women were just as callous as men when it came to deception. “Let us hear the rest of the story before we make any judgements.”
“But, my lord—”
“Enough. I must know what these blackguards want.” Crimes such as these fell into two categories: a need for money or a desire for vengeance.
Mackenzie covered his hand with his mouth.
“I didn’t want to believe it of Mary, either,” Ursula implored. “Truly I didn’t.”
Fabian tried to remain focused. “You mentioned a man. Was it Doyle?”
“Things happened so quickly.” Ursula squeezed her eyes shut as if trying to form a mental picture. She shook her head and looked at Fabian. “If it is Doyle, then he is thinner than I remember, and he has a beard. Please. You must believe me. The only reason I stand here is because I’m forced to bring you a message.”
Vane remained silent but his intense, unwavering gaze fixed on Ursula.
Fabian inhaled deeply. “What message?”
“You’re to travel to Branscombe. You’re to bring five hundred sovereigns if you want to see Lady Ravenscroft again.”
Fabian cursed and punched the air. So the motive was money. It had to be Doyle. Who else could it be? He wanted to wrap his hands around the bastard’s neck and squeeze until his face turned blue.
“Mary is to hold Lady Ravenscroft in a secret location until he agrees to her release.”
Mackenzie stepped forward. “May I speak to you alone, my lord?”
“Certainly, but be quick. We cannot afford to linger.”
They moved closer to the door, out of earshot.
“My lord, there is no man here more loyal than I.” Mackenzie covered his heart with his hand. “Believe me when I tell you, there must be another explanation. Mary despises Doyle and was glad when he left.”
Fabian offered a weak smile. “Then we must hope she is acting against her will.” He gripped Mackenzie’s shoulder. “What choice do I have? It would take hours to search the island. You know that.” The sharp stabbing pain in his chest returned. “Damn it all. The man is out for revenge as well as money. If Doyle has taken her to the mainland, we might never find her. I have to follow his instructions to the letter.”
Mackenzie’s expression darkened. “Then there is no time to waste.”
Vane did not ask Fabian how he happened to have five hundred sovereigns to hand. When one lived on an island, a vault was the next best thing to a bank.
The three men, with Ursula in tow, hurried to the dock, commanded a rowboat and headed across the water to Branscombe. They were all soaked to the skin, the torrential downpour hindering their visibility and speed.
“Are you married to a sailor?” Vane asked Ursula as she sat clutching a blanket around her shoulders while they put every effort into reaching the shore.
“No, my lord.” Ursula batted her lashes and moistened her lips. Vane was one of those men who only had to breathe to capture a woman’s attention. “I’m a widow, have been these last four years.”
“And so you work as a maid?”
“I do.”
“I’m surprised one of Ravenscroft’s men hasn’t made you an offer.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Having once married a man who can drink his weight in ale, I’d prefer to fend for myself.”
Fabian knew what Vane was doing. He was testing her, looking for a reason to distrust her word.
“Is it not rather lonely?”
“Why, anyone would think you want to steal his lordship’s staff away.” For a woman who feared for her mistress, she seemed rather jovial.
“Perhaps I am.” Vane flicked a lock of damp hair from his brow. “So, you’re not a woman who likes being controlled by men.”
“That depends on the man and what you mean by control, my lord.”
Mackenzie muttered something incoherent as he heaved the oars.
They rowed in silence, but Fabian could almost hear the cogs working away in Vane’s mind.
When they were but ten feet from the shore, Mackenzie climbed out and dragged the boat up onto the shingle beach.
Vane climbed out. “Allow me to assist you.” He did not wait for an answer but scooped Ursula up out of the boat, placed her safely on the beach and helped her straighten and smooth her skirts.
“Remind me again what you’re required to do,” Fabian said as he joined them.
Ursula appeared flustered after receiving Vane’s undivided attention. “I’m to follow the road up to the coaching inn, to the stone that says it’s seventeen miles to Exmouth. I’m to leave the money behind the milestone and return to it in an hour for further instructions.”
“Very well.” Fabian handed Ursula the cloth bag. She struggled to hide a smile, and he knew, with the utmost certainty, she was lying. “We will remain here.”
Bag in hand, and with a quick glance back at Vane, Ursula scurried off.
Vane folded his arms across his chest. “How long do you intend to wait before we apprehend her?”
“Give her a few minutes, and then we’ll follow.”
“I could feel no evidence of a weapon,” Vane said. So that was his motive for lifting her from the boat.
“You mean you both know Ursula’s lying?” Mackenzie braced his hands on his hips.
“Ever since she batted her lashes at Vane and made flirtatious comments.” Any innocent woman used as a go-between would fear for her life.
Vane brushed his hand through his damp hair. “I think we’ve given her enough time don’t you?”
While Mackenzie waited with the rowboat, Fabian and Vane strode across the shingle beach and down the lane. There was no sign of Ursula at the milestone, no sign of the money hidden behind. A person on the run needed somewhere to hide. A place too dark to search at night, too vast to search by day.
“She’s heading for the woods.” Fabian pointed to the path further along the lane. They broke into a sprint, splashing through puddles. Water squelched in Fabian’s boots. “No doubt she means to wait until we grow tired and leave.”
They turned the corner onto the bridle path. There was an hour until sunset, but the canopy of overhanging trees blocked out the light.
A feminine shriek caught their attention, and they spotted Ursula struggling to haul her booted foot out of the mud.
“There you are,” Fabian said, reaching her first. “Have you forgotten where the milestone is?”
Impatience got the
better of Vane. With a growl of frustration, he grabbed Ursula around the waist, tugged her out of the mud and threw her over his broad shoulder.
“Put me down,” she cried as she clutched the money bag so tightly her knuckles were white. “I got lost that’s all.”
“You can tell us the truth once we’re on the boat.” Fabian turned and headed back towards the lane. Vane kept a firm grip on Ursula despite sliding about in the mud and almost losing his balance.
“No! You can’t take me back to the island.” She kicked Vane, leaving mud splatters across his black coat. “I beg you. Keep the money, just let me go. You don’t know what he’ll do if he knows I betrayed him.”
“It’s a damn sight less than I’ll do to you if he’s harmed my sister.”
Once back at the rowboat, Vane dropped Ursula onto the wooden bench, snatched the bag of coins from her grasp and held her there while Fabian and Mackenzie pushed the vessel into the water and quickly climbed aboard.
When they were a mile from the shore, Vane released his grip on Ursula and took a turn at the oars. His muscles strained against his coat sleeves as he propelled them effortlessly through the water.
“If you ever have the urge to sail the seas, let me know,” Fabian said. “Good men are hard to find.”
Vane smirked. “I would rather eat my hat than sleep with a bunch of men for months on end.”
“Your rowing skills are second to none.” Fabian begrudged paying Vane a compliment.
“I make a point of mastering anything I put my hands to.”
“Indeed. At this rate, we’ll reach the island in record time.”
Ursula whimpered as her frantic gaze shot from the coastline to the blot of land in the distance. “Please. Take me back. I beg you. Don’t tell him what I did.”
“You’re in no position to ask for anything.” Fabian stared at her intently. “Tell me the truth. Does Doyle have my wife?”
Ursula fiddled with her fingers and struggled to sit still. “Doyle wants the treasure. Lady Ravenscroft stumbled on his secret hideaway when she sheltered from the storm.”
A string of curses escaped Fabian’s lips. “I swear I shall kill him this time.”
