Regency Scandals and Scoundrels: A Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Scarlett Scott

  “Greta will return to Germany, disgusted with me, no doubt.”

  “Don’t you intend to join her?”

  “I think not. I’m afraid she will be distraught when she discovers her coffers are almost empty. Gambling is such a curse, you know. And the salons in Paris such a lure.” He sighed, his breath stirring her hair. “Pity Greta did not manage to get the duke to the altar. It would ease the pain of losing all her money, and she was most fond of him.”

  “You won’t get away with this you know. They’ll hunt you down.”

  “I have friends in London. They asked me to join them in their venture. I didn’t wish to then. I am inherently lazy, Miss Harrismith, and I prefer the life in Paris, but now that my pockets are to let, I will meet up with them. They will be only too happy to have my help, especially after I’ve killed the duke for them.”

  Jenny wanted to scream at him, but she stayed silent. They were riding fast along a woodland path, heading north. Who were these people in London? She didn’t understand what he was talking about. But somehow she must stop him. “You don’t need me now. You’ll go faster without me.”

  “Not quite yet.” He chuckled, squeezing her waist again. “I will deal with Harrow first. The death of a duke will be quite a coup.”

  Appalled, Jenny prayed the duke wouldn’t find them. “Castlebridge estate is enormous, it could be days before he rides this way.”

  Von Bremen pulled up the horse.

  Jenny’s hope that he had decided to put her down, soon faded when he grasped the lace on her collar and tore it away. “Give me your brooch, Miss Harrismith.”

  She covered it with her hand. “No!”

  He reached around and pulled it roughly from her breast, breaking the loose catch. Then stabbing it into the lace, he tossed it onto the middle of the path.

  “You may come to regret that,” she said, her voice rasping in her dry throat. “His Grace will kill you.”

  “He won’t know what hit him,” he said, as he nudged the horse into a canter.

  They rode on in silence, skirting the gamekeeper’s cottage. Jenny considered yelling for help, but feared Von Bremen would merely shoot Clovis down. On reaching the meadow where the sheep grazed, he continued on past the small hut where Jenny and the children had hidden from him.

  When they came to Spender’s Bluff, he reined in. Jumping to the ground, he reached up and pulled Jenny roughly down from the horse.

  “Surely we’re not going to climb up there?” she asked, incredulity banishing the fear.

  “Not all the way.” He nudged her forward.

  Half dragging her, Von Bremen forced her up the slope to a rocky shelf formed by huge boulders, forty feet or so below the cliff top. Above, the bluff towered over them, and beyond birds wheeled about in the sky.

  His hand digging into her arm, he pushed Jenny down onto a rock, bruising her thigh. Then he reached into a crevice and withdrew a long shape wrapped in oilcloth. He uncovered a rifle and began to load it.

  “You’ve had that gun here all the time?”

  “I put it here the day you met me on the path. After I shot at William.”

  “And missed. The duke will have no trouble dealing with you.”

  Von Bremen backhanded her across the face. “The boy bent over at the precise time I fired. I’m an excellent shot, I assure you.”

  Jenny’s eyes watered, and her mouth hurt. She licked it tasting blood.

  He shook his head. “There, I told you not to make me angry.”

  She edged as far away from him as she could on the rocky ledge. “You are a monster. Why do this? Leave now and you can get away. If you’re caught, you will hang. That’s the law in this country.”

  “I won’t be caught. Be a good girl. Sit quietly there behind that boulder. He’s not to see you until I want him to. And if you move, Miss Harrismith, I have a knife in my boot, and will use it!”

  She licked her sore lip again and didn’t doubt it.

  He checked his rifle. Her heart dropped at the sight of the guns he’d stored there. He squatted down beside her, but his eyes remained on the path leading back the way they came.

  *

  As Strathairn’s horse was being led out, a footman ran into the stable yard.

  “Your Grace! Miss Harrismith has been abducted,” George cried. “She was on her way back from the library with a book for Lord William when the German gentleman grabbed her. They left the house through the kitchen. The maids are in hysterics! He threatened them with a pistol.”

  “Good lord! Was Miss Harrismith injured?”

  “Didn’t seem so, Your Grace.”

  “Did the maids see which direction he took?

  “No, Your Grace, they were too frightened to move until Cook returned. But one of the gardeners saw him with Miss Harrismith while he was working in the orchard. Said they headed in a northerly direction.”

  “George, go and tell Mr. Irvine. He’s upstairs in the coach house with Mr. Forsythe. We’re riding out, heading north.”

  Strathairn was already in the saddle. “Any idea why he would go north?”

  “No.” Andrew mounted Cicero. “He probably avoided Clovis’ cottage. Wouldn’t have wanted the gamekeeper to see him. That way leads to Spender’s Bluff. Ivo’s been there before.”

  “Can he leave the estate lands that way?”

  “Not directly. He would have to ride some miles to cross the river. Perhaps I’m wrong, but it’s the only thing we have to go on.”

  They rode to the gamekeeper’s cottage. On reaching it, Clovis informed them that he’d seen no sign of them. Andrew prayed his hunch was right. Miss Harrismith! If Ivo hurt her Andrew would tear him limb from limb. “I find myself totally at a loss,” Andrew confessed. “How could someone be so wicked as to try to kill my son? And for what reason has he taken Miss Harrismith? The man must be deranged.”

  “He clearly is unbalanced,” Strathairn said. “And such men can be extremely dangerous and unpredictable. We need a plan if we are to get Miss Harrismith back unhurt.”

  “John, I must tell you with the rage I’m feeling at the moment, I don’t intend to bring him back alive,” he said, desperation shaking his voice.

  Strathairn’s eyes narrowed. “And nor you should.”

  They’d traveled another mile when a pair of riders appeared a way behind them. Andrew and Strathairn reined in to wait. Moments later, Irvine and Raymond rode up. “Thought you might like some extra hands, milords,” Irvine said.

  “Indeed we would, Irvine.”

  Raymond’s pale face was grim. “We’ll get him, Andrew. Have no fear!”

  Andrew glanced down. “Wait! What’s that lying on the path?” He reined in and dismounted, then stooped to pick it up. A cameo pinned to a piece of lace. “It’s Miss Harrismith’s brooch.” He buried his cold fury, his mind becoming cool and clear. “We’re on the right path, gentlemen.”

  “Might it have come off during a struggle? Raymond asked.

  “No, Ivo dropped it there. Miss Harrismith wears the brooch on her bodice, not her collar. He wants us to follow him, gentleman. Let’s oblige the fellow.”

  The small hut where Miss Harrismith hid with the children stood empty. They rode on. When Spender’s Bluff rose in the distance, Andrew reined in, as a suspicion answered the question he’d been asking himself. Why here?

  “He must have a rifle,” he said to the men. “It’s possible he’s holed up on that shallow ridge waiting to ensnare us in a trap.”

  “Is there a way to get up there?” Strathairn asked.

  “No. If he’s there. And I believe he is. He’s chosen well. Rock at his back and a good view of the path leading right to him.”

  “We need some way of drawing his fire,” Raymond said. “You can nab him when he has to reload.”

  “He may have more than one firearm. Miss Harrismith must be our first consideration. We’ll take it slow and careful,” Andrew said, aware of how reckless Raymond could be. “We make an excel
lent target if we show ourselves.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jenny shivered. The sharp breeze toyed with her hair and chilled her neck. What did Von Bremen have in mind for her? Her thoughts were in turmoil. He sat so close to her she cringed at the touch of his arm against hers. He’d grabbed her when she’d tried to move away. His breath smelling faintly of liquor stirred her hair as he explained how he intended to ambush the duke. “He has to come that way. I’ll bring him down long before he reaches us.” He grew silent for a moment. “I’ll have to take something with me, some sign that I’ve killed him. My compatriots don’t trust easily,” he said to himself. “Pity I don’t have a lily.” He turned to her. “That’s what my friends are in the process of doing, killing the delegates, and then adorning them with a white lily. Clever, eh?”

  “What delegates and why lilies?”

  “Delegates to the Vienna Congress, of course. The lilies show that the murders are linked. They will be listened to, and respected, and their actions will bring about change.” He frowned at her. “But this is nothing for you to worry your pretty head about.”

  He was telling the truth, she decided, she remembered the duke’s look of surprise when she picked a lily in the garden. So that was why His Grace had been urgently called to London.

  As he rattled on, Von Bremen became boastful and over confident. Jenny hoped it would prove to be a weakness. How could she warn the duke? As no opportunity had presented itself, she would have to wait her chance. In the distance a flock of birds rose into the sky.

  “He’s on his way. Won’t be too long, now!” The German grew excited. His words tumbled over one another as he began to describe how much he would enjoy his time in London with his friends. “They live high on the hog in Seven Dials in a tavern. Women and wine are laid on, and they can carry out their plans without interference. Even if Bow Street came after them, there are so many narrow laneways to escape into, they would never be found. But the constables won’t come after them. The magistrate has nothing to go on except the lilies. Bought them in Covent Garden markets. Can’t trace them there. Maybe more delegates have been killed. I haven’t been in touch with them since I went to Oxford.”

  He smiled strangely, and it occurred to her again that his frenzied state was due to madness.

  “You did go to Oxford?” she asked to keep him talking.

  “Do you doubt me? They directed a letter to a pub there because I wanted to be kept informed. When I saw the way the wind was blowing, I purchased more guns and still returned in plenty of time to lure the boy to the tower. Crept in, in the dark. No one saw me.”

  She curled her fingers into her palms and tried not to let him see how much he disgusted her. “So it was you who opened the nursery door and let the cat out?”

  He kept his eyes on the path. “But of course. Who else? I placed the animal on the stairs leading to the tower. I planned to follow the boy up and send him over the side. It would have looked like an accident. The duke would be broken-hearted, Greta would console him, and you know the rest!” He turned to glare at her. “It would have worked perfectly but for you. You really are a thorn in my side, aren’t you?”

  “I didn’t see you when I came after William. Were you in the hidden stairway?”

  He chuckled. “I was.”

  “How did you know of it?”

  “When Forsythe told me about it, I went down the stairs, and took a look around. It was perfect for my plans, so I removed the boards over the door. Forsythe knows everything about the old house. But he was a nuisance, looking at Greta with calf eyes. She couldn’t resist flirting with him and trying to make Harrow jealous. I told her it wouldn’t work. The duke is not the kind of man to fall for that. But would she listen to me?” He scowled. “She enjoys her effect on men, does Greta. Woman can prove a fearful nuisance when they don’t listen to their betters.”

  “And the nursery curtains? Was that you too?”

  “Yes. You got in my way there too, didn’t you?” He studied her briefly. “I should have dealt with you much earlier. You are to blame for this, yes?” His expression turned nasty.

  “I thought you liked William, taking the time to tell him about the Spanish horses.”

  “I thought it might give me a chance to get closer, but you were always there, the eagle-eyed governess.

  “I detest the duke’s privileged life,” he snarled. “What’s one child, he would have another one with Greta.”

  Jenny stared at him horrified. The look he gave her made her suppress a shiver. “What do you intend to do with me?” she asked fearing the answer.

  “I shall let you go, of course,” he said his eyes gleaming. “You will be the one to tell everyone how the duke was killed, and why.”

  Jenny didn’t for one minute believe him.

  “I’m sorry I broke your pretty brooch,” he said, reaching out to touch the tear in her bodice. She slapped his hand away.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “No, I’d better not. Have to keep watch,” he muttered. He eyed her. “You’d better keep still, or you’ll regret it. I can stick a knife in your ribs. That will keep you quiet.”

  Jenny wrapped her arms around herself and stared into the woods through the rock crevice. At the first sign of the duke, she would call out and warn him.

  “He’s close now,” Von Bremen said in a high pitched voice. He aimed his rifle at the path just as a horseman appeared riding full pelt toward them.

  Jenny screamed, but a second later, the German discharged his gun. Sobbing, she watched in horror as the rider fell to the path and lay still.

  Von Bremen turned to her. Without a word, he raised the butt of the rifle and struck her on the chin. A sharp pain then blackness descended.

  *

  “Ray! For God’s sake. You fool.” Andrew jumped from his horse and dragged the injured man away from Ivo’s line of fire.

  “Does he live?” Strathairn asked dismounting.

  “Yes. Hit him in the shoulder.” Andrew padded the wound with his handkerchief. “He’s bleeding heavily. We must get him to a doctor.”

  Raymond opened his eyes and gave a painful grin. “Gave me a chance to make amends,” he said, then collapsed unconscious in Andrew’s arms. Andrew gently laid his cousin onto the ground.

  “I’ll take him there,” Irvine said. He bent down and scooped Raymond up as if he weighed little more than a boy, then settled him over his horse. “Lord Strathairn is a superb marksman. If he can get a clear shot, the man is dead. Good luck, milords.” Irvine mounted and turned the horse’s head, riding away with Raymond hanging limply before him.

  “Miss Harrismith’s scream gave Ray enough time to take evasive action.” Andrew gazed through the branches at the rocky escarpment. “Please God, the devil hasn’t hurt her. We’ll have to act quickly. Ivo has chosen this place with care. It’s impossible for us to reach him without placing ourselves in the line of fire. How best to get this villain, John?”

  “He’s holed up there on that ridge, all right,” Strathairn observed, squinting into the sun. “Is there a way to reach the top of the cliff?”

  “It’s a taxing climb, but yes, on the eastern side where it’s more timbered.”

  “We need to take him before he starts bargaining with the governess’s life,” Strathairn said, checking his guns. “I’ll go.”

  “No, better I do. Won’t know if I have a clear shot until I get up there.” Andrew shielded his eyes to view the straggling trees atop the cliff. “Seems there’s a straight drop down to that ridge. I can’t see anything to impede a shot. Not from this angle at any rate. If there is it will prove a prime distraction, at least. And give you a chance to take him out while he’s busy defending himself…” He turned around. Strathairn had gone.

  Andrew gave Strathairn time to make his way around to where he could more easily climb to the top. Then he decided to invite Ivo to use up all his ammunition. “You’ve jammed yourself in, Ivo,” he yelled. “You can’
t win. Surrender, and I’ll ensure you won’t hang for this.”

  “You don’t expect me to believe that, Harrow,” Ivo shouted. “No way I’ll hang, because you’ll be dead.”

  Bent double, Andrew changed his position. A few seconds later, a shot sent up a flurry of leaves where he’d just been crouching.

  “You’re outnumbered,” Andrew yelled, and moved again. Another shot rang out. No pause to reload. How many guns did Ivo have? An arsenal? Andrew yelled again, and the answer came swiftly. Too close for comfort.

  From his new vantage point, Andrew’s eyes raked the top of the bluff some sixty feet from the ground. Strathairn’s head appeared. He seemed to be lying on his belly, his rifle aimed downward. Did he have a clear shot?

  “Let Miss Harrismith go and I’ll come out, Ivo,” Andrew yelled.

  No answer. He couldn’t see her or any movement among the rocks. His gut twisted. Had the German hurt her? Fear and fury gripped him. Time to give Strathairn a bit of covering fire. He raised his rifle and aimed above the rocky shelf. His shot sent fragments of rock cascading down with a rumble. It was greeted by another shot from Ivo which came within a whisker of Andrew after he dropped to his knees.

  Another blast echoed off the rock cliff, but this time it was from Strathairn’s rifle. Andrew waited, his pulse thudding in his ears.

  Silence.

  Strathairn edged back away from the cliff and disappeared. Had he managed to bring Ivo down?

  No answering fire, but Andrew couldn’t wait, he had to get to Jenny. He tossed down his rifle, snatched up a pistol and burst forth, leaping over the bracken and rocks and began to climb. Nothing stirred. On reaching the ledge, he shoved his pistol into the back of his breeches and vaulted up, edging around the rocks. Ivo lay sprawled out, his eyes staring sightlessly, surrounded by guns and ammunition. Not far from him was a slim feminine form, her brown curls spread out around her, lying as still as a statue.

  “Jenny!” On his knees, Andrew gathered her in his arms. He gasped as her head rolled back.

  Her eyelashes fluttered but failed to rise.

  “Alive! Thank God!” Andrew murmured as his heaving chest eased.