by Kim Bowman
Dawes turned his head slightly, sniffed Annabella’s neck as though she were a delicate spring flower. “No? You don’t think she’s worth my effort?” A cold smile settled across his face. Then he laughed. “I’ve come for some property that was stolen from me. A particularly large sum of banknotes. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about them, would you?”
“Did you happen to look around Blackmoor Hall, Dawes? Does it appear to you as if I need any pathetic funds you’ve managed to accrue?” Jon’s eyes flicked to Annabella. If he’d had any lingering doubt as to her involvement, the bewildered horror in her eyes would have wiped it away.
“You?” she asked.
Dawes chuckled. “It took me some years to gather that amount. You should have stayed out of the cottage, away from things that don’t belong to you.” He bent his knees, forcing Annabella into a stoop. “Pick up the reins, Lady Annabella. Your new husband is going to step aside and let us pass. And when he brings my property to the Goose and Boar, he can have you back.”
Annabella leveled her gaze upon Jon, panic flaring in her green eyes. “The banknotes belong to my stepbrother. I think Dawes has been stealing for some time, and even if you give him the money, he’ll still—”
Her face paled as Dawes pressed the knife deeper. A tiny droplet of blood bubbled at the tip. Jon cursed under his breath. He had no clear shot.
But he wasn’t letting the man leave with Annabella. He had but one chance to get it right.
“Here now, you know you have no shot.” Dawes lifted one dark brow. “Or perhaps you wish to rid yourself of your willful wife…” A harsh chuckle erupted from the estate manager’s throat. “Go ahead, then. I always did enjoy the moment when the buck takes its last breath and the life leaves its eyes.”
Jon kept his gaze locked in battle with Dawes. “Annie, do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
Icy calm washed over him, and Jon pulled back on the bow.
~~~~
Serenity soothed her shredded nerves. Jon had come. Whatever he meant to do, Annabella’s faith in him held strong. She felt his confidence as though it were tangible, reaching out to her over the distance dividing them. Even when he drew the bow with the arrow aimed squarely at her.
He’d told her he was an excellent archer. He’d won a golden arrow when he’d been but twelve. If he thought he could make the shot, she knew he could. His lips moved, and it took her a moment to realize he was praying. Oh, heaven’s fire. She froze, not daring to even breathe.
And then she noticed the little things.
How the dappled sun and shade playing over Jon changed as the breeze toyed with the branches overhead. How the white linen shirt billowed about him as he moved — where had he left his coat? Frosty determination glittered in his eyes as he aimed.
Annabella wanted to close her own eyes, certain if she saw the arrow coming at her she would flinch. Instead, she kept her focus on her husband. If she died, he would be the last person she saw.
“Well, Seabrook? Don’t have the stomach for it?” goaded Dawes. His fetid breath fanned her neck and assaulted her nostrils.
Jon barely moved, but suddenly the arrow sailed through the air, its deadly point racing toward Annabella. Her heart fluttered as it seemed to slow in its approach.
Thwack. The force of the strike vibrated through her, and she blinked but stood her ground. Had she been hit?
Dawes’ scream split the peaceful woods, and the knife was suddenly gone from her throat. Warm liquid splashed the side of her face but she was free. Quickly she scrambled across the carriage box to the far side. When she glanced behind her, Dawes was clawing at the arrow lodged in his shoulder. Deep crimson blood already saturated his tweed coat around the arrow’s shaft.
Narrowing one eye, she glared at the sniveling, weasel-faced man. Then with practiced aim, she kicked out, catching him squarely on the shin just below his knee. “If you come near me again, I’ll make you wish you hadn’t,” she spat. “And stay away from my mother!” With both hands, she shoved him back into the seat, clambered over the edge of the carriage, and tumbled into Jon’s arms.
“Careful,” he murmured, taking her by both shoulders and turning her so he could look into her face. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No,” she whispered and then plunged into his embrace and buried her face against his chest.
“Hah! Hah!” shouted Dawes to the horses, and the carriage pitched forward.
Jon pushed Annabella backward, away from the wheel. Bushes scratched at her legs, and she lost her footing, but he held on tightly and didn’t let her fall. With his arm wrapped around her shoulder, he sent a hard stare after the racing curricle. He looked so fierce, for a moment she wondered if he would shoot another arrow into it.
As Dawes and his devil-bound carriage disappeared around the bend in the road, Jon finally turned back to Annabella. “You’re certain he didn’t hurt you?”
“Y-yes, I’m certain,” she said with an irritating quaver in her voice.
Jon touched her throat with a trembling hand. When he pulled it back, his fingers were smeared with blood. A mixture of agony and rage burned in his eyes.
“Is that mine?” she choked out. Was she going to die? The forest around them seemed to spin.
“Go easy now.” Jon held her steady as he studied her neck. “It’s mostly his, I think.”
“I-I was g-going to go to the range, and he was skulking at the servants’ entrance. I wanted to shoot my anger away. I was so mad at you.” She pummeled his chest and tried to twist from his grasp. “I’m still mad at you!”
When he didn’t release her, she scowled up at him. His face had gone a little green under his normally tan complexion. His intense stare warmed her chilled blood.
Emotions slammed into her, and she gulped in a breath. Tears burned her eyes. Annabella threw herself against Jon, and he closed his arms around her in a tight hug. His heart thumped heavily beneath her cheek, and she realized its frantic rhythm matched her own.
She slipped her arms around his waist and squeezed. “I thought I’d never see you again. I thought you wouldn’t find me.”
“I will always find you.” He pulled in a long, ragged breath, tightened the embrace, and slowly released her. “Annie, we have—”
“Annabella,” she whispered, squaring her shoulders. A sudden chill swept over her, along with the perverse wish that he’d held onto her. “J-Jon… I took the banknotes.”
“I know.”
Her heart seemed to skid to a stop, and then it began a heavy gallows drumbeat. “You know?”
“I had your rooms cleaned for spiders. The staff found where you’d hidden it.”
“I never intended to keep it!” Well, for the most part she hadn’t.
His mouth settled into a grim line as he placed one hand beneath her elbow and guided her from the road. “We’ll talk later. After you’ve been seen to.” He stooped to gather her bow and quiver.
Then he reached into the quiver, brought out her fan, and gently placed it into her hand. “When I found this, I knew you were in trouble. I knew you’d never leave it.” Using the bow, he gestured to the narrow track through the woods. “I left my coat somewhere in there.”
The path had seemed more defined when they’d taken it in the rain shower. But Jon seemed to know where he was going, and she was content to follow him.
He grimaced when they found his coat hung up on a huge old gorse bush. The right sleeve had been nearly shredded. The left bore a rent from shoulder to elbow. He settled the coat gently over her shoulders without a word.
Annabella snuggled into the warmth and inhaled the lingering traces of Jon’s familiar, comforting scent.
They soon reached the edge of the woods, and he cast a sidelong glance toward her. “Anni— Annabella.” He spoke with quiet purpose. “I was always going to tell you about my inheritance. It wasn’t meant to be a secret.”
She wanted to answer him, wanted hi
m to know that nothing was different, that the discoveries they’d made the night before still mattered. But in her heart she knew everything had changed.
At the jangle of harness and the whoosh of carriage wheels in the soft dirt of the drive, Jon pushed past her, putting himself between Annabella and whomever was arriving at Blackmoor.
Trembling began again as she peered around his shoulder. Her heart pounded hard against her chest. That was the Duke of Wyndham’s crest on the side of the shiny black town coach. Apparently she would be able to apologize to her stepbrother in person after all.
The coach came to a smooth stop, and the footmen scrambled from the back, rushing to open the door and set the step. The regal lady who stepped from the coach was most certainly not Markwythe. Her navy blue traveling gown was stylish and trim. Wispy strands of blond hair peeked from beneath her matching hat, and she clutched a beaded black reticule. Smoothing a hand over her unwrinkled clothing, she glanced about, lips pursed in concentration as she openly assessed her surroundings.
“Mother!” shouted Annabella, leaving Jon behind as she pelted across the lawn toward the mother she’d never been so happy to see.
Every inch a duchess, Regina turned in Annabella’s direction, a polite smile already forming. It died a wretched death as their gazes collided, and her eyes widened in horror. When Annabella would have run into her mother’s arms, Regina retreated a step and held up a hand, fending her off.
“Good heavens! Annabella! Have you been mucking about in the woods?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The last of the sun’s rays had left the sky hours before, but Gran had insisted a spot of tea in the parlor before the evening meal was just the thing after a foiled kidnapping. That Annabella’s cup had an added nip of brandy likely didn’t hurt either. At least the stinging in her neck seemed dulled. Blast that weasel-faced Dawes.
She drew a slow breath then took another sip. Could her mother smell the spirits? She was sitting terribly close on the crimson damask settee, but if she noticed, for once she kept her counsel.
“Thank heavens Mr. Dawes didn’t hurt you. I knew he wasn’t happy about being relieved of his duties, the blackheart, but this.” Regina sipped from her milky white teacup. Her face had remained quite pale as she’d listened to Annabella’s story. Thankfully, she seemed to be recovering, or perhaps her color had improved in the golden wash of light from the chandelier.
“I’m fine, Mother, really.” Thanks to Jon. Annabella lifted one hand to the bandage covering the scratch Dawes’ knife had left on her neck.
Regina reached over and touched her on the arm, giving a gentle squeeze. “Really?”
Unable to look her mother in the eye without coming undone, Annabella dropped her hand and gazed at her lap. It was easier to mentally trace the pattern of the black lace overlay on her champagne sarcenet dress than to risk Regina noticing what might show in her eyes. “Better than I have been in a long time.” And also worse…
Her mother sat up straighter. “I must confess, I was beyond furious when I arrived at Grey’s townhouse in London—”
“You went to London?” Annabella burst out, tearing her eyes from the lace to stare at her mother.
Sitting in what Annabella had come to realize was the dowager’s favorite chair — the sage green velvet one closest to the fireplace — Gran clinked her teacup against the saucer and cleared her throat. “Don’t interrupt your mother, dear.”
Devil’s fire! Not Mother and Gran both lecturing me.
Heat suffused Annabella’s face, and she suppressed a groan. “My apologies.”
Her mother’s eyebrows lifted slightly, and she stared at the dowager for several breaths before asking, “How did you do that?”
Gran lowered the teacup a fraction and peered at Regina over the rim. “Beg pardon?”
A glowing smile spread across her mother’s face as she glanced between Annabella and the dowager. “If I ask her to sit up straight with her shoulders back, it generally turns into a week-long argument during which time she slouches half-folded in her seat.”
“Honestly, Mother,” Annabella said with a sigh, allowing her exasperation to show even while she silently acknowledged the truth of the statement.
Regina and Gran exchanged glances then raked assessing gazes over Annabella. She forced herself to sit still and not squirm under their scrutiny.
“Regina, how do you feel about cats?”
Annabella snorted then hurriedly covered her mouth with her fan, mumbling, “I’m sorry.”
Mother furrowed her brow, confusion etched across her beautiful face. “I beg pardon, your grace. Cats?”
Gran waved her hand in the air. “Please, call me Gladys. Yes, cats. Felines.”
Regina’s brow furrowed more, crinkling her forehead. “I-I suppose they’re all right. I know Annabella detests them.”
The dowager slapped the arm of the chair. “Exactly! As did my late husband. That was why I had them around — kept him off balance. He never knew when I’d take in another one, would do most anything to prevent it.”
Annabella did laugh then. She should have known she’d been transparent, and Gran had seen through her polite façade when it came to her feline babies.
Her mother scowled. “I believe I’ve quite missed something…”
“No, Mother, you haven’t. Truly.” Annabella couldn’t stop her shudder. “Please. Do finish with how you went to London.”
Regina’s cheeks turned a bright pink hue, and she gave Annabella a tentative smile. “I felt guilty for not accompanying you to London. And for missing your birthday…”
Tears glistened in her mother’s eyes, and Annabella knew a moment of compassion for the woman that nearly had her bursting into tears herself. She set her teacup on the drum table next to her and hugged her mother. When had she done that last? She drew in a deep breath, finding odd comfort in the familiar fragrance of lavender.
“I’m to take it you were quite surprised to learn Annabella was not in London?” Gran frowned as though trying to piece together the puzzle.
Oh, I know you already have it right, Gran. Hiding a smile, Annabella shook her head. Thank goodness for Jon’s grandmother, or she and Regina might not have been so cordial.
When she released her mother, Regina pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “To say the least. I was furious.” She leveled her gaze on Annabella. “And worried sick. Especially when I returned to Wyndham Green and you weren’t there either. And then that maid thought you’d gone and married Vicar Hamilton…”
Married the vicar! Annabella shivered.
“I-I’m sorry. Things didn’t exactly turn out as I’d planned…” Was it too much to long for a convenient rock to crawl under? Or perhaps a distraction in the form of a French invasion…
“So I’ve gathered.” Regina compressed her lips briefly as though the thought of continuing pained her. “I won’t lie to you. I wanted to dismiss Juliet on the spot in London.”
Annabella let out a gasp and muttered a curse under her breath.
The two older women sent her twin glares of censure, but Annabella ignored them. “Mother! You didn’t, did you?”
Gran sat forward, her eyes bright with interest. “Who is Juliet?”
“She was Annabella’s ladies’ maid,” Regina said, sighing. “The daughter of my housekeeper.”
Was? The room started spinning. A knot lodged in the pit of Annabella’s stomach, and she squeezed her eyes closed to dam the tears. Was? Sheridan Dawes had at least told the truth about that. Her beloved Juliet had been sent away. Oh, Juliet. I’m so very sorry. You have no idea. I will find you, my darling.
“Why, yes, as ‘twould be unseemly for her to continue with her duties now. She and the duke are to be married in three weeks’ time.” Annabella’s mother smiled. “Did I forget to mention that?”
Gran jumped to her feet, her face red, her dark eyes dancing. “Did I hear you correctly? The Duke
of Wyndham is set to marry a ladies’ maid?”
“Yes, your gra— Gladys, you did hear me correctly. He’s quite taken with her.” Regina smiled and sipped the last of her tea before setting her cup next to Annabella’s.
“And Juliet? Does she love him?” Annabella could barely choke out a whisper.
“Very much.” Regina took Annabella’s hands in hers. “I was quite wrong about him. He’s a kind and generous man.”
Annabella’s mouth fell open. “The duke? Generous? Kind?” And yet, hadn’t Jon told her as much?
“Yes.” Regina stared off, a faraway look in her eyes. “Just like his father.” She cleared her throat and turned her smile on Annabella. “And I have other news! Aunt Harmony was married not long ago. To Grey’s Uncle Lucien.”
“Harmony got married! I never thought she would—” Annabella fell back in her seat, unaccountably choked with emotion. So much had happened while she’d been away.
“I must admit, I was as surprised as anyone to learn of their nuptials. But according to Aunt Charity, Lucien and Harmony were found in… um… quite a… compromising position. Aunt Charity swears they were… they were…” Regina gave a delicate cough.
The dowager leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Yes, yes. Do go on. They were… what?”
“They were found in a closet… in a state of undress…” She trailed off, her face a dark shade of scarlet.
“Ha! Caught with their drawers down, were they?” Gran sat back, a satisfied smile lighting her face.
All three ladies burst out laughing. But Regina’s gaze held a fair amount of speculation as she held Annabella in her regard. Was she thinking of another hasty wedding?
“Yes, that is exactly what happened. So, the duke…”
As Regina explained how her aunt had gone from spinsterhood to married lady, Annabella sat in stunned silence, hardly believing all that had happened since she’d locked herself in the cottage at Wyndham Green… since she’d married Jon.
“…so when Grey sent word that his man had located you, I insisted on coming myself to make sure you were well. I was beside myself with worry when no one knew where you were.”
