Victoria turned to them, frowned. “You are all here. It isn’t even noon yet. What is the matter?”
Julian stopped one step below hers. “Where is your brother, Vicky?”
“However should I know? He is probably nuzzling that dreadful woman’s neck. Do you know she actually coos at him?” She looked at Sophie. “That woman is your aunt, which makes no sense to me, since I find you quite likable. Why is she so nasty?”
“Well, that is an excellent question, and I will tell you, Vicky, I have wondered that myself many times, particularly during the past three weeks. Where do you think they’re nuzzling and cooing?”
Victoria Langworth flicked a glance toward Devlin, sketched him a curtsy. “My lord, it is very sunny today, unusual, but still—being of a vampire’s persuasion, are you all right?”
It was then they all noticed Devlin wasn’t wearing a hat. “I want to know where the nuzzling place is, Miss Langworth. I will worry about burning up under the sun after we have found your brother.”
“But why do you wish to find Richard so badly?”
“He took Roxanne,” Sophie said. “Truly, Victoria, we must find her. I am afraid for her.”
“It is Roxanne’s sister you should fear, not my poor blind brother. Do you know, I happened to tell Lady Merrick how I missed my sister, Lily, and how I believed she was so lucky to have her sister Roxanne still living. I told her how very charming and beautiful I thought Roxanne, and I wished she would marry Julian so she would be close by, and we could be friends.
“I was surprised when she puffed herself up and blasted Roxanne. She said Roxanne had fooled all of us, that she was malicious, you couldn’t trust a word she said. She said Roxanne hated her because a score of gentlemen had proposed to her, Leah, and she’d been married and was considered the most beautiful of the Radcliffe sisters. She said Roxanne was jealous of her because she was a failed woman—a spinster—and barely passable-looking, what with her common red hair.
“Then she turned her fire on you, Sophie, her very own niece. She dismissed you, saying you were only a brat who needed to be smacked. I stood there, my mouth open, and marveled at her.”
Julian said, “I don’t suppose Leah said this in anyone else’s hearing? Like your brother’s or your father’s?”
“Of course not. Lady Merrick isn’t stupid. Do you know, she asked me several times to call her Leah, and she patted my hand in this intimate way that quite made me want to bolt. She charms both Richard and my father. As for me, she has to be endlessly kind to me, and so she is.”
She turned her beautiful faraway eyes to Sophie. “Is she right, Sophie? Are you really only a little schoolgirl who is a spoiled brat?”
“What do you think?”
Victoria sighed. “Who knows? My brother and Leah rode off an hour ago. I think Richard wanted to show her the river. It is possible they are having a picnic on the banks of the Hovarth. But it is rather early, don’t you think? I wonder if they are nuzzling and other things as well? Won’t you come in, Julian? I know Richard hates you, but he isn’t here. I don’t hate you, and neither does Father, at least I don’t believe he does. He told me about the magic jewel. I would like to discuss these spears of stone. I have some ideas about that.”
“Thank you, Vicky, but I believe we will ride to the river ourselves, see what’s for luncheon.”
Ten minutes later, they heard a horse whinny.
“That is Beamis, Richard’s gelding,” Julian said. They rode down to the river’s edge to see Richard and Leah sitting decorously on a spread blanket beneath a willow tree, food between them. Leah was laughing at something Richard said. She looked up, saw them, and called out, “Richard, I do believe we have unexpected company. Alas, we have only two apples left.”
Richard pulled his knife from his boot as he leapt to his feet.
Julian realized they’d both carried a boot knife since they were ten years old, when an old gin-sodden varmint had tried to pound them, for what reason, Julian couldn’t remember. He watched Richard slowly straighten, the knife still held in his hand. Then he gave a grunt, resheathed the knife, and pulled on his riding coat.
“What are you three doing here, uninvited?” Leah asked lazily, sitting back on her elbows, watching them closely.
Richard said, “I should like to know as well.”
Sophie jumped off her mare and strode up to him like a boy. She grabbed his coat collar and shook him. “Where is Roxanne?”
“Roxanne?” He repeated her name slowly, his head cocked to one side, then lightly laid his own hands over hers. “What is this? You have managed to lose your aunt?”
Sophie looked him right in the eyes. “Where is she? You took her; you’ve got her hidden somewhere. Where?”
“Another drama you’re enacting for us, Sophie?” Leah gathered her lovely sea-foam-green shawl around her shoulders and came up to her knees. “All three of you—what is happening here? You have somehow lost Roxanne? Perhaps she returned to Plymouth? Perhaps she met a gentleman there who pleased her?”
Devlin said, “How do you know we went to Plymouth?”
Richard said, “You know as well as I do you cannot change your coat without it being known throughout the county. I believe my man mentioned it to me.”
Sophie said, rage bubbling up, “She is missing, sir. You took her, I know you did, to get back at Julian for your sister’s death. Look at him—Julian wouldn’t ever hurt a woman, ever. I have known him only a month, whereas you have known him all your life. How could you ever believe such an awful thing? You, sir, must be an idiot.” She smacked her knuckles to her cheek. “Why am I repeating myself? Where is Roxanne?”
Richard said, “Julian is so guilty it shines from his eyes, hard, brutal. He ceased being the boy I knew years ago. Go away, all of you. I know nothing of Roxanne.”
49
Leah jumped to her feet. “Listen to me, Richard and I have been together for hours now. Go back to Ravenscar; I’ll wager Roxanne has been there all the time, teasing you. She’s always wanted attention, you know, and now she’s got it.”
Sophie yelled, “How can you say that about your own sister, Aunt Leah? She was kidnapped right out of her bed. Don’t you care? Don’t you care that this man you believe so very gallant is behind it?”
“That is absurd. Roxanne wouldn’t allow anyone to kidnap her. She’s back at Ravenscar, laughing her head off, you’ll see.”
Julian said quietly, “Come, let’s go.”
“Where?” Richard asked.
“Since you are so innocent, I don’t believe that is any of your business,” Devlin said.
Julian said, “We will be back, once we have Roxanne. Then you and I will finish this. It will be over, once and for all.”
“No,” Devlin said, “I shall finish it.”
They rode through a long, narrow field. Julian watched Sophie close her eyes when her mare jumped a fence, and smiled. She had guts.
Julian pointed, clucked Cannon forward. “There is the barn,” he said, over his shoulder.
A wreck of a barn sat crumbling in a clearing in the middle of a maple forest, its wide door hanging drunkenly on its rusted hinges and its roof caved in in several places. Maple trees crowded close. The barn looked deserted, as though it had been deserted for more years than any of them had been on the earth.
Julian put his finger to his lips, dismounted Cannon, and tethered him to a low-hanging maple tree branch some twenty feet away. “Let’s go quietly. Sophie, you stay—”
She stopped him with a look.
“Stay close.” They heard a horse whinny and stopped dead in their tracks, waiting. No one said a word. A moment passed, another. Finally, Julian whispered, “Devlin, you and Sophie go around the front, make sure no one leaves. I’m going to the back. I remember a window there. If I see anything, I will give an owl call. Then you, Devlin, can come in through the front door.” He crouched down, walking swiftly toward the back of the barn, nearly swallowed up in the t
rees.
Julian kept crouched down as he ran lightly to the one window, the shutters long gone. He looked inside.
At first he didn’t see anything, but when his eyes adjusted, he saw a movement in the shadowed end of the barn. Was it Roxanne?
He put his hands to his mouth and gave a credible owl hoot. He had but a moment—Julian jumped up, grabbed the sill, and threw himself through the window. He felt his shirt rip from a stray shard as he flew headfirst into the barn, a moment of pain in his arm. He rolled and came up, his knife in his hand. Why the devil hadn’t he brought his pistol?
He saw Devlin crash through the front door, heard the crumbling wood crash to the ground, heard him shout, “Roxanne!”
Julian raced to the shadowed end of the barn and stopped, Devlin and Sophie beside him, to stare at the white specter.
“Roxanne?” Without thought, with no hesitation whatsoever, Devlin grabbed her, cupped her face between his palms, and kissed her. He pulled back. “You have scared the wickedness right out of me, you abominable girl.” Then he was kissing her all over her face, only to push her back again, his hands feeling her arms, roving over her chest, her hips, finally, her legs. “You’re not hurt, thank the Lord. What the hell happened?”
“Hello, I am very glad you’ve come. I was wondering what to do.” She pulled away from Devlin and pointed. “Look,” she said.
Six feet away from them, a man lay on his side, huddled in on himself, his wrists bound together with his own belt, his legs tied together with the remnants of his shirt, and he was groaning.
“Roxanne!” Sophie was in her arms, both of them turning to watch Devlin and Julian kneel beside the man.
Devlin turned him onto his back. His eyes were closed, his jaws whiskered, his clothes filthy. Devlin slapped him hard as Julian lightly kicked his leg. “Open your eyes, you puling bastard.”
The man’s lashes fluttered, and finally he opened his eyes to look up at the men. “She near to kilt me.”
Julian said slowly, “I believe we have found Orvald Manners.” He turned to Roxanne. “All right, Roxanne, tell us what happened.”
“I wish to kill him first,” Devlin said, and aimed his pistol at the man’s head.
Roxanne lightly laid her hand on his arm. “Not yet, my lord. Let him tell us who paid him to kidnap me first. Then we can both carry him to the local magistrate.”
“Which would be me,” Julian said, with a ferocious smile. “I wonder what I shall decide to do with you.”
“I don’t have a gun,” Sophie said, “but if he doesn’t tell us, I have my hands, and I will squeeze his neck until the words pop right out.”
50
It was so very easy for him, Roxanne told them, and she kicked Orvald Manners in the ribs. He groaned and tried to spit up at her, not a smart thing for him to do, since he couldn’t move and the spittle landed back on his face.
“I don’t know how he got into my bedchamber, but somehow he did. I came awake with a cloth pressed over my mouth and nose. It smelled sweet, sickeningly sweet. I tried to fight him, but I didn’t have any strength left, and the world turned black.
“When I awoke, I was lying in this filthy hay, all tied up and wearing only my nightgown.”
Devlin hadn’t noticed she was wearing only a ripped, dirty white nightgown, but now he did. He took off his riding jacket and helped her shrug it on. “Thank you, Devlin. Oh, goodness”—she touched her fingers to his face—“you’re sunburned. Are you feeling ill from the sun? Wherever is your hat?”
He laughed, couldn’t help himself. “A little red won’t hurt me. Come on, how did you get away from this idiot?”
“He didn’t believe I could hurt him,” she said, frowning down at Manners, and kicked him again. He groaned, whispered, “Ye shouldn’t oughtta do that, miss, iffen ye break my ribs, I won’t be able to talk, me air’ll be all clogged off.”
“Oh, yes, you will talk,” Sophie said, and kicked him in the leg. She looked back at Roxanne, whose hair hung in wild tangles around her dirty face, wearing Devlin’s riding coat. She looked ridiculous and, oddly, valiant.
“First tell us who hired you,” Devlin said.
“I don’t know. I niver saw ’is face, only ’eard ’is voice. Meybe it were a female, I swears I really don’t know.”
“Of course he knows,” Roxanne said calmly. “I’ve been asking him over and over, but he won’t spill out the truth.”
Sophie came down on her knees beside Manners. She grabbed his face and jerked him around to face her. “Look at me. That’s right. Do you know what I will do to you if you don’t tell us the truth? You are looking at a demon, Mr. Manners, a female demon, the worst sort. I am called a succubus, known for my cruelty, known for devouring men’s souls. If you don’t tell us the truth, I will have the gentlemen knock you unconscious and then I will chew off your cheek, and then I will lay my palm over your heart and your soul will fly right out into my hand. When you wake up, I will hand you a mirror and show you the blood running down your face; then you can look at your own blood on my mouth, and then you can realize you’re nothing but a deaf, empty husk, your soul gone.”
The silence was thick and heavy. Manners gasped out, “That’s worse than anything I could ever do, and ye a lady. You ain’t, yer a foul demon, who oughtta be tied to rocks and drowned in the Thames. I don’t know who the bloke was wot paid me, I swears it! I ain’t niver ’eard o’ no suckeybus; ye made that up.”
“That’s all he says. Do you know, he was going to rape me?” For a moment, the awful fear nearly choked off Roxanne’s voice. She’d never been so afraid in her life.
She heard Devlin’s harsh fast breathing, saw him raise his fist. “No,” she said. “No, not yet. He didn’t succeed, Devlin.”
“Tell me,” Devlin said. He looked ready to commit murder.
Roxanne looked down at Manners, then drew a deep steadying breath. “He stood over me, his thumbs in his belt loops, and he was singing a sailor’s ditty, singing like he didn’t have a care in the world, and he was talking aloud to himself, going on and on about what a pretty little thing I was with all my sinful red harlot’s hair. He said he bet I craved a bonny gentleman, that I’d love what he was going to do to me. Then he was arguing with himself, saying things like who cared, nobody said anything about not having fun with me.” Roxanne realized she was nearly panting with anger and fear. She growled deep in her throat, and kicked Manners in the stomach. He moaned and cursed at her. She smiled. “He wondered if maybe he’d return me pregnant, ‘a brat in my belly,’ he so charmingly put it. Then he wondered if he would even be sending me back, and since he didn’t know what the gentleman had in mind for me, he’d best take his chance now.
“He saw I was awake, and he gave me a big smile. I remember he said, ‘Aye, ye gots yer brain back, that’s good. I likes to ’ear a woman moan for me while I sticks my manhood in ’er.’”
She could feel Devlin’s rage pumping off him in black waves. She had to get a grip on herself. She’d won. Manners lay at her feet. Roxanne said, her voice stronger now, “When he dropped his britches, jerked up my nightgown, and came down over me, I really didn’t think, I simply reacted—I kicked up as hard as I could, just as my father taught me, and he screamed and cursed and fell back, holding his stomach. He fell, and he rolled around a bit, moaning and crying. I got loose, hit him on the head as hard as I could with that plowshare, and tied him up.” She stopped, smiled at all of them. “And waited for you. I knew you’d come, you see.”
It sounded so simple, so very easy, but how could she tell them she’d been so terrified she was whimpering even as she kicked him, that she nearly vomited when she finally had him tied up. And she’d hit him again on his head with the plowshare.
Devlin growled deep in his throat, fell to his knees, and grabbed Manners’s neck. “You puking little sod, say your prayers, because the Devil’s waiting for you.”
It took all three of them to pull Devlin off him.
Roxanne said to Manners, “I will make you a promise, sir. If you tell us who hired you, I won’t let his lordship kill you, nor will I let her chew off your cheek and steal your soul.”
“Wait a minute, it ain’t this fellow wot’s supposed to want ye, it’s this other one, this ’ere high-and-mighty prince wot’s got ’is ship back wit’ all ’is bloody goods jest fine an’ dandy. I ’eard that demmed bloody little gnat, Ira, got the fire out, quick as a flash and none o’ the goods was burnt. It weren’t fair, none of it were my fault.
“Ah, I sees now, this fellow wot wants to murder me is the prince’s little bullyboy. Don’t want to dirty up yer ’ands, do ye, yer princeship?” Manners spat, turned his head quickly so his spittle landed on rotted hay and not back on his own face.
Sophie crossed her arms over her chest. “What a moron you are, Mr. Manners. This high-and-mighty princeship here always does his own dirty work. As for his bullyboy, why, he might not be a prince, but he’s a lordship, and one of these years he’ll be a duke, only one step down from a prince. He really, really wants to kill you. Now, sir, if both Roxanne and I guarantee your miserable life, will you tell us who hired you?”
Manners looked mournful, saw it didn’t sway any of them, then looked philosophical. “Iffen I tells ye, I’m dead anyways, probably worse than ’avin’ the little girl chew off me cheek, though I can’t really imagine anythun’ bein’ worse than that. As fer drawing out me soul, I doesn’t know what that’d be like.”
Sophie was tapping her foot, her arms crossed over her chest. Tap, tap, tap. “Let’s take Mr. Manners back to Hardcross Manor. Let’s see what Richard has to say when he’s faced with this fool.”
“See ’ere, I ain’t no fool, I gots rotten luck, thass all. Wot’s’ardcross Manor?”
51
Roxanne liked Manners’s horse, a big brute of a gelding they found tied next to the barn, who whipped around his great head when Julian lifted Sophie behind Roxanne, and whinnied up at her. She patted his neck. “This proud fellow holds both of us easily, Sophie. I think I shall keep him. That sod doesn’t deserve him.”
The Prince of Ravenscar Page 23
