"You have a decision to make, Lucien. I suspect you'll be torn between wanting to see him face justice and wanting to kill him yourself for what he's done to you and Mirabelle. I predict that you will choose to do the honorable thing." Alastair sat up and became more focused. Lucien knew that he was expecting Whitrose to make his move soon. He felt the familiar rush of energy that always came before a fight.
"What would you choose?" He asked as he carefully peeked behind the curtain. They were about to enter a long stretch of forest. It was the perfect location for an attack.
"You know I do not value honor over life, nor do I afford it to the likes of Whitrose. Also, as I do not have a wife, I am not motivated by the same emotions you are."
Whatever Lucien was about to say was interrupted by a pounding on the roof as the coach began to slow. It rocked violently from side to side, Alastair and Lucien braced themselves and it came to a lurching halt. Both slid against the side, their backs against the wall, next to the door and pulled their knees against their chest. A pistol fired and they felt weight shifting up on the box. Lucien had a moment to pray that Gilles was pretending to be injured before they heard footsteps approaching the door of the coach. Lucien held his breath as the door was hauled open.
"What the...?" As they had intended, in the darkened interior, the coach looked empty. A head pushed into the space between Lucien and Alastair and they both cocked their pistols. Stunned to find four pistols aimed at his face, Whitrose scrambled back. Alastair leapt out of the coach, his pistols trained on Whitrose. Lucien jumped out after him and looked up to see Gilles standing, one foot on the roof of the coach with both pistols aimed at Whitrose. Lucien turned and raised his pistols as he approached his furious adversary.
One a good day, Whitrose resembled a bulldog. He was wide and solidly built with a massive head and face that sagged with jowls. As Lucien faced him, he was red with fury and spittle bubbled at the corners of his mouth as he seethed.
“No! She's supposed to be in there!” He waved a pistol at the carriage. “I've waited months for this. Do you know how I've had to live since you ruined me, Clerendon?” Whitrose began pacing. “I've had to creep from dirty warehouse to dirty warehouse, sleeping with rats. I thought you'd stop after I faked my death but you wouldn't let it go.” He started to advance towards Lucien but remembered he had six pistols aimed at him. “She was supposed to be in there and you were supposed to watch her die. I didn't care what happened after that, I had to see you suffer.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” Lucien assumed that Whitrose was unstable but this was something all together different. His reaction to Whitrose’s plans for Mirabelle was almost physical.
“You were in London!” He flailed in Alastair and Gilles’ directions. "I knew I should have made sure the two of you were out of the way first!" Whitrose’s outrage might have been humorous if he wasn't discussing killing everyone Lucien loved. "If that fool Eckley hadn't botched things in Surrey, you'd both be dead now!"
Gilles sprang from the coach and prowled towards Whitrose.
"He attacked my wife!" Gilles roared in Whitrose's face. "Let's take him into the woods, Lucien. I want this to be slow." Whitrose's eyes flared and he backed away.
“This is all his fault!” He pointed to Lucien. “If he would have left me alone, none of this would have happened.” Whitrose screamed as he lunged at Lucien. Gilles grabbed him by the collar and shoved him towards the woods.
“You were breaking the law, Whitrose! You were hurting innocent people and destroying lives.” Lucien countered. Whitrose laughed as he threw his hands up in the air.
“You're so noble, Clerendon! None of those people mattered. Would you tell the lion not to eat the lamb?” As he stared into Lucien’s eyes, he saw that Whitrose was truly the monster he'd described him as.
“It's over, Whitrose. You’re going to pay for your crimes. You deserve to be punished.”
"You deserve to pay for what you did to me! You deserve to lose everything!" He spat as he stumbled towards Lucien. Gilles grabbed him by the collar again.
“I promise, if you take another step, I’ll put a bullet in your leg. Then, I'll drag you into the woods and butcher you like a deer.” Gilles sounded hard and empty. Lucien had never seen him so devoid of emotion, on the verge of violence. He knew that he'd killed and was a dangerous man, but it had been as if it was a life separate from the one he lived with the family. It saddened Lucien to see it brought out in Gilles now, he'd just put the pain of his past behind him. “I'll cut you into so many pieces; there won't be anything left once the animals have had their feast.” He whispered to Whitrose as he pressed a pistol against the underside of Whitrose’s chin. Whitrose was on his tiptoes, stretching, trying to put space between his head and the pistol. He was pale and sweat poured down his face.
"No, Gilles." Lucien shook his head as he stifled the loathing and hatred that tried to claw its way out of him. "Everything he's done to us amounts to failed attempts and threats. He needs to face all of his victims. They deserve to see him hang." Gilles was still for many moments before he sighed, lowered his pistol and stepped away. Whitrose's lip curled and he laughed.
"I won't hang, you fool! Do you know how many people I own? I can buy my way out of anything. I'll be..."
There was a loud crack. Blood spurted from Whitrose's left eye socket and the back of his head exploded, spraying a mist of blood, skin, hair and tissue behind him. His face went slack and his body swayed back and forth for a few moments before he collapsed in a heap of limbs.
"Jesus Christ, Alastair!" Lucien screamed as he swung around. "You shot him in the bloody eye!" He threw his arms up as he approached the open door of the coach. He tossed his pistols on the bench and swore as he kicked one of the wheels. "The bloody eye!" Lucien looked expectantly at Alastair.
"The likelihood of surviving such an injury is infinitesimal. As it was my intention to kill him, the eye was an ideal point of entry." He was calm as he strode to the coach and set his pistols down. Gilles laughed as he shrugged out of the great coat and jacket, obviously anxious to be rid of the chest piece and mail. All traces of the cold fury that had possessed him moments earlier had vanished. Lucien raked a hand through his hair and turned back to Alastair.
"Why did you kill him?" Lucien asked patiently as he tried to maintain possession of his temper and sanity. Alastair shrugged and he squatted next to Whitrose.
"He was confident that he wouldn't hang. I determined that he must have had good cause to be. As I agreed with him, it was the next logical action." He pushed Whitrose's shoulder, causing the body to roll, exposing the gaping back of his skull. Alastair's head tilted to the side as he squinted into the opening. He looked back at the trees and grass behind him, studying the mess the bullet had created after it tore through Whitrose's head. "I wasn't going to allow for the possibility that he could remain a threat." He stood and pointed at the foliage. "This is remarkable. I wonder if this would have been wider if I had been standing farther away." He was talking more to himself now.
Exasperated, Lucien turned to Gilles. He was pulling the chain mail over his head.
"I'm not complaining." He said as he tossed it into the coach and breathed a sigh of relief. It was quickly becoming a rolling arsenal. "I might have liked to have pulled the trigger myself but what's done is done."
Lucien was flabbergasted. He was glad that Gilles was once again his relaxed, humorous self but he couldn't understand why he didn't see a problem with what Alastair had done. Gilles had never minded bending the rules or changing them altogether but this was a matter of justice. Lucien gestured towards Alastair and the carnage around him. Gilles shrugged again and shook his head nonchalantly.
"This is why we could never work together!" He stated as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He pointed at Alastair, "You make decisions and act on them without consulting anyone." He turned to Gilles, "You don't give a damn and have no regard for the law." Alastair's brow furrowed.
> "Whitrose tried to have me killed, he is responsible for my brother being shot, my sister-in-law being tortured, he violated my sister's privacy, attempted to kill her and he threatened you. I was not aware that I needed to consult anyone before I defended my family." Alastair walked to the coach and climbed in. Gilles laughed as he slapped Lucien on the back.
"Get in, we shouldn't keep Mirabelle waiting." He jumped back up on the box and took the reins. Lucien looked back over the gore before stepping into the coach and slamming the door behind him.
“We should probably talk to the magistrate.” Alastair said as he crossed his legs and settled against the cushions. He unbuttoned his coat and closed his eyes.
“You think?” Lucien asked incredulously. Alastair opened his eyes, he looked confused.
“I do. I'll write to my superiors at the War Office. I don't foresee any complications.”
“Brilliant.” Lucien crossed his arms and shook his head.
“You're still upset. I thought perhaps it was because I had startled you by shooting Whitrose while he was in close proximity to you and you were in shock.” Alastair was studying him closely. Lucien sighed and leaned forward.
“Alastair, I know you were defending the family and it makes sense to you but justice wasn’t ours alone to claim. He had so many victims. We've effectively robbed them.” Lucien watched Alastair’s face for any movement. He was utterly still.
“It seems I'm in agreement with Whitrose again. None of those people matter to me. Not in this. If he was correct in his belief that he would escape justice, we would have failed his victims and we would all be in danger again. We don't know what influence he had within the courts. He was able to operate almost completely above the law until you made it impossible by getting involved. There wouldn’t have been justice for anyone if I hadn't killed him.”
Lucien sat back. He understood Alastair's logic but he didn't agree with it completely.
“As I said before, I do not value honor over life. Certainly not my sister’s. Or yours. I believe that Whitrose would not have let us take him from those woods without a fight and one of us would have killed him in the end. Your conscience would have been greatly troubled and I did not want Gilles driven to such extreme emotions. As I would be least effected, it was again, the best solution.” Alastair was so calm; he could have been describing his reasons for selecting a book. Lucien could only stare.
“How could you not be affected?” Lucien whispered. Alastair blinked several times and his head tilted.
“I don't know. A lack of empathy? I don't understand your preoccupation with emotions, Lucien. Would you feel better if I did feel something? Would it make the situation more acceptable?” Alastair looked at Lucien expectantly.
“No.” He sighed.
“I'm curious: every time you’ve killed someone, did you react like this afterwards?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Every time I've killed, I knew it was unavoidable.”
“Precisely. I believe killing Whitrose was unavoidable.” Alastair stated. Lucien realized the futility of the conversation.
“Your wife is safe, Lucien. Whitrose is no longer a threat and you can put him behind you.” He sat back and relaxed against the seat.
Lucien considered his words. It was over. It wasn't the end he would have preferred but it was over.
“You're right.” Lucien said as he felt the tension seep from his body.
“Of course.” Alastair mumbled and shut his eyes.
Chapter 38
Mirabelle paced in the study while a dozen pairs of eyes watched her. Lucien and her brothers had been gone for over two hours. Every minute that passed became heavier. Would she know if something happened? She couldn't imagine any of them dying and not feeling it, the three of them were as much a part of her as her limbs.
How would she face her mother? Or tell Elise? What about Madeline? How could she live without Lucien? At the thought, her stomach clenched and she felt dizzy. She sagged onto the couch and Hendrick started to rise, his face filled with concern. Mirabelle gestured for him to stay and shook her head.
Voices started yelling in the hall. Mirabelle was on her feet and tried to rush to the door but was stopped by two stable hands.
“You have to wait until we know who it is, Your Grace.” Once again, she was surrounded and pistols were readied.
“It's His Grace! They're back!” Someone yelled from the front of the hall. Mirabelle pushed through and Hendrick opened the study door. She skidded into the hall and saw Lucien leap from the coach and run up the steps. Relief and exhilaration burst within her as she ran to him. He scooped her into his arms and buried his face in the corner of her neck.
“It's over.” Lucien whispered. He set her on her feet and cradled her face in his hands as his lips covered hers. Mirabelle parted her lips and his tongue swept in. His hands slid into her hair as he angled his face and took their kiss deeper. She pressed herself against him as she tugged his lapels and he groaned. Hunger crashed through her.
“I made it back as well!” Gilles announced as he passed them on the way to the study.
Lucien lifted his head and Mirabelle waited for her eyes to focus before she stepped back.
“Pardon me.” Alastair said as he passed them, following Gilles. Mirabelle silently thanked God for bringing all three back to her. She looked back at Lucien.
“Is he…?” She whispered. His face became hard for a moment.
“He's dead. Alastair.” She looked towards the study. She could see him talking to Gilles; he looked tired and filthy but otherwise normal. Gilles was relaxed, drinking a scotch and laughing at some comment Alastair had made.
Men filled the hall. Stable hands, house staff, farmers, gardeners… all armed and exhausted, waited for Lucien's direction. He looked around and smiled.
“The danger has passed. You have my deepest gratitude for protecting my wife and this house. Go to your beds and sleep, work can wait until tomorrow. Your loyalty won't be unrewarded, you have my word.”
Hendrick approached.
“A chamber has been prepared for yours and Her Grace’s use until the ducal chambers are restored. His lordship’s and Sir Alastair's rooms are readied as well. I have baths being prepared and Cook will have a hot meal ready soon. Is there anything else you require?” Lucien shook his head and pulled him into an embrace, patting his back.
“Get some rest, please. Thank you for everything.” Lucien released him and strode into the study. Mirabelle smiled softly at Hendrick, he was overcome and doing his best to remain composed. She squeezed his arm.
“Thank you for taking such good care of us.” She whispered and turned to the study.
The tableau that greeted Mirabelle in the study was disorienting. Lucien was settling into an armchair with a drink in his hand, laughing as he unbuttoned his coat. Gilles was sprawled on the couch nursing his own drink. Alastair leaned casually against the sideboard, relaxed as he swirled his glass of scotch. If they hadn't been drinking, it could have been a scene out of their childhood. Mirabelle found it hard to believe that they had recently captured and killed a man. Not that she felt anything for the man; she just expected them to be a bit more effected.
Mirabelle blinked and the men in front of her changed. They were no longer the overbearing, teasing boys she'd grown up with. She saw them as they really were: Men that had fought and killed for their country and family. She had never asked Gilles about the years he spent in France. She never questioned Alastair when he returned after being away for weeks or months. Nor had she questioned Lucien when he turned up injured after a few days absence. They wouldn't tell her and Mirabelle wasn't sure she wanted to know how often they came close to dying or the horrors they saw. After her brush with Whitrose and what Lucien had told her about little Charlotte and her mother, she was just grateful that they had each survived and were for the most part unchanged.
Lucien raised his hand to Mirabelle and she crossed the room. He pulled her in
to his lap and she rested her head on his chest. As always, his scent warmed her. She felt his hand slide into her hair and he began tugging her chignon free, collecting the pins as he went, obviously unconcerned that her brothers were in the room. Mirabelle glanced at Gilles and Alastair and neither seemed to notice.
“Hendrick had your rooms prepared. A hot meal and baths will be ready soon. Obviously, you're welcome to stay as long as you like.” Lucien said as he brushed his fingers through Mirabelle's hair. The gentle tugging was making her drowsy and aroused.
“If you don't mind, I'll eat and bathe and then borrow your coach and a driver. I'd like to get back to Elise. I can rest on the road.” Gilles said as he sat up. Lucien nodded.
“Absolutely. I can sympathize with your desire to get home to your wife.” His arms tightened around Mirabelle. An idea came to her and she sat up.
“Ask Madeline if she'd like to come back with the coach. That is, if Elise and maman can spare her.” Gilles smiled.
“I'm sure they can manage.”
“The ducal chambers will need to be completely redone and we have to prepare for the baby.” She couldn't stop herself from yawning; it all seemed so daunting at the moment.
“I think I’ll stay a while. My investigations for the War Office are at a standstill. I noticed some new cattle in the stables, I wouldn't mind helping you and Toby break in a few horses and getting some riding in.” Alastair finished his scotch and Lucien saluted him as he strolled from the room.
Gilles stood and stretched. Mirabelle rose and went to him. He pulled her to him and kissed her brow.
“Take good care of yourself and listen to your husband, brat. I'll try to visit soon.”
“Give everyone my love and thank you for coming so quickly.” Mirabelle whispered against his chest.
“I'll always come. Though I don't think you'll need my protection anymore.” Gilles squeezed her tight before he released her. She stepped back and Lucien shook his hand before embracing him.
Wicked And Wild: Spencers in Love Book Two Page 18
