Swear by Moonlight

by Shirlee Busbee

Edwina shrugged. "I didn't mean to—I was just so furious and hurt. You have to understand—I had just learned that my husband never loved me—that it was only money that had drawn him to me. I was upset. I was coming down the stairs, intending to see how badly you had hurt Hirst, when a stranger arrived almost on your heels. I was horrified. My one thought was to escape, but he heard me trying to creep back up the stairs and came after me." She shivered. "I grabbed the iron doorstop to use as a weapon and hid upstairs in a big armoire. I was so frightened as I huddled inside that armoire hearing him move around the room searching for me. When he opened the door to the armoire, I didn't think, I just hit him with the doorstop. I didn't even look at him. I just hit him and ran." She sighed. "I was relieved when we returned later and found him gone. Whoever he was, I must have simply knocked him senseless."

  "The lady," Yates interjected, "has a gentle heart when it comes to killing strangers."

  Edwina shot him a glance of pure dislike. "Hirst deserved what he got," she ground out. "If he'd been an honest husband to me, I wouldn't have been there that night and Hirst and I wouldn't have fought and I wouldn't have stabbed him with the scissors."

  "Is that what happened?" Thea asked, sick at heart, her own peril momentarily pushed to the back of her mind.

  Edwina nodded. "When I came back downstairs, Hirst was on his feet, holding his head." Her mouth thinned. "He was furious to see me and started yelling at me, cursing me. I-I-I lost my temper and confronted him. We had a terrible fight. I didn't even know what I was doing—I simply snatched up the scissors from the desk and"—she swallowed—"and stabbed him." Edwina buried her face in her hands. "It was awful."

  Thea stared at Edwina's down-bent head. What could she say to her? Edwina had killed a man, and there was nothing that would ever change that fact. "And then what happened?" Thea asked softly. "You contacted Yates?"

  "Oh, no," Edwina exclaimed, lifting her face from her hands. "That was Ellsworth. I fled home once I realized what I had done. Ellsworth was waiting here to learn of the outcome of Hirst's meeting with you..." She looked guilty and sly at the same time. "And to see me. He and I are... were close."

  Thea did not misunderstand the expression or the words.

  "I see... you and Ellsworth were lovers," she said flatly. She looked at Yates. "And it was Ellsworth who contacted you?"

  He bowed. "Indeed it was, Madam. I provide many services to my clients."

  "Are you the one who attacked my husband in the hackney?"

  He bowed again. "A pair of my lackeys." He smiled that oh, so misleading pleasant smile. "Your sister and Ellsworth didn't relish the notion of you marrying. They had their eyes on your fortune."

  "That's not true!" Edwina said hotly. "It was your idea—never ours."

  Ignoring the interruption, her eyes locked on Yates, Thea remarked thoughtfully, "Mr. Yates, you certainly seem to know a great deal."

  "Well, yes, I do. I take a great interest in the lives of my clients," he admitted with a modest air. "It is all really quite simple. Hirst and Ellsworth both owed me a large sum of money—because of their debt to me, they embarked upon the scheme to blackmail Lady Caldecott. Ellsworth had found some incriminating letters amongst the effects of an old aunt of his and thought that they could put them to good use." Yates looked regretful. "Little did they know that I might have been willing to write off their debt for the letters. The letters would have brought me in a nice steady bit of the ready, you understand?" Yates sighed for the lost opportunity. "But it was not to be. Instead, Ellsworth came to Hirst with the letters because they were relatives and Hirst had better connections to the ton. I didn't know of the scheme until Ellsworth came to me, frantic to get rid of Hirst's body. It was then that he divulged the blackmail and Hirst's plan to try to wrest some coin from you." He pulled idly on his ear. "Now I am a businessman, and I get paid for what I do. Hirst and Ellsworth already owed me a sizable sum. I wasn't about to get involved with disposing of a body for Ellsworth if I didn't know that down the road I'd be paid, and paid handsomely. That's when Ellsworth explained about your fortune. Hirst might be dead, but I was still going to get my money, so I was willing to listen to his plan. I was even willing to help them—hence the attack on Blackburne."

  Edwina gasped. "Why, you lying bastard! That is a damned lie. Don't listen to him, Thea, he is just trying to poison your mind against me."

  "Oh, hush," Thea said, a frown marring her forehead. "I'm afraid I'm a little confused about the attack on Patrick. If it was my fortune you were after, how would harming Patrick—" Thea stopped. She shook her head at her own folly. "Of course, how silly of me. You intended for him to die, didn't you? If he was dead, then I could not marry him, could I? My fortune would be safe and secure." She looked steadily at Edwina. "That's why Ellsworth came to my room the night before my wedding. Having failed to kill Patrick, you thought to strike at me—before I married."

  "It is all his fault!" Edwina cried, waving a hand in Yates's direction. "He demanded that we pay him, not only the seventeen thousand pounds that Hirst owed him, but nine thousand more to hide Hirst's body and to t-t-take care of Blackburne. Twenty-six thousand pounds! It was a nightmare. We didn't know which way to turn. Yates gave us no time to think. With Hirst's body lying on the floor almost at our feet, he demanded that Ellsworth sign over his London house and every penny he had in the 'Funds' that very night. He said he wouldn't move Hirst's body an inch unless Ellsworth paid up." Her mouth twisted. "He took all of my jewels and every piece of silver I had in the house. He told us that since we had been so reasonable, that he would give us a little time before he came after the rest of the money." Her eyes full of misery, she muttered, "That was why I wrote that note demanding the nine thousand—to redeem everything he had taken." Her gaze dropped. "We had to get our hands on your fortune, and that meant making certain that you did not marry Blackburne. When Blackburne escaped, we had to strike quickly. We couldn't let you marry him."

  "Doesn't your friend Yates offer a refund when he fails?" Thea asked with apparent interest in the workings of murder for hire. "It seems to me since he did not, ah, perform as promised that you should have gotten your money back."

  "It isn't amusing!" Edwina snapped.

  "Believe me, I am finding none of this amusing," Thea said in heartfelt tones. "I am curious, though, why it was Ellsworth who attacked me. Why didn't you hire Yates to murder me that night?" There was a tense silence, and then Thea exclaimed, "Oh, how silly of me. Of course you were trying to save money and do the job yourself. Is that how it was?"

  Before Edwina could answer they all heard a loud commotion coming from the front of the house. All three froze, listening intently. Thea's heart leaped as she thought she heard Patrick's voice above the fierce pounding. But then all noise faded, and there was nothing but echoing silence through the deserted house. What faint hope she'd had that a miracle had occurred and Patrick had come to rescue her from her own folly faded. They remained as they were for a few minutes more as they waited to see if the assault at the front of the house would continue.

  When it did not, Yates visibly relaxed, and remarked, "Whoever it was has gone away."

  "No doubt it was an irate creditor wanting his money," Edwina muttered, a bitter curve to her mouth.

  "You haven't answered my question," Thea continued as if the interruption had not occurred. "Was it to save money that Ellsworth came to my room that night?"

  "Yes, damn you!" Edwina hissed. "Yates was bleeding us to death, and we could think of no other way. We didn't want to go deeper into debt to him. Ellsworth had already signed over everything he could lay his hands on to meet Yates's demands. Hirst had run my fortune into the ground, and Yates"—she shot him a look of hatred—"was dunning me to pay my husband's debts." She looked back to Thea. "We didn't have any choice! Your fortune was the only thing that could save us from ruin." Dully, she added, "You have to understand—I didn't want you to die, not really... but we, I, needed your fortune."


  "Couldn't you have simply come to me and asked me for the money?"

  Edwina's shoulders slumped and she looked away. "Oh, yes, I could have done that—at least for Hirst's gaming debts—especially once I told you of Yates. I knew that you would come to my rescue." She swallowed thickly. "But you see when I k-k-killed Hirst it changed everything. I didn't want to hang! We had to hide the body and Yates was the only one we knew who could take care of that for us. And once he had his hooks into us, it just got worse." Tiredly she said, "Perhaps if we had hidden his body ourselves, things wouldn't have reached this stage.

  "We didn't know what to do. Before we had time to think it through, Ellsworth panicked and brought in Yates. Yates changed the stakes. Murdering you and gaining your fortune was his idea. He presented it as a solution to all of our problems. We were too frightened not to go along with him."

  "You do realize," Thea explained quietly, "that having Yates dispose of me will not be the end of your troubles. There is still Patrick to be dealt with. You understand, don't you, that if you continue to go along with Yates, you are handing him a powerful weapon." Thea glanced at Yates, who stood in the center of the room, looking pleasant and totally at ease with the situation. Harshly, Thea said, "You will never be free of him. He will blackmail you and make you pay for the rest of your life, won't you, Mr. Yates?"

  "Well, now, that's not exactly the way I would have put it," Yates murmured, "but I suppose from time to time that I should be happy to accept a small monetary gift from the lady. For services rendered, you understand."

  Thea snorted.

  Edwina stared at Yates in horror as the realization sank in that Thea spoke the truth. "Oh, God!" she cried. "What have I done? My husband is dead. My lover is dead. And all for naught."

  "Now, now, Mrs. Hirst, that is no way to carry on," Yates said in a soothing tone. "Once I have taken care of your sister here, you can lend comfort to her husband and after a proper mourning time , you will marry him and gain access to his fortune, as well as your sister's. Just as we discussed, remember?"

  Thea did not know whether to be appalled or amused.

  Briefly she wondered how much of this latest twist was Yates's idea and how much was Edwina's. But one thing was very clear; before any of it could be set into motion, she had to die. Edwina might suffer some remorse at her death, but Thea had little doubt that her sister would not stop Yates from murdering her.

  A soft, muted sound floated through the house, and Edwina started. "What was that?" she asked fearfully.

  His finger to his lips, Yates crept to the door. A wicked-looking pistol suddenly appeared in his hand, and he cautiously opened the door. Slowly, with great care, he glanced around the doorjamb, down the dark and gloomy hall.

  Deciding she had nothing to lose and hoping against hope that Patrick had come for her, Thea filled her lungs and shouted as loud as she could, "Help! Help me! They're going to kill me!"

  Yates turned and looked at her... and smiled. Her heart sank. Obviously, he had seen nothing to alarm him.

  Shutting the door behind him, he walked back to the center of the room. "Now, now, my lady, that is no way to act. No one can hear you, and if you are going to prove difficult, I shall just have to silence you." His eyes danced. "And you won't like the way I shall do it."

  Thea studied Yates, wondering if there was any way that she could incapacitate him—if only for a second. If she could get him far enough away from the door... and if she could just nip around him... There was still Edwina to worry about, but Thea knew that Yates was her real problem, not Edwina. She could probably distract Edwina from her goal, but she didn't think that Yates would be thrown off the scent. He had arrived with the intention of killing her—if not here, somewhere nearby—and he was not going to be easily persuaded to change his plans. A last-minute rescue seemed improbable—only Modesty knew where she was, and Modesty had made it plain that she had washed her hands of the entire affair. Thea's nose wrinkled. As I should have, she thought unhappily. Oh, Patrick, I am so sorry—and I was a fool not to tell you.

  "Killing me," Thea said in a steady voice, despite the painful banging of her heart against her ribs, "does not guarantee you success. My husband may not wish to marry Edwina. Have you considered that?"

  "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Yates said, his blue eyes at their merriest. "These things can be arranged, and I am just the man to do the arranging. I can have a special license in my hands at the snap of my fingers. There is a fellow I know who will perform the marriage—even if the groom looks, ah, half-dead. And once the deed is done..."

  Thea bit her lip and glanced around the shabby little room. Oh, Patrick, she thought mournfully, what have I done? Not only my life is at stake, but yours, too. A shaft of pain went through her at the knowledge of what her own stubborn foolishness had cost them. I will not let them do it, she vowed with a burst of fury. How dare they try to destroy our lives!

  Her chin lifted and she said coolly, "Well, you certainly seemed to have thought of everything, haven't you?"

  Yates tried to look modest, and Thea's lip curled in contempt. She glanced around the room again, her brain racing desperately. Yates had already indicated the probable manner of her death. She was to be thrown from a carriage... after, of course, he snapped her neck. She swallowed and looked at his ham-sized fists, imagining them closing around her neck. Patrick's face, his gray eyes tender as they looked at her, flashed across her mind. Dear God! She had too much to live for—she didn't want to die!

  But how? How was she going to escape? She had no weapon. None except her large, heavy, money-filled reticule...

  Yates never knew what hit him. One moment he was standing confidently in front of Thea, and, the next, Thea took a swift step forward and struck him in the face with the bulky reticule. Fright and fury mingled with all the power of her slender body and gave her an astonishing strength. Yates staggered back as if he'd been hit with a sledgehammer.

  Thea didn't remain to see the effect of her desperate act; dropping the reticule like a hot brick, she picked up her skirts and sprinted for the door.

  "Oh, no, you don't," Edwina growled. Leaping up from her place behind the desk, she whipped around it and grabbed Thea by the waist. The momentum of Edwina's body threw them both off-balance, and they went down in a flurry of flying skirts.

  Thea recovered first and, wrenching free of Edwina's hold, gave her sister a facer that would have done Tom proud. Edwina shrieked as blood spurted from her nose. Wasting neither remorse nor even a glance for Edwina, Thea scrambled to her feet and stumbled toward the door.

  But the brief skirmish with Edwina delayed her long enough. Yates, partially recovered, lurched forward with a snarl, catching Thea by her hair just as her flailing fingers touched the doorknob. Brutally, he dragged her back against him, the pistol pressed into her jaw.

  "Try that again, my lady, and I won't worry whether your death looks accidental or not," Yates snapped.

  Edwina, a hand to her nose, dragged herself up off the floor and, half-leaning, half-standing next to the desk, glared at Thea. "Thank you, dear sister," she uttered thickly. "I shall have no regrets about your death now."

  There was a soft whoosh, and Thea's heart swelled as the door swung open and Patrick, looking darkly handsome and oh, so beloved, stood in the opened doorway. His face very dark above his white cravat, his shoulders very broad beneath the elegant dark blue coat, he took in the situation in a glance. He was aware that there was danger to be faced, but the brutal fist that had clutched at his heart these past several moments eased.

  His gaze slid assessingly over Thea's slim form. Though slightly disheveled, a lock of midnight black hair dangling rakishly over one of her eyes, Thea appeared unharmed and, because of that, he decided, he might not kill Yates.

  A lazy smile on his mouth, Patrick sauntered into the room, carelessly swinging an ebony-and-ivory walking stick. "Ah, here you are, my dear," he murmured. "I hope you do not mind that I have come to escort
you home?"

  Thea smiled at him, such a dazzling smile that Patrick blinked, strangely breathless and almost blinded by its brightness. He had never loved her quite as much as he did at that moment, but he had no illusions about what was at stake. Among the four of them, he, Nigel, Hazlett, and Modesty, they had put together an unpleasant scenario; it looked as if they were not far wrong.

  One thing had leaped out at all of them: Edwina had to be part of whatever was going on. It was possible that Edwina was innocent and that there was nothing more to this meeting than what she had originally told Thea. It was also possible, as Modesty admitted, that Edwina could be helping Yates because it was in her own best interests to do so or because of something Yates held over her head.

  Patrick didn't give a damn about Edwina's motives or the money Thea was supposedly paying Yates. He wanted his wife back. Now.

  As he stared at the pistol held to Thea's jaw, dread constricted his heart. He'd known the situation was dangerous, but not how dangerous, when they had all returned to Edwina's house and no one had answered the front door—God knew they had made enough noise to rouse the dead. Instinct told him that something was very, very wrong—and he always trusted his instincts. Only Nigel's suggestion that they find another way into the house stopped him from battering down the front door.

  His eyes on the pistol held against Thea's fragile jaw, Patrick took grim satisfaction in knowing that his instincts had not betrayed him.

  Recovering from his first start of astonishment at Patrick's sudden appearance, Yates growled, "Stop right there! As you can see, the lady will be delayed."

  Patrick smiled sweetly. "But not for very long, I hope."

  Yates gave a bark of laughter. "You have pluck, I'll grant you that, my good fellow. But I'm afraid that all it has gained you is a meeting with old Mr. Grim."

  "I beg to differ with you," Patrick returned. "I have no intention of meeting death in the near future. I have just married that charming little baggage you are presently holding and plan to spend a long life with her." Patrick's eyes caught Thea's. His voice deepened. "We have great plans, she and I."