by Allison Lane
“It is true that his lordship treats me with kindness, but he is my brother’s friend,” protested Cherlynn. “I am merely Charles’s little sister.”
The ladies accepted her statement. And Fay’s attempt to smear an innocent young girl breached a dam, allowing all manner of memories to spill out. Cherlynn learned more in ten minutes than she had in all her previous probing. The witchcraft rumors had arisen because Fay dabbled in potions, not all of which were beneficial. A tenant who had gone to her for help with spots had found herself with a painful rash that left her face permanently pitted. She had angered Fay some days earlier by attracting the attention of a young man with whom Fay had been flirting.
Which led to tales of Fay’s affect on gentlemen. Like her mother, she was a beautiful woman with a fey charm that attracted men in droves. And she welcomed their interest. No one knew details, but all suspected that she was no longer chaste. Yet no one would dare mention the possibility to her face. Fay Raeburn was not a person to cross.
Cherlynn sighed. None of the tales were first-hand accounts, and none of Fay’s paramours were named, so she still lacked proof.
She moved through the rest of the evening deep in calculation. Their departure had been delayed one more day, thanks to Drew. One of Charles’s horses had mysteriously gone lame, but she had twenty-four hours at most. Identifying any of Fay’s liaisons would take too long. Rumors of witchcraft wouldn’t suffice even in this superstitious age. Her best chance was to lure Fay into attacking her. The assault itself would be enough, but if she could also get the girl to admit any of her transgressions, it would assure her future silence.
But how could she guarantee the attack would fail? Emily would be irritated if she sacrificed her life in order to free Drew. And Drew wouldn’t be pleased, either. Would he go along with the idea if he was there to guard her safety? That would also ensure that any confession called down instant penalties.
Yet she needed more than just Drew’s guard. Fay harbored the seeds of insanity. Watching her dreams crumble might push her into harming them both.
Who else could she involve in this plot? Not Charles, she decided instantly. He would never condone her plan. But Frederick might. As soon as she worked out the details, she would meet with the men to make arrangements. They would have to lure Fay into the trap tomorrow. A second accident would raise Charles’s suspicions.
* * * *
Fay crouched behind a hedge, peering nervously at the cottage. Damn Frederick for assigning his groom to watch her whenever she left the house. He was treating her like a child. A second look in all directions verified that she had escaped his scrutiny.
Why was everyone so determined to oppose her? She had been trained to be Marchioness of Broadbanks. Drew had grown up knowing that their future was together. And though he had bowed to the inevitable, he still looked to others for companionship. Frederick was no better. Not only was he watching her every move, but he had stepped in to steal her estate. Even worse, his diatribe last night had not only denounced her efforts to drive Lady Emily away – somehow he had discovered her lie about Emily and the groom – but had hinted that he might cancel her betrothal.
Never! she vowed, making a final scan of the area to make sure that no one was in sight. She would see Frederick in hell before she’d forego her destiny. It was a fitting place for the interfering American.
Jaime’s summons claimed that he had new information for her, but she would have come today in any case. One day soon, she would take care of the arrogant farmer, but not yet. He was too useful. It was Jaime who had noticed that Lady Emily spent most afternoons alone in the Grecian folly. But now she had a more serious job for him. Or perhaps two. The blackmailer was about to be blackmailed. He would take care of her problems – all of them – after which she would take care of him. Once she was Marchioness of Broadbanks, she would arrange an accident for her nemesis. In the meantime, he was useful. And he did such deliciously wicked things to her body. Her eyes closed on a wave of heat.
* * * *
“What did you learn?” Fay asked an hour later, her voice throaty from the lingering dregs of passion. One hand skimmed lightly over his sweaty chest. The first time, he had been reluctant – but only because of her exalted station. Now he couldn’t get enough of her. His shaft was already lengthening under her palm. Lusty. The way she liked all her men. Even the controlled, disdainful Drew would go mad with desire once she got her hands on him. She smiled at the image, teasing Jaime into wild need, then holding him off while she questioned him.
“What has Lady Emily been up to?”
“Social calls,” he panted, lunging for her.
She danced lightly away. “I know that. I saw her last night. I’m paying you to watch her meetings with Thurston.” She ran her fingers lightly over her bare breasts, smiling coyly at the lust that exploded in his eyes. His manhood swelled, raising an answering heat in her belly. Lifting one heavy breast, she licked the nipple, then again sprang out of reach. “What have they been doing, Jaime?” she managed to gasp through her own need.
“Talking. Just talking. Every night in the library.”
Fury paralyzed her so that his next lunge pinned her to the bed. Flipping her onto her stomach, he pounded into her from behind. But his attention was not wholly focused on her body. “He lives for those meetings,” he taunted as his hands painfully squeezed her breasts. “But he treats her with the respect a gentleman accords a lady. And she is a lady, my wanton slut. You won’t find her rutting with the grooms or throwing herself at the tenants. And that’s the real reason you hate her, isn’t it? You may incite lust in males and fear in females, but you’ll never command respect.”
Fury exploded, quashing all trace of her passion. “Get off me, you lout!” she grunted, trying to twist free. But he effortlessly held her beneath him, dominating her, riding her until he’d had his fill. Then he cast her scornfully aside.
She flew across the room to jerk on her clothes. “I won’t be coming again,” she spat.
“Reckon not,” he said comfortably. “But I ’spect Thurston will be right grateful to see me.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” she hissed. “You’d lose your farm if he found out you’d raped his fiancée.”
He frowned, but she didn’t care. The man was getting above himself after a fortnight of rubbing shoulders – and other body parts – with the quality. It was time to remind him who was in charge. She reached into her reticule.
“Lady Emily has outstayed her welcome,” she said coldly. “I no longer need you to follow her. But I do have one last job for you. The fee is a thousand pounds.”
His eyes narrowed. “I doubt I can do any work that pays so much.”
“You’ll do it or live out your days in Botany Bay for blackmail and rape. I want Lady Emily dead.” She pulled out a pistol. “This can’t be traced to you, so you’re safe enough.”
“No.”
The implacable voice raised her temper another notch. “You don’t have a choice, Potts. Either you kill Lady Emily or I will swear out a complaint with the magistrate.”
“You’ll swear out nothing, my little slut,” he drawled. “I will claim that you are retaliating because I refused to service you. I can name enough of your partners to guarantee that folks will believe me, not you. I’m not the only one you had to pay to climb into bed with you.”
The cruel, mocking words were the last straw. “You despicable bastard!” she shrieked, growing angrier when he laughed. But he didn’t laugh long. Raising her hand toward the muscular chest she had been stroking only minutes before, she pulled the trigger. “We’ll see who laughs last, Jaime Potts,” she said, her voice now deadly calm. “I should have known better than to trust a blackmailing coward. I’ll take care of Lady Emily myself. And Frederick. Nobody crosses me with impunity.”
Casting a last look around the bedroom, she collected her reticule and hat, then stopped in the kitchen long enough to reload the pistol before slipping out of
the cottage.
Where was Emily likely to be?
Fay circled Broadbanks Hall, keeping her horse in the trees so she wouldn’t be seen. Her luck was in. Emily was riding away from the stables. Alone.
Smiling, Fay followed, surprised to see the girl stop in the exact place where Randolph had died. Dear Randolph. So eager to take what should have been his brother’s. So drunk that he didn’t realize he was far from the first. He had wanted her badly and had even begged her to marry him, but she had known his passion was only part of his lifelong campaign to destroy his brother. What he hadn’t known was that Drew had already repudiated her. Randolph had been stupid about many things. Had he actually believed that she would give up Broadbanks after waiting her entire life to become its mistress?
Tethering her horse to the same tree she had used the night she’d pushed the wastrel over the cliff, she waited until Emily’s back was turned, then calmly left the cover of the forest. A dead stick cracked under her foot. Emily jumped, whipping around to freeze a scant yard from the edge.
Needing to inflict as much pain as possible before the denouement, Fay stopped a dozen feet away. “Good morning, Lady Emily.” She smiled. “What a lovely day to die.”
Emily gasped as Fay drew out the pistol and aimed.
* * * *
Jaime lay where he had fallen, unable to staunch the blood that flowed from the bullet hole. Taunting her had been stupid, he admitted grimly. She was mad. He should never have taunted a madwoman.
And now he would pay with his life.
A whisper of sound echoed from the other room. “Ben?” he called as loudly as he could, but the word barely made it past his lips. Groaning, he slowly mustered the strength to try again, but the first effort had been enough.
“Cor!” exclaimed the orphan he’d taken in to help around the place. “What ’appened?”
“Find Lord Thurston,” he gasped. “Tell him . . .” The spots swirling before his eyes merged into a sheet of black.
* * * *
Drew was leading his horse from the stables when a panic-eyed child collided with him.
“Lor’ Thurston?” the boy gasped.
He nodded. “And who are you?”
“Ben. Jaime needs help. ’E’s bleedin’ somethin’ awful.”
“Jaime Potts?”
Ben managed to nod. The boy was all but unconscious – hardly surprising if he had run the two miles from the Potts farm.
“Where’s Jaime now?” he demanded.
“In bed.”
“Ted! Find Dr. McClarren and take him to Jaime Potts’s cottage at once,” he shouted to a groom. “Let’s go.” Mounting his horse, he jerked Ben up in front of him and galloped down the drive. “What happened?”
Ben was cringing in fright. “I dunno. ’E said ta get you, then blinked out.”
“Did he fall?”
The boy’s head shook. “Looked like ’e was shot.”
Shot? Drew’s head swirled. Who would shoot a tenant farmer? On the other hand, the man had suddenly come into considerable money. Had he run afoul of the local smuggling gang or double-crossed a partner in crime?
Five minutes later, he reached the cottage and turned his horse over to Ben.
Jaime’s blood soaked the quilt. But he still lived. Though weak, a pulse throbbed in his neck. The bullet had entered just below the rib cage on the left side, exiting the back. But it had somehow missed everything vital. Drew found a towel and set about trying to stop the bleeding. Every move revived memories of Emily’s near-fatal fall. Thank God Charles had fetched McClarren back from London. Dr. Harvey would never do in this crisis.
As he shifted Jaime to reach the man’s back, Jaime’s eyes cracked open.
“Who shot you, Potts?”
“Fay.”
The voice was so weak that he wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. “Fay Raeburn?”
Jaime nodded.
“Why?”
“I refused to kill somebody.”
His hands tightened, pulling a groan from Jaime’s throat. “Start at the beginning, Potts. And take your time. I don’t think this wound is fatal.” McClarren wouldn’t bleed the man. And perhaps Cherlynn could suggest further remedies to assure a full return to health.
Relief relaxed Jaime’s muscles. Anger and a need for revenge strengthened his voice.
“Started last spring when I was walkin’ home from the Blue Parrot. I come to the edge of the trees up on the cliffs and saw you and Lord Randolph knockin’ each other about.”
“You saw us? Why the devil didn’t you tell me sooner?” But his anger died when Jaime cringed, the motion forcing another yelp of pain from his mouth. “Sorry, Potts. Tell it your way.”
“I thought it was a unfair fight since I knew your brother was three sheets to the wind, but before I could step out and stop it, he knocked you into a rock. Then he grabbed hold and tugged you toward the cliff. I was startin’ after him when Fay slipped out of the woods. I figured he wouldn’t toss you over with a witness, so I left. But I looked back once to make sure everything was all right. That’s when I seen her rush up and shove Lord Randolph over the edge.”
“My God!” In all his agonizing over that night, he had never once considered that Fay had murdered Randolph. But now that Potts had jogged his memory, he realized that the fight had been considerably farther from the edge than where he had awakened. He had actually been staggering toward the cliff when he went down.
“I stayed long enough to make sure she didn’t do the same to you, then I left. She’s a chancy one to cross. So was your brother, beggin’ your pardon. His death lightened a lot of hearts.”
“Then you didn’t know that Fay claimed it was I who pushed Randolph over?”
“Bitch!” muttered Jaime. “I’m sorry, my lord. It weren’t none of my business, so I forgot it. Until I fell into debt. Then I went to Lord Raeburn to see if he would loan me a bit.”
“The truth, Potts.” He stared into the man’s eyes.
Jaime winced. “So I put the black on Raeburn. I’d a come to you, but I didn’t know you had cause to wish her elsewhere, and she did save your life. I figured Raeburn might want to keep Fay’s actions quiet. Only he weren’t inclined to pay. Went off in a huff to have it out with Fay. A few minutes later, she brung me the money. Well, I weren’t about to question nothin’, especially when she paid me more than I’d asked.”
“Why would she do that?”
Jaime closed his eyes, wheezing in pain for several minutes. “She made me work for her, claimin’ all the money was for that. It didn’t seem like much, just keepin’ a eye on Lady Emily. She said she wanted to know how the girl’s recovery was comin’.”
“That’s all?” he asked derisively. “You’ve gone through at least two hundred pounds in the last fortnight. Quite generous pay for watching an invalid. You aren’t stupid enough to think Fay’s requests were legitimate.”
“Okay, that weren’t everything. I was also servicin’ her,” he added belligerently. “She’s a lusty wench.”
“Thank you. That’s all I need to jilt her.”
Jaime stared. “Good man. But you’d best find her soon. The chit’s gone mad. She shot me when I refused to kill Lady Emily. I think she’s goin’ after her ’erself.”
Drew’s heart stopped. “Thank you, Potts. I’ll take care of her.” Sounds outside proved to be McClarren.
“Do everything possible for him, George,” Drew urged as he let the doctor in. “He’s a valued tenant.”
Where was Cherlynn? Galloping back to the house gave fear time to ripen into terror. He hadn’t seen her since Anne’s betrothal party the night before. Fay had tried to destroy Emily’s reputation, but she’d been so heavy-handed about it that even the normally obtuse Vicar Rumfrey had seen through her efforts and warned him. Drew had already hinted to Lady Travis and others that he would never wed a scheming liar. The support for severing his connection to Fay had allowed him to sleep easier than he had in months.
>
Now he felt worse than in his blackest hours of believing himself a killer. Cherlynn was in deadly danger, and he didn’t even know where she was. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. It was his fault that she was in danger. He hadn’t told Charles to stay with her because he’d been afraid that any hint of the truth would drive them from Broadbanks. He should at least have assigned his groom to accompany her whenever she left the Hall. Please let her be inside!
“Lady Emily left some time ago,” Hardwick informed him when he reached the house. Drew was turning back to his horse when a footman spoke up.
“Begging your pardon, my lord, but I seen her riding away from the stables just now.”
“Thank you, Will.” His heart was back in his throat. Fay was somewhere in the area. Had she seen Cherlynn leave?
Voices in the drawing room erupted in laughter – Charles, Frederick, Anne, and Lady Clifford. If Fay had truly run mad, he would need help. “My apologies for intruding, Anne,” he said, stopping in the doorway, “but a small problem has arisen. May I borrow the gentlemen for a moment?”
Charles raised a brow, but excused himself, as did Frederick. They joined him in the morning room.
“I fear that your cousin may have lost her reason.” Drew addressed Frederick.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” he replied calmly.
Charles raised both brows.
“Insanity runs in the female line of our mothers’ family,” he admitted. “My mother ran mad some months ago.” He turned to Drew. “What is she doing?”
“She has a gun. After shooting one of my tenants, she vowed to kill Lady Emily.”
“Where is she?” growled Charles, already heading for the door. “Damn that horse! We should have been gone by now.”
Drew cringed as a wave of guilt engulfed him.
“How is the tenant?” asked Frederick, following.
“He’ll live.”
They strode toward the stables while he related what he’d learned about Emily’s whereabouts. Conflicting stories awaited them. One groom claimed he’d seen her ride toward the village. Another thought she had headed for the Roman folly.
