by Allison Lane
Drew bit his lip. She had no reason to go to the village, having spoken to everyone last night. Nor was she likely to spend this day enjoying the view. They both knew that Charles would not compromise on leaving in the morning. He would walk if that’s what it took. But she might have learned something new about Randolph.
“The cliffs,” he said, then thanked the grooms. Mounting his horse, he led the way to the shortcut.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cherlynn gasped as Fay aimed the pistol straight at her heart. This was not how she had expected to spend her day.
Fay’s blatant lies at the party had earned the wrath of the local gossips. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure that Fay would retaliate. Cherlynn had planned to use that desire to bait her trap. The cliffs had seemed a perfect site for the confrontation, allowing Drew to catch Fay in the act. Cherlynn had come out here hoping for inspiration on how to lure Fay into attacking, but hadn’t counted on Fay following her. Nor had she expected to face a gun. Now she was on her own with no weapons and no witnesses.
Light glittered in Fay’s eyes, a fanatical light that could only mean madness, but the gun remained steady, without the slightest tremor. Was this really what fate had in store? Perhaps Emily’s death was ordained so nothing could prevent it. Perhaps Cherlynn’s reason for being here had been to pull Drew from his depression and awaken his determination to conduct himself like an honorable gentleman. Would she and Emily both perish, or would she return to 1998?
Poor Drew. He faced another emotional blow. Emily might have saved him from Fay’s clutches, but he would not live happily ever after. Would he flee into the army as he had done before? At least she knew he would survive the war. When he returned, perhaps he could find someone congenial who would provide him an heir.
Defeatist! Haven’t you learned anything? You’ll never succeed if you don’t try!
Cherlynn’s eyes sharpened, driving away her mental fog. She had to at least try to survive. She frantically searched her memory for the tactics that hostage specialists used. There had been a nasty confrontation just a week before she’d left for England. One of the newspaper stories had explained the negotiator’s approach. Keep the culprit talking. Convince him to reveal his reasoning so you can appeal to it. Play for time. The longer a perpetrator waits to act, the less likely he is to carry through.
Cherlynn carefully inhaled, then let the air out slowly to relax her muscles. Too much tension would paralyze her if an opportunity for action arose. Sparing one thought for Willard – he’d often predicted a sorry end for her; how smug he would be at his prescience – she focused on Fay and smiled.
“I can’t say I’m ready to depart this world, but if I must, this is indeed a lovely day for it. Are you going to shoot me?”
“Not unless I have to.” Fay seemed shaken by this calm response. Good. Keeping her off balance might give her enough time to think of an escape.
The gun jerked toward the edge. “All you have to do is walk a little. Three steps ought to do it. How tragic that you ventured too close.”
“Honestly, Fay,” she said with a snort. “No one will believe that! Charles knows I avoid cliffs. I’m terrified of heights. If you need to stage an accident, you’ll have to think of something else.”
Fay frowned. “No. This will have to do. There isn’t time to go elsewhere. I will describe how you panicked.”
“Perhaps that would work,” Cherlynn agreed, unwilling to push too hard. “But you’d best set it up over there. That clump of flowers could explain why I stepped too close.” In the guise of moving to a new location, she took three steps toward Fay.
“Stop!” Fay’s voice was panicked enough that Cherlynn complied. “We’ll do it here. Now!” Again the gun jerked.
Cherlynn took a cautious step toward the cliff. “Would you mind telling me why I am dying?”
“Drew cares too much for you.”
“Absurd. He offered for you.”
“Don’t deny it. I saw you in the folly!” Her voice scraped harshly through the air.
“Of course you saw us, but what did you see? If you hadn’t startled me enough that I allowed him to escape, you’d know that he was unwilling. I attacked him, hoping to change his mind about wedding you. He read me a lecture even stronger than my brother’s.”
“You lie!” growled Fay furiously.
Cherlynn took advantage of the wavering gun hand to regain the lost step. She hadn’t been lying about being afraid of heights – the beach was fifty feet below. But that was the least of her worries at the moment. Fay was out of reach, but was too close to miss the shot. A light breeze swirled past, momentarily pressing Cherlynn’s skirt against her legs. She shivered. “Believe what you will.”
“I believe what he told Randolph in this very spot,” spat Fay. “He loves you and wants to wed you. But nobody takes what is mine!”
“If he belonged to you, why did he claim otherwise?” she asked, hoping to move Fay into a calmer discussion. Too much fury might jerk her finger on that trigger. Cherlynn’s knowledge of Regency weapons was slight, but some dueling pistols had hair triggers. Hopefully, this wasn’t one of them.
A gull shrieked, making Fay jump. The gun didn’t fire.
Relief sagged through Cherlynn’s muscles until she had to lock her knees to keep from falling.
“He has always been contrary,” Fay said with a sigh, as if discussing a child who disliked eating turnips. “My father negotiated the betrothal agreement eighteen years ago. Drew always knew that we would wed. But he tried to throw over the agreement, refusing to accept that betrothals are binding. A gentleman cannot back out.” Her eyes were growing more fanatical. “Broadbanks is mine. I’ve trained for the position all of my life. Nobody can take it away.”
The gun again wavered as Fay’s histrionics threw her arm wide. Cherlynn gained another foot. How much of her self-defense class could she recall? It had been three years since she had taken it, and she hadn’t been that good to begin with.
“But it will be yours in less than two weeks,” Cherlynn pointed out reasonably. “I can’t do anything about it now. Drew has publicly announced the betrothal. What more do you want?”
“I want you dead. You should have been long ago – I pushed you hard enough at the ball. But I won’t take chances this time. Nobody can survive a fall over this cliff. Drew is mine. I won’t tolerate a cheap little whore sharing his favors.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Cherlynn countered. “I can’t believe you would think the daughter of an earl would stoop so low. I’m no threat to you. Not only does Lord Thurston care nothing for me, I will be gone by tomorrow.” All of which was true in a way.
“Hah! Anyone who wants something bad enough will reach out and take it.”
“Is that how you caught Drew?”
Fay frowned, then shrugged. “Of course. The stupid man thinks he killed his brother. All I have to do is threaten to tell his father and he does anything I ask.”
“Does he? It would be more like him to tell you to go ahead. He knows that he wasn’t responsible.”
“He couldn’t. He was dead to the world when I shoved Randolph over the side.”
“You did?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice, but it proved to be beneficial.
Fay gloated. “Of course. He was getting utterly dreary with his pleading that I wed him – as if I would; all that wine sapped any trace of passion. But he served a noble purpose by forcing Drew into living up to his responsibilities. So don’t doubt I’ll kill you.”
“I doubt nothing.” She caught a movement at the edge of the trees behind Fay. Drew. Her knees nearly collapsed in relief, but she quickly pulled herself together. “He believed you at the time, but he knows better now. You made the mistake of leaving him where he fell.”
Fay was frowning. “What—?”
“It doesn’t matter, Fay. We all makes mistakes now and then.”
“Not me!”
“Really? You
must be the only perfect person in the world. What else have you done that’s so clever?”
“Don’t think I won’t shoot you if that’s the only way to get you over the edge,” Fay warned.
“I believe you, though cold-blooded killing is a trifle harder than shoving a drunkard who is already incoherent with rage.” By shifting her weight to one foot, she managed to slide the other three inches forward under the cover of her skirts. Already she had gained six inches that way. The breeze covered her movements.
“Don’t believe it. I shot a man no more than two hours ago for daring to threaten me. Everyone will assume that smugglers killed him.”
Not likely. Drew was in the trees twenty yards beyond Fay. Charles and Frederick joined him, then fanned out to either side.
“You look skeptical,” gloated Fay, pulling her mind back to the conversation.
“Why did you shoot him?” She gained another three inches.
“He tried to blackmail me. The idiot even told my father about Randolph. I had to drug Pa to keep him quiet. It’s been irritating keeping him alive but unconscious all this time. At least I can let him die after the wedding.”
A muffled groan from Frederick whipped Fay’s head around. Cherlynn swore under her breath, but picked up another foot before Fay’s attention swung back.
“Damn you!” shouted Frederick, striding into the open. “You are no better than your mad mother. What have you been feeding Uncle Toby?”
“Stop, or I’ll shoot her right now,” said Fay coldly. “My luck is really in today. You were next in line anyway. You should have stayed in America. I’ll not let you steal my estate.”
“Stubble it!” hissed Drew as Frederick opened his mouth.
Fay cast a quick glance over her shoulder. “One more step, my love, and your mistress dies.”
“She’s not, of course. And she was telling the truth about leaving tomorrow,” he said levelly. But he froze in place. “This exercise is pointless, you know. I will not wed you. I would have told you yesterday, but did not want to spoil Anne’s party.
“It’s too late,” said Frederick softly, having regained control of his temper. “Lord Broadbanks and I already agreed to terminate your betrothal. He does not want to stain his bloodlines. He would have informed Thurston this afternoon.”
Cherlynn saw the shock in Drew’s face. Was Frederick lying? She wasn’t sure what game he was playing, but it was a dangerous one. All she could do was hope that he understood Fay’s insanity. What she really needed was a diversion to distract Fay’s attention. None of the men was close enough to disarm her, so the job was hers.
She exchanged a long glance with Drew, shocked into near immobility that she could read his mind. He was furious that he hadn’t brought a dueling pistol with him. And he was nearly as furious at Frederick for revealing their presence. But once he read her intentions, he set about providing the needed diversion. She relaxed and began inching up her skirt in the back.
“You’ve finally received your just desserts, Fay,” he said lightly. “Never has anyone been in such need of Bedlam. I wouldn’t have met you in church, by the way. I had long ago planned to jilt you at the altar. You would have been a laughingstock, especially after I disclosed my reasons to society. How many men have you seduced this year alone, my little slut?”
“How dare you!” she spat. “You’ve doubtless bedded half of London.”
“Now, now. No need to be upset. As a matter of fact, I’ve been quite true to the woman I love. As have you, of course. You love only yourself. But I have no intention of tying myself to a light-skirt.”
“I’m no light-skirt!” she fumed.
Cherlynn had her hem above the knees.
“Good point. Even the most elegant courtesan accepts money for the use of her body. But you were the one paying for services rendered, weren’t you? What’s the matter? Couldn’t you find a willing partner?”
“Randolph was willing!”
“Only to spite me,” he said with a laugh. “He’d have bedded Satan’s own handmaiden if he thought I’d disapprove. And it appears that he did. Your aim is terrible, by the way. Jaime is quite all right and insisted on describing every minute you spent in his bed. In graphic detail. I’m tempted to send the tale to the Tattler’s society column. It would make quite edifying reading.”
“How dare you!” she screamed, jerking the gun toward him.
It was the move Cherlynn had been waiting for. Whisking her skirt aside, she launched a kick that would have made Radio City’s chorus line proud. Fay screamed as a foot connected with her wrist. The gun landed ten feet away.
Men raced from all sides. Cherlynn flung herself away from the cliff, staggering into Drew’s arms, which folded around her, holding her safe. She savored his heat. The sandalwood scent he favored filled her nostrils, driving back her terror. His chest was solid muscle. Emily’s head fit perfectly against his shoulder. She burrowed closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. This embrace was all she would have for a lifetime. But one eye remained on Fay, who was still dangerous.
Fay’s head twisted from side to side as the men charged. She sidestepped Frederick and tripped him, shoving him toward the cliff, but he rolled aside.
“Grab her!” he yelled as Charles closed in.
Fay danced out of reach. As Charles’s momentum carried him past her, she dove for the pistol.
“Don’t move,” she shouted, springing to her feet, her eyes again gleaming with madness.
“Give it up, Fay,” said Frederick, standing warily. Charles edged away to spread out her targets. “You can’t kill all of us.”
“Bastard!” she hissed, aiming the gun at Frederick. She backed up a few feet so she could keep everyone in view, freezing Charles with a glance. “You’ve ruined my life, Cousin.”
“I’ve done nothing to you,” he said soothingly. “Just put the gun down so we can talk.”
“Never. You’ll rot in hell for stealing my estate, but you’re not worth killing. Nor are you,” she added to Charles. “So which one will it be?” Her lips parted in an evil grin. “Satan or his whore?” The gun wavered between them, coming to rest pointed at Cherlynn. “You bit—” But her voice died in mid-epithet.
Cherlynn gasped.
Drew had tensed to throw her to the ground, but he froze when a wavering mist appeared next to Fay, rapidly coalescing into a man. It boxed her in so she had no place to run.
“Randolph!” he choked.
“The ghost on the cliff,” Cherlynn whispered, recalling Mabel Hardesty’s words. Randolph had lived and died in violence. He must have been condemned to walk.
Fay blanched as she back-pedaled. “No, Randolph. Don’t blame me! It wasn’t personal. If you hadn’t been trying to kill him, I never would have touched you. But I had to stop you . . .” The gun slipped from her hand when she stumbled over a tuft of grass.
Drew surreptitiously pulled Cherlynn toward the trees, but Randolph paid them no heed. His battered face twisted in fury as he stalked Fay. His form seethed, bubbling over the ground and growing larger by the second. He loomed over her, shading her from the sun. Clawed fingers stretched out.
She whimpered, eyes wide with terror. Before anyone could shout a warning, her retreat stepped into space. With a shout of triumphant laughter, Randolph’s image dissolved.
“Dear God!” gasped Frederick, closing his eyes in shock.
“A fitting revenge,” murmured Drew into Cherlynn’s ear as his arms tightened around her. “And I forgive him everything. He saved your life.”
“Anne claimed he always paid back every insult,” she recalled shakily. “Fay pushed him off the cliff.”
“I know.” He pulled her face against his shoulder.
Charles and Frederick said nothing. The silence stretched as they stared at the spot where Randolph had stood. Not until a gull settled, screeching, at the foot of the cliff, did Charles shake himself. “Are you up to retrieving the body?” he asked Frederick, ignoring that f
act that his sister was again in the arms of his best friend.
Frederick glanced at Drew, who nodded toward the far end of the clearing, where it was possible to pick a way down to the beach. The two set off on their grisly quest.
“You’re free, Drew.” Cherlynn pulled back, looking into his eyes for the last time. One hand caressed his cheek. Dizziness was already assailing her. “Be happy.” Even as he lowered his lips, she was gone.
Emily’s body collapsed.
Drew stared into the blank eyes. “Cherlynn?” He shook her, praying that she had merely fainted from shock. When I finish my task, Emily will return. Her voice mocked him. “Cherlynn! Come back!”
Tears streamed down his face as he laid her on the ground and listened to her heart. Nothing. “Cherlynn! Don’t leave me. I love you.” Thrusting his hands into his hair, he scanned the heavens. “I can’t live without you, Cherlynn! Who will debate with me and laugh with me?”
Nothing.
Burying his face in her breast, he succumbed to wrenching sobs. “Em,” he managed at last, “I always cared for you, but you must know that my love was never as deep as yours. I’m awed by your devotion and owe you an incalculable debt for what you did, but if you have watched over us these past weeks, you’ve seen that my love for Cherlynn exceeds anything I have ever known. Please?”
Still nothing.
* * * *
Conscious this time, Cherlynn was sucked into a vortex of light, feeling like a dust mite caught by a vacuum cleaner. Far below, Drew was weeping over Emily’s body. Was this his fate? Had he lost Emily anyway? She twisted to see her destination and spotted her own body sprawled against the Broadbanks fireplace. The tour guide and half the tour members clustered around it as others raced from the gift shop to see what had happened. Drew’s ravaged face still looked down from above the mantel. She slowed, hanging in space. Had nothing changed? But he would not really be happy until Emily returned, and so far her body remained dead.
