Signs of Love and Deliverance

by Tracy Kay

  “Thank you, Gretchen, but it wasn’t an accident,” Joselyn replied confidently.

  “Not an accident?” Gretchen looked at her, puzzled.

  “Joselyn believes he was murdered and the killer is now after her,” Madeline explained.

  Gretchen gasped and shivered in reaction.

  “And how do you do this morning, ladies?” Inquired Simon Malany, the Marquess of Morelyn, finally finding a moment to make his presence known to the ladies who seemed to have forgotten that he was there. Simon was thirty-three, six-foot-tall with dark blond hair and soft gray eyes, all put together in a very handsome package. Simon smiled at the women to soften his admonishment as he looked about for one of Madeline’s brothers or a servant. Seeing none, he creased his brow in concern.

  “Oh.” Madeline pinkened at the subtle reprimand. “Where are my manners? I apologize, Lord Simon, I didn’t mean to ignore you.” She reached out her hand to her friend’s brother, embarrassed for neglecting him.

  Simon leaned over Gretchen, lifted Madeline’s gloved hand to his lips for a light kiss and watched her cheeks flush a darker pink. He smiled provocatively at her, enjoying her response to him. “All is forgiven, Lady Madeline. Is one of your brother’s escorting you today?” he asked, searching the crowd again.

  “No, not today.” Madeline frowned. “But there is a footman about somewhere,” she lied, pretending to scan the crowd for a footman.

  Simon turned his gaze back onto Madeline. In an attempt to dispel his concern for the ladies’ well-being, he smiled cheerfully at Madeline. “I will catch up with them later, I am sure. You were saying Zachary was murdered. Is there a suspect?” He inquired, softly caressing the back of Madeline’s wrist before releasing her hand.

  Flustered, Madeline blinked a few times before answering. “Yes, we do have one. Brandon and Nicholas are investigating the matter.”

  “If they need any assistance, have them contact me and I will do what I can,” Simon offered. He was close friends with Brandon and he would do what he could to help them. Although not quite ready for marriage, he thought that Madeline would make a suitable wife, tying the two families together. He had only to convince Brandon of that. Simon found Madeline appealing and desirable. He liked her smile, her ability to manage a household, and she was so easy to tease. With her beauty and social connections, she would make the perfect wife for him.

  “I will, Lord Simon,” Madeline replied, still a little flustered from Simon’s flirting and unaware of his intentions. Turning her attention back to Gretchen, she asked, “What can I do to help with your ball, Gretchen?”

  “I know it is a bad time, but I truly need your help, Maddy,” she implored. “It is turning into a disaster. My cook quit last week and I can’t find a replacement. The orchestra I ordered canceled yesterday and I can’t find another on this short notice.” Gretchen always became a nervous wreck when she had to plan the yearly Malany spring ball, or any large gathering for that matter. Some disaster always occurred despite her best efforts. She hated these functions, and she wouldn’t do them if it wasn’t for her brothers.

  “You take this too seriously, Gretchen. It will work out. It always does.” Simon put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her reassuringly.

  “That is easy for you to say. You don’t have to do the planning and have the old ladies criticize your failure every year,” Gretchen complained.

  “Your balls are never a failure,” Madeline laughed. “Gretchen, I will be happy to help you. I will send over my cook, Mrs. Beers, later today. She loves planning parties and I am sure she won’t mind helping you. She may even have some suggestions for another cook you could hire. As for the orchestra, I will contact Signor Sergio. His orchestra is very good and he owes me a favor.”

  “But you must also come to the ball, Maddy. Without you, it won’t be a success,” Gretchen pleaded, her pretty, gray eyes glistening with unshed tears. She so hated social gatherings. She was uncomfortable in large crowds and being the center of attention. Without Madeline at the ball, it would be unbearable for her.

  “Gretchen, of course, it will be a success, but I will need to ask Brandon if I can attend.” Madeline understood her friend’s distress and wished she could help her get over her anxiety.

  “You must, and Joselyn, you must come too. I will not take no for an answer,” Gretchen stated determinedly, blinking away her tears. “Now, we truly must get to the dress shop or I will be late for my fitting. I hope I don’t run into some disaster with that at least,” she joked before turning towards her brother. “Simon?”

  “I am uncomfortable leaving you ladies unattended. I don’t see your footman anywhere, Lady Madeline.” Simon scanned the crowd again for a footman wearing the Cathcart livery.

  “I am sure he is here somewhere, Lord Simon. No need to worry,” Madeline placated, trying to put him at ease.

  “Simon, we need to go.” Gretchen placed a hand on his wrist.

  “All right, Gretchen. Ladies.” Simon tipped his hat at the ladies, again searching for the footman before reluctantly setting the carriage in motion.

  As they drove away, Gretchen called out cheerfully, “Good day, ladies, enjoy your ride.”

  Joselyn snickered as they watched their friend hurry away, unaware of Simon’s concern. “She always panics when she has to plan a ball.”

  “I know,” Madeline laughed nervously, trying to dispel her worry that Simon suspected they were without an escort and informing one of her brothers. “But it wouldn’t be Gretchen if something didn’t go wrong.”

  “Then why does she plan them and how will she ever get a husband if she can’t plan a social event?” Deirdre questioned softly after quietly watching the exchange, wondering how someone of Gretchen’s status could not know how to plan a ball successfully.

  “Her brothers do the inviting and leave her to all the planning,” Madeline explained to her younger sister. “If she had her way, she would stay in the country in front of the fire, reading a book. She hates social events, and I think she will make a husband very happy, if her brothers can ever agree on one.”

  “But I thought she had sworn off marriage as we did?” Joselyn questioned, puzzled by Madeline’s comment.

  “She did, but only because of her brothers. She was tired of having her choices rejected,” Madeline said, giving her a partial truth. “One of her brothers always had some objection; consequently, she stopped encouraging her beaus and decided to leave the decision to her brothers, and they will never agree.” Madeline was aware that Joselyn wasn’t very fond of Gretchen, and if Gretchen wanted Joselyn to know the truth of things, then Gretchen would have told her.

  “Why doesn’t she run off and elope with her choice?” Joselyn asked with a sneer. She found Gretchen irksome and a simpering twit. She was always becoming frazzled over something and seeking her brothers’ approval for everything she did. She simply couldn’t understand why Madeline was friends with such a timid, irritating creature. She could only endure the girl for short periods of time, which is why she didn’t seek assistance from her or her brothers. At least she could tolerate Madeline, not to mention she was easier to manipulate than Gretchen.

  “Because like me, she loves and respects her brothers and would never hurt them in that way. She would rather that they approve of her choice or at least consider him,” Madeline replied as they walked their horses through a section of the path lined with trees.

  “I bet Brandon won’t consider our choice,” Deirdre complained sulkily. She wasn’t ready for the day she had to find a husband. She didn’t want to get married, not one little bit.

  “Deirdre, Brandon will consider my choice as well as yours when the time comes. You need to trust him more.” Madeline would have said more, but before she could, she was knocked off her horse, and her face met the ground.

  Instinctively, Madeline knew they were in trouble, and she should have been paying closer attention to their surroundings. In a daze, she got to her knees and
surveyed the area around her. Joselyn was sitting up appearing bewildered and Deirdre was struggling to get away from a red-haired man three times her size. Madeline didn’t take the time to think. She pushed herself off the ground, launched herself on the back of the man attacking Deirdre, and started pounding him with her fists, but before Madeline could do any damage, another man with dark, dirty hair and bulging biceps wrenched her off him, and she found herself facing her own assailant.

  Madeline refused to panic and did what Brandon taught her to do if anyone attacked her. Go limp, and she did, taking the man off guard. She bent at her waist, bringing the man’s arm within reach of her mouth. She tasted salty, dirty skin and blood when she sank her teeth into the exposed flesh. The man yelped and let her go. Lifting her skirt out of the way, Madeline quickly kicked him in the crotch, doubling him over. She put her hands together to make a large fist and hit him as hard as she could on the back of his neck. The man went down. Madeline turned to help Deirdre who was kicking the shins of the man holding her. Madeline balled her hand into a tight fist and punched him in the eye. With a yelp from the unsuspecting strike, he let Deirdre go, and Madeline turned back to Joselyn who was still sitting on the ground. “Joselyn, get up,” she commanded. “We need to go. Deirdre get the horses before they run.”

  As Madeline turned to mount her horse, she was swung around by the man who had been attacking Deirdre and was struck in the face. Stunned, she waited for the next blow, but his eyes glazed over, and his body fell forward. She quickly moved out of the way and stared at the knife protruding from his back. Not a yard away was his companion with a similar deadly wound and Madeline shivered at the sight. When she looked up, she saw a golden blond-haired woman with a figure similar to her own, coming towards her.

  Joselyn peered up from her seated position on the ground at the woman in shock. “Those men killed them.”

  “And what did you expect my men to do? Politely request your attackers to promenade around the pavilion after they had raped or killed you?” Turning her attention away from Joselyn, the strange woman addressed Madeline. “Lady Madeline, you shouldn’t be out here without an escort.”

  “How do you know me?” Madeline asked, confused because she had never met the woman before.

  “I am a friend of your brother’s, Cassandra Bradford.” She offered her hand in greeting.

  Vaguely recognizing her name, Madeline took her hand and thanked her in dazed confusion. “Oh, well, thank you for your assistance.” She had no idea to which of her brothers the woman was referring, but if she had to guess, it would be Brandon.

  “Anytime. My men over there will take you home,” the woman said, nodding to the two men who were retrieving their weapons. “And I will have someone take care of this . . . mess.” She gestured to the two dead men with the curl of her lip. She hated when she or one of her men had to kill, but sometimes it was unavoidable. The two dead men had only despicable plans for the three young ladies, and defending their honor had been necessary. Cassandra had no remorse seeing them dead.

  “Thank you,” Madeline replied again, still perplexed by the woman who had helped them.

  Cassandra nodded at Madeline and returned to her horse. Cassandra’s piercing gaze met Joselyn’s for a moment before she mounted her horse and was gone.

  Madeline looked at Joselyn who was holding the reins of her horse and felt it necessary to explain. “She is a friend of my brother’s.”

  Joselyn could only nod, disquieted by Cassandra Bradford’s knowing gaze. She had done nothing to help Madeline or Deirdre because she had no inclination of getting her hands dirty with ruffians like those men that lay dead on the ground. She grimaced at the other women with revulsion. Their clothes were filthy and torn, and there were signs of bruises and scratches on their arms and faces. It didn’t matter that she was probably the target of the attack. She had kept her dignity; ladies do not engage in fisticuffs.

  As she mounted her horse, Joselyn flicked a piece of dirt off her riding skirt, waiting impatiently for the other women. She wrinkled her nose with distaste as the men fussed over them and helped them to mount. “Finally,” she whispered under her breath as the men began leading them away from the grizzly scene. As they made their way back to the Cathcart’s estate, Joselyn wondered who Cassandra Bradford really was, which brother she was connected with, and would she have to deal with her.

  He watched and seethed with anger as two men attacked the women that he thought of as his; no one was supposed to hurt them but he. The idiots he had hired were only supposed to scare the ladies, not hurt them. He stood hidden behind a large oak, watching the scene unfold before him. He observed Joselyn calmly brushing the dust from her skirt while Madeline and Deirdre fought the two men. He should have known Joselyn wouldn’t bother herself with the business of defending her friends and putting herself in the line of danger. She thought so highly of herself and so little of others.

  Satisfied that his quarry was safe for the moment, he shifted his attention to the other two women. Madeline fought well, if not with much experience, and Deirdre, she was a little demon, kicking, hitting, biting, doing everything she could to get away. He smiled a little when Madeline took down the dirty, rough looking man attacking her, but when she gained the red headed man’s attention and he hit her, he took one step forward ready to end this altercation. Only he was going to have the pleasure of killing these ladies.

  Before he could take another step, there was a blond woman and two men he did not know stepping onto the pathway. One of the men threw a knife so fast it was a mere blur. He watched the lethal knife embed itself in the red head’s back, and less than a moment later, he saw another knife go through the air end over end and hit the second man as he attempted to stand, killing him instantly.

  The woman was talking with Madeline. It frustrated him that he could not make out what they were saying. He wanted to know who this woman was and what she was to the Cathcarts. He could not allow her to get in the way of his plans. He may have to kill her, but for now, he could wait. He watched them mount their horses, the strange blond woman going in one direction and Madeline, Deirdre, Joselyn, and the two men heading in the direction of the Cathcart’s manor. It took him only a moment to come to a decision. He mounted his horse and followed Joselyn.

  As they entered the livery yard, Madeline dismounted and turned to the two men who had escorted them home. “Thank you for bringing us home. We can manage from here,” she dismissed them, hoping they would go away before Brandon found out what had happened.

  “Ah, but chéri, I have orders to take you directly to your brother,” the dark-haired, wiry Frenchman commented, firmly taking her arm and directing her to the house. When they entered, he bellowed for her brother. “Cat! Cat!” He yelled again as he walked her through the foyer. “Cat!”

  “Stop your bellowing, Pierre. I heard you the first time.” Brandon appeared from the study and leaned casually against the door jam, folding his arms across his chest, watching the scene before him. “What do I owe the pleasure, mon ami?”

  “We came across your gems in dire need of assistance,” Pierre responded in a French accent, indicating the gems with a sweep of his arm.

  “And why did my gems need assistance?” Brandon questioned, staring pointedly at Madeline who blushed.

  “Some street thugs were attackin’ ‘em. We took care of ‘em and Cassie is takin’ care of the mess,” replied the lean, stocky man with a dingy, old cap on his head. Madeline vaguely remembered Pierre introducing him as Augustus MacAby or something like that.

  “Thank you for bringing them home.” Brandon nodded towards them and they took the hint and left.

  Brandon regarded the ladies with a steady gaze, missing nothing. Although, they were hiding it well, his sisters were both upset, tired, and in pain. He noticed the bruise on Madeline’s cheek, her mused hair, and the unshed tears. Deirdre’s dress was dirty and torn in several places. She had a smudge of dirt on her chin and she was favor
ing her right hand. The thought of his shy, little Deirdre being hurt like this infuriated him. He briefly scrutinized Joselyn and he was unimpressed by her behavior. She didn’t seem upset by their ordeal, but rather disinterested and inconvenienced by the whole affair. Not a hair was out of place, and it was obvious she did not take the brunt of the attack. It made him wonder if the attackers had intentionally left her alone, or if she had simply stayed out of the fray.

  Shifting his attention onto Madeline, Brandon questioned in a casual tone, “And where were you that these men had the chance to attack you, Madeline?”

  Madeline cringed. He was angry. His manner didn’t show it, but whenever he used her name like that and in that casual tone, she knew he was upset. To answer his question, she answered weakly, “We went riding in Hyde Park.”

  “And were you not forbidden to leave this house without my permission?” He inquired, raising one black eyebrow. Although he wanted to soothe away his sisters’ fears and hurts and give them each a comforting hug, he had no choice but to be firm, letting them know that they couldn’t continue disobeying him, now more than ever. Their lives were at risk and he couldn’t keep them safe if they kept defying him.

  She lifted her head rebelliously. “Yes, but it was during the day and we only went riding. There shouldn’t have been any difficulties.”

  “Madeline, that does not excuse your disobedience, and it certainly didn’t keep you from trouble, now did it?” He reprimanded with steel in his voice. He didn’t understand why she insisted on disobeying him. He needed her to be safe at home where she would be out of jeopardy. She was killing him; indeed, she was.

  “No,” she replied meekly, unable to meet his eyes. Oh, yes, she thought, she recognized that tone of voice and Brandon was furious with her.

  Deirdre was also familiar with Brandon’s tone of voice, and she couldn’t stand it anymore. She couldn’t let her sister be punished for something she caused. “It was my fault, Brandon,” she whispered shyly, and for the first time in her life, she faced her brother, accepting the blame she knew was hers.