by Em Taylor
“Should I come…” began the Duke.
“No. Look after your guests. Best not to cause more gossip if this is a false alarm.”
They hurried out into the street, not even waiting for their great coat and pelisse. It was freezing outside but Sophia barely felt it.
“There is Beattie’s carriage. Nate will tell him what has happened. He shall come in my carriage.”
They hopped in before the coachman could get down to arrange the step. “Lord Beattie’s house now. He will know to take my carriage. And hurry.”
“Aye my lord.”
It seemed to take forever to travel the few short streets to her brother’s town house, but she clung to Jason’s arm all the way, feeling as if his presence was her only lifeline. What would she do if something happened to Oscar? She loved him with all her heart. He was the centre of her world. How could she have left him in the care of servants? Was she a terrible mother? How had it come to this?
“I shall never forgive myself if he has come to harm,” she said in a whisper.
“No darling. You cannot think like that. Surely he shall be in his cradle, gurgling away—with a disgusting-smelling clout that has to be changed immediately.”
She bit her lip. “I do hope you are correct.”
As the carriage slowed, Jason was jumping out of it then turning to grab her by the waist and lift her to the ground. There was no ladylike walk to the house. Sophia lifted her skirts and ran to the door. When she lifted the knocker of the door, in itself unusual because the butler usually saw the carriage approach, the door started to open by itself. She pushed on it and it swung open. Grantham, the old butler was lying face-down, with a bleeding wound on his bald pate, just inside the door.
“Oh God.” It was all Sophia could manage as she grabbed the wall and headed inside.
Chapter 20
“I shall deal with Grantham,” It was Lady Beattie’s voice that Jason heard above the ringing in his ears. This was worse than the seconds after the shooting. At least then Oscar was crying, so he had known the baby was alive.
“Fine,” he muttered to no one in particular. He had to get in front of Sophia. Had to protect her. It was imperative. As he overtook her near the bottom of the stairs, he stopped just as Sophia gasped. The butler may well survive the blow to his head but the poor bloody footman was most definitely dead. A lead ball in the back of his head had seen to that. “The nursery, Sophia. We must get to the nursery.”
“He is dead. I know he is dead. I know he is dead. I know…” she repeated over and over as they climbed three flights of stairs, her small cold hand in his. It was as if she was preparing herself for the worst and by repeating it she would cope when it happened. He did not have the heart to say otherwise in case she was right. False hope at this point was cruel. Benson had shown exactly what he was. They opened the door of the nursery and walked inside. It was empty. There was no baby in the cradle, no wet nurse in the chair. Sophia lifted a hand to her mouth and let out a whimper but ran to the adjoining door to the nurse’s bed chamber. She threw open the door but there was nothing.
“I shall go down the servants’ stairs. You stay here where it is safer.” She was scrabbling among the blankets in the cradle as if the babe could be hiding among the blankets. Of course the cradle was not particularly big and the child was absolutely not in it. He hated leaving her, but she was unravelling with her grief and he had to find Oscar before it was too late. Surely Emily would be here soon. He yelled Emily’s name as he rushed for the servants’ staircase.
He would not fail Sophia now. He could not. He grabbed the pistol that he had kept in the back of his breeches since they had left Ashgate estate. Now was not the time to be reticent to use a firearm.
∞ ∞ ∞
Sophia knew in her heart that ripping the blankets out of the cradle was fruitless but doing something made her feel better. A noise from the wardrobe in the corner of the room made her still. The wardrobe was on the same wall as the door but in the opposite corner. Once the door was open, a quick glance into the room from the doorway may mean someone would not necessarily notice the piece of furniture if they were in a hurry.
Sophia moved slowly to the large oak wardrobe, her feet making no noise in her dainty red slippers. The door opened with her having to turn the knob. She peeked in and saw the terrified faces of Maggie and Linda. Linda had a bundle held to her, suckling at her breast. Well it was one way to keep her darling baby quiet she supposed. Linda shook her head, her eyes wide. Sophia understood. Don’t give them away. Benson was still in the house. She closed the door back over and was considering where she should go, when a candle appeared in the doorway, followed by Benson, holding a knife. It looked like a kitchen knife. Mayhap he had run out of lead balls and gun powder. Mayhap he found the pistol too much hassle.
Just as he entered the room, a high pitched little cry came from inside the wardrobe.
“What have you done with my baby? Where is he?” Sophia screamed to drown out any noise Oscar may be making. “Where have you taken him? Please tell me you haven’t killed him. Oh God, you evil scoundrel. How dare you take my baby? Give Oscar back to me you disgusting oaf. You have no right.” As her tirade continued she advanced on him, screaming as if she was fit for bedlam, aware that her son was beginning to cry properly but that the sound was muffled. Concerned that she was making him worse, she was hoping to encourage Benson out of the room, but that would not be enough. She would have to get him downstairs. Unless her screaming had alerted Jason. But would he be able to disarm Benson?
Benson approached her and grabbed her by the throat. Her airway tightened and she could scream no longer. Oscar’s cries, muffled but still obviously the cries of a baby, were loud and clear through the wardrobe door.
“Trying to misdirect me, you little hellion?” Benson narrowed his eyes and made a tsking sound as if he was disappointed in Sophia’s disobedience. “Is he in there alone?”
“I assume so.” She would not give away the servants’ position if possible. “You really should have accepted my proposal Sophia. We could have been happy together. I was always quite jealous of Uncle Octavius. I thought of suggesting that you and I have an affair. It was not as if the old man was making much of a job of getting you with child, since years were passing without you increasing.”
Sophia glanced around her wondering if there was a way out of this situation. She not only had herself and Oscar to worry about, but she had Linda and Maggie and Maggie had already been shot. Benson was pushing her backwards towards the wardrobe. When they got to it, he shoved her hard against the panel beside the door. His fingers and thumb dug into her neck harder and she gasped for air. When he lifted the knife to her neck and let the pressure go, she hissed at him.
“I knew you could not be trusted.”
“Come my sweet, you can trust me not to kill Oscar if you do as I say. Where is Reid?”
“Probably away to get the Bow Street Runners.”
“Then he shall be away for a while.” He kicked the door of the wardrobe open and above the racket that Oscar was making, a gasp and a whimper were audible. Sophia closed her eyes and prepared herself but Benson merely sniggered.
“Leave the babe in the wardrobe and go. You saw nothing and heard nothing, understand?”
“Aye,” said Linda as she eased out of the wardrobe and helped a stiff Maggie, who was clearly still suffering after her bullet wound. Linda lay Oscar on the hard wood of the floor of the empty wardrobe and with an apologetic look at her mistress moved to leave. Benson turned his attention back to Sophia. It seemed Benson assumed that servants were mindless idiots, who obeyed orders no matter what they were told or by whom. It was only then that Sophia noticed the poker in Maggie’s hand. She handed it to the wet nurse. Was Maggie unable to wield the weapon after her injury? Linda lifted the poker above her head and looked ready to rush Benson, but something stopped her.
Sophia was not listening to Benson’s ramblings. Something
about them setting up home in Cumberland and him wanting to tumble her. She would have been quite overcome with nausea at the thought but for the drama going on behind his back. Jason had snuck into the room and was holding his finger to his lip. The servants this time obeyed. He lifted a pistol and moved on silent feet towards them. The squeak of a floorboard caused Benson to jerk his head around and the knife stung at Sophia’s neck.
“Reid!” Benson spat out. “Sophia has agreed to marry me. I am sorry, old chap. Looks like you will have to find another hellion to tumble in the stables at Whitsnow’s estate.”
Jason’s jaw tightened but his gaze never left Benson and his outstretched arm holding the pistol never wavered.
“You would want to be the father not only to your uncle’s son but to my bastard?”
“Your bastard?”jh
“Of course. You do not think there is another reason I am marrying her do you. Good God man, I do not need a damned leg-shackle. But gentlemanly honour dictates that you leave your seed there, you bear the consequences.”
“You are with child again?”
Sophia swallowed hard. She was a dreadful liar, but she had to. “It seems that I am.”
Benson’s grip on the knife tightened and the warm trickle of blood running down Sophia’s neck, accompanied the sting of the knife.
“You disgust me, you harlot.”
“I apologise.”
“It’s not good enough.” The knife was removed and he lifted his hand, just as his fist made contact with her cheek, the report of the firearm resounded throughout the room. The servants both screamed, Oscar howled and Sophia could barely comprehend what was going on. Her eye felt as though it had been trampled over by a Clydesdale horse. Benson was clinging on to her. He let out one final groan and went limp. He slid down her body, her gown partially being pulled out of place as he did so, and crumpled in a heap at her feet.
“Devil take it. I saw red when he hit you.”
“He was moments away from slitting her throat, my lord. You done the right thing,” wailed Linda.
Another wail from Oscar reminded Sophia of the baby and she threw open the door and dropped to her knees, scooping up her screaming precious bundle.
Jason approached and lifted her chin. “You need that wound attended and this young man needs his clout changed. The smell is abhorrent.”
“I love this smell. It means he is alive. Thank you Linda and Maggie. You saved his life.”
“We just hid in the wardrobe with him, my lady. You did all that screaming. It was quite impressive.”
“He must have thought I was fit for Bedlam,” she said with an almost hysterical little giggle. She then glanced at the man at her feet. Most definitely dead, with a large gaping wound in the back of his head. “What do we do now?”
“We call the Bow Street Runners and get that carcass removed.” She looked up to see her big brother, pale but strong, removing the pistol from Jason’s grip. “Come on, old chap. You did what you had to do to save my sister and my nephew. Better him than them.”
“Aye, of course. I just never expected to just feel relief if I ever had to kill a man.”
“You are in shock. Come, let us all go to the drawing room, the servants included. We need tea while we wait for the Runners.”
“What will we tell them?” Sophia asked.
“The truth,” said Gideon shrugging. “It is usually the best thing.”
“The ton did not believe us a couple of hours ago. What makes you think the Bow Street Runners shall?”
“We have witnesses.”
Sophia nodded as she was ushered out of the nursery. Oscar seemed to have settled and had found his thumb to suck on.
Jason’s arm around her steadied her. It should be her comforting him.
“You were very brave, my darling. If not for that intolerable noise you started to make, I would not have come back to the nursery. I hate to think what would have happened.”
“You know I would never have married him, do you not?”
“Of course I do. You would miss me in your bed.”
The light teasing in his whispered words sent a thrill through Sophia and for a moment it felt as though the last awful hour or so had not happened. She looked up into the eyes of her betrothed. He looked troubled but relieved and the sparkle was still there, though somewhat masked. She leaned her head against him. With her baby in one arm and the love of her life at her side, Sophia knew that no matter what happened, she could confront anything.
Epilogue
“I have an apology to make,” said Jason as he removed his cravat.
“Oh?” Sophia lay on the bed in a sheer night gown feeling a little shy, which was really rather silly since the man had kissed, licked and touched every part of her body. But this was her wedding night and somehow, she suddenly felt nervous.
“Well, in marrying me, I have caused you to be somewhat demoted in rank from a viscountess to a mere daughter-in-law of an earl. Your title of ‘Lady’ is courtesy only.”
“As the daughter of a viscount, I grew up with a mere courtesy title anyway, so I would not concern yourself about it, my lord. Besides, one day, I hope to be a countess.”
“Planning to marry an earl?” he teased.
“Something like that. I have my eye on a very handsome gentleman who is heir to an earldom.”
He lay on the bed beside her, naked and ready. “Anyone I know?”
“Probably not. He comes ∞∞∞teasing and laughing. He had turned her head and was inspecting the healing wound on her neck. “I wish you had covered this today.”
“I left it for everyone to see for a reason. Just in case the story had not got around about how Benson wished to kill me a few nights ago, I thought I would give the ton something to gossip about. Plus, it is vindication for when they did not believe us at the Duke and Duchess of Kirkbourne’s soiree.”
“You wanted them to feel guilty?”
“A little. Is that very bad?”
Jason grinned. “Well, if it is, I am bad too. Though I believe that the information that the Bow Street Runners gave us, about the treasures from all those Mayfair robberies that they found in Benson’s bachelor apartment, will have spread like fire around the Beau monde. Those robberies were brutal. Many servants and even a few of the house owners were badly hurt by the culprit. And it does sound like Benson or an accomplice carried them out.”
“I did not particularly like him, but I did not imagine him to be quite such a vile person as he turned out to be.”
“I know. Let us hope we never meet anyone so dastardly again.”
“Did you receive a letter from Lord Whitsnow?”
“I did. He sent it here instead of my bachelor rooms. It seems that news has even reached Cumberland of our nuptials. He congratulated us. He is getting the roof fixed with the help of some locals. The work is nearly complete. He said he was much looking forward to getting his house back to himself.”
“He needs a woman’s touch.”
“I’m sure plenty of women touch Robert. He’s a handsome enough devil.”
“I do not mean he needs a lover. I mean he needs a wife.”
“Do not try to match-make for the poor fellow if he comes to Town, Sophia. He would hate that. And in Cumberland there are slim pickings among the ladies. Why, when I was there, there was only one eligible lady on the couple of occasions we went to church and she was definitely not Robert’s type.”
“Was she plain?”
“No, she was pretty. Though not as pretty as you. But she was… well she was surrounded by children.”
“A widow?”
“No. She and her mother took in orphans and looked after them. They did not even make the orphans work until they were at least twelve years old. They taught them in a school room and got the men to apprentice the boys in places like the stables. It was all rather…”
“Kind?”
“Oh you know what I mean.”
“No Jason. If Oscar h
ad not been the child of a viscount and Benson had killed me, then he would have relied on someone like this woman you seem to so disdain. Robert could do worse.”
“I doubt he would see it that way.”
“Well shame on Robert.”
“Hmm, you have convinced me, now lie back, those breasts are just calling out for my lips.”
Sophia smiled as Jason climbed on top of her. It was time to start creating another baby and filling the nursery. But this time, she was going to enjoy every second of it.
THE END
If you enjoyed Lord Rose-Reid and the Lost Lady, why not read the rest of the Contrary Fairy Tales.
Chapter one of Sleeping Lord Beattie below
Prologue
Gideon Beattie, or Viscount Beattie as he was known, trudged through the mud, carrying three large planks of wood. They were needed to mend one of his stables. The place was falling apart. Everything was falling apart. Gideon hadn’t realised just how bad things had got in the past few years. His father had allowed the estate to fall into rack and ruin. Many staff had left due to the fact his father hadn’t paid them. Gideon couldn’t blame them. If only his father had told him. He could have helped.
Gideon had made a modest fortune in the years during and after university. With the money his father had given him monthly, he’d lived the life of a young buck but had also saved and invested wisely. He had a bit of a talent for sniffing out a good investment and some of his investments, especially in the shipping trade, had paid off handsomely. He also knew when to quit when he ventured into a gaming hell. If you are losing quit. If you win big, quit.
It seemed this had not been something he’d inherited from his father’s side of the family. The man had drunk, gambled away the family fortune and after one final bad investment, Gideon’s father took his own life. Gideon’s sister had found him, face down, on his desk, a bottle of laudanum spilt over the surface. He’d taken enough of the opiate to kill a horse; the doctor had said.
