The School for Heiresses: 'Wed Him Before You Bed Him

by Sabrina Jeffries

  Because he had, but she was not fool enough to point that out. Merciful heavens, she was in the clutches of a murderer. He might not have held Sarah under, but he’d killed her as surely as if he had. How could Charlotte hope that he would ever let her go?

  “Once you saw she was dead, you cut her wrists and forged that suicide note, I suppose,” Charlotte said dully. “To make it look as if she killed herself.”

  “I had to do something, don’t you understand? I couldn’t…I knew I would hang. When we were children, we used to play pranks on each other by writing outrageous letters in each other’s hands, so I could write in her hand fairly well.”

  “Clearly well enough to fool the authorities.” She stared at him. “But if you did accidentally kill her, why did you write the letter that started the investigation?”

  A harsh laugh escaped him. “For the same reason I took you—to get money from my tight-fisted brother-in-law. After Sarah died, he felt sorry for me, and he gave me whatever I asked for. But then everything changed. You came along, taking all the money with your damned legacy—”

  “So you framed him for murder?”

  “I knew the authorities would never take him to trial, not a lofty viscount like him,” he said defensively. “He wasn’t even in the house. But I figured if it looked bad enough for him, he would be desperate to clear his name.”

  He dragged in a heavy breath. “Then I could offer to clear him in exchange for a substantial sum. I could tell them he’d gone drinking with me or gambling or something. But instead of charging him, they started asking questions of the servants. Next thing I knew, they were talking about some diary…I never even realized that Sarah had a diary! And it would be just like her to write about my peccadilloes in it. Then they would come after me for sure.”

  Staring out over the water, he scowled. “Even so, I would have offered to clear him if I could have found him. But he was in the country somewhere, and they wouldn’t tell me where, and Timms’s men were breathing down my neck…He left me no choice, running off like that. I had to do something.” A petulant look crossed his face. “Besides, he deserves to suffer. If not for him and his penny-pinching, Sarah would still be alive.”

  Charlotte said nothing, afraid she would let her anger show if she did. How could Richard not see that he had brought everything on himself? First, he had used his sister for his own purposes. Then when he was done with her, he had killed her and tried to set up an innocent man for the crime he had committed.

  What would he do with her, once she was of no use to him anymore? She shuddered to think.

  But one thing she knew for certain—she was not going down without a fight.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  David stood on the bank of the river with the satchel of jewels in his hand, trying to see beyond his lantern. Thank God his mother was away visiting his sister. Explaining his sudden appearance to her would have been tricky.

  Not as tricky as this, though. Richard had to be there somewhere. David held the lantern higher, relieved when its light reached to the edge of Saddle Island. He thought he could see a flickering on the island beyond the gazebo, but there was no sound, which alarmed him. All he could hear was the water lapping against the rowboat moored at the nearby landing.

  Somewhere on the opposite bank of the Thames was Pinter, waiting for his men to arrive. He had wanted David to hold off until they came, but since David wasn’t sure why they’d been delayed, he wasn’t taking the chance of Richard’s hurting Charlotte while he stood by twiddling his thumbs. He meant to get her back. Now.

  “Richard!” he cried across the water. “Where are you, damn it? Come get your bloody jewels!”

  At first he saw and heard nothing. Then something moved into the edge of the lantern light. Richard was pushing Charlotte ahead of him. She appeared to have her hands bound, and Richard had a pistol pressed to her temple.

  David’s heart stopped. One slip of the foot, one trip, and Charlotte would be dead. Damn the bastard to hell!

  “I didn’t expect you so soon,” Richard called out, suspicion in his voice.

  “I wasn’t far outside of London,” David lied. Then he turned his attention to Charlotte, wishing he could see her better. “Charlotte, are you all right?”

  “She’s unharmed,” Richard called back, “but she’ll only stay that way if you get those jewels to me.”

  “I want to hear her say it herself!” David snapped.

  When Richard murmured to her, she called back, “I’m fine, David. He has not hurt me, I swear.” Her voice sounded surprisingly calm, and that eased David’s panic a little.

  “Just row over here with the jewels,” Richard ordered, “and she’ll remain perfectly safe.”

  Grimly, David nodded. Tossing the satchel into the rowboat, he balanced the lantern on the spare seat, then climbed in and picked up the oars. He’d rowed across to Saddle Island a hundred times in his youth, but the distance had never felt so far. Every minute that hung in the balance made his pulse treble, and he’d broken into a cold sweat by the time he reached the other side.

  He just wanted this done with, so he could hold Charlotte again. He would not feel safe until he had her out of Richard’s clutches. After pulling the boat up on the bank and setting the lantern down beside it, he reached for the satchel.

  “Not yet,” Richard said. “Take off your coat and waistcoat and throw them into the boat.” When David did so, he added, “Now turn in a circle.”

  Though David had considered carrying a pistol, Pinter had advised him against it, anticipating just such a move on Richard’s part. But the knife tucked in his boot would suffice, if he could get close enough to use it.

  Once Richard was satisfied that David had no weapons, he said, “Bring the satchel up and set it on that rock between us.” When David had done so, Richard said, “Now, go back to the boat.”

  David didn’t budge. “I want Charlotte.”

  “You’ll get her. Just do as I say.”

  Reluctantly, David backed down the bank. To his surprise, Richard drew a knife from his pocket, still holding the pistol to Charlotte’s head, and cut her bonds. “All right, Mrs. Harris, go get the satchel. And don’t think to run to your lover, or I’ll shoot you in the back.”

  “You would never do that,” she said in a steady voice. “I know that deep down you are a good man, Richard. You do not want to hurt me. Let me just go to David—”

  “Quiet!” Richard cried and cocked the pistol.

  The sound struck terror to David’s heart. “Do as he says, Charlotte,” David said hoarsely.

  Paling, she walked to the satchel.

  “Open it and show me what’s in it,” Richard commanded.

  As she knelt to do so, David said, “Do you think I’d cheat you? At the risk to her life?”

  “You were tightfisted enough when it was my sister who wanted the money.”

  “That was hardly the same. I didn’t know that Sarah’s life depended on it,” David choked out.

  Richard’s gaze shot to him. “What are you talking about?”

  Pinter had said to keep Richard off-balance, that it would make it easier to gain control of the situation. But seeing Richard’s pistol waver now made David rethink that advice. The last thing he wanted was a bullet going astray and hitting Charlotte. “Nothing.”

  “You think I killed Sarah, don’t you?” Richard demanded.

  David remained silent.

  “Show me the damned jewels, Mrs. Harris!” Richard growled.

  Charlotte held up the boxes, opening them one by one to show a ruby parure, an emerald necklace, three strings of pearls, several rings set with diamonds, emeralds, and more pearls—jewelry that had been in his family for generations.

  “Well, well,” Richard said, his eyes gleaming at the sight. “Sarah wasn’t lying when she boasted she had quite the little collection to wear to dinner parties. Very good, Kirkwood.” He motioned to Charlotte. “Bring the satchel over here.”
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  When she picked it up, David said, “No. She stays.”

  As Charlotte froze, Richard glowered at him. “Have you forgotten who’s holding the pistol?”

  “You’ve got what you wanted,” David countered. “Now let Charlotte come with me. By the time we can row back to land, you’ll be long gone.”

  Richard shifted his aim to David. “Mrs. Harris, bring the satchel here unless you want to see your lover die before your eyes.”

  “Stay there, Charlotte,” he growled. “He won’t shoot me.”

  “I will not take the chance,” she said as she hurried back up to Richard.

  Looping his arm about her waist, Richard started backing away, keeping his pistol aimed at David.

  “You agreed to let her go if I brought you the jewels,” David said as he marched after them. “Are you not a man of your word?”

  “Stay back!” Richard commanded. “I need her to get me to the coast. No one will dare approach me if I have her. Then I’ll let her go.”

  “I’m not letting you leave with her,” David said, moving inexorably forward. “You can have the jewels—I don’t give a damn about them. You can walk away a free man. Just let her go!”

  “Take one more step forward, and I’ll kill her!” Richard cried, and to David’s horror, he started to turn the pistol back on Charlotte.

  A sudden noise came from the other side of the island, a shout and the sounds of oars slapping the water. Apparently Pinter had gone after Richard’s companions, whoever they were. Startled, Richard turned his head in that direction.

  Then everything happened at once. Charlotte brought the satchel up, knocking the pistol into the air where it discharged harmlessly into the sky. Cursing, Richard pulled out his blade and lunged for her, but David launched himself at the man, yelling at Charlotte to run.

  They rolled to the ground, David pummeling the younger man with his fists as Richard slashed wildly. Fighting to keep the knife at bay kept David from being able to reach for his own blade. He managed a stiff uppercut that sent Richard’s head snapping back, but just as David bent to grab the knife in his boot, Richard stuck his own blade deep in David’s thigh. Acting on pure reflex, David brought his knife up and buried it in Richard’s heart.

  Richard’s face contorted in pain. He stared up at David, shock sharpening his features. As blood seeped out over his white waistcoat, staining it crimson, Richard glanced down, then back at David.

  “I want you to know…I didn’t…mean…to kill her…” he gasped.

  Then he fell back lifeless.

  David pushed off Richard, reeling from the man’s words…and from the blood pouring everywhere. He felt light-headed. Somewhere beyond him, he heard Charlotte scream. Then she was gathering him up in her arms, chanting over and over, “Oh God, oh God, David, oh God…”

  That was the last thing he heard before he passed out.

  Charlotte laid David down only long enough to fetch the lantern and examine his wound. When she saw his thigh soaked in blood, her heart nearly failed her. There was so much of it!

  Tearing off her fichu, she tied it tightly around his leg above the wound. She had to stop the bleeding! Tears poured down her cheeks as she knotted the tourniquet as she’d learned to do when the girls were volunteering at the hospital. “Don’t you dare die on me, David Masters,” she cried. “Don’t you dare leave me!”

  She used his cravat to bandage the cut, hoping the pressure might slow the bleeding. She had to get him off this island—he needed a doctor badly. Besides, she wasn’t sure if the shouting and the pistol shots behind her came from friend or foe. They were receding anyway, as if someone were giving chase down the river. She could see David’s horse tethered on the opposite bank. If she could just get him that far…

  It took all her strength to drag him down the bank to the rowboat. She pulled and pushed him into it, before shoving the boat off the bank and climbing into it herself. That’s when it hit her. She was on the river again. In a boat. And this time she alone was in charge of keeping it afloat.

  Oh God, she’d never rowed a boat. What if they capsized? She gazed at the black water around her and felt her throat close up. Panic rose in her chest, and her arms shook so badly she couldn’t even grip the oars.

  Then David moaned. She would not let him die because of some foolish fear, curse it. She would not!

  Grabbing the oars, she began to row toward the bank. At first, the boat seemed to have a will of its own. It drifted farther and farther down the river, and she couldn’t figure out how to make it stop.

  “Dip the right…oar deeper…” David rasped.

  Startled, she glanced at him. He was trying to struggle up onto the seat.

  “Lie still!” she ordered, tears of relief streaming down her face to see him conscious at least. “You’ll injure yourself worse.”

  “You have to pull…the oars together. But…harder with the right.”

  She did as he said, and the boat spun.

  “Not that hard! Just a little. Enough to aim it upriver.”

  It took her several tries to get the hang of it, but soon she was making some headway.

  “Good.” He collapsed against the seat. “Good girl.”

  Some water sloshed over the top of the boat, and fear gripped her again. Talk to him. Don’t think about the river.

  “You may not have noticed, David Masters, but I haven’t been a girl in some years.”

  He managed a weak smile. “Believe me…I noticed, my love.”

  Her gaze shot to him. “What did you say?”

  “I’ve been so…stupid…sweeting.” He shifted position, and a spasm of pain crossed his face.

  “Don’t talk,” she cried in alarm. “Just lie still.”

  He shook his head. “I want you to know…just in case I…”

  “Don’t you dare say it! You are not going to die, curse you! I won’t let you!”

  A tender smile curved up his mouth. “That’s what I…love about you, Charlotte. You’re stubborn as the very…devil.” He wet his lips. “You were right, you know. About my…lying to you. Some stupid part of me…still resented you for…our past nonsense. But whatever’s left of that…is gone. My fear of losing you again…drove it out.”

  “Please, David, not now,” she said hoarsely as she rowed. She could see what talking cost him. His eyes were glazed with pain, and the cravat she’d tied around his leg was already soaked with blood. “And you’re not going to lose me. Ever.”

  “Do you swear it?” he choked out.

  “I swear it. I shall never leave you again.”

  “Does that mean…you forgive me for my…masquerade?”

  “I forgive you for everything,” she said fervently. “You were right, too. I was afraid to let you too close. But I’m not afraid anymore.”

  “I was afraid…to admit I…still loved you. But I do. And I always will…”

  “Oh God, David, I love you, too. Please, please don’t die! I couldn’t bear it!”

  As she spoke, his head fell back against the seat, and his eyes slid shut again.

  She pulled for all she was worth, until her hands were raw and bleeding. Then suddenly men appeared on the bank, shouting to other men. For a moment she panicked, fearing that it was Richard’s scoundrels, until she spotted Mr. Pinter.

  Within moments, the men were pulling the boat up to the landing and lifting David to carry him off to a waiting carriage.

  “Are you all right?” Mr. Pinter asked as he helped her out of the boat.

  She had never been so happy to feel something solid beneath her feet in all her life. “He needs a doctor right away. You have to save him!”

  “We’ll do our best,” Mr. Pinter murmured, putting his arm about her and leading her along the landing. “I’m sorry you had to struggle alone. I went after the other fellows, thinking you might be on their boat. When I caught up to them and saw that you weren’t, I headed this way. Fortunately, my men arrived at the same time.”


  “There’s something you have to know,” she said. “David did not kill Sarah. Richard did. He told me—”

  “Yes, we guessed as much. Where is Linley now?”

  “I think he’s dead. He’s still on the island. David stabbed him.”

  He had done it to save her. And now the only man she had ever loved might die.

  Oh God, he must not! If he did, how would she ever go on living without him?

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  David awoke in a sun-drenched room with his leg throbbing like the devil. It took a second for him to realize that he was in his own bed at the estate, wearing only his shirt. How did he get here? All he could remember was staring up at the dark night sky as Charlotte rowed—

  “Charlotte,” he murmured through a mouth that felt dry as toast.

  “Well, well, I see the patient is finally awake.”

  He swung his gaze toward the decidedly male voice and felt keen disappointment when he spotted Pinter lounging in an arm chair. Where was Charlotte? Had he dreamed that she’d said she would never leave him? And that last part…He could swear she’d said she loved him. Though he wasn’t sure of that. Everything was fuzzy.

  “You’ve given everyone quite a scare, my lord,” Pinter went on. “But you’re a very lucky man. If that knife had been an inch to the left, you would never have made it off the island. Mrs. Harris’s deft doctoring helped, as well. Your brother-in-law was not so lucky.”

  “Is he…”

  “Yes. Quite dead.”

  “So we’ll never know if…”

  “Actually, we know it all now. Not only did he confess everything to Mrs. Harris, but we caught up to his compatriots, and they confirmed what she said, since they heard the entire conversation. According to Mrs. Harris, Linley argued with your wife and pushed her into the tub, where she hit her head on the edge. When she lost consciousness and sank under, he just stood by and watched her drown.”