by Darcy Burke
Anne worried that he sounded annoyed and hoped it didn’t prick her godfather’s curiosity. She rushed to distract him. “Godfather! I’m so glad to see you.”
“In truth, I’m surprised to see you. You avoided Society after Chamberlain was arrested, and I feared you would go into hiding again given what’s come to light about your most recent betrothed.” He gave her a sad look that only further exacerbated her ill feelings toward him.
Flexing her hands, she summoned a smile. “I’ve decided not to let your nephew get the best of me. I’m better off without him, and I want everyone to know it.”
“Hear, hear!” Ludlow crowed, beaming with pride.
Anthony looked to Ludlow and then Anne. “Will you excuse us? Jane and I wish to go speak with the Duke and Duchess of Halstead.”
“Of course,” Anne said, eager for them to leave, for then she could get her godfather into the house where she would get him to confess his crimes while Harry and his brother North listened. She glanced toward the house, where the two brothers stood in the shadows watching for her and Ludlow.
“Have you been into the ballroom?” Anne asked. There was a chamber nearby with refreshments and separate seating areas in which to meet and gather. Adjoining that was a smaller chamber where she could get her godfather alone and leave the door ajar so Harry and North could eavesdrop. Harry would then come in and arrest Ludlow for the murder of Rafe’s parents.
“I haven’t yet.”
She smiled up at him eagerly. “Would you mind escorting me? I’d love to see it.”
Before he could answer, Deborah strode up to them, rather, she wobbled. “Evening Papa, Anne.” She frowned at Anne then took her hand. Holding it between her two palms and squeezing, Deborah looked intently into Anne’s eyes. “Papa told me about my cousin—that scoundrel. It’s good you found out now. Before the wedding. Can you imagine if you had a second betrothed arrested on your wedding day?”
“Deborah!” Ludlow whispered urgently. “Keep your voice down. You aren’t helping dear Anne.”
“No, I suppose not.” She hiccupped, bringing her hand to her mouth and letting Anne go. “My apologies, Anne.” Her eyes narrowed at something in the distance. It was evident she’d already had much to drink. “Look at them milling about as if they should be accepted in Society. Disgusting.”
“Who?” Ludlow asked, pivoting so he could look in the direction of Deborah’s gaze.
“Those pretenders—my cousin, Selina.” She said the name as if it were a vulgarity. “And her fake sister, the bastard. I suppose I must suffer Selina’s presence since she’s managed to marry well, but Beatrix is a bastard and should be shunned.”
Anne had been momentarily stunned by Deborah’s vitriol, but managed to speak through her gritted teeth. “Except she also married well.”
“Bah. She took advantage of Rockbourne. He was grieving. She’s a liar and a fraud. And a bastard.” Her voice rose as she spoke, and heads around them turned in their direction. It was too much to hope that no one had heard what she’d said.
“Deborah!” Anne’s godfather repeated, his brows pitching low as his forehead creased.
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear you, Lady Burnhope.” The Duke of Ramsgate joined them. Of average height with an above average paunch, the duke was a widower and also the next-door neighbor of Beatrix. Had he come to her defense?
“I wasn’t trying to be quiet,” Deborah said with a sniff. “Everyone must know there is a fraud in our midst.”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to malign Lady Rockbourne.” The duke turned toward where Beatrix was standing with her husband and Selina. “Beatrix, would you come here, please?”
After exchanging looks with her husband and Selina, Beatrix started toward them. Thomas and Selina followed. Though Beatrix was small in stature, she carried herself with an enviable confidence.
“Good evening,” Beatrix said cheerily when she arrived. She gave Ramsgate a pleasant smile, which she also bestowed upon Anne and Ludlow. When her focus turned to Deborah, however, her smile faded and her blue eyes frosted.
Ramsgate gestured to Beatrix and spoke loudly and clearly, his gaze pinned to Deborah. “Allow me to present my daughter, Lady Rockbourne.”
Deborah’s milky-blue eyes widened and her jaw dropped. She sputtered but said nothing.
“Didn’t I tell you my father was a duke?” Beatrix said quietly so that only those in their small circle, which included Thomas and Selina, could hear.
Ludlow exhaled loudly and took his daughter by the arm. “Excuse us.” He gave Anne an apologetic look before steering Deborah toward the house.
Dammit! Anne’s shoulders bunched as she watched them go. She was supposed to be in Deborah’s place!
“Just like Deborah to ruin everything,” Beatrix said with a quiet heat.
Selina murmured in agreement before smiling broadly. “But that was brilliant.” She turned to Ramsgate. “I don’t know what provoked you, but thank you.”
“Yes, thank you.” Beatrix stared at her father. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything.” The duke’s voice was gruff. “I should have claimed you long ago, at least when you came out this Season. Although, you didn’t need my help to marry well.” He nodded toward Thomas, who inclined his head in return. “You have my thanks. I am glad to be on good terms with my next-door neighbor again. Perhaps you’d like to come to dinner next week?”
“I would, actually,” Thomas said. “And I think Beatrix’s half brother would probably like to join us.”
“Lovely.” Beatrix looked so happy that Anne nearly forgot about her own consternation.
Shaking her head, Anne was about to excuse herself so she could follow Ludlow and Deborah, but she couldn’t really do that by herself. Well, she could, but she shouldn’t. Blast, it was annoying to be unwed!
“Selina, would you mind accompanying me inside to the retiring room?” Anne asked.
“Not at all.” Selina gave Beatrix’s hand a squeeze and sent her a wide grin before joining Anne and going toward the house. “Deborah does her best to be awful, but we’ll find a way to turn this to our advantage.”
Anne hoped she was right. “Let’s hurry.”
They picked up their pace, and as they neared the house, Anne made eye contact with Harry, who nodded in response.
When they reached the door, Selina stopped. “I’ll leave you here. Good luck.”
“Thank you.” Anne went inside to the saloon, a large room with several seating areas. One, in a far corner, was occupied, and Deborah was lying on a chaise in another corner.
Eyes closed, with her hand draped across her forehead as if she’d fainted, Deborah looked pale. Anne had no sympathy for her.
Poking her none too gently, Anne leaned down. “Deborah.”
“What?” Deborah’s eyes fluttered open, but only barely. “Oh, Anne, it’s just you.” She closed her eyes once more.
Normally, Anne would ask after her welfare, but she had one objective, and it was imperative she complete her task. She also didn’t particularly care to make nice with Deborah and probably never would again. “Where did your father go?”
“That way.” Deborah waved her hand in no particular direction.
“Deborah, open your eyes,” Anne said sharply. “Where did he go? Show me.”
Deborah’s lids slowly lifted. She pointed to a doorway to her left. “That way.”
Towards the ballroom. Good. Anne exhaled as she went in the direction Deborah indicated. She didn’t give Deborah a second thought.
The next chamber was a sitting room with two doorways. The first led to the ballroom. Anne could see couples dancing and hear the music. It was possible he’d gone there, but Anne decided to try the other door.
As she approached, she heard voices.
“Tall, imposing bloke with the nasty scar on ’is chin. Blond, ye said?”
Anne stopped and listened, surprised at the
coarse speech here of all places. They had to be talking about Rafe. Tensing, she edged closer to the door, which was open just the tiniest sliver.
“Yes. Why isn’t he dead yet?” Ludlow’s voice was easy to discern.
Fear sliced through her. She hoped Harry and North would arrive soon.
“We want the money first.”
“That was not our arrangement,” Ludlow said testily.
“What ’ave we ’ere?”
The door opened suddenly. A hand grabbed Anne by the forearm and yanked her inside. The door snapped shut behind her.
Anne gasped as all heads in the room turned toward her. Besides her godfather, there were six men, all dressed as if they belonged here at a Society ball, but judging from their speech, they clearly did not.
“I was just looking for you,” Anne said to her godfather, her heart beating wildly.
“She were listenin’,” the man holding her arm said. “I saw ’er through the crack in the door.”
Ludlow took a few steps toward her, his gaze wary. “Anne, what did you hear?”
“Nothing.” She hoped they couldn’t see the fear in her eyes or the throb of her pulse in her throat.
“She’s lyin’.” The man gripped her arm more tightly. “I can feel her shakin’.”
Exhaling, Ludlow wiped his brow. “Anne, dear. You shouldn’t have come here.”
“We can take care of ’er when we take care of yer nephew.”
Anne’s breath snagged, and she struggled not to make a sound despite the fear curling around her chest.
Ludlow tossed a glare at the man who’d mentioned Rafe. “Do be quiet.” He sighed as he contemplated Anne. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it can’t be nothing. You do look rather frightened.”
Her mind scrambling, she fought to come up with something to say. “Only because you’re meeting with men who sound like…ruffians.”
“You heard them mention my nephew.”
“Yes.” Anne tried to remain calm even as her arm began to ache from the brigand’s grip and panic clawed at her insides. “But why should I care? I want nothing to do with him. I despise him.”
Ludlow smiled. “Of course you do. After tonight, he will never bother you again.”
This was not anything they’d planned for. And it suddenly seemed an obvious oversight. The man had killed before to gain the title. Why wouldn’t he do it again to keep it?
Because it had seemed he had another plan to get what he wanted, to simply ruin Rafe’s chances to be named the earl.
“You plan to kill him?” She spoke loudly, hoping that Harry and North were by now in the next room.
His brow furrowed, and he actually had the gall to look distressed. “I didn’t say that, did I?”
“She ’eard what Renny said,” the man holding her snapped. “About taking care of ’er as well as yer nephew. And I told ye she were listenin’.”
“No one’s ‘taking care’ of my goddaughter. Come, Anne, you can leave with me now.”
The man who’d been standing closest to Ludlow pulled a pistol from his coat. “Best to make sure she doesn’t talk.”
“No!” Ludlow took her hand and pulled her away from the man, bringing relief to Anne’s arm. “She’ll leave with me.”
“I can’t just leave,” Anne said, flailing for any reason to stay and prevent them from killing Rafe. “My sister will miss me.”
“We’ll send a footman to tell her.” Ludlow nodded at one of the men. He and another left the room via another door. “There, now you can leave with me. I’m going to Ivy Grove. You can spend the night. Lorcan is supposed to come too. He’s around here somewhere.” He started to pull her toward the door the other men had just left through.
Anne dug her heels into the carpet and pulled her hand from Ludlow’s. “No. I can’t leave.”
“She’s goin’ to warn ’im,” the man with the gun said. “Ye can’t trust ’er.”
“Of course I can,” Ludlow said. “Can’t I, dear?”
She took a step backward. “I can’t go with you, Godfather, not without speaking to Jane. Let me go and do that. In fact, why don’t you come with me?” She started toward the door, but the man who’d pulled her into the room beat her to it. He wasn’t very tall, but he was thick and menacing just the same. He bared his teeth, two of which were missing in the front.
“She’s goin’ to ruin the plan.” This came from behind Anne. Close behind her.
Before she could fully register the fear rising in her throat, everything went black.
Keeping his distance from Anne—and the entire start of the plan—was driving Rafe crazy. He’d arrived at Brixton Park with Selina and Harry, but had separated from them early on. Harry was staying close to the house, along with his brother, watching for when Anne lured her godfather inside.
They’d discussed the plan thoroughly and repeatedly, but that didn’t alleviate Rafe’s anxiety in the slightest. He still worried something might go wrong, and here he was on the other side of the maze, separated from all of them.
He was also the object of many people’s interest, some of whom approached him to brazenly ask about his claim to the earldom. Most, however, looked at him from a distance and spoke amongst themselves. And Rafe didn’t give one whit.
A footman came by with a tray of champagne. Rafe took a glass and nearly downed the entire contents in one drink.
He caught sight of Harry, Selina, Beatrix, Thomas, and North stalking toward him and clenched the glass so tightly in his hand that it broke, cutting his thumb. He shook his hand out, dislodging the bits of glass from his flesh.
To a one, their expressions were grim. An icy fear that Rafe had only experienced once before in his life slowed the blood in his veins. “What?”
It was Harry who spoke. “Anne’s gone. We followed her into the house, but we were waylaid by Deborah. She made quite a scene, and by the time we extricated ourselves, we couldn’t find Anne or Mallory.”
Rafe ran his shaking hand through his hair. “Let’s split up and look for her.”
Harry nodded. “We were thinking the same.”
“We’ll recruit Anthony and Jane too,” Thomas said, “And Ripley. I’m sure he’d want to help, and he can rally his servants to the cause. I’ll take care of it.” He took himself off.
North started to turn. “I’ll go to the stables.”
“He wouldn’t take her into the maze, so I don’t think we need to look there,” Harry said.
Rafe felt an overpowering sense of helplessness. He couldn’t breathe. “Do you think he took her from the estate?”
“It’s possible. I’ll hunt down his coach.” Harry gave Rafe an anguished stare. “I’m sorry.”
“We’ll stay with Rafe,” Selina said, quickly squeezing her husband’s hand before he left.
Rafe started around the maze toward the house. “We need to look. Did they search the entire house?”
“I think just the downstairs. They wanted to let us—and you—know what happened before too much time had passed.”
How much time? How long had Anne been gone? He stopped suddenly.
“What is it?” Beatrix asked from his left. Selina stood to his right.
“Are we even sure Mallory took her? He wouldn’t hurt her, I don’t think.” Hell, could he really be certain of that? The man had murdered his own flesh and blood. Rafe felt sick.
As Rafe struggled to draw a breath and calm his racing pulse as well as his careening insides, a footman in sharp blue livery walked straight toward him. Good, Ripley had already engaged the retainers. Perhaps they’d found her!
“Mr. Mallory?” the footman asked.
“Yes?”
“I’ve a message for you from Miss Pemberton. You’re to meet her at the folly.”
Rafe’s heart beat even faster. “Where is that?”
The footman pointed away from the house down a hill. “It’s not terribly large, but you can’t miss it. Would you like me to take you?”
“No. I need you to find Lord Northwood and Mr. Sheffield or Lord Rockbourne and tell them we’ve gone to the folly to find Miss Pemberton.”
The footman nodded once. “Yes, sir.”
Rafe spun about and strode toward the hill.
Selina and Beatrix had to practically run to keep up with him. Hell, why wasn’t he running? They’d reached the top of the hill, and he broke into a sprint, letting gravity help him along the way.
“Rafe, wait!” Selina called, but he didn’t slow.
At the base of the hill, he caught sight of the pale stone of the folly. It was smaller and far less ornate than the one at Ivy Grove. This looked more like the partial ruins of an abbey that Henry the Eighth had destroyed.
“Anne?” he called as he arrived at the folly, his chest heaving.
A dark figure stepped out from behind one of the walls, his hand arcing up. Rafe ducked and drove forward with his shoulder, catching the man in the groin. The brigand collapsed with a grunt, but another took his place, his arm coming down and the blade in his hand glinting in the moonlight. Rafe tumbled to avoid the blow and immediately rolled to his back. The floor of the folly, made of flat rocks pieced together, did not make for a soft landing.
He stood over Rafe and snarled, brandishing the knife as he bent. There was a flurry of activity then, of dark red and turquoise skirts swirling and multiple bodies moving. The man above him groaned and pitched forward. Rafe rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding his falling body.
Jumping to his feet, Rafe whipped his knife from his boot and started toward another villain. Glancing around the folly, he counted four men on their feet with the fifth on the ground. Plus Selina and Beatrix, who were wielding their own knives.
“Come at me!” Rafe yelled, trying to distract the men from his sisters. And yes, Beatrix was his sister in every way that mattered, in a way that blood, such as that which he shared with his uncle, did not.
Two of the men turned their attention to Rafe. One called, “Flank him!”
Rafe was ready for them. He held up his right arm as a shield while wielding the knife in his left. That his left was his dominant hand usually gave him an advantage, as his opponents weren’t expecting that.
