A Rogue to Ruin (The Untouchables: The Pretenders Book 3)

by Darcy Burke

  Holding off one with his arm, he lunged toward the other, aiming his knife for the underside of the man’s chin. While the one man’s blade sliced through Rafe’s sleeve and nicked his flesh, he caught the other’s jaw. Unfortunately, he moved fast enough to avoid real damage.

  With a low growl, Rafe threw his leg out and tripped the man who’d cut his arm, sending him to the ground.

  “Rafe, I have a pistol!” Beatrix shouted.

  “Use it!” he called.

  The report of the weapon filled the night air as one of the men fell to the stones.

  Suddenly, there were more people, and a moment later, the remaining three brigands were on the ground.

  Harry stood over them, pistol in hand. “You’re all going to face the magistrate. I work for Bow Street.”

  One of the men swore.

  Rafe moved to stand next to Harry. “Where is Anne?”

  The trio stared up at him but said nothing. He bent down and grabbed the one on the left by the front of his coat. “Tell me where she is, or I will cut out your entrails and make you eat them.”

  The color drained from the villain’s face as he looked wildly toward Harry. “Ye can’t let ’im do that.”

  “I don’t think I can stop him. After all, he’s only trying to prevent you from escaping. Who are you working for?”

  “No one,” snapped the man in the middle.

  Rafe dropped the first man and transferred his attention to the one who’d just spoken. “You just happen to find yourself dressed like Quality in the middle of a ball to which you weren’t invited with the intent of luring me away.” He put his foot on the man’s neck. “Who are you working for?”

  “I’d tell him if I were you,” Harry said blandly.

  Eyes wide, the criminal blurted, “Lord Stone. He took the chit with him.”

  Rafe pressed his boot down. “Where?”

  “Ivy something,” the man croaked.

  “Ivy Grove,” Rafe said as he turned and started from the folly.

  “Wait!” Harry called, grabbing him by the arm. “You can’t go alone.”

  “I don’t care who comes with me, but I’m going now.”

  Anthony and Jane arrived with their host, Ripley. The latter man frowned as he surveyed the scene in the folly. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

  “Ripley, we need horses,” Harry said.

  The marquess nodded. “Tell the head groom at the stable I said to saddle whatever you need.”

  Rafe started toward the house. He was only vaguely aware of the stable’s location, but he’d find it. He ran, but not at the sprint he’d used to get to the folly.

  “This way,” Harry said, bumping his arm as he ran by.

  Following him, Rafe was heartened to see that not only Harry had come along, but also North and Anthony. They arrived at the stables a few moments later, and Harry took charge, for which Rafe was most grateful. His emotions were a jumbled wreck. He couldn’t imagine Mallory would hurt his goddaughter, but he’d already concluded the man was capable of anything.

  If he hurt Anne…

  Waiting for the horses to be readied was agony. Rafe paced as the three other men stood stoically. When at last the horses were saddled, Rafe asked which was the fastest.

  The head groom indicated a tall black one. “This one here.”

  “Are you certain you wish to ride that horse?” North, of course, was aware firsthand of Rafe’s limited skill.

  Rafe understood the man’s concern. “Yes.” Rafe pulled himself onto the beast’s back.

  “Right behind you,” North said, climbing onto another horse.

  They left the stable yard at a walk, and it was an interminable several minutes before they navigated past the dozens of vehicles that had made the trip from London. But once they reached the open lane, Rafe kicked the animal into a full gallop and hoped he possessed enough skill to catch his malevolent uncle before it was too late.

  Chapter 18

  The swaying of the coach turned Anne’s stomach as she fought her way to consciousness. Her head throbbed, and it took her a moment to recall what had happened. Actually, she didn’t know what had happened at all after one of her godfather’s accomplices had hit her.

  Opening her eyes the tiniest amount, she saw the dim interior of the coach. She was on the rear-facing seat, lying down, with her feet dangling over the cushion. Her godfather sat on the opposite seat, his head cast back, eyes closed.

  They hit a bump, and Anne groaned as pain exploded in her head. She lifted her hand to press against her skull.

  “You’re awake,” Ludlow said. His voice actually held a tinge of concern, and for that Anne wanted to smack him. She wanted to smack him for many things.

  “Where are we going?” she croaked.

  “Ivy Grove.”

  Brixton Park and, more importantly, Rafe were behind them. “You’re a horrible person,” she said, struggling to sit up. Collapsing back against the squab, she breathed heavily as the pain in her head hammered in time with her pulse. “You won’t be able to kill Rafe like you did his parents. He’s smarter than you. More capable too. You see his background unfavorably, but he is well-equipped to survive people worse than you.” She prayed he would be safe. It was one thing to know he was strong and skilled and another to keep faith that he would escape his uncle’s machinations whole when his parents had not.

  “Think what you must,” Ludlow said coolly. “I am still your godfather, whom you have always loved. Nothing has changed.”

  When he put it like that, she had to fight another wave of nausea. She had loved him. Respected him. In some ways, liked him more than her own father. And he’d always been a murderer. “Everything has changed.” She clenched her jaw as they hit another hole in the road. “I see you for who you truly are. I hope you hang.”

  He blew out a breath. “That is, I pray, unlikely. My men will shortly dispatch my nephew, if they haven’t already.”

  Anne wished she had a weapon. “There are many who are aware of your crimes, including Rafe’s brother-in-law, who is, if you recall, a Bow Street constable. You will hang.”

  “There is no proof of anything I’ve done.” He sounded so calm, so utterly assured of himself. “I’ve been very careful.”

  “I know you plotted to kill Rafe, and I will give testimony. That is evidence.”

  He frowned at her, his eyes sad in the light from the lantern hanging on one side of the interior. “You don’t have to do that. I wish you wouldn’t. I don’t want you to become a liability.”

  “You think I’ll turn my head the other way and simply continue on as if I didn’t know what you are, what you’ve done?” She blinked. “You’re mad.”

  “You may think so, but I am not. I was driven to do what was best for the earldom, for my dear Alicia.”

  Anne was fairly certain that had been Rafe’s mother’s name. “She wasn’t your dear. She was your sister-in-law.”

  “Because she chose poorly. My wife was always frail. I knew she wouldn’t live into middle age. Alicia and I had a chance to be happy together.”

  “Except she chose to stay with her husband, to die beside him. She chose love,” Anne said softly. “Love always wins.”

  “One can hope,” he said with a faint smile. “Sometimes it just needs a little help. I do hope you’ll choose wisely, unlike Alicia. Just remember all the happy times we’ve shared and how much I love you. You’ve been a far greater daughter to me than Deborah.” He wrinkled his nose. “Such an embarrassment tonight.”

  Now that Anne saw her godfather’s true nature, she began to understand perhaps why Deborah was so unpleasant. She might share some of whatever made her father morally deficient, or it might be that she’d suffered as a result of his deficit.

  “I feel sorry for Deborah,” Anne said, putting her hands on either side of her head and exhaling. “I can only imagine what sort of negativity and malice you’ve fed into her mind.”

  “Don’t pity her. She’ll com
e out all right, just as I have. Just as I will.”

  “You won’t,” Anne promised, fixing him with a dark stare. “You won’t retain the title, and you will hang.” She simply couldn’t reiterate that enough. “I will expend every ounce of energy I possess to ensure both come to pass.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Then you’ll give me no choice. That saddens me, dear.”

  He sat forward in the seat and lifted his arm. Anne braced herself, uncertain what he meant to do. The sound of a gunshot rent the air, and the coach veered to the side. Ludlow fell back, and again Anne wished for a weapon so she could leap upon him and attack him.

  Another pistol shot cracked, and this time, the coach careened wildly. For a terrifying moment, Anne feared they were going to topple over as they left the road.

  The vehicle slowed, but only slightly. The ground was rough, and they bounced mercilessly. The ache in Anne’s head intensified, and she pressed her hands more tightly to her skull as if she could relieve the pain by holding her head more still.

  Suddenly, Ludlow lunged from his seat to the door and threw it open. He leapt from the coach, and the door swung wildly.

  Anne fell, gasping, from the cushion as the coach hit a large bump. A horseman rode by the open door, and Anne prayed whoever it was could get the coach to stop.

  For several agonizing minutes, Anne suffered the punishing bouncing of the coach over the uneven terrain. But the vehicle was slowing, thank God. Finally, it came to a stop. She fell back onto the floor, her head spinning, and closed her eyes.

  “Anne!”

  Rafe’s voice seeped into her aching brain. He scooped her up from the floor and carried her from the coach. The soft night breeze soothed her pain. She opened her eyes, but knew who held her.

  He stared down at her, his eyes wide with fear, his face drawn with lines of distress. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded and realized her error. “Ow, that hurts.”

  “It’s all right now, my love.” He carried her away from the coach. “You’re safe now.”

  “Where is Ludlow?” She tried to lift her head to look around. “He jumped from the coach.”

  “I saw that.” Rafe turned. “Harry’s got him. And North.”

  Anthony rode up, leading a second horse. He dismounted and strode toward them. “All right, Anne?”

  “Yes, just a nasty headache.”

  “Thank God.” Anthony gazed at Rafe with admiration. “That was a hell of a leap.”

  Anne turned her head to look up at Rafe. “What is he talking about?”

  “I had to jump from the horse to the coach. I shot the brigand who was sitting on the coach box. When he fell, he took the coachman with him. Someone had to stop the vehicle.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. Capable didn’t begin to describe this man. “How dashing.”

  Another gunshot sounded, and Anne flinched. “What happened?”

  Rafe started toward where Harry and North had been dealing with Ludlow.

  “I can walk,” Anne said.

  “But you aren’t going to.” Rafe quickened his pace.

  “How is she?” Harry asked.

  “Fine,” Anne answered. “Just a headache. What happened?” She craned her neck to see, but was having difficulty. “Would you please put me down?” she pleaded. “I’ll hold on to you, I promise.”

  Rafe set her down, but held her tight against him. She gasped at the sight of her godfather sprawled on his back, blood spreading in a thick stain over his chest between the lapels of his coat.

  “Anne?” he garbled, his eyes staring straight up at the moonlit sky.

  “I have nothing to say to you,” she said.

  “Lorcan should be the earl, not that pretender,” Ludlow managed between gasps.

  Rafe moved to stand over him, taking Anne with him. “I am not a pretender,” he said softly. “I’m the Earl of Stone.”

  Blood spilled from Ludlow’s mouth as he fought to speak. No sound came out save a long, rasping breath. Then he was still.

  “I’m sorry, Anne,” Harry said. “He pulled a pistol from his coat. I had to shoot.”

  “I understand. You did what you had to.” She ought to feel sad, but she was angry with herself for standing by this horrendous man, for believing that he was struggling with the loss of the life he’d known. But it was a life he’d stolen from the man beside her.

  She was also relieved that Rafe was, indeed, still standing beside her. Turning toward his chest, she reached around him and clasped his right arm. He winced as soon as she touched him.

  “Are you all right?” She let go and wished for more light so she could see if he was wounded.

  “Just a nick on my arm.”

  She frowned at him. “What is a nick to you may be a gaping wound to someone else.”

  “It really is only a scratch. I promise, my love.”

  For now, she’d take his word for it. “How did you find me?”

  “Mallory attacked the wrong people,” North said with a shake of his head. “They lured Rafe to the folly at Brixton Park, presumably with the intent of killing him. They didn’t realize he’d have his sisters with him, and that they are every bit as skilled with a knife as Lord Stone here.” He inclined his head toward Rafe to indicate he meant the true earl.

  “Are they all right?” Anne asked, shocked. “Selina and Beatrix, I mean. I don’t care about the men who were working for my godfather.”

  “Yes, they’re fine,” Harry said. “And most of the men will be able to stand trial.”

  Anne looked down at her godfather. “He was mad.” She clutched Rafe more tightly.

  Harry raked his hand through his auburn hair. “I need to find the coachman and that last brigand.”

  “I’ll help,” North said, and Anthony joined in.

  A coach stopped on the road, which was perhaps a quarter mile distant. “Rafe?”

  Anne recognized Selina’s voice.

  “Here!” Rafe called.

  A few minutes later, Selina, Beatrix, and Jane arrived, the latter of whom rushed forward and enveloped Anne in a tight hug. Though her head hurt, Anne embraced her sister with a mix of relief and overwhelming love.

  “I’m so glad you’re safe,” Jane said through tears. Suddenly, Anne was crying too, and the pent-up emotion of the evening spilled from her as she held on to her sister.

  It was several minutes before they separated. Jane wiped her face and sucked in a sharp breath as her gaze fell on Ludlow. “Is that…?”

  “My godfather, yes,” Anne said. “It’s a long story that I will gladly tell you later. Suffice to say that I am not sorry he is dead.” She suddenly felt exhausted to her very bones. The earth began to tilt. Rafe swept her into his arms before she fell.

  She closed her eyes as he carried her to the coach and placed her inside. She clasped his hand. “You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”

  He pressed a kiss to her wrist before he climbed inside and lifted her onto his lap. “Darling, I am never letting you go.”

  The first rays of dawn speared over the horizon as Rafe stared down at his sleeping betrothed. They’d come back to Brixton Park, where he’d carried Anne upstairs to a room Ripley had prepared for her.

  Rafe had no idea how the rest of the party had gone, but assumed London would be abuzz tomorrow with the story of Ludlow Mallory and his band of brigands. He didn’t care about any of it, just that Anne was safe and whole.

  He wiped his hand over his face and leaned back in the chair beside her bed, closing his eyes. Exhaustion weighted him, but his mind was too busy to sleep. Everything would be simpler now that Mallory was dead. No one would contest his claim to the earldom, at least.

  Would it really be simple though?

  He couldn’t change the fact that everyone knew about his past. He might never be accepted. Hell, perhaps the Committee for Privileges might decide that Lorcan would be the better earl. Rafe wasn’t sure he could bring himself to lament the loss of the title if th
at came to pass. Again, it only mattered that Anne was here with him and that their future lay before them.

  “Rafe?”

  He opened his eyes and bolted forward. “Yes?”

  Anne winced as she blinked at him from the bed. “This is the worst headache I’ve ever had.”

  One of Mallory’s brigands had hit her pretty damned hard. Rafe wasn’t sure which one, and that was for the best since Rafe probably would have done the same to him in return.

  He moved to sit beside her on the bed and gently kissed her forehead. “It will be for at least a day or so, I’m afraid.”

  “You’re speaking from experience?”

  “I’ve suffered a blow like that a time or two,” he admitted.

  She took his hand between hers. “You will never suffer again. Not while I draw breath.”

  “My fierce avenging angel.” He laughed softly.

  “I told you that you’re mine. I protect what’s mine.”

  “Lucky for me. I’d hate to be in opposition to you.” He shuddered, and she laughed.

  Lifting her hand to her head, she grimaced. “Ow, don’t make me laugh.”

  “I’ll try not to. At least not until you’re healed.”

  “When will you officially become the earl?” she asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  She looked about the room. “Aren’t we still at Brixton Park?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then ask Ripley. He’s on the Committee for Privileges. He’ll tell you.”

  Rafe chuckled. “It’s the middle of the bloody night, Anne.”

  “After what would have been one of the best balls of the Season and is now legendary given what happened. I guarantee there are plenty of people up and about, and the host is one of them.” She pushed on his chest. “Go find out.”

  “Why is this important right now?”

  She stared at him as if he were the one with a head injury. “Because the sooner you become the earl, the sooner you can get a special license, and the sooner we can be wed.”

  “Your priorities are astonishing.”