Robert's hands curled into fists. "You know both Austin and Miles. Wait for them, then tell them about Hadmore. They know the way toward the ruins. Make certain you're armed. There's not a moment to lose."
He left the foyer at a dead run, thankful his knife was already secured in his boot, for there was no time to retrieve his pistol from his bedchamber. Exiting the house through the rear, he did the only two things he could-run as fast as possible, and pray for all he was worth.
Ten minutes later, heart pounding, sweat trickling down his back, knife in hand, he rounded the corner in the path and came upon the man lying on the ground. Robert didn't recognize him, but one close look was enough to determine that he was dead. And very much alone.
Damn it! Where was she? If that bastard Shelbourne hurt her-
He viciously thrust the thought aside, and forced himself to remain calm, think clearly. He scanned the area, focusing on the soft ground. The imprint of horse hooves was clearly visible, leading farther into the forest. Without further hesitation, he raced forward.
*********
Allie stared at the pistol and fought the panic threatening to overwhelm her. Surely her life would not end like this… at the hands of this madman. Her gaze darted about, but there was nowhere to escape. Because they stood in this small clearing, even if she attempted to run, he'd shoot her before she made it to the closest tree.
A wave of anger rolled through her, pushing aside some of her fear. No. She could not allow this to happen. Would not allow another man to control her, to steal something else from her-this time her life. Help was coming. All she needed was a little more time.
One look at her captor's face, however, withered any hope of him gifting her with that time. He appeared perfectly composed, the hand holding the pistol steady, his eyes intent. Still, she had to try to stall.
"Geoffrey-" Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. "Think about what you are doing. If you kill me, you will hang. You will be caught, and it will all be for naught."
"But I will not be caught, my dear. I already told you my plan, my explanation for when I am questioned. No one will dare gainsay the word of the earl of Shelbourne." He inclined his head, and what looked like genuine regret passed over his features. "I wish I did not have to kill you, Alberta. You're a very beautiful woman. Under different circumstances, we might have enjoyed each other immensely." His gaze flicked down her body.
Her breath caught as a combination of revulsion and hope slammed into her. Commanding herself to concentrate on hope, she bit back her disgust, and forced a tiny smile to her stiff lips. Say anything, do anything, to gain yourself a few more minutes…
"We still could enjoy each other," she said in what she prayed was a suggestive tone. "Your secret would be safe with me, Geoffrey. I would never tell anyone."
He raised his brows, and for several seconds mulled over her words. But then he shook his head. "A tempting offer, my dear. But I'm afraid this is the only way. Good-bye, Alberta." He raised the pistol several inches. Her brain shouted at her to run, but her feet seemed nailed to the ground.
"Stop!" The sharp, hoarse command came from her left and her knees nearly gave way with relief. Robert emerged from the trees, a knife gripped in his hand. Geoffrey's attention turned to Robert, and he swiveled the pistol in his direction. "Stay where you are, Jamison."
Her relief immediately turned to dread. Robert was alone. Her heart stuttered to a near stop. And now the weapon pointed at him.
Robert's gaze raked over her, and she jerked her head in a nod to let him know she was unharmed. Then, with his gaze fixed on Geoffrey, he moved slowly toward her.
"Halt, Jamison, or I shall shoot you."
"Go ahead," Robert invited in a deadly voice, continuing closer toward her. "That's the only way you'll stop me."
Fear iced her blood. She wanted to scream at him to stop, but before she could utter a sound, he dashed forward the last several feet separating them and shoved her behind him, making himself a shield between her and Geoffrey.
"There are two of us here, Shelbourne," Robert said, "with more on the way. You will not have time to reload after your shot. It's over. Throw down your weapon."
"This does not concern you, Jamison." His eyes burned with hatred. "You have no right to interfere in matters you know nothing about."
"I know all about it," Robert said, his voice dripping ice. "All about the contents of the letter in the ring box. All about the dead man on the path back there, and the numerous attempts you've made on Allie's life. I know that you are not in fact the earl of Shelbourne."
Geoffrey's face contorted with crimson rage. "The only proof is that note. When I get it-"
"You're wrong. There's also a marriage certificate documenting the union between your father and his Irish wife. And the recording of their son's baptism. I've seen both documents."
Every drop of color drained from Geoffrey's face. "Impossible. You're lying. How could you have seen such documents?"
"Your half brother, the true earl, showed them to me when he arrived at Bradford Hall less than an hour ago. He retrieved them from the church in Ireland where his mother married Nigel Hadmore. It's over. Toss down your weapon."
Surely Geoffrey would realize the hopelessness of his situation and listen to Robert. But when Allie looked at Geoffrey from around Robert's broad shoulder, all hope died at the desperation and hatred contorting Geoffrey's features. Dear God, one tiny movement of that madman's finger would mean the end of Robert's life.
"Who is he?" Geoffrey asked, his voice a near-croak.
Robert's shoulders tensed. "I'll not say this again. Put down your weapon."
"Tell me who he is," Geoffrey screamed.
"There's really no need to, as you'll be meeting him face-to-face momentarily. But as long as you insist, it is Michael Evers, the pugilist. I know you're already acquainted with him, as I've seen you at his boxing emporium."
An eerie stillness fell over the group, and for a few seconds, the only sounds Allie could hear were the beating of her own heart and Geoffrey's ragged breathing.
"It's not possible," came Geoffrey's strangled words. "He's nothing… he's as common as street trash."
"On the contrary, he's the foremost pugilist in the country. And he is the earl of Shelbourne."
Hatred such as Allie had never seen blazed in Geoffrey's eyes. "You mock me with your falsehoods, you bastard. I may not win the day, but I can at least make certain that your lying mouth is silenced."
Before the full horror of his intention could truly dawn in Allie's mind, Geoffrey raised the pistol and squeezed the trigger.
Robert surged forward, and then crumpled into a heap at her feet.
Chapter 24
The sharp report of a pistol rent the air, followed almost immediately by a woman's sharp call for help.
Mrs. Brown. Without breaking his run, Austin veered swiftly toward the sound. "The lake," he shouted to Michael and Miles, who followed hard on his heels. His heart slammed against his ribs, and he forced himself not to imagine what he'd find.
Less than a minute later, they burst into a small clearing, and his worst fears were realized. Robert lay on the ground. Mrs. Brown kneeled next to him, her face chalk-white, pressing her petticoat to his shoulder. A short distance away, Shelbourne lay in the dirt, his breathing labored, his features contorted with pain, the hilt of a knife protruding from his gut.
"See to Shelbourne," he said to Michael, then ran directly to Robert, with Miles following him.
"Thank God you're here," Mrs. Brown said, her gaze flicking over him and Miles for only a second before returning to Robert.
"Is he alive?" Austin asked, dropping to his knees. His stomach turned over at the ashen pallor of Robert's skin and the dark stain spreading on his jacket.
“Yes. But he's… he's bleeding badly. I don't know how serious the wound is." Her voice shook, but her hands were steady as she applied pressure to stem the blood. Austin watched the white petti
coat turn a frightening red. "I… I couldn't rip my petticoat, so I just removed it. We need bandages. A doctor." She looked at Austin through frightened eyes. "He saved my life. Threw his knife as Geoffrey shot him and-"
"I know." Forcing his own fear aside, he looked at Miles. "We need a physician. As quickly as possible."
With a terse nod, Miles dashed off in the direction of the stables.
Austin then instructed tersely, "All right. Let's apply more pressure to slow this bleeding. Then we can examine the wound." He placed his hands over hers and pressed downward. And prayed for his brother's life.
*******
Michael crouched down next to Geoffrey Hadmore. Pain glazed his dark eyes, and his chest heaved with shallow, panting breaths. His hands spasmed over his stomach, where crimson blood spread in an ever-widening stain against his white shirt. One look at the wound left no doubt it was fatal. Hadmore was clearly in agony, and God knew a knife to the gut was a miserable way to die. Yet it was difficult to dredge up sympathy for the man. Still, Michael removed his jacket, bunched it into a makeshift pillow, then slipped it beneath Hadmore's head.
Hadmore's pain-filled gaze focused on him. "You," he whispered. "You bastard."
Michael raised his brows. "Actually, it appears that you are the bastard, Hadmore." A humorless, disgusted sound pushed between his lips. "These past few years you've been coming to my boxing emporium… who would have guessed we'd have more in common than a love of sport?"
Geoffrey's eyes narrowed to hate-filled slits. "We have nothing in common."
"I would have to agree. The man who fathered both of us was indeed nothing." His gaze flicked down to the protruding knife hilt, then he asked with a sense of detached curiosity "Why? Was this title truly worth your life?"
Geoffrey grimaced. "It was my life," he gasped. "Everything I was… from the day I was born." His eyes cleared briefly and burned with loathing. "You're nothing but trash. You'll never live up to the title. You'll be… laughed out of Society." His eyes slid closed, his breathing growing more labored.
Michael leaned closer to him and whispered, "At least I'll be around to hear the laughter, which is more than you can say."
"I hope… you rot… in hell."
Michael shrugged. "I may-someday. But you'll rot there first."
A trickle of blood oozed from between Geoffrey's lips. A final breath rattled in his lungs, then his head slumped to the side and he was still.
Michael stared at him for several seconds. You died for something that means nothing to me. Something I don't want. Something I never would have taken from you.
Now all he could do was pray that Robert didn't lose his life as well.
********
Allie stood in front of the fire in the drawing room, staring at the dancing flames. How much longer? She glanced at the mantel clock. Three hours. Three endless hours that felt like an eternity. An eternity during which they'd stemmed the bleeding from Robert's wound enough for the duke and Mr. Evers-or rather, the new Lord Shelbourne-to carry Robert back to the house. An eternity since she'd assisted Elizabeth and the physician in treating his injury. The gunshot had only resulted in a flesh wound-a deep one, but it could have been so much worse. Still, there was a risk of infection. And he'd lost so much blood…
But most frightening was the fact that he had not yet regained consciousness. At first she'd been almost grateful, for at least he was oblivious to the pain and the number of stitches taken to close the wound. But as she'd wiped his face with a damp cloth, brushing back his hair from his temples, she'd discovered the lump on his head. Clearly he'd hit his head when he'd fallen to the ground.
Three endless hours. And he still had not awoken. A sob bubbled up in her throat, and she bit her lips to contain it. Surely God would not allow him to survive a gunshot only to die from the fall to the ground?
Robert had saved her life. She squeezed her eyes closed, reliving the image of him striding into that clearing, looking like an avenging angel, making himself a human shield between her and a madman. A madman he'd killed in order to protect her.
An image of his handsome face, so ashen and frighteningly still, flashed in her mind. Her stomach turned over, and she pushed the thought away. But she was instantly bombarded with other pictures of him: his blue eyes alight with mischief, his lips stretched in a teasing smile. Standing in the park with pigeons poised on his hat. Pounding out an off-key song on the pianoforte. Laughing with his niece and nephew. Desire and love burning in his eyes as he loomed over her, joining his body intimately with hers.
Dear God, she loved him.
Loved his kindness and strength. I lis compassion and bravery. He'd risked everything for her. He'd told her he loved her, but even if he'd never said the words, she would have known. His feelings were evident in his every action. He was nothing like David, and shame filled her at the great disservice she'd done Robert by ever believing they were alike. He'd given her everything a man could give a woman, and instead of embracing his love, thanking God for it, and giving him the love he deserved in return, she'd pushed him away. She'd thought she'd made mistakes before? A humorless laugh escaped her.
Refusing Robert's love, and refusing to acknowledge her own love for him, was the biggest mistake she'd ever made.
And it was one she intended to rectify.
She just prayed he would survive so she'd have the chance to do so.
She'd paced in the crowded corridor outside his bedchamber, praying along with the rest of the family for him to regain consciousness. Finally, however, she could not stand the cramped area another second. She needed air, space to move, quiet to think, so she'd escaped to the drawing room. But now it, too, felt like a prison.
"Allie." At the sound of Elizabeth's voice behind her, she turned swiftly. Her gaze raked over Elizabeth 's face, noting the dark circles under her eyes.
"How is he?" she asked, barely pushing the words past the lump in her throat.
Elizabeth crossed the room, then reached out and clasped her hands. "He's awake."
Relief so intense it rendered her light-headed, rushed through her. He’s awake. A half-sob, half-laugh bubbled up inside her. There might have been two more wonderful words spoken at some point in the history of mankind, but God help her, she could not imagine what they could have been.
********
Robert sat propped up in his bed, two fluffy pillows stuffed behind his back. His head, wrapped in a bandage, pounded as if a battalion of devils battered his skull with hammers. His arm and shoulder, secured in a sling, alternately ached and throbbed with an intensity that made him long to clench his jaw-except he'd quickly learned that the jaw clenching made his head hurt worse.
His entire family had filed into his bedchamber, surrounding his bed like a flock of cooing pigeons. Caroline had held his right hand, his mother clasped his left, while Austin, Miles, Elizabeth, and Dr. Sattler hovered near his feet. Thank God Michael had volunteered to arrange for the transportation of the bodies, otherwise he would no doubt have hovered and gawked as well. The only person missing was Allie, and as much as he loved his family and appreciated their concern, she was the one he now wanted, needed, to see. To assure himself that she was all right as everyone claimed.
Elizabeth had gone to fetch her, and one by one his family had left his bedchamber. The last to leave were his mother and Caroline, who both looked down at him with deep worry and concern.
Hoping to reassure them, he grinned. "Egad, if only I’d known that a flesh wound and a bump on the head would garner such slavish feminine devotion, I'd have thought of it sooner. If ever I'm feeling neglected, I might just cosh myself with a rock."
Their worried expressions relaxed a bit. Leaning down, his mother pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Darling. If you ever frighten me like this again, I shall be forced to take V.D.A." She favored him the fiercest look he'd ever seen on her normally serene face. "Very Drastic Action."
"Why, Mother, I had no idea you were such a ti
gress. What, pray tell, would you do?"
"Remain by your side at all times, prepared to fight off all the bad men. Beat them senseless with my reticule if necessary."
He chuckled, forcing himself not to grimace when pain shot through his skull and shoulder. "I wouldn't dream of making you do anything so undignified. As for remaining by my side at all times…" He pursed his lips. "Hmmm. That could prove awkward."
She cocked a single brow. "Indeed it could. Therefore, you'd best not make me do it. As it is, I'll leave you with Caroline for now. But I shall return to check on you later."
"Is that a threat or a promise?"
She smiled at him. "Both." She left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
He turned his attention to Caroline. Looking into her guiltstricken eyes, he squeezed her hand. "Stop staring at me like that," he said. "I'm fine."
A fat tear dribbled down her cheek. "But you might have been killed."
"But I wasn't."
"Allie could have been killed."
"But she wasn't."
"This is entirely my fault. If I had not left her alone with him-"
"I refuse to listen to such rot. You did not know, Caroline. None of us did. It is over, and Allie and I are safe. Let us be grateful for that and not feel guilty over things we could not control and cannot change." He offered her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm afraid that you're quite stuck with me for at least the next several decades."
She raised his hand and pressed her cheek to his palm. "Thank God."
"If you want to feel sorry for someone, lavish your pity on Michael. I know him well. Being the earl of Shelbourne is not a role he will embrace or relish or conform to without a fight."
Whirlwind Affair Page 32
