“Well I know you have not seen everything, as I procured a few items once we returned to London.” She led him to the wash area, tucked behind a half-wall. “Does it meet your requirements, sir?”
“Great heavens, that tub looks as if it could seat four people.” He patted her bottom, as had become his habit, of late.
“Only two, actually.” Resting her palm to his chest, she found solace in the steady beat of his heart. “Will you join me for a bath?”
“There is nothing I would prefer more.” After claiming another kiss, which was far too brief for her, he spanked her derriere and said, “But first I should confer with Sir Ross and Dirk, to make sure there are no loose ends. Then I shall return and ravish you, so prepare to be conquered.”
“You prepare, sir.” Daphne stuck her tongue in her cheek and batted her lashes. “As I just might vanquish you.”
“Angel, I look forward to it.” With a wink, he swaggered from their apartments.
After the footmen delivered the trunks, Daphne supervised the unpacking. The last items had just been stored, when the maids began filling the huge tub. In search of something sheer to inspire her husband, not that he required stimulus, she opted to await his presence in his primary choice.
But the ugliness of blackmail intruded on her musings, and she strolled to the windows to admire the familiar landscape, which had always soothed her soul. She wasn’t sure if weariness from the journey or the monumental task looming at the fore had ravaged her nerves, but she soon succumbed to a fit of tears.
Giving herself to the misery, she sobbed without restraint, in the privacy of her room, until the tension eating at her gut abated. So much had happened, so much had changed in so little time, and now some unforeseen rogue threatened everything.
“Daphne, are you in there?” Through the haze of despair, a cherished voice called to her.
With arms splayed wide in welcome, she charged into the sitting room and flung herself at her youngest brother. “Richard.”
“How I missed you, Daph.” The gadling hugged her tight. “And why are you crying?”
“Oh, it is stress from our predicament.” She rued involving her sibling in the horrid affair, but it could not be avoided. “But I am better, now that you are here. And how are you?”
“Fine, I suppose.” Shuffling his feet, he shrugged. “It has been lonely here, without you and Robert. But I had a letter from him, and he sounds content, in service to Beresford. Yet he longs for Portsea and our simpler days.”
“Me, too,” she responded, with a sigh.
“Don’t worry, Daph.” Richard kissed her cheek. “Everything will be all right, as I will protect you.”
“My, but you have grown in the months since I first departed Courtenay Hall.” In play, she chucked his chin. “And I am so proud of you. Have you given any thought to Dalton’s offer to finance a formal education? You always dreamed of attending university, and it would be a wonderful opportunity for you.”
“Do you wish to be rid of me?” At his frown, she retreated a step. “Am I to be packed off, like Robert?”
“Of course, not.” Her blood ran cold at the thought. “How could you suggest such a thing? And Robert begged for a commission, which you well know.”
“You are right.” Richard ambled toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he peered over his shoulder. “I will speak with Sir Dalton about his proposal.”
“We only want you to be happy.” How she adored her sensitive brother, as he always bore the weight of the world on his coat sleeves.
Alone, Daphne hugged herself, returned to the bedchamber, and shut the doors behind her. Wafts of steam rose from the surface of the bath, and she kicked off her slippers. Wrenching left and then right, she untied her laces and stripped her gown and chemise. Then she removed her garters and hose. Naked, she crawled atop the huge four-poster and stretched across the luxurious counterpane of sapphire satin. Closing her eyes, she grinned, sank into the mattress, and wondered just what salacious tactic her husband would employ to rouse her, upon his return.
#
Three days later, Daphne strolled into her chamber to resituate her coiffure, because her one true knight destroyed her style during a rollicking lovemaking session in the hayloft of the old barn. Midway through the erotic escapade, Dirk and Sir Ross had entered the stables, to ensure their horses remained at the ready. As a result of the unexpected interlopers, Dalton and Daphne had achieved glorious completion only after countless minutes in heated, panting, groping, intensely silent endeavors.
It was with such flirty musings dancing in her brain that she discovered a now familiar missive propped against the mirror of her vanity, with her name inscribed on the envelope, and she cried out in horror. Without hesitation, she ran to the bellpull and gave it a yank. Pacing, she peered left and then right, as she feared the villain might jump from the shadows or a hiding place. In seconds, she checked the wash area, behind the half-wall, and their respective closets, and discovered them empty.
“How may I help you, Mrs. Randolph?” Daisy, the new lady’s maid curtseyed.
“Tell Hicks I need to speak with my husband and Viscount Wainsbrough, here, in my quarters, at once.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Trembling, she scanned the immediate vicinity and then ran into the sitting room. The polished apartment, decorated with love and hope for a charmed future, had become a refuge, wherein Daphne and Dalton often lingered, sans clothing, and discussed their shared dreams. Just then, Dalton charged through the double-door entry, with Dirk, Sir Ross, and Rebecca in tow.
“Daphne, what is it?” With a worried expression, her husband walked straight to her. “What happened?”
“I have had another note from the blackmailer.” She pointed. “It sits atop my vanity.”
“Bloody everlasting hell. The bastard was in our home?” Dalton set her aside and stormed into the inner chamber. “Sir Ross, will you do the honors?”
“Of course.” The head of the Counterintelligence Corps produced a leather pouch from his coat pocket, from which he retrieved tweezers and picked up the correspondence. With great care, he opened the envelope and removed the folded parchment. “Damn, he is good. We have but two hours to plan our delivery, and he claims Daphne knows the locale.”
“What does it say?” Dirk inquired.
“I am puzzled.” Dalton scratched his chin. “He has reduced his demands by half, asking for only twenty-five-hundred pounds. What do you suppose is his purpose?”
“He may mistakenly believe it will be easier to spend the smaller amount, without rousing suspicion.” Sir Ross snickered. “But that is his first blunder, as the notes are marked.”
“It commands us to place the amount in a small bundle, near a large oak by a stone wall, along the road to Eastney.” Dalton met her gaze. “It is the tree beneath which we took our ease, after concluding your charitable visits, that day in March.”
“The very one.” And so the criminal tarnished another cherished memory, with his nefarious schemes.
“Then Daphne and I will remain here, with Mrs. Jones and Richard.” Rebecca framed Dirk’s face. “Please, be careful, as I love you, and you are quite irreplaceable.”
Likewise, Daphne hugged her husband. “You presume Hicks is involved, and I do not agree, but I would ask you to use caution, as I love you, too. And I need you.”
“It will be all right, my angel.” Dalton held her, as if for the last time, and her fear spiraled to vaunted heights. “One way or another, this business will end tonight. But keep watch for Hicks, as he must depart to collect his boon, unless he works in concert with another.”
After an intense strategy session, Dalton, Dirk, and Sir Ross set out to catch the blackmailer, while Daphne, Rebecca, and Mrs. Jones gathered in the drawing room to await the outcome.
“Everything will work out, fine, Daphne.” Despite her reassurance, Rebecca paced before the hearth. “Dalton has Dirk and Sir Ross, and I would wager the
scoundrel has never faced such an impressive front.”
“Well I am nervous, nonetheless, and nothing soothes my spirit like balancing the stillroom accounts.” Daphne jumped to her feet. “If it will not offend you, I will retrieve my ledger from the study and complete the task in your company, else I may lose my mind and run amok.”
Rolling her shoulders, she stepped into the hall and searched for Hicks, but her friend was not present, yet she assumed it a coincidence, as she did not doubt his loyalty. In the foyer, an audial summons at the main entrance brought her alert, as the men had departed almost fifteen minutes ago. Holding her breath against the chill of unease seeping to her marrow, Daphne opened the front door and peered outside. A gust of wind cooled by the sea, as the evening sun loomed on the horizon, buffeted her cheeks, and she was surprised to find no one. Glancing down the drive, she wondered if she had imagined the sharp rap of the knocker—until she spied another telltale envelope on the threshold.
In a flash, she bent, snatched the missive, shut the heavy oak panel, and secured the latch. Then she tore into the correspondence, read the message, and sobbed.
Mrs. Randolph,
If you have received this note in the company of your allies, do not permit them to read it. Should you value your brother’s life, tell no one of the contents herein. I have Richard in my possession. Bring 2,500 pounds to the old barn on the back of your estate. You have ten minutes from the time this warning was remitted, else I will kill young Richard.
A wave of nausea swept over her, as she pondered her gentle sibling in the custody of a ruthless villain. Her initial instinct was to obey the evildoer’s demands, but then she recalled Rebecca’s story. Once her captor had revealed his identity, he had to kill her to conceal his crimes. Daphne’s mind raced, and she made her decision, just as Hicks appeared.
“Mrs. Randolph, I thought I heard—”
“You did.” Quick as a wink, she grabbed the butler by the wrist. “Accompany me to the drawing room, as we have no time to spare, and my brother’s life hangs in the balance.”
#
As he charged the lane he recalled so well, with the tall grass swaying in the wind on either side of the verge, Dalton replayed every detail of the rushed plot. He veered left, then right, and then left, again, until they neared the water’s edge, when they steered inland. Driven by determination to protect his wife, he pushed the stallion harder and faster, until the large oak came into view.
“Hold hard, men.” Sir Ross drew rein on the hilltop overlooking the meadow. “We can gain an excellent survey of the terrain from this vantage, and we are early, so we should take the opportunity to reconnoiter. Tomorrow, the bastard will dance at Beilby’s ball for his treachery.”
“What would you inspect, given the lay?” Dirk steered his mount to a small overlook. “The countryside is flat, and there are no homes or out buildings.”
“You are correct.” Using his spyglass, Dalton scrutinized every shrub and fence line for any sign of a suitable hideaway. “Given we have the high ground, the blackmailer has no advantage.” And then a chill of dread settled in his chest, and he tried but failed to brush off the dark sense of foreboding. “Something is wrong.”
“Listen.” With his head inclined, Sir Ross pulled a pistol from his waistband. “Someone comes through the field at our flank.”
Dalton turned his horse, just as Hicks spurred a bay to jump a lowlying stone wall. “Well, well, look who is here.”
When the butler glimpsed them, he waved frantically, with an envelope clutched in his fist. “Sir Dalton, you must come home, quickly. Mrs. Randolph received another letter, and it brings ill tidings.”
After unfolding the well-known stationary, Dalton swallowed hard. With every sentence he read, he plummeted into a new and more tormenting form of hell, as he realized he had been duped. But what struck him, as a wicked punch to the gut, was Daphne’s plea, in her graceful script, which he recognized from her ledger entries, written at the bottom of the parchment.
Ride hard, my love. I need you.
“Sir, we must go—now.” Hicks reined his horse. “We can take a trail through the pastureland, as it is much shorter. Please, I was born and raised on Portsea, I know it like the back of my hand, and we have not a minute to lose.”
In obeisance of his wife’s request, Dalton spurred the flanks of his stallion and raced along the path, with Hicks navigating the narrow track. As they swerved to evade the haphazard loose stock, they kicked up a dust storm in their wake. His pulse pounded in his ears, in rhythm with the galloping hoofbeats, and a tidal wave of apprehension swamped him. Marking the passage of time with the setting sun, he prayed he was not too late.
When they neared a dense thicket, Dalton cursed, as the brush impeded their advance. Then the trees thinned, and the butler extended his arm and slowed to a canter. It was then Dalton realized the barn sat in a clearing, on the other side of the grove.
“We should dismount now, as I would not clue the villain to our presence.” Sir Ross passed the reins to Hicks. “Stay here.”
Together, Dalton, Dirk, and Sir Ross moved toward the edge of the brake. At the corner of the dilapidated structure, a lone figure crouched behind the remains of the old ruined phaeton.
“By all that is holy, I swear I am going to heat her posterior.” Dirk bared his teeth and then tiptoed to Rebecca. In seconds, he covered her mouth and lifted her from her feet. After carrying her into the coppice, he put her down. In a low voice, he said, “My God, woman, but you are with child. What in bloody hell do you think you are about?”
“Shh.” The former spy placed a finger to her lips. “You know, very well, I could not let Daphne confront the villain, alone. But fortune smiles upon Dalton, as the scoundrels arrived late, and your bride has kept them talking, just as I advised. There are two assailants, both wearing hoods, and the larger one is armed. I watched them approach from the trail on the far side of the yard. They circled the barn before entering, and there is no sign of Richard.”
“Solid intelligence, as always.” Sir Ross winked.
“All right. You have done your duty.” Dirk yanked the pistol from her grasp. “Now remain with Hicks, and I will deal with you tonight.”
“The path leads to the beach, and I would assert the villains are locals. So what is the plan?” Dalton pictured his wife, negotiating to save Richard, with her precious neck in the noose, and his spirits plunged to heretofore-inconceivable depths of agony. “As I would save Daphne.”
“We must work fast, as a team, and I will brook no unplanned heroics, else we risk serious injury—or worse. Take the money, stroll into the barn with imperturbable sangfroid, and draw their attention from Daphne.” Sir Ross glanced at Dirk. “You and I will wait for a clear shot to fell the criminals, as I do not expect reason to suffice, and the blackguards must be stopped.”
“I can enter via the side.” Dalton sifted through his memory and envisioned a detailed sketch of the interior, which he had gleaned from ribald romps with Daphne in the hayloft. “The large cottage doors have no latch to secure them, and you need only give the panels a good push to gain easy access.”
And so they moved, as men on a mission, weaving through the trees, until they ventured into the clearing. As scripted, Dalton perched to the east and loitered, until Sir Ross and Dirk reached their prescribed spots. Inside, Daphne’s panicked voice leveled a mortal blow, and he ached for her.
“Mr. Allen, I should have known you would be the source of this despicable offense, as you have shown, in your past dealings with me, that you have no conscience.” She scoffed. “And Richard, remove that ridiculous hood, this instant, as I would know you anywhere, and I would have an explanation for your involvement in this hideous plot.”
“I was just trying to get enough money to free you from Sir Dalton,” Richard stated, and Dalton wanted to throttle the lad. “I warned you not to marry him. He made you sad, and I saw you crying.”
“I wept because this abhorre
nt affair has hung as a black cloud over the man I love.” Peering between the worn boards, Dalton spied his wife, as she hugged a bundle he surmised contained the requested money. To the casual observer, she appeared none the worse for wear. But to him, the lines of strain about the corners of her eyes and mouth, and the rigidity of her stature, along with her white knuckles, belied her well-composed serenity. “In essence, you hurt me, not my husband.”
“Well, I do not care a whit for you or your fancy man. I want my money.” Mr. Allen doffed his disguise. “And I would have you know your brother joined my band of thieves, in your absence, so you are no one, governor’s daughter. Your father was a gambler and a wencher, and young Richard is a swindler.” Then the bastard pointed a pistol in Daphne’s direction. “And you will get what’s coming to you.”
“Hold hard.” Dalton leaped into action and launched into the barn. With palms splayed, and the rucksack thrown over his shoulder, he said, “I come in peace, and I am unarmed. Let my wife and her brother go free, and you may take the entire ransom. We have no quarrel with you.”
“I will take what I want, along with the money.” The blackguard sneered with unequivocal intent. “Perhaps I will keep the lady, too, for my enjoyment. But I will not leave you or this sniveling runt to report me to the constable and raise the alarm.”
“But that was not our agreement.” With a watery gaze, Richard’s mouth fell agape. “You said you would help me save my sister. You said I could have half to support my family, if I cooperated. And Daphne was not to be harmed.”
With an expression of urgency, Dalton cast Daphne a side-glance, and she inched closer.
“And in your greed, you believed me, bantling.” In a display of unchecked brutality, Mr. Allen struck Richard with the butt of the weapon, and Daphne availed herself of the opportunity to shift ever nearer. But Mr. Allen spotted her new position and took aim in her direction. “As you were, or I will kill you, now.”
The Lucky One (Brethren Of The Coast #6) Page 28
