Angel In My Bed

by Melody Thomas

  “Whatever your nature, you’ve brass for bollocks, lordship,” Stillings said. “Maybe even ballsy enough to walk into a room full of cutthroats with the promise of riches and walk out alive.”

  David’s mouth stretched into an unsmiling grin. “If a man were to do something so foolish, the last thing I’d expect is to see him back in your town.”

  “I have a dozen men outside and a warrant for your arrest,” Stillings said mildly. “There are not any of us around here that will be missing the magistrate, but if whoever killed him killed my men. I want to find him.”

  Stillings looked past David to Meg. “You once came to me for help.”

  “I did.” Her voice was a whisper.

  He stepped into the room, his boots muddy. He carried a rifle in his hand. “You are looking for the tunnels, my lord. I came up from the river. This is what I found beneath the church.”

  David took the Enfield. He held it, stock high to the light, and traced the faint indentation of a single letter once burned in the stock. David handed Ravenspur the rife as he looked over at Stillings. “Will you show me where you found this?”

  “The letter R?” Ravenspur asked.

  “Rockwell?” Kinley took the rifle and turned it over in his hand. “This rifle belonged to Ian Rockwell’s father.”

  David pulled Meg to a more private distance. He cupped her chin so she could not avoid his gaze. “You’ve done your job here. Now let me do mine.” He looked past her at Ravenspur. “I intend to clean out the caves. Blakely should be here soon with my son and ward. I need you to get my family somewhere safe until this is over. Telegraph Halisham or New Haven. Have them hold the train tomorrow if need be. We can be there by early in the morning if we leave tonight.”

  “You can hold the train?” Meg asked.

  “No, but Ravenspur can.” He wedged her hair behind her ear. “Pack only what you and Nathanial will need. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” To Kinley, he said, “You can arrest me later.”

  “You can arrest me now,” Victoria said after David and Stillings rode out of the yard.

  Outside, she heard the jangle of a carriage and harnesses and knew Blakely was returning from the cottage. She planted herself in the doorway. Ravenspur could not leave the bookroom without walking over her.

  “My lady.” He folded his coat over his arm and waited for her to move out of the doorway. “With all due respect—”

  “There isn’t any pardon for me, is there?” she asked him.

  When no answer was forthcoming, she lifted her chin and ignored the burn behind her eyes. “I wasn’t lying when I told you David wants to take me from here. I won’t let him do something noble and treasonous to prevent the inevitable.”

  “What do you suggest that we do?” Lord Ravenspur asked.

  “I’ll go with Kinley. As far away from my family as possible.” She pulled her shawl tighter. “My father has gone to ground. You won’t catch him unless you lure him into the open. After all, he thinks I have something he wants. If I’m not here and there is no one to play with, he will come after me. When he does, I don’t want to be anywhere near my family. David won’t catch him unless I am the bait.”

  Nathanial burst through the front door. Water dripped from his hat. He saw her standing in the hallway and ran to her. “Do we have to go away, Mother? Do we?”

  She looked over her son’s head at Bethany. Removing a soaked pelisse, she raised her head. She wore a periwinkle blue traveling garment. Her eyes, so like the sky in summer, wavered only slightly as she joined them.

  “Is Sir Henry not with you?” Victoria asked.

  “He could not abide the carriage. The Shelbys will remain with him.” Bethany placed an arm across Nathanial’s shoulders. “I told him I would help him pack his trunk. We’re about to embark on an adventure. Aren’t we, Nathan? He will be fine, Victoria.”

  And never at that moment had she loved Bethany more. “This is Lord Chadwick’s brother-in-law.” To her son, she said, “Your uncle, His Grace, the Duke of Ravenspur. He is arranging a place for you to stay.”

  Both Nathanial and Bethany raised their eyes to look at the tall imposing figure standing in the doorway. Bethany dipped into a curtsy. “Your Grace.”

  “You are his ward,” Lord Ravenspur said, then shifted his eyes and knelt on one knee in front of Nathanial. “And you are my nephew. My name is Michael,” he said. “Uncle Michael. That is what your cousins call me.”

  “Can I bring Zeus?”

  Lord Ravenspur looked up at her. “A cat,” Victoria explained.

  He laughed. “You and your Aunt Brea are cut from the same cloth. She loves cats. We have five. But don’t you think Zeus would prefer to catch mice here and not be caged for the next few days?”

  Victoria agreed. “He will remain and keep Sir Henry company.”

  Lord Ravenspur came to his feet and bowed over Bethany’s hand. “It was nice meeting you as well, Miss Munro.”

  After Nathanial and Bethany went upstairs, Victoria raised a brow. “Five cats?”

  “And they all sleep with us.”

  She smiled then. Even if it wasn’t true, it was an outrageous statement, and, though she sensed in him a will of ducal iron, not easily bent, the clear gray eyes betrayed a hint of charm, maybe even softness if she looked hard enough. She no longer wondered what kind of man he was within the arms of his own family. Or whether her own family would be safe with him.

  “My lady—”

  “Victoria,” she said. “My name is Victoria, Your Grace. Few know me by any other. Since we are related, I would prefer you call me Victoria.”

  “I haven’t gotten used to calling Donally, Chadwick.”

  “I love him, Your Grace,” Victoria said before Lord Ravenspur could turn away, and she would never be able to say to him again what she wanted to say now. “I need his family to know that and not judge me. I want them to accept our son.”

  “Victoria.” Lord Ravenspur shrugged into his coat as she walked him to the front door. “David would never forgive me if I did what you asked me to do.” He pulled on his gloves. “I trust you’ll go upstairs and pack instead? If I’m to get to the telegraph office, I need to leave.”

  “But I can’t—”

  “You’re going to London, Lady Chadwick.”

  She remained on the threshold as he jogged down the steps into the rain and out of the enclosed yard. A man stood beside his horse picketed near the fence. Lord Ravenspur spoke to him, then mounted. She was surprised he had not arrived by carriage. As he rode out, she looked through the darkness toward the church. An eerie luminosity colored the sky. A hundred lantern lights had caught the moisture in the air and set the night aglow.

  David was out there. Stillings’s loyalty worried her, but Tommy, being intelligent when it came to his survival would surely acknowledge where the future bread and butter of this town lay. As for Nellis?

  She should have felt something. Instead, she felt…helpless.

  Victoria shut the door. She didn’t want to face Kinley. But the least she could do was see the man comfortable before David returned. She walked back to the bookroom.

  At first, she didn’t see Kinley beside the window. His gloved hands clasped behind his back, he stared out across the darkened valley.

  A distant flash of lightning silhouetted the orchard below the bluff. “Like a soliloquy in a Greek tragedy,” he said before she could speak. “How very quaint.”

  Victoria looked from the window to Kinley standing in the shadows. He turned and regarded her over the pair of gold spectacles on his nose.

  How very quaint.

  Her father had used that very phrase that morning.

  And at once, as his eyes touched hers, the air froze between them, like ice and death, and what her thoughts had initially refused to acknowledge, now warned her to run.

  They both moved at the same time.

  Footsteps hard and fast behind her spurred her toward the door, but she was not fast enough
. The door slammed shut in front of her face. A hand on her shoulder jerked her around as fingers wrapped about her throat and pinned her to the door. “Was it my word choice that gave it away, Maggie?” he asked.

  Chapter 23

  “Get away from me!” Victoria pressed her palms against his padded shoulders, and he balled up his fist. The one that wasn’t wrapped around her neck and cutting off her air.

  “Don’t make me strike you, girl. I’ve never hit you, but so help me, I will.”

  “Strike me?” Fighting the constricting vise around her lungs, she focused on separating her heart’s frantic hammering from her need to breathe. “You murdered Mother.”

  He laughed. “Your mother died birthing another man’s child. You pitied and loved her when she left you. Did I leave you, Maggie? Never.”

  Her vision swam in currents. “How could you pull it off?”

  “How could I impersonate Kinley?” He spat out stuffing that puffed his cheeks. “That bastard shadowed me for nine bloody years. So clever, a man of rules and agency decorum. I knew his every nuance, his every thought and expression. I knew his family. The names of his children. He would visit me. We’d play cards and talk over brandy. He would ply me so cleverly with questions and I would tell him about the treasure. You see, he was the one who had my earring all these years. Then he made the mistake of telling me he believed you were alive. My clever, clever girl. That was what I thought. You are your father’s daughter after all.”

  She cried out and covered her ears. “Stop it!”

  “Donally is all that remains,” he said. “My only loose end. Now he has my bloody locket. I would have left Nathanial alone. Didn’t I tell you I would?”

  Victoria’s eyes widened.

  Nathanial.

  He and Bethany were upstairs unaware.

  “My partner will have already found your son.”

  She went slack. She was winning the battle against the fog in her head. But she had to think. One hand went to her pocket. She found the key that remained there. Sensing her fading strength, her father loosened his hold on her neck.

  “There now, isn’t that better?”

  She suddenly had the advantage. She knew he was dangerous, but he had no idea that she was as well.

  She burst into sobs and leaned against the door, underscoring her helplessness, yet careful not to overplay the part. He loved his drama, but he would not believe she had changed that much. His hold loosened just enough.

  She rose with force, throwing out her arms to break his lock on her. He stumbled back and hit the corner of a table. Victoria flung open the door, slammed it shut, and locked it just as he pounded his fists against the other side.

  “You won’t leave without your son!” He kicked the door.

  She turned and ran down the hallway, dousing each wall sconce along the way. But she had forgotten the servants’ entrance. A panel door slammed open in the foyer. Drawing in her breath, she dipped into the dining room. The curtains were drawn. Her breath coming in gasps, she stopped and tried to listen for any pursuit.

  Nothing.

  The room was dark and cold. She slipped behind the folding doors that led downstairs to the kitchen, and leaned against the wall to catch her breath. She remained there for several minutes listening, making sure her father had not found his way into the corridor. The house had few enough servants as it was, but she passed no one as she made her way downstairs, through the kitchen corridor and to the servants’ stairway that led to the second floor.

  Victoria extinguished each lamp and wall sconce as she edged up the back stairs. Her palms pressed against the wall, she rounded the corner and slid into another servants’ panel. She wanted to get to Nathanial’s room, but instinct told her that her father would be prepared for her to make that move. Holding her hands against the wall, she felt her way along the corridor to the studio. As she edged back the panel and looked into the room, a flash of lightning revealed the studio empty.

  “Maaaaggie?”

  Her father’s lilting voice sounded from somewhere down the hallway. A door slammed. “I don’t like it when you hide from me.”

  She didn’t know who else might be in the house. She could hear her father’s muffled voice speaking in low tones. She dashed across the room and retrieved David’s sword from high on the wall. Had she been a shorter woman, she would not have been able to reach it.

  She ran across the studio floor, pressed her back against the wall, and peered around the corner. All the lights in the house had been extinguished, she realized, as she looked out into complete darkness. Holding tight to the sword, Victoria left the studio.

  The hunted had now become the hunter. She knew her father wanted David more than he wanted to kill her at this moment, and that gave her a slight advantage, as he would be looking out the windows for his approach from the church. She wasn’t yet willing to give away her location. She had to know who else was in the house.

  God don’t let him hurt Nathanial and Bethany.

  Slipping into the servants’ corridor, she exited in the other wing. She made it to her chambers and went at once in search of a second weapon that she could use more to her advantage. Night pressed against the windows, but she dared light no lamp.

  Her physician’s bag still sat next to her bed, and, dropping to her knees, she fumbled with the latch and withdrew a syringe. Better yet, she sucked morphine into the narrow vial connecting to the needle and filled it. More than enough dosage to knock out a grown man her father’s size. Maybe even kill him. Holding the plunger like a knife, she rose, careful not to trip on anything scattered over the floor and inadvertently stab herself.

  She grabbed the sword and made her way out the door. Halfway down the corridor, Victoria slid across the hallway, pressed her back against the wall, and tried desperately to swallow the rising panic. Darkness stood between her room and her son’s. The weather hampered her ability to hear anything beyond the trace of her ragged breathing.

  She reached her hand out to open her son’s door. Turned the glass knob and let the door swing wide.

  Nothing.

  “Nathanial?” she called, then said his name louder. “Nathan?”

  She stepped into the room. He wasn’t there. She ran through his dressing room to the classroom. Her son wasn’t there, either. A broken sob escaped her lungs. “Nathanial?”

  Thunder crawled across the sky and she glared at the ceiling. The rain outside didn’t nearly equal the ferocity of the growing storm swirling inside her chest as she backed a step. The rage was red as something erupted in her chest.

  She was beyond caring about her own life. If her father harmed one hair on Nathanial’s head, she would hunt him down, the face of her nightmares, the stealer of her soul. She would skewer him. Her voice catching on a sob, she spun on her heel and slammed into a body.

  The scream tore from her throat and she swung the sword, even knowing she was too close to maim. But the left hand that caught her wrist did not prevent her from using the syringe, and she stabbed it into his shoulder before she realized that the man standing in front of her was not her father.

  “Oh, God!” she cried, as she heard David swear.

  “Meg…” He yanked the syringe from his shoulder, but she’d already flown into his arms and he stumbled backward into the corridor, catching his hands around her waist.

  “You’re here. You’re all right. Oh God, ohgodohgod…I gave you all of it,” she whispered as she flung away the syringe.

  She heard footsteps down the corridor. David turned as a bullet splintered the doorjamb and, with a scream, she pulled him back into the room and slammed the door. She fumbled for the key in her pocket and locked the door. Then she stripped David’s shirt from his shoulder. His clothes were soaked and caked in mud.

  “Bloody, bloody hell.” He bent and placed his hands against his knees. He fell back against the wall.

  Blood oozed from the wound on his arm. “You’re hit. Oh, Lord, David. He shot you.�
�

  “Tell me you didn’t just inject me with poison.”

  “Morphine.” She cupped his face desperately and kissed him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. You’re going to go out, David. I don’t know what to do for you.”

  With a start, she realized someone was moving in the next room. A door slammed. If her father found David now, he’d kill him, if she hadn’t already done that with the morphine. “It’s Kinley,” she said, her voice frantic, as she tried to pull David to his feet. “He’s my father. The real Kinley is dead.”

  His hand cupped her cheek. “Ian found me. Pamela…is working…with Kinley. Are you hurt?”

  “Nathanial…” she sobbed her son’s name.

  “Nathanial and Bethany are safe. Downstairs. They are with Stillings. The tunnel,” he whispered. “The tunnel from the church leads to your cellar. Your father has been visiting here for months…before we moved in here. Doyle was afraid of this damn house.” He was sliding down the wall. “I should have known…Kinley.”

  “You’ve not seen either Kinley or my father in years. Not even Lord Ravenspur knew.” She struggled with his weight. “I have to get you out of here.”

  “My men should be here.” His voice slurred. “Find them.”

  She fell to her knees in front of him. “I’m not leaving you,” she said over the tears. “Now, hush. No more noise.”

  “Tell me you love me.”

  “I love you.”

  “You’ll run away with me. We’ll get married all over again.”

  “And live happily ever after.” She stemmed the bleeding on his arm. “I know the ending.”

  It was a fairy-tale ending. One that would never be theirs.

  Then he closed his eyes.

  In a panic, she checked his pulse and found it still beating a moment before she heard the hammer of a revolver cock. “How very quaint.” The voice came to her from the darkness, and her father’s presence displaced the shadows.

  Her heart nearly leaped from her chest, so strong was the panic. Her father held the gun pointed at David’s head.