The Sinner (Assassins Guild Book 4)

by C. J. Archer

  "No," Widow Dawson said. "She went to get—"

  The door crashed back and Cole and Orlando barreled inside. Elizabeth trailed after them and Lynden brought up the rear, wringing his hands.

  "Bloody hell!" Orlando said, his worried gaze sweeping over Hughe.

  "You're awake." Cole grunted and stopped at the foot of the bed. "You look like death."

  "Shut it, Cole," Orlando snapped. He let out a ragged breath and passed a hand over his eyes. "Christ."

  Elizabeth sat on the bed and smiled crookedly down at Hughe. "You had me so worried."

  "And me!" said Lord Lynden, sitting on the other side. He flapped a fan in front of his face then turned it on Hughe.

  Hughe shoved it away. "Did you fetch them?" he asked Elizabeth.

  She nodded. Her eyes filled with tears. "I thought you were… I thought they would want to know. And with Edward not here…I hope I did the right thing."

  He patted her hand. "You did. But as you can all see, I'm not dying."

  Cole grunted again. For anyone who didn't know him, he seemed unaffected, but Hughe knew better. The man's mouth was pinched, his fists locked at his sides. His bleak, black gaze connected with Hughe's.

  "I'm all right," Hughe said again to reassure them. "Widow Dawson tells me I'll recover fully."

  "Who did this?" Orlando asked. The hand that gripped the bed post turned white. "Who bloody did this, Hughe?"

  "I don't know." If they thought for a moment that Cat was guilty, they'd not spare her life.

  Lynden cleared his throat. "A cup was found in the stables near where you collapsed, Oxley. Some of the poisoned wine was left in it so I had it thrown out. It smelled innocent enough to me."

  "Some poisons are odorless," Elizabeth told him.

  "Who gave it to you?" Orlando pressed.

  Hughe shook his head. If he could speak to Cat before they got to her, perhaps he could sort this out. Perhaps there was some mistake and she hadn't meant to poison him with a cup of wine she'd asked her maid to give to him.

  Fuck.

  "You two need to ride to Larkham," he said to divert everyone's attention. "Recent events have necessitated the plan be put into place early. Today and not tonight."

  "What plan?" Lynden asked, blinking at him.

  "Come, my lord," Widow Dawson said, rising. "We should leave Lord Oxley alone with his friends."

  Lynden hesitated until Cole shifted a step closer. The big man didn't look menacing, but he had a dark look about him that not even a fool like Lynden would trifle with. Lynden rose and followed Widow Dawson and Bel, but stopped in the doorway. "Elizabeth? You ought to leave the men alone to discuss their affairs too."

  The glare she gave him could have cut through ice. His face blanched and he left.

  Cole came around to the side of the bed. "The poisoner—"

  "Forget that, for now," Hughe said. "This is more important."

  Cole crossed his arms. "So say you."

  "And I am still your leader." He swung his legs out of the bed. Dizziness filled his head and his volatile stomach rose. He felt as pathetic as a babe, his limbs as heavy as if he had sacks of grain strapped to them. His skin was tight, hot, and achy. He clenched his teeth and steadied his breathing, determined not to show weakness in front of anyone. Not even his friends. "Upfield was here early this morning. He's dead now."

  Cole dropped his arms to his sides. Orlando blew out a breath.

  "Edward?" Elizabeth whispered, her lips trembling.

  "Gone to the first farm to keep an eye on things there. He buried the body before he left so it wouldn't be found, but we decided to get the Rennys out today instead of tonight, just in case."

  She pressed a hand to her heart and lowered her head, but not before Hughe saw the tears in her eyes.

  "If the body is hidden then we still have time," Orlando said. "Cole and I will ride to Larkham now and get the Rennys out."

  "In disguise," Hughe said.

  "Bloody hell," Cole muttered. "I hate dressing up."

  A knock on the door was followed by Slade bursting in. He took in the group surrounding the bed, and must have noticed that Cat wasn't there. He alone knew the truth of the poisoning. Hughe had to keep him quiet for Cat's sake.

  "You're alive!" Slade declared. Hislop appeared behind him, his eyes narrowing to slits. His jaw hardened as he stared at Hughe.

  "Sorry to disappoint you," Hughe said.

  "I, uh, not at all. Your death would have been a tragedy."

  Then why did Hislop look as if Hughe's recovery was the tragedy? Hughe got a very strange feeling in his gut, and it had nothing to do with the remnants of the poison.

  "We came for Lord Lynden," Slade said. "But we see he's not here. Do you know where I can find him? I have important and rather disturbing news that requires his attention."

  "What is it?" Hughe's question came out in a rush, but he couldn't stop it. Couldn't hide his fear. Cat…what if she…

  "This concerns Lord Lynden—"

  "Tell me!"

  Slade cleared his throat. "A body was found buried in his woods."

  A chill crept up Hughe's spine. "Whose body?"

  "He was identified by one of the laborers as being a Larkham man named Upfield. Ah," Slade said. "I see by your reaction that you know him. I am sorry, my lord. I hope you weren't close."

  Something was wrong. Monk wouldn't have buried the body where it could be found within hours. He was more competent than that. How had Slade and Hislop found it? And why did both of them seem too pleased with themselves? Hughe felt like he was running behind the pack and he was too slow to catch up.

  "We had word sent to Larkham," Slade said.

  "What!" Orlando bellowed. "You should have come here first. Lynden is the Justice of the Peace for this region."

  Hughe lowered his head and shut his eyes. Christ. Word would reach Larkham faster than Cole and Orlando. It wouldn't be long before an angry mob was banging on Widow Renny's door, looking for someone to blame. It didn't matter that she and her sons were nowhere near Sutton Hall or Upfield at the time of his death. The villagers were already on the brink of being unreasonable. This would send them over the edge.

  Slade held up his hands. "My apologies! I thought I did the right thing. I thought his family should know. They may be out looking for him."

  "He was a long way from home," Hislop mused. "Very strange that he turned up dead here. Don't you think, my lord?"

  Hughe didn't like his supercilious tone.

  "You haven't asked how he died," Slade said to Hughe. "It was a cut clean across the throat. Not poison." He frowned. "How odd that you would be poisoned on the very morning that Upfield died. Do you think we have one villain or two?"

  Hughe would not let them pin that on Cat too. He wouldn't let them accuse her of anything. Fortunately, it didn't seem as if Slade was about to. Perhaps he didn't want to see her arrested any more than Hughe did. "Get out of my sight," he growled.

  Slade bowed. "As you wish." He backed away. Hislop did not bow, but he too left.

  Hughe hauled himself off the bed and fought back the dizziness until he felt stable.

  "Where are you going?" Elizabeth asked, also rising.

  "Larkham."

  A maid entered carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and some bread. She laid it down on the table near the window, apparently oblivious to the tension in the bedchamber.

  "You're not going anywhere," Cole growled. "Orlando and I can do this without you. We're still capable."

  "You no longer work for me," Hughe reminded him.

  "This isn't work," Orlando said. "Rest, Hughe. Cole and I can go to Larkham on your behalf. We'll get there before anything happens to the Rennys. Don't worry."

  Hughe hardly heard the end of his speech. He was staring at the maid. She stared back at him, her eyes as big as her face.

  "Is something wrong?" he asked her.

  "You talk of danger in Larkham?"

  "Why?"

 
She swallowed. "Lady Oxley rode there this morning."

  Hughe sat on the bed again. All the breath left his body. He tried to suck in air but it was no good. Fear had gripped him and wasn't letting go. Cat was in Larkham. He had to get her out.

  "I don't understand," Orlando said. "Why would she go to Larkham?"

  "It doesn't matter why," Hughe growled. "Getting her out safely is all that matters now."

  "We'll leave immediately. Come, Cole."

  Hughe gripped the bedpost to steady himself. "I'm coming."

  "You can't," Cole said. "You're too weak. You can hardly stand."

  "I don't need to stand. Tell the grooms to saddle a horse for me. Now!" he shouted when no one moved.

  Elizabeth and the maid raced from the room. Cole and Orlando exchanged worried glances. If they tried to stop him, he'd kill them.

  "If it was either of your wives," he said, "would you lie down while someone else fetched her?" Neither met his gaze. "I didn't think so." He stripped off his shirt and threw it on the bed. His limbs felt stiff, the muscles achy. He tried not to show weakness as he dressed in front of his men. It would seem he was going to have an escort the entire way.

  ***

  Warren had disappeared. Cat looked out the window and searched up and down the street, but there was no sign of him or the horses. Only the mob making their way toward Widow Renny's house like a tidal wave. The men at the front brandished clubs and sticks, or slapped their fists into open hands. Dogs barked and danced at their feet, excited by the cries of "Murderers!" and "Swine!"

  Behind her, Widow Renny sobbed. "Where is Lord Oxley?" she cried.

  Dying in his bed. Alone.

  Cat closed the shutters and turned to the three frightened people who were dependent on her husband for help. They seemed to trust Hughe, and him alone. Except he wasn't there.

  "I'll speak to them," Cat said.

  The eldest son snorted. "And say what? What can a mere woman do? We need Lord Oxley. Or Mr. Monk. They'll know what to do."

  Red flashed before her eyes. Her husband lay dying, not knowing that she loved him. She was confused, terrified, and she no longer had a horse on which to escape. Warren had fled, as any sensible lad would upon seeing that mob. She didn't blame him. But she could blame this youth for not seeing that Cat was his family's only chance.

  "You have me," she told him. "I may not look much, but I am all you've got. So I suggest you help your mother and brother out the back way. Run. I don't care where. Just run as fast as you can. I'll do what I can here to delay them."

  "Forgive him, my lady," Widow Renny said, with a glare at her son. "Worry makes his tongue loose."

  "My apologies," the youth muttered. "Come, Mother."

  "But m'lady!" Widow Renny said. "They may not care who you are."

  Outside, a roar went up. They were almost at the house.

  "Don't worry about me," Cat said. "I've faced down angry mobs before."

  The back door burst open, sending Cat's heart into her throat. Widow Renny screamed. Her sons stood in front of her to protect her.

  It was only Warren. The Sutton Hall lad stood in the doorway, breathing heavily, his frantic eyes darting between the four faces.

  "My apologies," he said with an awkward bow at Cat. "I would have knocked, but didn't think it would be heard over the din."

  Cat could have kissed him. "Go!" she shouted at the Rennys. "Warren, take them away. Use both horses."

  "M'lady! I can't leave you!"

  "You can and you will. If you don't, I'll see that you're dismissed from your position."

  The poor lad gurgled his protest, but didn't give voice to it.

  "I'll be all right, Warren," she said, softer. "Go now. There's no time for more delays."

  The Renny boys pushed past him to the rear of the house. Widow Renny went to follow, but paused and looked back at Cat. "M'lady, if…when you make it away from here, meet us at the Drewitt Farm, first exit off the Sutton Grange road. The barn is our meeting place if we got separated."

  Cat nodded.

  The back door closed on them just as fists and clubs pounded on the front. She stood a little back from it and waited. The longer she waited, the more time Warren had to get them away.

  Yet the mob would not wait. The door splintered and the hinges popped. Men squeezed through the gap, clubs in hand, murder in their eyes. Their shouts died on their lips when they spotted Cat.

  She lifted her chin in the way she'd seen the dowager countess do and fixed the men at the front with a glare she hoped showed none of the fear she felt. "Enough! Go home! Leave the Rennys in peace."

  More men came through the door, bumping into their leaders. Outside, the shouts became louder, demanding to be let in. "Who are you?" one of the men asked.

  "Lady Oxley. Some of you may know my husband, Lord Oxley."

  "Is he here?"

  "What does his lordship want with the Rennys?" called out another man.

  "Aye," said one of the leaders. "Why is Lord Oxley getting involved in Larkham affairs?"

  "Lord Oxley is concerned about justice," she said. "He wishes you all to go home and leave the Rennys in peace. Let the authorities decide what to do with them."

  "Bah!" said the big man in the front. "They've escaped justice long enough. It's time to see the witch and her sons pay for their crimes."

  "What crimes?"

  "Just this morning they murdered one of our own."

  Murdered? Surely that timid looking woman wasn't a murderess. It wasn't making sense. None of it was.

  "Step aside, yer ladyship," the big man growled. The fellow beside him slammed his club into his fist. "You wouldn't want to get hurt now, would you?"

  "Don't you dare come in," she said, squaring her shoulders. "I am Lady Oxley and you are trespassing. Go home."

  The men at the front hesitated. A few of them exchanged uncertain glances. Cat could taste victory. The Oxley name was a powerful one, her husband known as an important man in the realm. It would only take a few more commands and another reminder of who she was to see them on their way.

  Except the others at the rear of the mob hadn't heard her. They didn't even know she was there. Frustrated at getting nowhere, they surged forward, pushing the men ahead of them through the door like grains of sand through an hourglass. The big one tumbled headlong into Cat, shoving her backward. She tripped over the chair on which Widow Renny had sat moments earlier and put her hands out to stop herself falling completely.

  Pain ripped through her injured hand, but there was no time to nurse it. The mob flowed through the doorway. Clubs and fists bashed into the walls, knocked over furniture and pulled down hangings. Cat tried to scramble to her feet to get out of the way, but she stood on the hem of her skirt and stumbled.

  Somebody caught her and set her on her feet. It was the big fellow, one of the leaders from the front of the mob. "Get out while you still can, m'lady," he said gravely. "This is no place for the likes of you."

  He let her go and joined his fellow villagers in searching the house. She needed to get away before they discovered the Rennys had escaped.

  She pushed her way through them toward the front door. It was slow progress. Two steps forward, one step back as she was jostled between the stinking, seething mass of bodies. She almost fell over a dog that raced past her and received elbows in her ribs more times than she cared to count.

  But she finally made it into the fresh air. Her hand throbbed. Her hair had come out of its arrangement and tumbled over her shoulders. The mob still surrounded the front of the house. Shutters were thrown open and faces appeared at upper windows, searching the street below.

  An angry cry rose from somewhere inside. "They're not here!"

  She had to get away. They may yet turn on her out of frustration.

  She ran down the street, back the way she'd come, onto the main road that led out of the village. Mud flicked up on her skirt and her hair streamed out behind her. So much for the dignified Lady O
xley.

  "M'lady!" called a female voice.

  Cat turned to see the woman who'd given her directions to the Renny house. She still stood in her shop doorway, the child once more playing at her feet. She nodded at a horse and cart tied to a bollard at the edge of the village green.

  "I'll tell the owner Lord Oxley will pay 'im for his troubles, shall I?" she said with an encouraging smile.

  It had been some years since Cat had driven a cart, yet she saw no other choice. There were no other horses about and this one wasn't saddled for riding.

  "Thank you," she said. She untied the horse and climbed onto the driver's seat. Please be swift yet compliant.

  She urged the horse on with a flick of the reins and sped out of Larkham with a "Good riddance." A few stragglers from the mob had already returned and watched her leave, but did not try to follow.

  It was only a matter of time before they made their way to Sutton Hall to accuse her of aiding the flight of a murderous family, but it would be up to Lynden to diffuse the situation then. Cat wanted nothing more to do with the Larkham mob. All that mattered now was getting the Rennys to Hughe's bedside. Let Lynden determine who had been murdered and why. If one or more of the Rennys were guilty, she would face the consequences of her actions then.

  She turned the cart onto the first track leading off from the road and headed for the barn she spotted in the distance. Warren emerged as she pulled to a stop, almost crying with relief at the sight of her. He grasped the reins and breathed deeply. "Thank God you're all right, m'lady. Thank God."

  Peter appeared at the barn door. He glanced back along the track then emerged fully when he saw she was alone. "Come out!" he called over his shoulder.

  His mother and brother followed, blinking in the daylight, clasping one another in terror. Warren returned inside and fetched the two horses.

  "I'll drive," Peter said.

  "Can you ride?" Cat asked him.

  His face lit up. "Aye, my lady."

  "Then ride my horse."

  "M'lady," Warren warned, eyeing Peter. "Are you sure?" No doubt he didn't trust one of the expensive animals to a village lad.

  "It'll be all right, Warren. Assist Mistress Renny."