by Amy Atwell
Olivia took both Johnny’s hands in her own small ones, and stood up on tip-toe to press a quick kiss to each of Johnny’s flushed cheeks. She leaned in to place a third kiss on Johnny’s lips when the bedroom door swung open.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Johnny recognized the voice immediately, but had no chance to react before white pain blazed through her skull. As she dropped to the floor, everything turned black.
Olivia’s limbs shook as she grabbed the pewter candlestick from her older brother. “Curtis, what are you doing here?”
“Saving you from ruin, it appears. What the hell is he doing here?”
Olivia kneeled to check on Johnny, but Curtis grabbed her arm and tugged her to her feet again. She jerked away from him with such force that the sleeve of her gown separated at the shoulder with a rending sound.
“Don’t touch me! I invited him here,” Olivia explained defiantly. “We were celebrating his birthday, and I was giving him a birthday kiss.”
Curtis laughed. “Olivia, what have you ever seen in this bastard? He is so far beneath you.” Curtis nudged the unconscious boy in the ribs with his toe. “I think he broke in here and tried to rape you.”
Olivia’s eyes grew large. She was not quite clear what rape was, but knew it was very bad. “No, listen Curtis, I invited—”
“Is that what you’re going to tell Mother? That you invited a bastard stable boy to your room? She’ll cancel your presentation. She’ll lock you away.”
Tears streamed down Olivia’s face. “No,” she whispered. Her presentation in London was all she’d dreamed of for years. It spelled freedom from Miss Trent and the beginning of a whole adult life. She heard a door open down the hall.
Curtis heard it, too. “Mother will be here any second. You decide.”
“What in heaven’s—Curtis what are you doing here?” Mama swept into the room, but stopped short at the sight of Johnny’s lifeless form on the floor. “What is the meaning of this?”
Curtis looked to Olivia. “I came home for a visit, Mother. When I came to see Olivia, I found this,” he kicked Johnny again, “kissing her. I struck him.”
Lady Vaughan’s eyes flew to Olivia. “Is this true, Olivia?”
Tears coursing down her face, Olivia looked at Johnny and wished there was some way out of this. Curtis watched her, daring her to speak the truth. But seeing her mother’s judgmental frown, there was only one thing to say.
“He broke in here, Mama. He tried to rape me!” She burst into an angry sob, hating her brother for ruining everything.
Rosalie embraced her daughter and said nothing about the table with its two teacups. Whether Olivia was at fault was not now in question. “There, there, baby. You’re safe now. Curtis, remove him. Lock him in the stables and leave him for Derek to punish.” Her eyes narrowed with satisfaction. Finally, she would prove to Derek what a treacherous viper he’d been harboring all these years.
Chapter 10
Bath, September 1814
Harry arrived in Bath midday, travel weary and exhausted from over two years of constant work with the Foreign Office. Castlereagh had come to rely on him. Coatsworth will talk them ’round. Clever as a fox, he is. Even after that devil Bonaparte was beaten and sent to Elba, restoring the Bourbons to the throne had required a great deal of diplomacy.
His mother clucked over him, ordered his bed aired and a bath carried up, and promptly canceled her plans for the evening, as he preferred to stay in. She ordered a hearty meal boasting quail and ham, and they lingered over supper while he bestowed upon her some of the better stories of the court as well as an excellent bottle of wine he’d carried home from France.
Though fatigue and the evening’s simple activities should have relaxed him, sleep eluded Harry. Late into the night, he sat at his desk writing letters. While many thought he did nothing but talk in the Foreign Office, diplomacy required a shocking amount of correspondence as well.
A rapping at the front door disturbed his work and Harry squinted at the clock. Past midnight. Not even Taft, his mother’s butler, would be awake at this hour. Carrying a taper, Harry hurried down the stairs to answer the summons.
Opening the door, he took a step back at the sight of Cushing. The man’s normally swarthy jowls looked drawn and haggard. Behind him, a big-boned hunter stood beneath the streetlamp, steam rising from its heaving sides.
“Good God, man!” Harry pulled the servant inside, his imagination already rampant with what could only be bad news. “What brings you here at this hour?”
“You must come and help, Mr. Harry. Johnny needs you."
~
Johnny spent the dark hours holding her splitting head. Between the large knot and the disjointed thoughts whirling through her brain, she was too distraught to sleep. As the first cock crew, she faced the truth—she had to confess her identity. Cushing may have already done so. With a sigh, she acknowledged there would be hell to pay with the duke.
Rory arrived to open the stall door and peer at her in the thin light of dawn, and his first words confirmed her suspicions. “His Grace wants you, Johnny. He’s in a black mood, so I’d watch what I say.” The groom stood back and let her pass.
“Where’s Cushing?” she managed.
Rory frowned. “Rode out of here last night without a word.”
Rode out of here… Had the duke sacked Cushing for lying to him? Fear mounting, she followed Rory outside to find two horses saddled and ready. Johnny pulled herself atop one, though the effort cost her head dearly. Her vision still swam with dizziness as she resolutely gathered the reins. She would face the duke now, tell him the truth and accept her punishment.
Rory led her down the long drive away from the buildings. She was glad he remained silent, for it took all her concentration to direct her horse. She continued to seek words to broach the subject of her identity as they splashed across a shallow stream and left the drive to cut across a vast meadow. In the center, a lone rider dismounted from his steed and awaited them.
The words of her confession scattered on the breeze as the duke roughly grabbed her by the collar and pulled her from her snorting horse.
“You wanted so much to be a man, let’s see if you’re ready to fight like one,”
“What?” She fought to squelch her dizziness and retrieve her wits.
“Don’t play stupid with me. I warn you, you’ll be lucky to survive the morning.” Derek dragged her to where two rapiers speared the ground and flung her toward them. “Choose!”
Johnny darted a quick glance at his granite face and then gingerly plucked one of the rapiers from the ground. She stared at it dumbly for a few moments. “There’s no tip.”
“They’re redundant in a duel.”
A duel? “I don’t understand,” Johnny stated, panic blossoming.
“Then allow me to outline the rules for you.” His eyes narrowed in fury. “You betrayed me. You’re a threat to my family. I thought about whipping you, as I might have any other servant, but you’re a Vaughan. That should account for something. Rory is here to offer witness that you had the chance to defend yourself.”
Johnny blanched at the unemotional menace of his words. He was planning to kill her. They’d caught the stable boy in Olivia’s room, and the duke blamed the boy Johnny.
“My lord, there’s been a mistake—”
The duke raised his arm, and Johnny dodged reflexively when it looked as if he would backhand her across the face. He stayed his hand—why, she didn’t know. His eyes narrowed until only thin shards of blue showed. “You’re the one who made the mistake, and you’re about to pay for it.”
He yanked the other rapier from the ground and removed his coat and waistcoat. Johnny tried desperately to control her trembling fingers as she unbuttoned her coat. The duke still didn’t know her secret, and though these weren’t the ideal circumstances for revealing herself, of one thing she was certain—unless she told him the truth now, in his fury, he would kill her.
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“Are you ready yet, boy?”
She winced at the way he spat ’boy’ out as if it were truly a foul word. “If you’d let me explain. I meant no harm—”
The duke lunged at her with his rapier, making her leap back. Rage transformed him to something evil and dangerous. Johnny defended herself, diverting the thrusts as she’d been taught over the years.
He accused her across their swords. “You lie! You broke into her room. You exacted your price from Olivia!”
“I took nothing from Olivia,” Johnny fit her words between thrusts. “She begged me to come to her room last night. I only did as she asked. Curtis caught her kissing me, but if you hold, I can explain it all.”
Immersed in her argument, she misread his parry and left herself open. He nicked her right arm, but she spared it only a glance. She recalled the duke’s own words after Tom died.
When someone attacks you, you have no time for any thought other than how to avoid being killed. If you can think of anything else, then you’d better be planning how to defeat your enemy. There’s no room for emotions or excuses of any kind. In a real fight, it’s kill or be killed.
Johnny steeled her resolve with these words. Loving him as she did, she would have sworn she would do anything for the duke, but she found she couldn’t bring herself to die without a fight. Countering his assault, she advanced on him.
Derek was caught unprepared as the boy’s first thrust tore his shirt. He retreated, parrying Johnny’s vicious lunges as he went, biding until ready to renew his attack. But the boy had planted seeds of doubt in Derek’s brain. Had Olivia encouraged Johnny? Even welcomed his advances? With his upbringing, would Johnny even know the magnitude of the crime he committed with a girl of noble blood? Derek swore under his breath. Here he was preparing to kill a boy half his age. A boy who had been like a brother to him. A boy who had once saved his life. All for the honor of a young girl—a vain, overindulged girl who had played with fire, ignorant of its consequences.
As the rapiers locked with a clang and slide of metal, Johnny stepped on a stone and tilted off balance. In that moment, she felt the stinging slice of the duke’s blade below her left breast.
Derek was certain his thrust had touched the boy, but saw no blood. The boy renewed his advances, and Derek continued the fight until he noticed the growing red stain on Johnny’s side. “Johnny, hold. You’re hurt.”
Johnny tried to focus on him, and saw he’d lowered his weapon. Her legs gave way, and she dropped to the ground. The duke waved for Rory, then kneeled beside her. When he tried to turn her to view the wound, she clutched her side, and pushed him away.
“Johnny, let me see it. It looks worse than I thought. I never meant to hurt you—”
“No, you only meant to kill me. Me! You called me your friend. I saved your life, and you want to kill me. Why don’t you do it now?” Johnny drew a ragged breath to control her bitterness.
Derek stilled at the betrayal reflected in Johnny’s blue-green eyes. But the boy was right—an hour ago Derek had planned on dispatching him in a duel. It seemed fantastic now. They’d known each other so long. The boy couldn’t be guilty of such a deed, but if he weren’t—
“You’re right. I wanted to kill you for what you did to Olivia. Tell me the truth for I couldn’t draw a coherent answer from her. Did you take her virginity?”
Johnny raised solemn eyes to Derek’s face while her skin grew clammy. No wonder he was furious. What could have prompted Olivia to say such a thing?
Derek read the boy’s answer in those amazed, disbelieving eyes, but he needed to be sure. “Did you?” he prodded.
“No. Did she say that?”
“Yes, after Mother and Curtis—”
Johnny’s eyes rolled upwards even as his lids closed. The look was not lost on Derek. And then the truth burst on him. While Olivia adored Johnny, she idolized Curtis as only a sixteen-year-old girl could love her devoted older brother. Torn between the two young men, Olivia had obviously chosen sides last night. And of course, his stepmother had always hated Johnny. Realizing he might have killed an innocent, Derek raised an anguished hand to cover his face.
With an effort, Johnny focused on the duke. He’d hidden his face, unwilling to look at her. The smell of her own blood made her stomach roll, but she fought down the nausea. He still didn’t know her secret, and it was now vital that she explain. “There’s something I must tell you.” She was interrupted as Rory joined them.
“Shhh, lie quietly for a moment, Johnny.” Derek gave ground to the servant. Rising, he wiped his damp face on his sleeve.
Rory ripped open the shirt along the tear in the left side. At the sight of torn bandages beneath the shirt, he ran a hand through his silver hair. “What the…” Withdrawing a knife from his coat, he deftly cut through the bandages.
Johnny tried desperately to remain conscious long enough to tell the duke…to explain…if Rory would only give her a minute…
At the servant’s loud gasp, Derek wheeled around to find Rory shaking his head in bemusement. “He’s a she,” the groom stated.
Derek looked down at the shapely white breast surrounded by blood-soaked bandages then raised his gaze to Johnny’s face. It was the same face, and yet, it was a girl’s face. It was so obviously a girl’s face. Tears glistened in her aqua eyes.
His mind whirled. Were Johnny a girl, then everything he knew was wrong. Were Johnny a girl, she was clearly innocent of his family’s lies. Yet Olivia had stood in his office and wept and accused, no doubt goaded by Curtis and Rosalie. His darling unspoiled sister, Olivia. And he’d been so sure she would never be false like other women in his life.
Derek gave vent to his anger with a single curse. “Damn all women for the liars they are!”
It was the last thing Johnny heard before she lost consciousness.
~
Harry dozed fitfully in the coach, until a rut in the road brought an end to his dreams. It took but a moment for him to gain his bearings and recall why he wasn’t drowning in the comfort of his own bed with the curtains drawn against the sunrise.
“Where are we?” he asked his mother.
“We just passed through Ambersham.” Prim and pressed, no one would ever guess he’d roused her from her sleep hours before and dragged her on this rescue mission. She shook her head, her lips in an uncharacteristic frown. “That poor child, masquerading as a boy all this time.”
“If Cushing’s account of the situation is accurate, Johnny’s revealed her identity by now.”
The coach swept over the dew-covered countryside, slowing only to rattle across the old wooden bridge that marked the beginning of the Ambersley property. Not long after, the coachman pulled up the horses.
Harry leaned his head out the window as the coach swayed to a stop. Already, Cushing was clambering down from the perch seat.
“It’s the Master,” Cushing said as he yanked open the coach door. “I fear his temper’s led him to something awful.”
Harry jumped down. “Stay here with Mother.”
With long strides, he approached the scene. A trio of saddled horses stood tied to a thicket of small trees. On a grassy knoll two men knelt over a third person. As Harry drew close enough to recognize his cousin and the silver-haired groom, Derek rose and cursed.
Johnny lay limp on the ground surrounded by blood-stained bandages. Fearing the worst, Harry ran the last few paces. “Did you kill her?”
Derek spun around, surprise widening his furious eyes. “You knew about her?” He barked a bitter laugh. “Fear not. She’ll live.”
“Thank God for that.”
His face a scowling mask, Derek strode past him toward the horses.
“Derek, wait. We need to talk.”
“Not now, Harry,” Derek bit out as he mounted his horse. “First, I need to talk with my family!” His frayed temper split on the last two words.
With ease of practice, Harry withstood his cousin’s storm. “And what shall I do with her?
” He pointed to the prone figure, but his gaze never wavered from Derek’s flinty eyes.
“Do as you damn well please!” Derek wheeled his horse and galloped across the field.
Chapter 11
Derek stormed the front door of the Dower House, which brought Stokes running into the main hall.
“Your Grace!” Shock painted the footman’s features.
“I want to see Lady Vaughan. Now.”
Indecision flickered in Stokes’s eyes. “She’s still abed.”
“Wake her!”
With barely a nod, the footman ran up the stairs to find the maid to wake the mistress.
