"The rumors you heard were correct," he said, his breath hot against the side of the other woman's face. Priddy shrank lower into the chair. "I have traveled rather extensively over the years. Is that why you thought it safe to reemerge into polite society? You believed me out of the country?"
"Or dead," the viscountess said, some of her former spirit strengthening her voice. "You cared little about polite society. Twenty years ago, neither one of us were important in the eyes of the ton. You had yet to inherit the earldom when we parted ways."
"Very true. Like you, I have always preferred the countryside to town life. When I returned to England two years ago and encountered Lord and Lady Nipping, I should have guessed you had not strayed very far from your baseborn whelp." Lord Ordish concentrated his fierce, loathing gaze on Kilby.
Suddenly, the confusing jumbled pieces of the past fit together for Kilby. Taken aback, she stared at Priddy in stunned silence. None of this was true. Where was Fayne? Why had he not come for her?
Lord Ordish made a soft sympathetic sound. "Dear me, you mean you still have not guessed? Lady Quennell is your mother."
"Kilby is gone?"
Fayne had not really posed it as a question. He just could not comprehend Kilby's audacity to ignore his simple instructions. Nor could he beat down the terror he was feeling that she was out there alone and unprotected. Brawley was upstairs comforting Fayre and Gypsy. Hobbs, the traitorous servant who had secured a carriage for Her Grace, was in hiding from Fayne's wrath. He had wanted to take the man apart piece by piece after he had learned that Kilby had left the house unescorted. He, Everod, Cadd, and Darknell had just arrived at the Brawley town house ten minutes earlier. They had found Ramscar sitting on the stairs with his ax at his side. He had Kilby's note in his hand.
Her note, had been brief. It read:
Your Grace,
Sitting here in your sister's house awaiting your return, I have discovered I am not a patient woman. If you consider this a serious flaw in my character, then I predict we shall be facing many difficulties in our new marriage. Regardless, I cannot sit idle when Priddy pleads for my assistance. Fayne, please understand. The viscountess is part of my family. If all is well, 1 shall return forthwith and promptly burn this letter. That way, you will never know what a rebellious creature your lady wife is.
Forever yours,
Kilby
PS. I pray you will refrain from berating Hobbs too harshly for his part in my escape. He is an exemplary servant and was merely following my orders.
Fayne rudely snorted as he read the last line. Hobbs? An exemplary servant? The butler was surly and disobedient to his betters. The more likely explanation was that Kilby had bewitched the ornery man into doing her bidding.
His duchess possessed a spirited nature that reminded him of a vibrant, inexhaustible flame. He had been drawn to her glowing warmth from their first meeting. Fayne did not want to quell her adventurous spirit. Nonetheless, they were going to have to reach an amiable compromise for both their sakes.
His heart stopped beating as he realized something. "She never returned to burn the note."
Fayne handed the note to Darknell. "Kilby thought she could respond to Lady Quennell's summons and return before anyone realized she had left the house. Hobbs told Brawley and my sister that Kilby was lying down. No one would have checked on her for hours. Only Ram's arrival prompted my sister to check on her."
Fayne watched as the viscount read the note and passed it on so Everod and Cadd could also read it.
"How long has she been gone?" Cadd asked, handing the note back to Fayne.
Too long. He glanced at Ramscar. "I was never meant to see this note. Whatever the reasons for the viscountess's summons, Kilby never intended to remain there for long. Knowing my stubborn wife, she just wanted assurance that her dear friend was fine."
"Something delayed her," Darknell said, his face harsh with concern.
Or someone.
Ramscar grabbed the banister and stood, the ax in his hand dangling at his side. "I'll summon Brawley. We will need more weapons."
Priddy was her mother.
Kilby stared at the woman who had been her mother's dearest friend, trying to see something of herself in her. She did not look like the older woman. Where was the connection a mother and daughter had? The one she had with her real mother, Ermina Fitchwolf, Lady Nipping? Lady Quennell's light blue eyes gleamed with bright, unshed tears as the viscountess mutely pleaded with Kilby. For what? Understanding? Forgiveness? In that instant, Kilby was so overwhelmed she barely felt anything at all.
"I never truly cared about your fate," Lord Ordish said, bringing her attention back to the man who captivated them with his righteous fury and his very lethal pistol. "Whether you lived or died was not my concern. I only thought of punishing my wife. She was not going to keep her lover's child. Minutes after the midwife had pulled you from your mother's womb I took you, and left the house. With Prid-wyn's screams ringing in my ears, I rode to Ealkin. Your father had just married his marchioness, and I thought it rather poetic that I present his bastard daughter to him with his bride at his side."
"Why did you bother, my lord?" Kilby asked, numbly thinking how her birth had negatively impacted so many people's lives. "Since I was newly born, you could have exposed me to the elements. No one would have known."
Lord Ordish chuckled. "I had considered it. You were nothing but a mewling abomination. Tangible proof of my lady's betrayal. I could have snapped your flimsy neck and ended my torment."
A wordless sound of denial escaped the viscountess's lips. The earl silenced her by grasping her hair and ruthlessly tugging her head back. "If I had given in to the impulse, Pridwyn's grief would have been too brief. My pride demanded vengeance, and Lord Nipping was surprisingly helpful."
"You are lying," she said, staunchly defending her father's memory. "My father was a decent man. He would have never helped you hurt anyone."
"Oh, but he did. Lord Nipping granted me the revenge I craved by keeping you. Each day you lived was a day my adulterous Pridwyn was denied a mother's love." He jerked Priddy's head back so he could look into her terrified gaze. "Is that not so, my lady? Did you grieve for your bastard daughter?"
"Every day, my lord, for more than nineteen years," she brokenly sobbed. "Taking my child hurt me more severely than any blow ever delivered from your fist."
"And yet you thought you had thwarted me, did you not?" Lord Ordish painfully wrenched her head back, a small reminder of his authority. "Despite my efforts, you figured out a way to be part of your child's life, after all. What did you do? Blackmail your lover? Or was it your plan all along to continue the affair once his wife accepted his bastard as her own?"
"Why should I tell you?" she shouted at him. "You will twist anything I say into something vile." He released her hair, disgusted that he had touched her. Priddy sniffed and sobbed into her handkerchief. "What you speak of occurred almost twenty years ago. No one recalls our connection, my lord, and you have had your revenge. Lord and Lady Nipping are dead, and with them any proof of the true circumstances of Kilby's birth."
"Not quite," Lord Ordish said crisply. "It is your fault, you know. If you had left matters alone, this all would have ended when I killed Lord and Lady Nipping."
It appeared that Kilby had been correct all along to worry about Lady Quennell, Fayne thought as he stealthily crept up to Nipping from behind. When no one had answered the front door, he and his companions had decided to search the perimeter of the house. Ramscar spotted the marquess clinging to the iron railing on the upper balcony. His neck was craned as he tried to glimpse through one of the drawing room windows.
Nipping was so distracted that he never sensed the men approaching him. Fayne grabbed the man's leg and unbalanced him from his precarious perch. The marquess hit the ground hard, knocking the breath from him. "I have been looking for you, Nipping," Fayne said, standing over him.
The m
arquess expelled a hoarse yelp of fear as Fayne ruthlessly seized the man by his frock coat and dragged him away from the house. He did not want to frighten the women. Besides, he thought he and his new brother-in-law deserved to get acquainted without Kilby's interference.
"We need to talk," Fayne said, once he was satisfied no one within the house could hear them. The other men circled around them.
If Nipping intended to cry out, he thought better of it. Cadd stroked the keen edge of the battle-ax against the man's soft belly, while Darknell and Ramscar aimed loaded pistols at his head. "What d-do you w-want from me?"
"I vote we just kill him and toss his body in the Thames." Everod sneered. Knowing his friend well, Fayne thought the viscount was probably serious.
"It's over, Nipping. I know what kind of sick game you were playing with your sisters." The man's neck was in his hands. Fayne could throttle Nipping just as he tried to hurt Kilby. No one would try to stop him.
"Arrogant bastard!" Nervous laughter burst from Nipping. "Over? Nothing is over."
Ice settled in Fayne's stomach. "Have you hurt Kilby?" His arm pressed into Nipping's throat. "If you have I—"
"I haven't touched her," he blurted out. His face was pink from Fayne's constricting arm, and the bruises from his previous beating were prominent hues of deep purple. "I doubt you will get the same assurances from the armed gentleman inside with your wife."
"You murdered my parents!" Kilby screamed. She jumped off the sofa, intending to attack the man who had caused her family so much pain.
Lord Ordish pushed the rising viscountess down into her chair as he aimed the pistol at Kilby's heart. "Sit! I will shoot you." He gestured at Priddy. "Now or later, it makes no difference to me. As a matter of fact, the notion of Pridwyn sitting here helplessly as the red blood pumps fiercely out of your shattered chest is beginning to appeal to me. Do not force me to end our revealing little chat so abruptly."
"Please, Kilby, think of your husband," the viscountess begged, her beautiful face ravished by her tears. "Sit down."
Kilby slowly slid back down onto the sofa. "My parents drowned while yachting," she said crossly, daring him to refute the facts. Something the earl had mentioned earlier had her silently counting the months on her fingers. "You said that you saw my parents almost two years ago. That was when they—"
"Yes, my dear girl. That was several days before their unfortunate accident," he said, pleased by her reasoning. "Can you believe that after all that transpired between our families, Lord Nipping and his wife greeted me warmly, as if I were an old friend?" Years later, he still seemed perplexed by their reaction.
"Lord and Lady Nipping never glimpsed the true monster in you. You were the gentleman who brought home their beloved daughter. They were grateful for your generosity," Priddy bitterly mocked. When the earl lifted his hand to strike her, she shut her eyes and braced for the blow.
It never landed.
"It was a moment of weakness that spared you, Kilby. When I took you away, I should have fed you to my pigs.or left you in the fields .to die of exposure," he said, his brow furrowed in regret. "I knew my failings had long-reaching consequences when I met your parents again. Do you know, all they could talk about was you? Oh, they had such plans for you. They told me all about their plans to bring you to London for the season. It was time, Lady Nipping said. You had grown into a beauty, your father boasted. Both were anticipating that you would contract a respectable marriage."
Kilby was flabbergasted. "They were planning a season in London for me. That was their crime? The reason you killed them?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" he yelled at her, keeping a firm grip on the viscountess. "At first I thought they were mocking me. How could they be serious? In a moment of weakness I let you live and this was how they repaid me?"
"They did nothing wrong. I am no different than the dozens of other young ladies who come to London each season seeking a solid match," Kilby argued.
"Wrong?" Lord Ordish lashed his foot out at the table and sent it careening into the side of the sofa. Shards of broken porcelain flew everywhere. Kilby winced as it collided with her legs. “There was nothing right about their plans. Your father was pretending the sin born from his adulterous affair with my wife was a gently bred lady. How could I permit them to foist a lie on the unsuspecting gentlemen of the ton?"
"How did he lie, my lord? I was his daughter," she said, trying to reach the intelligent, rational gentleman she thought was still beneath the rage. "Lady Nipping was my mother. In all ways." Kilby did not want to cause Priddy any more pain, but this was how she felt.
"Not by blood, girl. Marriage is all about merging bloodlines and wealth," he said, his eyes narrowing. "You think you were clever, but unlike your incompetent chaperone, I have been watching you from afar. I know the wicked games you have been playing with the young duke. I will admit that you are sharper than the sniveling whore who birthed you. You parted your thighs quickly and beguiled him into marriage. How do you think Solitea will react when he learns his noble lady is baseborn?"
"Fayne will not care. He loves me," Kilby said dismis-sively, realizing she believed that she spoke the truth. Leave it to her, she mused, to choose the most awkward moment to figure out something so important about her husband.
"Already carrying his heir, are you?" Lord Ordish said slyly. "Shrewd girl. I had wondered what you did to get him to hie you off to Gretna Green so swiftly. I have tried to discourage Solitea's interest in you, but you have the man so thoroughly spellbound, nothing short of death would keep him from you."
Kilby felt the blood drain from her face. Her anxiety was unfeigned as she gathered a fistful of fabric from her skirts and released it, carefully covering a jagged piece of porcelain the length of her hand that had landed next to her on the sofa. She had come to London seeking answers. Listening to Lord Ordish, she understood the truth was likely to cost her her life.
And Fayne's.
Had the earl ambushed her husband? Her heart pounded in her throat at the terrible thought. Was that Aie reason why he had not come for her? "What do you mean by 'discourage'? If you have done anything to Fayne, I swear I will—" Kilby grasped the porcelain shard in her hand.
"Calm yourself, girl," Lord Ordish said, speaking over her feeble threats. "I have no quarrel with the Duke of Solitea or his family. I just arranged a few accidents, hoping to distract the young man from his lustful pursuit of you. The family believes they are cursed. A few scrapes with death should have reminded him of his duty. He should have abandoned his idle pleasures and directed his ambitions to finding a virtuous lady for his duchess."
"Good grief! Are you insane?" She cringed at her dumb question. "You could have killed Fayne with those so-called accidents!" No wonder Fayne had begun to believe he was truly cursed.
His eyes smoldered and his rigid body shook with fury as he recalled his failures.. "Solitea should have cast you aside. I could not save him. The man was blinded by his lust. He did not see the evil cleverly hidden within you." Lord Ordish took a menacing step toward her. "You should have remained at Ealkin. I thought with your parents' deaths, all aspirations for you coming to London would end. Do you understand why I have to kill you? Your marriage to Solitea has given me no choice."
"Dear God, Grennil, she is blameless," Priddy said, sucking in her breath as she felt the cold barrel of the pistol against her skin. "If you crave vengeance, then kill me! I am the one who betrayed you. You wanted to kill me all those years ago, but some shred of humanity in you stilled your hand. Please. Do whatever you must with me. I beg you, please do not harm her."
Beneath her skirts, Kilby's hand curled around the sharp edges of her crude weapon. She felt an unpleasant sting as porcelain sliced into her flesh. She and Priddy had run out of time. In his zealous state, Lord Ordish had convinced himself that both ladies had to die. By killing her, the man believed he was actually saving Fayne and other foolish gentlemen from her insidious charms. The moment had
come for her to use the intellect Lord Ordish credited her with. The earl could fire only a single shot. It would take him time to reload, a luxury she had no intention of allowing him to indulge.
"You are willing to die for your bastard daughter. You love the girl that much?" the earl whined.
"Yes! Please, Grennil," the viscountess pleaded, blatantly using his family name in order to reach the man who once had loved her. "Kilby is nothing like me. She understands the meaning of honor, compassion, and loyalty. Nor will she betray the husband she loves. You can afford to be generous. No one remembers or cares about our past mistakes."
Lord Ordish relaxed his hold on Priddy's hair. Both ladies held their breaths, awaiting his decision. Kilby tensed, preparing to move if the earl aimed the pistol at her again. In his highly agitated state, she was counting on his finger to instinctively pull on the trigger. She was also hoping he would miss.
"No." The man shook his head sadly. "I remember. Forgive me, Pridwyn," he said over her frantic pleas for mercy. "I have it all planned out. When I have finished here, everyone will believe an argument between you two was the cause of the senseless violence the servants will eventually discover. With my reluctant help, the ton will learn the tragic details. By tomorrow morning, everyone will know that in a fit of rage, Kilby killed you after hearing the news that you are her mother. There will be rumors circulating that you and Lord Nipping never ended your relationship, and the conclusion, I am sorry to say, Pridwyn, is that you were responsible for the Nippings' accident. Kilby, so horrified by your actions and the ensuing scandal, will do the honorable thing. To spare the Soliteas more heartache, she will turn the pistol on herself."
"Fayne will never believe I killed myself," Kilby said confidently.
Lord Ordish laughed at her vehement denial. "Your husband fears he is cursed, madam. Your gory death, delivered by your own hand, will confirm his suspicions."
Barbara Pierce - Sinful Between the Sheets Page 29
