“I have business with Raoul du Lully,” Peregrine hissed. “Where is he?”
“Dead.” The pistol didn’t waver.
“Dead?” The word itself was a question. This could not be. “But I have a package for him.”
“Won’t mean anything to him now, will it?” rasped the voice.
“And what about my payment?” Peregrine persisted.
“No one to help you with that either. It’s your loss. Now get out of here.”
The pistol nudged harder against his neck and Peregrine stepped back, stumbling on the door sill, his face suffused with anger. The door closed as quickly and silently as it had been opened. He raised his hand but held back, aware that too much commotion might bring unwanted attention.
He turned and hurried back down the street. Now what was he to do with that bitch? He’d have her anyway and then sell her to a house of ill repute. There was little left in the purse his aunt had given him. His only recourse was to find a card game, and quickly. He reached the railings where he left his horse and quickly mounted it.
***
Straw rustled as the cows, sensing her presence, moved restlessly. Emmaline could hear their breathing and soft snorts. She let her eyes adjust to the gloom, put out her hand and found the framework of the stalls. Steadily making her way along them, she shushed the large black and white animals as she did so.
Her brow puckered in a frown. She had expected to find a horse or two, but there were none. Where, then, were the stables? She reached the end of the byre and found nothing but a solid wall. Resting against it, she gathered her wits.
Turn around, Emmaline, she told herself. You are not going to be caught here.
Following her own advice she retraced her steps, found an opening in the opposite wall and stepped through it. Now she could smell the warm scent of horses and hay and moved forward. The stalls were all empty save one. She ran her hands over the surprised beast and talked softly to it until it relaxed.
She searched about the stall and its neighbour but could find no saddle or bridle. Feeling along the wall she found nothing but brooms, rakes and a stack of wooden buckets. A saddle she could do without but she needed a bridle. She found the door and risked looking out. She gasped as a horseman came in to view and quickly darted back in to the depths of the stable.
She listened, heard muffled voices, then the soft thud of hooves as the horse was brought into the stable.
“Here now, my lad,” the groom said as he led the horse into an empty stall.
She ducked down beside the partition, listened as the groom stripped off the saddle and bridle. Took note of his footsteps as they went away from the stall, stopped and came back. She heard the rustle of hay and the chomp of teeth as the horse tore into it. The groom patted the animal’s hindquarters and left.
Emmaline slowly emerged from her hiding place and turned to her right. The groom hadn’t gone far and she quickly found a set of pegs bearing saddles and bridles. She simply had not gone far enough in her first search. Taking a bridle down, she returned to the fresh horse. It made no fuss as she slipped the bridle over its head.
Now to get it out of the stable without disturbing anyone. She backed it out of its stall and opened the door. All was dark, all was quiet. She opened the door all the way and stepped out.
She didn’t see Peregrine, or his fist as it shot up and landed on her jaw. She simply dropped where she stood and fell into another kind of darkness.
***
Her head and face ached abominably and she couldn’t move her arms and legs. It took a moment for her to realize that she was tied to the bed. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes and escaped her lids.
This could not be. It simply could not.
She tugged against her bonds but quickly realized the more she pulled, the tighter they became. Her heart felt as though it would burst with helplessness and she stifled a sob.
Now she would have to suffer Peregrine’s intentions and Raoul du Lully’s deprivations. Or would she? Surely there would come a moment when she could bargain or break free. She would just have to wait for it, pray for it. She would not give in.
Turning her head against the coarse pillow, she scuffed her cheek against it. Peregrine would no doubt enjoy her tears, but she would not give him that satisfaction.
She took deep calming breaths.
Closed her eyes and grimly awaited his return.
CHAPTER 31
The card game he had indulged in had indeed replenished his pockets, and now Peregrine sat in the tap room contemplating a tankard of ale. It was sheer luck that he had returned to the stable yard in time to see her peek out of the byre door. Had he stayed for one more round of cards, Miss Devereux may well have been on her way back to Boulogne by now instead of trussed up like an oven ready fowl in the chamber on the third floor.
He finished his ale and left the tap room only to find himself face to face with the Earl of Avondale.
With a snarl he spun around and headed for the stairs, Lucius fast behind him.
Their footsteps drummed like thunder on each step as they pounded up the narrow flights, but Peregrine had the advantage of being slightly lighter in build and knowing where he was going.
He’d unlocked the door, entered the room, slammed and relocked the door all before Lucius could reach him.
Lucius glared at the solid panels and lifted his fist to batter on them, but Edward caught his arm.
“Allow me, sir.”
With grim determination Edward lifted his pistol and fired at the lock, shattering it. He kicked the door with such force that it flew open and banged back against the wall.
Slightly deafened from the sound, Lucius stepped into the room and stopped.
Styles, his back to the window, held Emmaline close with his left arm. In his right hand he held a knife, the point of its blade at her throat.
“You’re not getting her back,” he snarled.
“Am I not?” Lucius looked at Emmaline. Her eyes were wide and her face pale, but he could detect no panic, could see no tremor in her limbs. Admiration for her mettle swelled in him. “You are a fortunate man to have got her thus far, for my wife is a most resourceful woman. Has she swooned?”
“No.” A frown buckled Peregrine’s face.
In the moment he took for that thought, Lucius cocked his pistol and levelled it.
Peregrine’s frown changed to a sneer.
“Ah, a duelling pistol.” Peregrine pressed the knife harder into Emmaline’s neck. “But this is not a duel.”
“No, it is not,” Lucius said. His voice was soft but full of menace.
His blood ran cold as he saw the ruby drop of blood appear at the tip of the blade, heard Emmaline’s sharp intake of breath. Capturing her glance with his, he briefly slid his eyes sideways, saw the answering flicker of comprehension at what he wanted her to do in the downward sweep of her lashes.
Lucius pin-pointed his focus as he sighted down the barrel, saw fear swell in Peregrine’s eyes as he realized Lucius’ intent.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Peregrine hissed between clenched teeth. His eyes were wild and he backed even closer to the window, still maintaining his hold on Emmaline, the knife point still at her neck.
Damn Peregrine Styles to hell.
Lucius’ breath stilled. His eyes narrowed.
“Would I not?” His tone was lower now and cold as ice.
He pulled the trigger.
The explosion filled the small room with reverberating sound and reeking smoke.
Emmaline screamed.
Peregrine’s arm fell away from her body.
She threw herself to one side, catching the window ledge to steady herself. She heard the thump as Peregrine’s body slumped to the floor. Took one look, saw the bullet hole in the centre of his forehead then launched herself into Lucius’ arms, not hearing the commotion of feet on the stairs and shouts of concern as he cradled her, his face in her hair.
Edward immediately
took charge, demanding two fellows remove the body and sending everyone else away.
Lucius reached for Emmaline’s cloak and threw it over her.
“Bear up a little longer, my love,” he soothed. “You are safe now.”
The night swirled around them as Lucius hurried her away from the inn, keeping his arm tight around her waist, supporting her as he guided her to a waiting carriage.
“Where are we going?” Emmaline gasped as Lucius swung her up and onto the seat.
“A different, far superior accommodation to any of your previous lodgings,” Lucius told her as he joined her.
She collapsed against his shoulder and immediately relaxed into the comfort of his arm as he drew her close to him and laid his head against hers.
Time was of no consequence. Where she was being taken did not matter. She was with Lucius.
She was safe.
When the carriage rocked to a halt she sat up, saw the bright gleam of lights at the windows of a small hotel, its entrance door already open in welcome.
Lucius lifted her down and hurried her inside. Relief flooded through her and made her head spin, made her feel weak.
“I feel faint,” she murmured and passed out.
***
She was curled up in his lap. The soft cotton of his shirt pillowed her cheek as she rested her head on his chest and listened to the slow, steady thud of Lucius’ heart against her ear. A warm, heavy weight lay about her shoulders and waist.
An elated smile spread across her face as she realized she was in his arms. She had not thought to have moved, but Lucius shifted in the chair and kissed the top of her head.
“Where are we?” She looked about her.
“My room at the Golden Lion.”
Emmaline sat up and took his face in her hands.
“You doubted I would find you,” he said patiently, accurately assessing the questing look in her eyes.
She shook her head. “I doubted you would find me before we embarked, but then the storm blew in and I hoped beyond hope that you would reach Folkestone in time.”
“You have your one-eyed Ned to thank for that.” Lucius gently stroked her cheek.
“Did he tell you he was of my father’s network of spies?”
“No, but I guessed he may have been when I saw his face.”
She leaned in and kissed him, then wound her arms around his neck. A shuddering sob shook her slight frame and her tears on were hot his cheek.
“I was so frightened,” she wept. “I couldn’t bear to think I might not see you again, but I couldn’t let Peregrine see, I couldn’t. . . “
“Hush.” Lucius held her tight, stroked her hair and let her cry. “Styles got what he deserved and we handed Hooper over to the Watch. He’ll be sent to Newgate where he will stand trial for his part in your abduction.”
When her sobs slowed to hiccupping sighs he reached into a pocket and withdrew a handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes dry and sniffed hard.
“I beg pardon, my Lord,” she said, “for soaking your fine linen.”
She felt weak and very tired but would not give in to such emotions.
“What’s this?” Lucius quirked an eyebrow. “My Lord? Not Lucius?”
“It’s by way of an apology,” Emmaline said stiffly. “Take it or leave it.”
A broad smile lightened Lucius’ face. “That’s the girl I know and love.”
Emmaline climbed off his lap.
“I’m starving, Lucius,” she said as she shook out her skirts. “Could you please arrange some water for me to freshen up and then something to eat?”
“For you, my love, I’ll arrange anything.”
He was only gone a short while, but returned with a maid who brought hot water, fresh towels and a hairbrush.
Once he was certain she had everything she needed, Lucius gave her directions to his private parlour and went downstairs.
When she followed a little later, she was puzzled to hear the buzz of voices. Curious, she paused outside the door and took a quick look inside.
Lucius was standing in front of the fireplace. Edward sat with his back to the door with Noble and Tockington opposite him. Noble saw her first and got to his feet.
Emmaline walked into the room with a radiant smile on her face.
“I am so pleased to see you all.”
Edward pushed back his chair and stood up, grinning with pleasure at seeing her. She reached up and pecked him on the cheek, but the look of horror on Noble’s face at such impropriety caused her to check and simply grasp his and Tocky’s hands in gratitude.
“We couldn’t let his Lordship have all the fun,” said Noble gruffly, blinking away a tear. “Now you’re recovered, my lady, me and Tocky will get out of your way and ready the carriage.”
Tockington simply nodded, almost as overcome as Noble at Emmaline’s attentions.
“Well, that’s something I never thought to see,” Lucius said wryly after they had left the parlour.
“What?” Emmaline helped herself to bacon, sausage and eggs from the servers on the side table.
“My groom and coachman totally at a loss for words.”
Emmaline heaped food on her plate.
“How clever of you to arrange an English breakfast,” she said, aware of Lucius’ curious gaze on her. She ignored him and turned to Edward. “Edward, do you think you could find me a croissant and tea, please?”
“Of course, Lady Clifton.” Edward left the room.
“You know, my sweet,” Lucius said casually, “it is normally my position to give instructions to my staff.”
Emmaline paused, a piece of sausage speared on her fork half way to her mouth.
“Oh, have I displeased you?”
“No, minx, you have not, but please do not make a habit of it.” The humour in his eyes belied the bite in his words.
Lucius poured himself a cup of coffee, lounged in a chair beside the fire and watched Emmaline eat. She paid him no heed as her meal disappeared, followed as quickly by the croissant brought in by the maid, all washed down by copious cups of tea. At last she sat back, replete.
“I needed that,” she said. She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and laid it on the table beside her empty plate.
“Obviously.” Lucius watched her face for a moment longer. “Do you have any recollections of last night?”
It had all been so familiar to her. One man standing, one man dead. The echo of a pistol shot. Smoke hanging in the air. The only difference was having a knife held at her neck. She reached up and fingered the bandage covering the wound caused by the blade.
“Too many,” she said quietly.
“I feared you would not understand what I wanted you to do.”
“My fear was that I would not have enough room to throw myself to one side once I saw your finger move on the trigger.”
“You were magnificent,” Lucius whispered.
“I was, was I not?” Emmaline moved into his arms and nestled there as if it were the most natural place for her to be. “And now, will you please take me home?”
CHAPTER 32
The carriage slowed and turned between the tall, arched wrought iron gates that stood open like welcoming arms. Emmaline glanced up at the imposing overhead bearing the Avondale crest as they passed beneath.
Eagerly looking out of the window, she noticed the horse chestnut trees now wore shades of yellow and gold and their leaves were beginning to fall. They had still been green when she left. Had she really been away so long?
The horses trotted steadily along the drive, their harness occasionally jingling and their hooves beating a steady rhythm on the road. The sound changed to that of shifting gravel as the carriage slowed, turned around the sweep and as it came to a halt, Emmaline gasped.
The staff was all outside, huddled in little groups at the top of the steps, waiting to greet her. Tears welled in her eyes at the unexpected but obvious welcome.
Noble quickly let down the step. Lucius reached for her h
and, helped her down and led her up the steps as he had done on her first day there, but now she was coming home.
Hammond, Mrs. Hammond, Mrs. Swift, the maids and footmen, were all smiling and suddenly shy as she hugged or shook hands with them.
As she and Lucius walked towards the main entrance, Emmaline looked back at Mrs. Swift.
“If it’s not too much trouble, Mrs. Swift, may I have a bowl of custard?” She moved to walk on, but turned back again. “And some of those little queen cakes that are so delicious? In the library, if you please.”
“Right away, my Lady.” A broad smile slowly grew on Mrs. Swift’s face and she nudged Mrs. Hammond. “Told you.”
Mrs. Hammond frowned. “Told me what?”
“There’s a bun in that there oven.” Mrs. Swift bustled off to the kitchen, gathering up the maids on her way like a hen with chicks.
They had not long been settled in the library when Hammond announced a visitor for his Lordship, a Lord Skeffington, and was his Lordship at home to visitors?
“Skeffington?” Lucius looked puzzled. “What the devil’s he doing here? Yes, of course show him in, Hammond.”
Emmaline took a seat at a round library table set in the window. She looked up at the sound of footsteps to see a golden haired slender man, a good head taller than Lucius, make his entrance. So intent was he in greeting Lucius, he did not see her.
“Good to see you, Skeff.” Lucius extended his hand which was warmly shaken by the visitor. “I’m glad to see you, but Avondale is a little off your beaten track, is it not? Are you staying?”
“Kind of you, Avondale, but no.” Skeffington took the seat Lucius offered him. “Staying in Bath with m’ mother, of all the dashed things. She’s there for the waters, of course. A vile treatment, but she swears she’s better for it. But, as I was relatively close by, I thought I’d come to collect.”
“Collect?” For a moment Lucius could not think what Skeffington meant, but then his fogged mind cleared. “Oh, the bet.”
“Yes, the bet.” Skeffington’s face wore a mischievous grin.
“And what bet would that be, gentlemen?” asked Emmaline sweetly. She went to stand by Lucius who, she noticed, looked suddenly uncomfortable.
His Dark Enchantress (Books We Love Regency Romance) Page 25
