by Heather Gray
"To keep you safe at all costs."
"Why?" The word demanded her submission.
"I don't know."
"Who gave that order?"
"It was delivered by courier, but it was written on the minister's stationary."
When this is through, I'm going to burn every piece of stationary the minister owns. I'm done with unsigned messages.
Rupert, still gripping her wrist, stared hard into her eyes. They held no guile. "Nobody else dies today, not on this side of the story anyway. I'm belaying the minister's order."
The maid shook her head, her blonde hair almost preternatural as it lay still despite her movement. "I answer to him."
"Not if he's The Hunter, you don't. The only reason for you to run across this field right now is so that he can force me to watch you die. He's counting on you creating a distraction. He knows it's coming, and we won't be able to use it to escape. This whole game he's been playing – going after Uncle Fitz and William, all of it – has been to make me suffer. You follow the minister's order, and you play unerringly into The Hunter's hand."
"You think the minister is The Hunter?" The maid's voice dropped into a harsh whisper, but there was no surprise in her eyes.
Rupert pulled Juliana close to his side as he asked the maid. "What do you think?"
She averted her gaze for a split second before answering. "Rumors. Nothing proven. Information has been leaked, strange assignments given. It's been speculation. He is a feared man."
Rupert nodded. "Arm yourself. We'll draw his fire and keep him occupied. Barrows and the rest of the team will be closing in on our location. We only need distract him until then."
The maid nodded.
"You're Claire, right?"
"Yes, m'lord."
"Very well. Claire, Juliana, stay close." Rupert had a pistol in each hand and smaller ones in both pockets. They'd given The Hunter plenty of time to reload. Between his weapons, Claire's two pistols, and Juliana's… His eyebrow went up. "Do you know how to shoot?" When she nodded fervently, he gave her one of his pistols. "Try this instead. It'll shoot further." She pocketed the muff pistol, and gripped the larger one he'd given her with a steady hand.
They moved as one to the rear of the phaeton. Rupert poked his head around the corner and fired a random shot into the woods, hoping to draw The Hunter's fire in order to ascertain his location. A second later, a shot tore into the wood of the phaeton.
Grim resignation choked Rupert. "He's getting closer."
They moved to the other end, and this time Claire popped out momentarily to fire off a round. No reactionary gunfire met them, but before they could decide what to do next, another shot was fired. The sickening sound of a bullet hitting flesh filled Rupert's ears. Either The Hunter had shot the dead horse again – the other one had already broken free and trotted off in his terror – or he'd buried another shot in the upstairs maid. This was about insult and revenge, not swift victory.
"You might as well show yourself!" Rupert's voice echoed in the still cold of the morning.
His answer was another gunshot, this time into the dirt at his feet. The Hunter remained concealed, but he'd moved his position enough, circling around the clearing, until he now had them back in his line of sight. Rupert jumped toward the rear of the phaeton. With is free hand he yanked on Juliana's arm to pull her with him. Claire was behind him until another shot was fired. She hit the ground with a cry of pain then scrambled awkwardly across the ground to reach them.
"It's my shooting arm, m'lord."
A quick assessment told him the bullet had done its job. Claire wouldn't be helping to defend their position. As though reading his mind, she said, "I think I can still reload."
Rupert quickly gave her his empty pistol and the accouterments needed to reload.
"Why don't we run for the woods?" Juliana's question was a reasonable one, given her inexperience.
"That's what he wants. He's waiting for it. There's fifteen feet between here and coverage, and it's a slope. Too easy to lose our footing."
Claire grunted her agreement.
Rupert yelled, "I'm lame and one of us is shot! Is that how you like to fight now? You don't think you can best a healthy man?"
A spine-chilling laugh met his taunt. "Tell me, Jackal, did you see my face that day?"
Juliana tensed beside him, but he couldn't allow his focus to stray. "Is that why you went into hiding? Because you feared I'd be able to identity you?"
The Hunter threw a volley of foul language in their direction. "You ruined everything by not dying! Who do you think you are? You thought to divulge my identity to the Austrian government? When you couldn't even give them my birth name? I owned half those men before you crossed the border into their land!"
Rupert's leg pulsed with agony, the kind that reached all the way out to his fingers and numbed them with the force of it. He battered back at the pain. Maybe it was real, maybe it was a memory of the wounds he'd endured the day he'd last heard The Hunter's voice. Either way, he could little afford to let it win.
"You made a mistake!"
The Hunter laughed. "I think not! You are the one who is mistaken!"
"You sent orders using the minister's stationary!"
A howl of anger met his words. "If the piece of baggage had done what she'd been told, she'd be dead, and you wouldn't know that, now would you?"
Rupert handed another pistol to Juliana. "On my word, both of you run for the woods."
"But you said…"
Rupert silenced Juliana's words with a finger to her lips. "Barrows should have been here by now. I can't risk your life any longer, not if I want to be able to live with myself. I'll draw his fire. He'll be focused on me and too distracted to notice you escaping. Get out of here. Run as fast and as far as you can."
He gave Claire a hard look. "Your mandate is to get her to safety. At any cost."
Claire nodded swiftly. "I can't shoot, but I can drag her out of here and make sure she obeys."
His eyes slid back to Juliana. Tears coursed down her cheeks. "It's all my fault. I insisted this plan would work."
"It was never your choice." His voice was a broken whisper. "Before I agreed, I knew the likely ending. I made the decision, and I don't regret it. He had to be drawn out." Rupert leaned forward and whispered a name in Juliana's ear. Cutting her off before she could react to it, he planted his lips on hers and kissed her with fire and lightning and the icy edge of desperation. A man about to meet his maker wants a pleasant thought on his mind when he dies, and there was none better than the memory of Juliana's lips against his own.
Before Juliana could respond to the kiss – or the name he'd uttered – Rupert stood and took two steps into the clearing. With her good arm, Claire grabbed Juliana and ran for the coverage of the trees as another gunshot pulsed through the air.
Chapter Thirty
A familiar pain burned in Rupert's left shoulder, and roaring filled his ears. He fought to keep his focus and stay on his feet. He needed to give Juliana enough time to get away.
With a shaky right hand, he lifted a pistol and took aim as The Hunter stepped out from the trees. His breath caught in his throat, tangled with the triumph of being correct and the dread of what was to come. The Hunter was too far away for Rupert's pistol to reach, but Rupert was more than near enough for The Hunter's Baker rifle.
The rifle fired, and Rupert went down on his knees, blood now oozing from his left leg, as well as his arm. Blast it all. Why the left side? Combined with the already excruciating pain in his left leg, this new wound debilitated him. Rupert forced himself to concentrate and do his duty. Stay alive long enough for Juliana to get to safety.
The Hunter laughed, the maniacal sound of it bouncing around the clearing. "Not an ounce of surprise on your face, old friend. You haven't changed much, have you?"
Rupert grunted.
"What? You're not going to ask me why?"
"You want me to ask why the grand scheme? Why yo
u killed Fitzwilliam and his son? Why you had the need to draw me out of hiding? Why you trapped two innocent girls into marriage and ripped a family from their home? Is that what you want?" Rupert's voice began fading with his strength. The Hunter was still too far away for his pistol to reach. He needed to draw him in. Maybe taunting him with a crime he didn't commit will do the trick. Rupert already knew The Hunter had played no part in the betrothal contract scandal.
The devil with the rifle threw his head back and made a sound deep in his throat. The frenzied baying of a pack of hounds on a fox's scent could be no more bloodthirsty.
"One question, dear Jackal. I'll give you one question. Ask me anything you wish."
Rupert heard thrashing in the woods coming from his left. Juliana had escaped to his right. He dared not turn to investigate.
"I think we're about to have company. Do you have that question ready for me yet?"
"Why the duke? Why kill the Duke of Sheffield?"
"I've cursed that decision a thousand times since, but he got too close. He used his ties to the War Department to snoop about and ask questions. Then he confronted me one day. Told me he believed I'd gone rogue and planned to report me to the minister himself. I should have bribed him or done a better job of making it look an accident. On the other hand, I had to act quickly. He walked out of White's with every intention of going straight to the minister. He gave me no choice."
Thomas' winded voice sounded behind Rupert. "You killed my father? You have been staying under our roof these many weeks, and you are the one who stole my father from me?"
Rupert closed his eyes. This was not good. Not good at all. "Thomas, please tell me you didn't come here alone."
"There was shooting. People fleeing the park in a panic. You had the phaeton. Once I realized you weren't among those who left, I came to find you."
"No weapons either, I suppose."
"Not even a coat."
"Get behind me, Thomas."
The Hunter's voice clawed at Rupert like a wounded animal. "Such a touching reunion! Tell me, your grace, did you know it was no chance encounter that had you hiring Rupert here? Or that he lied to you about his real name? Did he disclose his previous employment history? Tell you he'd been sent to hunt down the man who killed your father? Or is this all news to you?"
Rupert sensed, rather than saw, Thomas' presence behind him, but still Thomas stood. A sensible duke would have crouched down and used Rupert as a shield. "Let me protect you."
Thomas' hand rested on his shoulder. "You've been protecting me for far too long. I understood more of my father's business than I ever told you."
"You knew?" Rupert wanted to keep the conversation going. As he and Thomas spoke in soft tones, The Hunter moved closer, likely so he could hear.
"It was no accident I hired the man who'd tried to bring my father's killer to justice."
"You always knew?"
Thomas squeezed his shoulder.
"We need him closer."
Rupert fought to keep his face fashionably blank, but for the first time since they'd left the townhome that morning, a whisper of a smile tickled his lips.
"Why did you go after the Clairmont sisters?" Rupert bellowed the words.
"I promised you the one question, remember?"
"Answer me then! What can it hurt? Why the sisters?" Thomas' voice was strong.
The Hunter cackled. "That was nothing to do with me. I spent a year poisoning the old man, stripping away his reality layer by layer until he would be willing to tell me his secrets without anyone being the wiser."
Rupert was sure he knew the answer, but he asked anyway. "What did you learn from him?"
"Bah! Nothing! I almost had him, but then he realized who I was, and I had no choice but to increase the dose to drive him completely mad until no one would ever listen to anything he said. His unexpected death was a boon."
"And William?"
"He had to go so I could draw you out. How else could I get you to come out of hiding? William wasn't as well trained as his father, either. He told me you worked for the duke here, and that you were at a remote castle in Northumberland. The duke, in turn, was quite willing to accept me into his home and life upon hearing I'd served with his father."
"And the sisters?" The Hunter was over-confident. It made him chatty, and Rupert hoped that played in his favor.
"All the work of a greedy solicitor. I didn't even know of his scheming until the women departed the estate. I sent a letter from abroad telling him of your location as soon as I'd dispatched William. My plan should have drawn you out, Jackal, back to your home. Instead I had to chase the infernal sisters across the country. Who would have thought that simpleton Mr. Knowles would have had an agenda of his own?"
The Hunter shifted his eyes to the duke. "Did no one ever tell you the name of the man who killed your father?" The question seemed out of place, the words ordinary but the tone boastful.
"No." Thomas' single syllable was venomous.
"Go ahead! Tell Rupert here who I am, the old friend of your father's."
Rupert felt the stiffening in Thomas' stance.
"Devin Therin."
His lifeblood oozing out onto the snow, Rupert had little energy to be roused by the announcement. Nonetheless, he played along. "Perfect Hunter. You mixed French and Greek names and hid in the open. Unless someone had heard of The Hunter, they wouldn't have connected the name to your past deeds."
"I couldn't very well give the duke my real name, now could I? I've spent so little time in England these past years that I wasn't likely to be recognized, but if I'd gone carelessly throwing my name about, it would have drawn too much attention."
Thomas spoke up. "Then who are you? Tell me the name of the man who killed my father and plans to kill me. Be a man of honor, and stop hiding behind your fancy words with hidden meanings."
The Hunter's eyes narrowed as anger rolled off him in waves. "You might want to know before I kill you, no help is coming. I found myself a crew of smugglers and paid them handily to protect the perimeter of the park. Your man Barrows and the rest of your supposed staff are all either dead or mortally wounded by now."
Rupert watched, helpless to stop him, as The Hunter lifted his rifle. He was still too far away for his pistol to reach.
"Get down!" It was his last hope, to shield Thomas with his own body.
Rupert closed his eyes as the gunshot sounded, but no further pain accompanied it, and he feared the worst. Twisting to search the duke for injury, he instead saw Thomas' mouth drop open in surprise. Rupert's gaze moved of its own volition back to The Hunter. He watched, stunned, as his nemesis' face contorted with macabre horror. The sound of strangled gurgling, the breathing of someone whose lungs filled with blood, reached across the clearing.
Struggling to his feet and leaning heavily on Thomas for support, he took a step toward his old enemy.
"If I die, I'm taking you with me, Jackal." The brute refused to die easily.
Rupert watched as the rifle was again lifted to aim. His slow gate still kept him too far away for his pistol to do any good. He again tried to push Thomas behind him, but he was too weak.
The loud pring of a small pistol sounded, and The Hunter went down, falling face-first into the snow. Juliana stood ten paces behind him, a smoking muff pistol in one hand and the gun Rupert had given her, also still smoking, in the other. She'd used both and had brought down one of the most nefarious and shameless traitors England had ever known.
"My Jewel…" Rupert reached out a hand toward her, but the loss of too much blood became his enemy, and darkness closed around him. Thomas was no match for the dead weight he provided. The snow received him with an icy embrace as he crumpled to the ground.
"It's going to be okay, Rupert. Claire went for help. You'll be fine."
He felt her touch, a firm grip on his hand and feather-light caresses on his face. It was as though he floated, tethered to the mortal world by the feel of her skin against his. Sho
uld she let go, he would slip away into eternity.
Eternity isn't so bad. No more pain, no suffering, no evil. It might even be…
"Don't you dare leave me, Rupert Birmingham! You have not been dismissed!"
Claire will never reach help, not if the park is as choked off as he said. I'll die here in Juliana's arms. There are worse ways to go.
"Rupert, please fight. Please. I need you. I don't want to live without you. You make me laugh and yell and feel alive. Please don't go. Fight. For me."
Chapter Thirty-One
Voices swirled and mingled in the air like the smoke trail of too many cigars. Rupert failed to make sense of them. He couldn't ascertain their sources or grab onto any of the threaded trails they left behind. Weight pushed down on his chest, and waves of heat and cold surged through him in chaotic alternating surges. Much as he tried, he could not force his lips to move. Not a single sound came from him before he drifted away on the clouds of fire and ice.
****
His eyes were closed, but the brightness still blinded him. Were they in the clearing? Was that the sun? There were no sounds to speak of. No birds, no wind. No Juliana ordering him about, telling him he had not been dismissed. There was, however, sensation. The feeling of a hand holding his. Warmth moved through him starting at that single point of contact and spreading until the comfort of it calmed his frantic mind and lulled him into a dreamless sleep.
****
Everything was hot, so hot. Rupert couldn't bear the heat anymore. He tried to throw the covers off, but his arm wouldn't work. His leg burned until he could stand it no longer. Each beat of his heart caused a new pulse of pain, building one upon the other until it was too much.
Rupert screamed. He heard the sound. It was garbled and dry and horrific, the sound of a man in the throes of death. Listening to it withered his hope, but he was helpless to stop it. With each new throbbing flash of pain, he screamed until nothing but the echoes of his own voice filled his head.
