“What did you do to Mr. Redwood?”
The man smirked. “I did naught to him. He was unwell, that is all. An ailment of the stomach. I happened to offer me services on the morn he took ill. A fortunate incident.”
“Did you poison him?”
“Perhaps.” His eyes glittered in the gloom, dancing in the light of the flickering flames. “But he’s well enough now.”
“Did you intercept my letters from Edward? Is that how you knew where I would be this night?”
“That tall fellow that yer sister is courting is fair loud, is he not?” The man chuckled bitterly. “Anyone might’ve overheard his idle chatter. As for yer letters before then, I took great pleasure in reading your sweet words to one another. Ye didn’t notice that the seals had been replaced, no doubt, for you’re a right foolish girl.”
“Who has put you up to this?” Lydia shook violently in the cold, her clothes still drenched from the river. Gooseflesh prickled along her arms, and her teeth chattered uncontrollably.
“I’m acting of my own volition,” he replied defensively.
“Why? What grievance has Edward caused you? Who are you to him?” She hoped that, by some miracle, she could persuade him not to cause her any harm if she only kept him talking.
The man snorted. “I’m nothing to him, and that be part of the trouble. He believes his actions have no consequences, but when he raised them levies upon his estate, he didn’t consider that it might impoverish countless individuals. Myself included.”
“But Edward has not been in charge of the estate, Sir. Your grudge is misplaced.” She had heard Edward speak of his brother, James, on countless occasions, and how James had taken much of the responsibility ever since their father died.
“Nonsense, he’s the Duke of Summerhill, ain’t he?” the man spat. “He’s the only man responsible.”
“What happened to you?” She softened her tone, trying to calm him down.
“What do you think?” he barked. “I couldn’t pay my taxes to His Grace, and I had me property seized. With no coin to me name, me wife and children abandoned me, and I’ve been left with naught. She’ll not even speak to me, and she’ll not permit me to see my own children.”
Lydia wrapped her arms around herself. “That is why you wish him dead?”
“I wish him to suffer as I’ve suffered. I wish him to see the pain he’s caused from his lofty tower. I want him to see that his actions have consequences. I want him to beg for his life, before I dispense with him.”
Lydia’s mind raced. She was almost certain that this man’s grievances were misplaced, for Edward had previously paid little attention to the goings-on at Summerhill Hall. He had vowed to be better, but she did not believe he was responsible for this man’s pain.
“What is your name, Sir?”
The man looked at her. “Silas Manners.”
“Well, Silas…do you truly believe that Edward’s death can satisfy your suffering? If you are discovered, you will surely hang. What will your children say? What will your wife say? I am sure they would prefer to have you alive than dead at the gallows.”
He shook his head. “It is too late for that now.”
“Maybe it is not. Nobody is dead. Yes, you attacked Edward, but he will forgive you if you release me,” Lydia said.
“It is too late,” Silas snapped. “Now shut your mouth before I am forced to gag you.”
“You will not touch her.” A voice boomed through the damp farmhouse, and a shadow stood in the open doorway. “I have come, as you have asked, now release her.”
Edward stepped into the light, and Lydia’s heart swelled with joy. He had come for her, just as he had promised. He would save her. He would not let any harm come to her.
Silas chuckled. “You think it so easy?”
“I have abided by your instructions. Are you not a gentleman of your word?” Edward was dripping with rainwater, his shirt soaked through. Blood pooled across the white fabric, his old wounds somehow reopened. And yet, she had never seen him look stronger.
Silas lunged for Lydia and yanked her to her feet. She screamed as she felt the ice-cold bite of a blade at her throat, though she did not know where it had come from.
“Take another step, and I’ll open her throat,” Silas warned, hissing in her ear.
“There is no need for violence, Sir. I am here, as you have asked, now let her go.” Edward’s voice hardened, his hands raised.
“You call me ‘Sir’ after all you’ve done?” Silas spat.
“I do not know you. I am sorry for that. I do not know what I have done to gain your hatred,” Edward replied. “If you tell me, perhaps I may be able to find a way to repair the damage you believe I have done.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Me name is Silas Manners, and you took everything from me. When ye raised the taxes on your land, I couldn’t pay. Men came and seized everything. My wife and children left me, and now I have naught left to lose.” He snickered darkly. “You, on the other hand, have everything to lose. And I plan to take it all from you.”
“Silas, listen to me. I have been remiss in recent months, and I have not been at the estate. I have no hand in its running, for I have been irresponsible and stupid. If the taxes were raised, it was done without my say so. I will see to it that you have your land and home restored to you, if you will just release Lady Lydia.”
Silas stiffened behind her. “You lie!”
“No, Silas, I do not.” Edward took a small step forward. “My brother has been in charge of the running of the estate. I will speak with him, to acquire the details of your eviction, and I will have your property restored. But I cannot do so if you harm Lady Lydia.”
Silas shook his head. “No, that can’t be. You are the Duke. You make the decisions. This is your fault.”
“In a way, it is, yes. I ought to have been present. I ought to have taken due responsibility. But the seizing of your property was not my doing.” Edward moved closer again, the knife biting deeper into Lydia’s throat. She winced as she felt a slight trickle meander down her neck.
“It is too late, Your Grace.” Silas spat the last two words as if they were poison in his mouth.
“How can it be too late, Silas? Do you not wish to see your family again? Do you not wish to have your property restored? It can all be fixed, if you only release Lady Lydia and come with me.”
Silas dug the knife deeper. “You lie. That is all gentlemen like you do. You will likely have me strung up the moment I leave this farmhouse.”
“You have my word that I will not,” Edward replied, his hands still raised in surrender. Lydia did not say a word, though she kept her eyes fixed on her love. If she did not, she feared she might faint.
“What is your word to me?” Silas muttered. “It is naught.”
“Come now, let us talk this over like gentlemen. Let us resolve your grievances without blood being shed.” Edward eyed the trickle of blood that meandered down Lydia’s neck. His face paled with repressed anger.
“It is too late,” Silas whispered, his shoulders sagging. “It is too late. You have destroyed my life. I must be satisfied.”
“I would seek to repair it, but you must let me do so.” Edward edged closer still, until there were barely six paces between Lydia and him.
“Stay where you are!” Silas roared. “Come any closer and I will kill her.”
“I will not move closer,” Edward promised rapidly. “I will stay where I am. But please, let her go.”
Silence stretched between the trio.
“Imagine if Lady Lydia were your daughter,” Edward continued slowly. “She is frightened, and she has nothing to do with this. Please, release her, and then we may discuss this properly. I will give everything back to you, but you have to let me.”
Silas faltered. “My daughter is of similar age.”
“Come now, you know it is not too late.” Edward offered a small smile.
“And you will keep your word?”
&nb
sp; Edward nodded. “I swear it.”
“I am sorry…it is too late. It cannot be changed. I must do this. I must ruin you. I must kill you both.” Silas said quietly. Time seemed to slow, as Lydia felt the blade bite deeper into her neck. She tried to scream, but no sound would come out. Edward’s eyes widened as he sprang forward and grasped his hands around the blade, pulling it away from Lydia’s neck. Blood poured from his palms as he wrestled for the knife.
Lydia collapsed to the ground, feeling something bitter and metallic rise up her throat. Her hands flew to her throat, as she covered the open wound and tried to stop the blood from escaping. She lay on her side, watching the chaos ensue as Edward knocked Silas to the ground.
The two men grappled for the knife, though Edward still had his palms around the blade end. Of the two, Edward was the stronger, though he was evidently injured, his face showing the strain as he battled against Silas. With a wrenching movement, Edward turned the blade around and forced Silas’ arm to draw closer to his own throat.
“You vile wretch!” Edward bellowed. “You evil worm!”
“No!” Silas howled. “Stop! I accept your offer!”
Edward shook his head as he forced the knife closer to Silas’ throat. “It is too late for that now.” As the sharp tip pressed against the pliant flesh of Silas’ neck, the man’s eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp. He had fainted in fright.
Leaving him on the floor, Edward rushed to Lydia’s side and pulled her into his arms. Reaching down, he tore a strip of fabric from the edge of her dress and wrapped it tightly about her throat. He looked to her with desperate eyes, his face streaked with blood.
“Hold on, my love. Please, hold on,” he begged, cradling her closer.
“Am I…going to…die?” she rasped.
He shook his head, tears falling. “No, my love. The wound is not deep. I got to him before he could truly hurt you. You are not going to die. You cannot. Please, stay with me.”
Her body trembled in his arms, a creeping, deadly cold slithering dangerously through her veins, and sinking deep into her bones. Her teeth chattered as she looked up into Edward’s eyes.
“You came…for me,” she whispered, lifting her hand to touch his face.
“I did, my love. Please, just hold on. There are men coming. You will survive this—you have to!” he urged, kissing her forehead and smoothing away the damp tendrils of her hair.
“I feel…cold.”
He shuffled off his coat and wrapped it around her, rubbing her back as he held her to his body, giving her his warmth. “Is that better?”
“I do not…know. I cannot…feel anything.” She nestled into his chest and listened to the rapid beat of his heart.
“Please, Lydia, please stay with me.” He kissed her lips, but she barely had the strength to kiss him back. She could feel herself slipping away, the shadows edging into her vision as blurry, black spots.
“I love you,” she murmured, as darkness claimed her.
Chapter 34
On the verge of collapse, Edward carried Lydia out of the abandoned farmhouse and into the rain. Her face had drained of all color, and the strip of fabric around her neck was crimson with blood. He could feel a faint pulse in her throat. It was the only thing keeping his hopes alive. As long as her heart was beating, he prayed she would live.
With time slipping away from him, he had managed to bind Silas’ wrists and ankles with some old rope, but he no longer cared for the fate of that wretch. He cared only for Lydia.
“Your Grace!” a voice called from the dark.
Edward peered into the gloom. “Phillip?”
The groom emerged from the shadows, flanked by at least ten men. The Duke of Greenwick was not with them, but two constables stood in the small crowd, as well as a gentleman with a brown, leather medical bag at his side. Edward could have sobbed with gratitude.
“Are you a physician?” He spoke directly to the man with the leather bag.
“I am. The name is Doctor Bartlett. I was visiting the Abbey due to an incident involving the stablemaster falling from the hayloft, when this man arrived and said Lady Lydia might be in some trouble,” he replied. “The stablemaster is well, so I thought it best I come along with these men.”
“Help her, Sir,” Edward urged, laying Lydia down on the ground. “She has received a cut to the neck, but I do not believe it is too deep. Please, you must help her.”
“At once, Your Grace.” The doctor knelt on the ground and began to remove implements from his bag. Edward could not take his eyes off his beloved, who looked so very pale and small, splayed out on the dirt.
“Your Grace, is the culprit within?” Phillip stepped forward, tearing Edward’s attention away from Lydia.
He nodded, coming to his senses. “Yes, he is inside. Constables, may you seize the man and take him into custody? His name is Silas Manners, and he is the one who has done this.”
The two constables ran past, with the cluster of men following, all of them barging into the farmhouse at once. They reappeared, a few minutes later, dragging the drowsy figure of Silas between them.
“We will take him to gaol in Greater Merton.” One of the constables paused to speak with Edward. “He will remain there until you visit, to make your case to the magistrates. We will insure he does not wriggle his way free.”
“Thank you, Sirs,” Edward replied, his attention drawn back to Lydia. He knelt beside her and cradled her head in his lap as Doctor Bartlett toiled away, doing everything in his power to save her.
She is in your hands now, God. But please, Lord, if you are listening…do not take her from me.
* * *
Oblivious to what was happening in the South, Adrian awoke with the dawn and headed out to fulfil his mission. He took up a casual position on a lichen-covered bench, opposite the Green Dragon Inn, and remained there in staunch stoicism. He would not move until he saw the young lady in question.
Even as the cold began to make him shiver, he stayed where he was. It had rained in the night, but the day was set to be a bright, clear one. The morning sun would soon warm him.
Hours passed with no sign of the young lady, and his stomach began to grumble. Still, he did not move. He could not.
You have suffered worse hunger than this. He focused on old memories, of his time amongst the battlefields of France and Belgium. He envisioned the dirt and the mud, and the musket fire crackling through the sky overhead. He recalled the boom of cannons, and the roar of the men around him as they charged into battle.
His reverie was disturbed ten minutes later, by the sight of a furtive figure slipping out of the front door of the Green Dragon. She wore a long cloak, with a hood over her head. He could not see her face clearly, but instinct told him that this was the lady he sought. His gut feelings had never set him wrong before.
He waited until she was halfway down the street before pursuing his quarry, keeping a safe distance so as not to alarm or alert her. She kept glancing around her, as if fearful of someone recognizing her, but she did not see Adrian. He was good at this. Very good.
Before long, he saw her hurry down an alleyway beside the Cathedral and spied his opportunity. He quickened his pace to catch up with her, reaching out to take her arm before she could exit the darkened passageway.
She whirled around, her mouth open, as if she were about to scream. As gently as he could, he clamped his hand across her lips, to prevent the sound from leaking out.
“Be at peace, Miss Simpkins, I mean you no harm,” he said softly. “I am a friend. I only wish to have some questions answered, and then I will leave you be. I have not come to take you away, and I have not come to disclose your location. You may trust me. My name is Adrian Godwin.”
A frown furrowed her brow.
“Promise me you will not scream, and I will release you,” Adrian urged. “Nod if you agree.”
She nodded uncertainly. As promised, he removed his hand. To his relief, she did not cry out, n
or did she attempt to run. Instead, she merely continued to stare at him.
“Did you say Adrian Godwin?”
So, the name is familiar to you. Allow me to discover what else you know.
“I did.”
“Are you any relation to the Duke of Summerhill?”
“I am his cousin, yes.”
An excited smile appeared upon her face. “Have you come with news from my love? Has he sent you here to me? You see, he was supposed to meet with me here, but he has not arrived. I have received word to say that he is waylaid, but I have not had any further news in several days.”
Wicked Temptations For The Seduced Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 25
