Darkest Valentine

by Leona Bushman

  “The main title runs through the male of the family, except if there is no male issue, it goes to the female.” Lamberth circled his top hat through his hands as he told his story. He still wore his evening clothes, in contrast to Clarence, who hadn’t taken the time to even put on his cloak. That nervous twitch was the only sign the earl wasn’t on his way to a route for the ton.

  “Highly unusual. Special compensation?”

  “Yes. The first earl had no males to inherit. As he’d stood next to the king in battle, the king was inclined to ensure it always went to his bloodline. So, as long as there is no male to leave it to, it goes to the eldest female. On my wife’s side, there is a title which will pass to Lillian as it goes to the eldest, regardless of sex.””

  Lamberth cleared his throat suddenly. “Do you think Jarvis will hurt Lillian?”

  The question set Clarence off balance. It also proved the father’s upsettedness to be great. “As a warrior, you know too well that he has the capacity. It depends on what he wants from you.” True enough, except, the thing which Clarence believed Jarvis wanted most was for them to all die.

  “Jarvis wants my titles. So, he’d have to kill her.”

  “Stop thinking that way,” he ordered. “You’re a man of war. This is battle.” He felt bad that he had to resort to it, but Lamberth needed to buck up and stay strong for his daughter, damn it. He didn’t want to lose Lillian, either. “Continue. Any detail could help save her or give us leverage on Jarvis to barter her back with.”

  Lamberth squared his shoulders and sat straighter. “Of course, Your Grace. In the case of a female heir, whomever marries her, has to take the title, change his name. Many second sons throughout our history have married into the family. But for the most part, there has been a male heir to take on the name.”

  “And Lillian’s title? She mentioned something about her title, but we have not had time for her to explain it all.”

  “Her inherited title comes straight from her mother’s Scottish side. There are estates in Scotland near Edinburgh that accompany it, as well as monies. Plus, as the eldest, she also receives a title from me when I die, with small but profitable estates. And, to top it off, she has one she earned as a young woman which was bestowed upon her by the regent.”

  “That is a tale I would no doubt be fascinated to hear, but which will have to wait. I’m more interested in the workings of the titles which Jarvis can take if your whole family is dead.” He’d thought his family’s titles were difficult to keep track off. Lillian’s far outpaced his.

  The sudden pasty color of Lamberth’s countenance almost glowed against the darkness of his outer cloak. “My whole family,” he whispered.

  “Yes,” Clarence answered matter of factly, trying to keep his voice level. “I believe that to be the motive behind much of what he does.” And damn it all, why couldn’t the carriage move faster? The need to hold Lillian and assure himself that she was safe grew with each passing minute.

  “But he has his own title of baron.”

  “A low title compared to his older brother’s,” Clarence pointed out meaningfully. “You’ve two earldoms, the money that goes with them, one which goes to a woman when you die, plus a barony.”

  “Father left him the unentailed estates so that he would not be the impoverished younger son.” The earl sighed. “I am not arguing with your logic. It is sound. I am arguing with myself. I don’t want it to be him, but it makes so many things make sense, especially Robert’s behavior if Jarvis has promised him something. Lillian’s money from her grandmother combined with her titles on her own has always made him envious.”

  “Sir, we will be arriving soon. Please, hurry your tale along. How would the titles be passed around if you all died?”

  “The one through her mother would be passed to a distant cousin in Scotland, the Lamberth earldom would go to Jarvis as the younger brother, the other earldom title and lands passed to eldest child regardless of gender would also pass to him. Lillian’s title would probably die with her as there is no one else to claim it as she is the first.”

  Clarence slapped his thighs with his gloves, willing the carriage to move faster. Every second away from Lillian clenched his heart in a vice grip of fear. The streetlamps cast their low glow inside the carriage at intervals, like sick markings of time and blame that he’d not protected her. Finally, they arrived at the docks. His coach pulled to his own warehouse. George, Henry, and the two footmen, Spencer and Hayworth, would stay with the carriage and guard it. He carried a lantern into the warehouse, Lamberth, George, and Seth following.

  Mostly empty, as Clarence expected. He’d known all along Jarvis would take everything he could. He’d left a few empty barrels in the corner. Clarence skipped them and walked over to a door. From the inside, it looked like it was simply a back door, but in practice, it led to another warehouse.

  Behind that, he’d had a heavy oak door put in and a strong lock on it. Passing the lantern back to the earl, he took out the skeleton key and opened it, Lamberth following close behind. He used this other space for storing old carriages and a few odds and ends. But they weren’t what he came after. He picked his way through to the stairs in the back. The metal stairs creaked as they ascended.

  He pulled out another key to unlock the door to the office he’d set up there. As he went in, he heard Lamberth’s small gasp behind him. The office, as luxurious as many men’s studies, held a heavy oak desk, deep, comfortable chair, wooden files, and a window overlooking the road. The same window he’d seen Lillian jump from a moving carriage. He’d used it as a place to keep his bow runner stuff that he’d not wanted the servants to accidentally come across.

  While Lamberth kept busy checking the bookshelves and the books there, Clarence hit the disguised button which unlocked a hidden drawer and pulled out a flint pistol. From another drawer, he grabbed a sheath and handed it to Lamberth, who pulled out the six-inch blade it encased and did a low whistle.

  “Since you served in the Napoleon Wars, I’m going to assume you can make use of this. I know it’s not a sword—”

  “It will do fine.” Lamberth’s face, set in grim lines, gave Clarence a glimpse of the soldier under the façade as earl.

  They left the office, Clarence locking everything up again as he went, leaving the lantern just inside the warehouse, the light put out.

  “George, come with me, you, too, Hayworth and Seth. Leave Spencer and Henry to guard the carriage.

  “Aye, my lord. I’ll leave two pistols with Spencer, and give one to Hayworth, if it pleases you, sir.”

  “Good idea. I have mine from upstairs, as you no doubt gathered. Let’s go.”

  They moved to where he thought Jarvis’ warehouse was. As they neared, he saw two carriages and some men guarding the building. Signaling for them to stop, they hid in a nearby thin space between buildings while he formulated a plan.

  Four men outside and however many inside, with no idea where Janice and Lillian might be.

  “Let’s make sure this is the right warehouse. I’ll go ask for Jarvis. You wait here until we know. If it’s the right one, then move in. Try to keep them alive, but not at your expense, right?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “I should be the one to go,” Lamberth interrupted.

  “Not now, sir,” Clarence said flatly.

  “It’s my daughter.”

  “It’s my fiancé. You will wait here. If it’s the right place, there will be plenty of chances for heroics,” he added sardonically. He really didn’t have time for this play of power. He took off before Lamberth could say anything else.

  “Hey, you there,” he called out in his fake accents. “I was told to come here by some lord promising money for extra hands. Is this the place.”

  Two of the men snickered, one came forward, asking, “Who told you then?”

  “He said Robert. Though as to his real name, I’m sure I not be knowing.”

  The one who hadn’t spoken yet tur
ned and went inside without saying a word. Clarence signaled behind his back. They’d all stirred at Robert’s name. This was the right place. He saw them reach under their vests and pulled the pistol he’d hid behind his leg.

  “Nobody move. You in the fancy duds, over there.”

  Everyone’s hands went to their sides, but then he heard a scuffle behind him and a loud shout from George. He instinctively ducked, but the others took the chance and charged him. He had time to get a shot off, but it went wide. The one closest to him knocked him to the ground. They tussled round and round, both punching.

  Yelling from all directions as the fighting escalated made it hard to determine where anyone stood. He jerked to the side, and the punch aimed at this face hit cobblestone. Clarence grabbed the wrist and turned it back until it snapped. The man jumped off him, screaming in pain. He kicked out and tripped him, then stood up over him, kicking him in the face and knocking him unconscious.

  The ones who’d attacked him now lay subdued on the ground. “George,” he said, panting from exertion. “Tie this lot up. Time to go see what they’re hiding.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lillian woke to the sounds of yelling. After hours of waiting for a chance to escape, she must have passed out from the pain. Gingerly, she tried to sit up on the makeshift cot allotted her. Wooziness smacked her as hard as it had before she’d fallen asleep. At least her vision had cleared up.

  With one hand on her stomach, she shook Janice. “Janice,” she said in an undertone. Janice barely stirred. “Janice!” she repeated more urgently.

  Janice moaned. “Is it morning already?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, sorry, my lady.”

  Lillian waved away the apology. “None of that. But to answer your questions, no, it’s not morning. At least, I don’t think so. I hear something. Listen.”

  Janice sat up and tilted her head. “There is someone out there.”

  Then they both heard a gunshot. Lillian tried to stand up too fast, and dizziness hit, so she sat back down on the rough blanket covering the hard cot. Janice jumped up and went to the door and jiggled the handle. It remained locked.

  Then the sound of footsteps running up the stairs hit her, and she tried to find something to defend herself with. Unfortunately, nothing within the small room imprisoning them could be remotely called a weapon. Jarvis showed up with his gun in hand.

  “Move it. And I don’t have time for your silly sickness, Lillian. You throw up, you’ll have to sit in it.”

  Lillian scowled at her uncle. “You, sir, are a weak-willed lily-livered bastard.” Her words came out slightly slurred as she clung to Janice for support. She spit on her uncle’s shoes as they passed. He raised his hand, but the one who’d been there before spoke up.

  “You hit her again, you could kill her before we are ready. She may still be needed as a collateral. “Let’s go.”

  “Come, my lady,” Janice said, carefully guiding her down the stairs.

  Lillian hated being weak, but some of her strength began to return as they descended. Choosing not to reveal this, she kept moving slowly as she dared. Scuffles and shouts reached her from outside. She wished she could chance making a run for freedom. However, her body would not hold up to it. Each step she took sent pain cascading through her head. With a scowl at Jarvis, she kept going where they ushered her and Janice. Suddenly, silence reigned outside.

  Jarvis grabbed Janice who screamed out. The stranger yanked Lillian along. She dropped her weight, so that they had to drag her along. The door to the warehouse burst open just as they reached the open back door. Janice was already being put in the carriage waiting for them. Lillian looked over her shoulder and yelled furiously at them as she recognized them.

  “Clarence! Father! Help!” The sobs started, increasing as both Jarvis and the other person yanked on her again with more force. “No,” she cried out, but they were stronger than her, especially in her current condition, and managed to shove her into the carriage.

  The horses took off at a gallop. The “Yaw!” from above signifying their getaway. She just sat in the corner with Janice, sobbing, ignoring whatever the others said to her. She didn’t care. After a while, her tears dried up, though her heart cried out for Clarence. The pain on his face made her want to weep for him. It was too soon for him to be up to the sort of fights she’d heard. If he died because of her or her family, how would she live with it?

  They spent long hours in the carriage. Or maybe an hour. She couldn’t say. Her arms crossed over herself to keep her robe closed, she tried to pay attention to any turns or sounds she recognized. Nothing except for a small chill and the notice that her head throbbed with every bump over the cobblestones could be determined by her, but shouldn’t they have been out of the town by now? Her head wobbled. With great effort, she held it still, but the headache pounding wouldn’t abate. For the love of the queen, when would they stop?

  Then despair hit. Oh merciful God, how would they ever get away? Clarence couldn’t be expected to save her now. No one would even know where they’d went. At least at the docks, Clarence had had dealings with Jarvis. But now? Tears spilled down her cheeks unchecked, as if to escape the confines of pain her body wrought within.

  Janice reached out for her hand then squeezed it, her own tears falling. Lillian returned it and stopped the watery eyes. She had to stay strong for her friend. It was up to her to protect her. The carriage slowed and made a sharp turn. About twenty minutes later, it came to a stop.

  “We are here,” the stranger said, the voice sounding odder and odder to her. “Jarvis will take you inside while I speak to the driver. If you so much as look anywhere but where I say, I shall be forced to shoot one of you. As Lillian is worth the more, it would be Janice. Am I quite understood?”

  Lillian and Janice both nodded, and Lillian’s heart hardened. She’d find out who this masked person was. Before they killed her or hurt her, she’d know who had dared take her, and she’d find a way to scratch their face right in the eyes. She glared, refusing to say anything.

  A gloved hand backhanded her. “I asked you if I am understood in this matter,” the stranger said quietly, as if asking what kind of tea she preferred.

  It unnerved Lillian. That cold, calculating way of speaking, even hitting, the voice staying so even, modulated. She didn’t understand it. Jarvis, she knew. He was hotheaded, greedy, and a bastard of the worst sort. This creature had nothing for Lillian to hold on to, no facial structures, nothing but that petite bone structure for a man and the blue eyes, which gleamed in the semi darkness, even though she couldn’t see the color at the moment. They raked her from top to bottom. Cold and unfeeling, that’s what they were.

  Lillian nodded, unable to speak past the fear this person brought on her.

  Another backhand.

  “I understand,” Lillian whispered, angrier now than she’d ever been in her life.

  “Good. Jarvis, I thought you said she had no spirit. I find you to not be skilled at judging people. Never mind. It does not change the plans. I will be in shortly. Wait for me on the porch.”

  “Yes, sir. Move it, Lillian. You have been a thorn in my side for way too long for a woman.”

  Lillian glared at him before descending and again wrapping her arms around herself, holding the disheveled robe closed. The frozen ground bit painfully into her bloody and torn feet, and a deep ache started from her heels and began to spread throughout her whole body by the time they reached the porch. The wind blew through her thin robe, chilling her as if she wore nothing at all. Janice leaned into her, and she gratefully took the offered comfort.

  Once on the stone porch, they didn’t have long to wait before the masked person came, though. When they were joined by the one who seemed to have a hold over Jarvis, the door opened.

  An elderly servant held out a candle, which glowed eerily across his wrinkled face as he spoke. “I am sorry. My lord is not at home. Please come back when he is returned.”

  “Luke, I am home.
I have brought special guests.”

  Lillian caught the wince before the old codger could hide it. “Yes, my lord. Where would The Dark Duke like us to put them?”

  Lillian heard Janice’s gasp from behind her, but she’d seen the flash of a grin. The scarf around the mysterious stranger had started to slip. Not enough to see more than the quick splash of gleam of teeth, but enough for her to ascertain it to be a falsehood. What kind of sickness pushed a person to do something as mad as pretending to be someone else and mucking up his reputation? Her Clarence was not The Dark Duke. Whomever this was, hated her betrothed and set him up. Somehow, that gave her courage.

  Hatred, to her mind, being a personal thing, the odds were in her favor that they held a link of some sort with Clarence. If a link existed, there remained a chance he could find her. Hope blossomed, pushing through her despair like a ray of sunshine cutting through fog. Head held high, she walked past Jarvis and followed the servant, not wanting to leave him an excuse to touch her or risk him seeing her face.

  Janice stayed close behind her. As soon as they passed the door, Lillian wrinkled her nose. It smelled musty, like the old keep on Father’s land which had fallen into ruin. A sneeze escaped, then another, and another.

  Each time one came, a knife cut through her head, straight through to the back and stayed. She whimpered and clutched her skull, closing her eyes and forgetting about her robe until she opened them again and saw Jarvis’ leer.

  She quickly put her arms down and closed the robe again, feeling dirty and soiled from his stare, and with a shudder, she huddled into Janice. When Jarvis yanked her away, the servant’s gaze went to the floor.

  “I say put her in the blue rooms. I like the shackles there the best.” Jarvis’ glee sent chills down her spine. “Plus, there are two sets.” His breath smelled of gin as he bent his face close to hers and bit her cheek.