Page 17 of Falling for the Earl (Improper Ladies #2)

T here was no lock on the door. Lucy dragged the table over against it. It wouldn’t keep Rattray out, but it would give her time to prepare herself. She washed her face and then her feet, drying them on a petticoat. Then, watching the door, she quickly stripped off her dressing gown and nightgown.

She drew on her shift and tied up her stays, then sat to pull on stockings. Donning her warmest gown, a lavender-gray wool with a high neck, she slipped into her half-boots. They would be best if she had to run through the forest. She’d left her hairpins on the dressing table at the inn and could only manage to brush and braid her hair. Then, feeling a little better, she peered into her reticule and withdrew a small notebook and pencil she carried. Resting it on her knee, she wrote about what had happened to her, what Rattray had done and said he would do, then slipped it into her stays. It appeared she was valuable to Rattray, so she doubted he’d kill her, not intentionally at least, not until after their marriage and he had the money. But should she die, she wanted whoever found her body to learn what he had done. She wanted her father to know what had happened to her and warn him that he was in danger of being suspected of murder. Hopefully, the note might be found. If Rattray told the truth and the marquess and both of his sons would die, her father would become the new marquess. But he would be left burdened with a heavy heart. She must try to escape.

The door opened and banged against the table. “What do you want?” she demanded.

“I have a roll for your breakfast.”

“I don’t want to eat it.”

“But I insist.”

It wouldn’t suit him for her to die yet. But he wasn’t above hurting her. At Rattray’s hard shove, the table slid away, and he opened the door. “Come and sit by the fire. It’s warmer there.”

“I am perfectly comfortable here.”

“Do as I say.” He growled and came over to lean threateningly over her.

Lucy decided she’d have a better chance of escaping from out there and rose from the bed. She followed him through the door and took a seat on the ghastly sofa.

“Ahh, that’s better.” Rattray moved one of the chairs to sit closer. “I like to see your pretty face.” He studied her while she stiffened with revulsion. “You’ve plaited your lovely hair. It’s an invitation for a man to unravel it.”

“Touch me, and I’ll scratch your eyes out.”

“My, my, such virulence. You’re a spirited miss. I like that about you. I’m not about to seduce you. Not in this dirty place. It will be somewhere much more to my liking.”

Her stomach turned over as she wondered where that was, and how long before they got there.

He rose and thrust a bun and a piece of cheese at her. “Eat.”

Not wishing to anger him further, she took a bite. The bread stuck in her throat, making her gag. She coughed.

Rattray went over to his luggage and withdrew a glass bottle. “Drink some of this.”

“I’m not so foolish,” she said, pushing it away. “It will be drugged.”

“It’s not wine. It’s cider. I don’t want you unconscious.”

She violently shook her head.

He removed the lid, raised the bottle and drank from it. “Very well, please yourself.” Then he went to stir the glowing embers in the fireplace.

Watching him, she thought her only chance might be to use the fire to set the hut alight. Then escape into the trees, where he couldn’t find her. But he lit his pipe and settled back in the chair again. “We might as well be comfortable,” he said. “We have hours to wait.”

Hours to wait, and then what? Swallowing rising hysteria, Lucy saw the wooden box was empty, and the fire had died down. It was worth a try. “I’m cold.” She shivered and rubbed her arms.

“If you ate something, you wouldn’t be.”

She shook her head sorrowfully. “I can’t eat.”

“There are logs right outside, so don’t get any ideas,” he said, going to the door.

She must act quickly, but there was nothing in the room that would suit her purpose. And there was little time. Lucy pulled her note from inside her stays, her original intention forgotten. She bent and thrust a corner of the page into the embers. Would her father know what happened to her should she not survive? But she wasn’t going to die at that monster’s hands if she could help it. When the paper caught, she cradled the fledgling flame with her hand and went to the thin fabric hanging at the window, which served as a curtain. Dry as dust, it caught quickly and went up with a whoosh .

She gleefully watched the flames, then went to the door. “We’re on fire,” she said cheerfully.

“You…” He cursed under his breath and raced to the pump. Filling a bowl which lay beside it, he ran inside. The flames ate greedily at the last of the fabric. Lucy, ready to run, edged out of his line of sight as he threw water at it.

Rattray swiveled and saw her and in a moment was on her. He backhanded her across the face. She fell to the floor. “Stay where you’re put, vixen.”

He took off his coat and fought the flames while she lay there, dizzy, her cheek smarting. Rattray finally got control, and the fire died to a smoky sizzle.

“Try anything again, and I won’t guarantee you’ll survive it,” he said, shutting the front door. He came back to look down at her and offered his hand. “Now look what you made me do. Mar your pretty face.”

Ignoring his offer of help, Lucy slowly climbed to her feet and walked toward the bedchamber.

“Yes, stay in there,” he said, following her.

“You know, if my father is found to be guilty of murder, they will hang him,” she said at the door. “And the next male in line will be marquess.”

His eyes shone. “There is no one else in line. No one else at all, in fact. That would be true if it were only males who inherited. But in this case, rare as it might be, it is not. I have investigated the primogeniture laws applying to this title thoroughly. You would be coheiress and able to claim all the wealth and properties, if not the title, Lucy. Just think about that.”

“What made you so evil?” she asked. “Were you born that way?”

His face reddened, and she saw with a burst of glee that she’d shaken him.

“I was born in a castle where my father worked his fingers to the bone while the laird ruled over us,” he said furiously. “I vowed that one day, I would be the one who lived like a king and ordered people about. And you, shall be my entrée into that world.”

“That is a foolish dream that will never come true!” She shut the door in his face and ran over to the bed. Throwing herself down, she gave way to tears. After a few minutes, she sniffed and wiped her eyes on a handkerchief. She mustn’t sink into despair. It was vital to keep fighting and take advantage of anything that might present itself.

*

Hugh and Luke arrived in Chigwell as the moon rode high in the sky. Only two places were still open. Candlelight spilled out from the coaching inn and the Red Bull Tavern, which was farther along the road. Raucous laughter floated out of the tavern as Hugh went inside. Although it was late, there were still a few drinking ale and spirits and swapping stories. As he approached the tavern owner, who stood at the bar pouring drinks, a barmaid passed him with a tray. She cast him a saucy look as she moved among the tables, serving drinks and collecting empties.

Hugh ordered an ale. “Any strangers come in here during the last day or so?”

The proprietor paused and scratched at his ginger whiskers. “We get travelers in here quite regular like. Had a couple in early this morning looking for a meal. From London, they said. They’ve booked a room here for the night.”

Hugh pulled a handful of coins from his pocket. “Hear anything they said?”

He eyed the money. “Ahh, let’s see. Arrived in a coach. Coachman and groom, I’d say. The younger man deferred to the older one, and they discussed the condition of the horses. One horse needed shoeing. They planned on taking some gentleman and his lady north tomorra.”

Hugh handed him the coins and held up one more. “Is the gentleman staying here too? Did you see him or the woman?”

The proprietor shook his head. “Didn’t say where they was.” He took the coin with a nod and turned back to remove tankards from the shelf. “That’s all I can tell you. Try the inn.”

Hugh nodded. “Thanks.”

He went back out to Luke. “We’ve had a bit of luck. Looks like we might have found Rattray’s coachman and groom. They’re at the tavern and plan to put up there for the night. Leaving first thing in the morning to collect their client and his lady, so says the tavern owner. Rattray must have Lucy at the inn.” He jumped in and drove the horses down the street. “I’ll go and deal with Rattray while you drive around to the stables.”

He was close to finding Lucy. He could feel it in his bones. But had Rattray ravished her? Lucy! He recoiled in horror. Why else would he go to all this trouble to snatch her away? And against her will. She’d told Hugh she didn’t like him. Was the man madly in love with her? Men did stupid things for love, but Rattray didn’t seem the type. Did he believe those irritating rumors about Lucy being an heiress? He should have acted to quash them before they’d spread. If Rattray had hurt one hair on Lucy’s head, he would be swiftly dispatched from this world.

Hugh held out a coin as he questioned the innkeeper. But the man shook his untidy head of black hair. “Not staying here, they’re not, milord.”

Deeply disappointed, Hugh booked a room. As he and Luke went into the dining room, Hugh told his friend of his revised plan. “Rattray and Lucy must be staying somewhere in the area. We can grab a few hours’ sleep and be up before cock’s crow to follow their coach.”

Luke yawned. “Sleep sounds irresistibly attractive.”

In the inn bedchamber he shared with Luke, Hugh lay down and set his internal clock, something he’d mastered during his years in the army, to wake before dawn. And sure enough, he opened his eyes well before a glow lit the horizon.

He shook Luke’s shoulder. “I’m awake,” Luke said, and he leapt up from the bed.

“We’ll put the horses in the traces and bring it around. Then have some coffee at the tavern while we wait for these men.”

When their carriage was brought round, the tavern had opened its doors, and the enticing smells of frying bacon and coffee wafted out.

In the dining room, a large, gray-haired man with a rugged face and a lean, younger man with a weak one, sat eating eggs.

Hugh and Luke drank coffee and ate some toast, then paid and went out to wait in the phaeton, a little way down the street

Not long afterward, the men’s shabby coach rattled around the corner from the rear of the stables and took off down the street.

Hugh urged the horses into a trot, and they followed the coach at a discreet distance.

The coachman turned off onto a rutted track and the badly sprung vehicle careened down it. Hugh still followed at a distance. He pulled the horses up before the bend, and he and Luke continued on foot.

The track ended at a rudimentary timber hunting lodge, with the coach waiting outside, the door to the hut open.

Rattray could be seen ordering Lucy to move. She looked scared and exhausted and was dragging her feet.

“Remember when you said I should tackle the servants and you would get Rattray?” Hugh whispered.

“Yes.”

“Forget it. I’ll go in and deal with Rattray,” he said grimly. “The coachman and the groom might choose not to get involved.”

Luke took out his pistol. “I’ll have a pleasant chat with them.”

Hugh intended to give Luke a few minutes to make sure they didn’t kick up a fuss, but the rogues jumped up onto the box and turned the coach around, rattling away down the track.

“I’ll make sure they leave,” Luke yelled, bolting down the track in pursuit.

Rattray appeared at the door. “What in hell?”

“Good morning, Rattray,” Hugh said, brandishing his pistol. “Shall we talk inside?”

“Why the devil are you here, Dorchester? This isn’t your affair.”

“Abducting a lady? I think you’ll find it is.”

“You are interfering in an elopement.”

Hugh nudged Rattray back into the room.

“Hugh!” Lucy stood pale and still, her eyes wide. A bruise darkened her cheek and another on her chin, and there were deep, violet half-moons beneath her eyes.

“You villain!” Hugh punched Rattray in the solar plexus and as the cretin staggered back with an “ oomph ,” Hugh dealt him a brutal left undercut to his jaw, then followed it up with a stinging right. Rattray folded up like a fan and fell, then lay spread-eagled on the floor, cursing in a very ungentlemanly like manner, while feeling his jaw.

His eye on Rattray, Hugh went to Lucy, wanting to make sure she was unhurt. “Did this villain harm you?”

She put her hand to her cheek. “No. Only bruises.”

“I’ll be with you in a moment, sweetheart.”

Lying on the floor, Rattray watched him keenly, like a snake watches its prey.

Hugh brandished his pistol. “Get up. We’ll see what the magistrate makes of this.”

“You won’t shoot me,” Rattray said. “You lords are too soft and lily-livered.” He reached down and pulled a small pistol from his boot, and as his finger tightened on the trigger, Hugh flung himself to the side. As the bullet hit the wall behind him, Hugh fired.

Rattray stumbled back, clutching his chest, where blood had begun to seep through his waistcoat. He crumpled to the floor with a gurgling sound, his head falling back.

Hugh kneeled beside him, but it was clear the man was dead.

At the sound of the shots, Luke ran inside. “What the…?” He bent over to the prostrate man. “Dead. Pity, I would have liked to spend some time with the villain.”

Lucy stood with her hands over her ears. Then, with a gasp at the dead body, she ran into Hugh’s arms.

Hugh had gathered Lucy’s trembling body close and shielded her from the sight. “You’re safe now, sweetheart.” He glanced at the burned curtain. “It looks like you’ve been giving him some trouble.”

“I tried to burn the hut down,” she murmured, clutching his coat. “But I’m afraid it didn’t work. I’m so glad to see you and Mr. Beaufort.” With a shuddering gasp, she drew away. “Rattray admitted he was responsible for poisoning the Marquess of Berwick and his sons. He claims one child died, even.”

Hugh hadn’t shot a man since the war and had hoped never to do so again. He shook his head. “ Dear Lord. The man was mad.”

“Poor Aunt Mary was completely taken in by him,” Lucy said. Her eyes widened. “Aunt Mary must have told you he’d taken me.”

“Yes. She came back to London the next morning to ask for Sarah’s help.”

“Is she all right?”

“Somewhat unnerved by the experience, but when she sees you, I’m sure she’ll be much better.” He gazed tenderly down at her. “We’ll go back into Chigwell and see the parish constable. Shouldn’t be a matter for the magistrate, not with a witness to the fact that Rattray fired first.” His bullet had shattered a timber panel on the wall.

“I’ll testify I saw that as well,” Luke said.

“No.” Lucy put her hand to her cheek. “I shan’t have you lie for me. No more lies. My witness testimony will surely be enough.”

“Right.” Luke bent to drag the body outside.

“Better to leave it as it is, Luke,” Hugh said. “And his gun. The constable will want to view the scene.”

Luke nodded and went outside to bring the phaeton closer to the house.

Hugh raised Lucy’s tear-stained face and gazed tenderly into her eyes, hating to see how she’d suffered at that scoundrel’s hands. He couldn’t help himself. He kissed her, her lips as soft and sweet as they were in his dreams.

“I’ve wanted to tell you how I felt for weeks,” he admitted when he drew away. “But I wasn’t free. I had an unresolved betrothal to deal with.”

“And now?” she asked searching his eyes.

“Miss Ashton is to marry someone else.”

“Hugh,” she murmured as her arms slid around his neck, and she pressed herself against him. His hands at her waist, he pressed his mouth to hers again as blood raced through his veins. It was all he could do to end the kiss and pull away. His heart banged in his chest at his palpable relief. He’d been grinding his jaw since he’d first heard of her abduction, and a muscle jumped.

“How on Earth did you find me?”

Lucy looked dirty, bruised, and bewildered, which stirred a fierce desire in him to protect her. To never let her suffer harm again.

“Time for all that later.” At the profound relief, he wanted to hold her in his arms. Hugh tried to ignore his emotional turmoil as he gathered up her bonnet, pelisse, and reticule. “We’ll stay at the inn in Chigwell tonight,” he said as he helped her into her pelisse.

Once her bonnet was on her head and she clutched her reticule, he swept her up into his arms and strode with her to the phaeton. Luke followed and climbed in behind, and Hugh drove them the short distance to the village inn.

Hugh booked two rooms, saw Lucy into one, then went to see to the horses.

Luke came back within the hour with the constable, Mr. Riley, a short, stocky gentleman with an earnest face. Not long afterward, Lucy came down having refreshed herself, and backed up Hugh’s account that Rattray had fired first, as well as everything she knew about the man’s crimes. The villainy of which seemed to shock Mr. Riley, who appeared convinced it had been self-defense. But he would examine the hut for evidence and have the body removed. He’d return if there were any questions.

Hugh ordered luncheon, and they sat in the inn’s dining room while he explained how they’d come to find her. “It was fortunate we found the coachman and the groom at the tavern, for we had little to go on.”

“I’m so glad my aunt is safe,” Lucy said, placing a hand over her mouth as she yawned.

“Up to bed with you, as soon as you’ve eaten,” he said.

Lucy didn’t argue. “I can’t thank you both enough,” she said passionately.

“I’m sure to be in Lady Sarah’s bad books, as I canceled an invitation to take her to see the celebrations in Hyde Park,” Luke said at the end of the meal. He grinned and rose. “I’ll hire a horse from the stables down the road and ride back to London. I need to visit her and apologize. See you there, Hugh.”

Hugh stood to shake his hand. “You’ve been a good friend, and indispensable, Luke. If you require me to put in a good word with Sarah, you have only to ask me.” He grinned. “Although coming from me, it can sometimes prove unhelpful.” He fervently hoped Luke would one day become part of the family. If any man could drive Viscount Cardew out of Sarah’s mind and heart, it would be Luke.

Hugh saw Lucy to her chamber. “I must tell you the rest of it, that which I failed to tell the constable because I didn’t want my father drawn into it. The evil things Rattray has done and what he planned to do,” she said as she stood at the door.

“All in good time.” He framed her face in his hands examined her bruised face, then he dropped a light kiss on her lips. “Shall I send for a doctor?”

“No, I don’t need one.”

He opened the door for her. “We’ll leave for London first thing tomorrow.”

She put up a hand to trace his chin with a finger, sending a flood of warmth straight to his groin. “Tomorrow, then.”

“I’ll fetch your luggage in the morning, before breakfast. Can you manage without it tonight?”

“Of course.” She pushed an errant wisp out of her eyes. “Clothes are of no consequence.”

He shook his head and smiled, briskly banishing the vision of her sleeping naked, which did nothing to help the discomfort in his breeches, then retreated hastily downstairs. Tonight after dinner, he’d play cards at the tavern to resist calling in to see how she fared.