To Capture a Rake by Lori Brighton
Alex stepped so close to her that he could feel her warmth. His hands curled as he resisted the urge to grab the woman and shake sense into her. “I won’t let you ruin what chance he has.”
She moved back to her desk. “Honorable of you, but I have no designs to leave my lovely estate.”
She was bluffing. She had to be. The woman wouldn’t give up the idea of revenge no matter what. Hell, she’d follow him across the country if need be. What was her game?
“I don’t believe you. Your life revolves around revenge.”
“Oh, I will get my revenge.” She settled in her chair and clapped her hands in delight. For a brief moment she actually looked like a child. “But I won’t have to do any dirty work at all, that’s the beauty of it.”
He’d had enough. Alex stomped to her desk and glared down at her. He’d stopped trying to understand this woman long ago. He knew one thing…she was utterly mad. “What the hell do you mean?”
“I’m not the only one who wants to see Gideon suffer. He has family, you know, and they think he is just as horrible as I do.”
His veins turned to ice. “What have you done?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged her delicate shoulders, her lower lip pouting. “I merely pointed them in the right direction. When she came looking for him, of course I couldn’t lie. I had to tell her the truth about what he’d been doing for the past thirteen years. I can’t help it if this angered her greatly, the title and money going to a whore.”
The jest was on her. “Their guard will be up. They know about the dowager and her threats.”
She lifted a brow. “The dowager? The woman I spoke with was no dowager.”
Alex stiffened. “The woman who came here was not Gideon’s grandmother?”
The woman’s lips lifted into a cruel grin. “The woman I spoke with was thirty-five, perhaps forty years of age.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk. “Oh, Alex, don’t tell me you’ve been going after the wrong woman all along?”
Alex didn’t say a word, merely turned and left the room, her mocking laughter following.
Chapter 20
Elizabeth couldn’t sleep. The sun had barely risen when she found herself outside in the walled garden, pacing the trail around and around. Morning dew soaked her slippers and the air held a bite, but she was too restless to return indoors. She felt strained tight, her muscles taut with the need to move. The sun had yet to reach the top of the brick wall, and shadows leered at her from the far corners, adding to her unease.
She focused on the gravel path, the crunch of stone under her feet. Her muslin rose-printed dress was thin and the wrap she wore offered little protection, but she didn’t care about the cold. She welcomed the numbness it brought. Another night and Gideon hadn’t come to her bed. Instead, he was too busy exacting revenge. She sighed, her shoulders sinking. Would they ever have a normal marriage? Could they ever settle into peaceful bliss?
Elizabeth plucked a brown daisy from its stem, twirling the dying flower around and around. Summer was fading fast. She welcomed winter, only wished it would arrive sooner. Winter meant the roads would be hard to travel, which meant the dowager would not arrive and Gideon would not be able to leave. Perhaps they’d get respite from the search for justice.
Elizabeth glanced toward the gate where Will and Benjie stood chatting amicably. Her own personal guards. She frowned, annoyed. Will had refused to speak to her of Mr. Miller’s questioning, but apparently Gideon and now the constable were still in the back room with him. She shuddered, drawing her shawl closer. Who knew what they were doing to the man.
Gideon had demanded that she never be alone, and until further notice, the children were to stay inside. Thank God for the conservatory, where they could get some sunlight. Once her mother-in-law was imprisoned, perhaps they could enjoy a jaunt to the beach. She smiled fondly, remembering a summer when she, Mr. Ashton, and the children had headed to the coast. The children frolicking in the waves, the soft breeze, collecting seashells along the shore…
With a sigh, she sank to the stone bench. She understood now why Gideon was so reluctant to love. Because he thought he was his father. She played with the fringe upon her shawl. Yes, his father had been an evil, evil man who had harmed so many in his short life, but Gideon was far from becoming his father. How could he not see how wonderful he was? He’d saved more than one person from certain death. He was a bloody knight in shining armor. Why did he continue to punish himself?
“My lady,” Will called out from the gate.
Elizabeth heard the unease in his voice and surged to her feet. The paleness of his face didn’t bode well. “What is it?”
“A visitor.”
A shiver of apprehension raced over her already chilled skin. For one long moment, neither of them said a word. As the sound of wheels over crushed gravel came to a halt, the spell broke. Benjie raced toward the front of the house. Elizabeth hiked up her skirts and rushed to the gate.
“Who?” She reached for the metal bars, but Will kept the gate closed, locking her inside for safety.
“Don’t know yet.”
She gripped the metal bars and pressed her face to the gate. Blast, but she couldn’t see far enough around the corner to identify their visitor. She could hear the soft murmur of conversation and knew Benjie was chatting with whoever was inside the coach, but she was too far away to decipher their words. Elizabeth jerked her head toward the estate, studying the many windows. She had the sudden urge to see Gideon. Damn him, somehow she’d come to depend on the man.
The rapid thump of footfalls indicated Benjie’s arrival. “The companion,” Benjie said, breathless from running. “Miss Howell. She says she has news and needs to speak with you. Says it’s urgent.” He slid his hand through the iron bars and handed her a note.
Elizabeth opened the missive.
My lady, I have reason to believe your life is in danger.
A sudden cool breeze tugged at her shawl and skirts, making Elizabeth sway. She turned her gaze toward the carriage, hope soaring. “Send her to me.”
“But Elizabeth—” Will started.
She tightened her grip on the iron bars, annoyed that he was questioning her when only a few weeks ago he would have jumped to do her bidding. “She might have news, Will. If we can get a confession from her, Gideon won’t have to continue his search.”
And she would no longer have to worry that he’d end up in the gaols for murder.
The lad sighed and stepped back from the gate, noting her hard tone. “Very well.” But he was still frowning, and she knew it was because she had given the order and not Gideon. She really did need to have a talk with the staff about loyalty.
“Benjie will stay with me. Please head inside and find Gideon.”
Will looked a little more than relieved at that command, and with a nod he headed toward the house, while Benjie went to the carriage to assist Miss Howell. The companion looked paler than normal, her narrow face drawn while dark smudges marked the areas underneath her brown eyes. Her black bonnet swiveled toward the garden, her gaze catching Elizabeth. With determined strides the woman started forward without Benjie’s assistance.
The fierceness of her expression confused Elizabeth, made her nervous when she should have been thrilled to finally have the witness they needed. Something felt decidedly off. Benjie pushed open the gate.
“Miss Howell,” Elizabeth said, stepping aside. “I wasn’t expecting you. Shall we head to the parlor and I’ll ring for tea?”
“No.” She shook her head and swept into the garden. “This can’t wait.”
Elizabeth followed more reluctantly. She knew what the woman would say, and she should have been thrilled, so why was she so wary? She took her lower lip between her teeth. Perhaps it was only natural to be nervous since in the past Miss Howell had only shown extreme loyalty toward the dowager. “What is it?”
Miss Howell paced down the narrow path, her reticule swaying from her wrist. Elizabeth sl
“Miss Howell,” Elizabeth said gently. “Do please speak your mind if something is wrong.”
The companion paused next to a clump of dying forget-me-nots and faced Elizabeth, the woman’s black skirts settling comfortably around her dusty boots. “I have come upon some news that you might find upsetting.”
Elizabeth had the sudden desire to laugh. Nothing the woman could say would be worse than her own imaginings. But the poor dear didn’t realize that they already knew about the dowager. Elizabeth’s unease fled as compassion surged. She was determined to find Miss Howell a place in their home once this was all said and done. She deserved some peace after being at the dowager’s beck and call for so many years.
“Please,” Elizabeth waved toward the bench. “Do sit down. But I must warn you, I fear I already know your news.”
The woman settled on the stone bench and glanced nervously toward the house. Oh, she wished she’d get on with it already! Elizabeth felt like it was Christmas morning. Finally, they’d get the truth, and God willing, Miss Howell would be the witness they so desperately needed.
“It’s all right,” she said, reaching out and patting the woman’s gloved hand. “You can tell me.”
The companion nodded slowly.
Yet something didn’t seem right. Elizabeth studied the woman before her, marveling over her steady nerves. She was calm. Almost…too calm. One would think at least her hands would tremble. “Go on, dear.”
“I have something to show you.” Miss Howell reached into the reticle hanging from her wrist. Before Elizabeth had time to react, the woman pulled something from her little purse and swiveled toward Benjie. The blast rang through the garden, frightening a flock of sparrows. Elizabeth’s heart leapt into her throat. The lad fell against the wall and slid to the ground.
“No!” Elizabeth cried. She started to surge forward, when Miss Howell swung her arm right, pointing the pistol directly at Elizabeth’s chest. She froze, the roar of blood pounding in her ears as she attempted to understand what had just happened.
“Don’t move,” Miss Howell said, her voice shaky, but her eyes hard with determination.
Elizabeth dared to dart a quick glance at Benjie. The lad was breathing harshly, his hand pressed to his chest as brilliant red blood spread across his beige shirt. Frantic fear clawed at her insides, chilling her veins.
“Benjie!” Elizabeth took a hesitant step toward the lad. “I have to go to him, he’s dying!”
Miss Howell shoved her hand into Elizabeth’s chest, pushing her back with a strength she hadn’t expected from the smaller woman. “I don’t care!”
She was mad. Utterly and completely mad.
“Why?” she whispered. With Miss Howell’s back to the gate, the companion didn’t see Benjie slowly regaining his feet. Elizabeth focused on the woman, attempting to keep her attention where it needed to be so Benjie could escape. “Because you owe the dowager? You’ll murder for her?”
“This has nothing to do with her.” The woman sounded calm, but Elizabeth could read the nerves in her shifting gaze and unsteady hand. Finally, she was showing some common sense.
From the corner of her eye, she could see that Benjie had made it to the open gate. Will appeared, grabbing his injured friend. When Gideon slipped into the garden Elizabeth almost cried out in relief.
Determined to keep them safe, she kept her attention on the crazed woman. “I don’t understand.”
“She’s the one who has been trying to kill you,” Gideon stated.
Miss Howell stumbled back, swinging her pistol toward him.
“No!” Elizabeth cried out, resisting the urge to throw herself in front of the man.
“Easy.” Gideon moved slowly up the path, his boots crushing gravel. He wore only his shirtsleeves and trousers, his hair rumpled as if he’d been abed, or more likely had never slept. Will and Benjie were gone. It was just the three of them. By the time Will could summon the constable, this would be over. Who would come out the victor?
“It’s just us,” Gideon said calmly, his gaze focused on the woman, his steps slow and sure. He showed no emotion, his face oddly calm, too calm. “Tell us what this is about.”
“You know!” she hissed, her eyes flashing, her hand trembling dangerously. “You’re a whore! A common whore, and you will not take the title promised to my son!”
Elizabeth tried to make sense of her ramblings but found herself utterly confused. “Your son?” Dear God, the woman truly was delusional. But then living with the dowager would make anyone crazed.
“Is John your son?” Gideon asked calmly, as if having a chat with the local vicar. He shifted ever so slightly, and the woman shifted with him, as if they were participating in some odd country dance.
“Yes,” she hissed. “The dowager claimed him long ago so he wouldn’t be a bastard. You know the stigma attached to being born out of wedlock.”
Elizabeth’s lips parted on a gasp of surprise. John was her son? But who was this woman? Why would the dowager claim John over Henry? “It’s why you said you owe her.”
Her wild gaze flickered toward Elizabeth, giving Gideon just enough time to shift again. What was he doing? “I owe her everything.”
Elizabeth took a step closer to the woman, demanding her attention and helping Gideon with his plan, whatever it might be. “You wanted me and Henry dead so your son would inherit.”
Any compassion she felt for the woman vanished. She felt ill merely saying the words and even worse when the woman nodded eagerly, as if desperate for someone to understand her dilemma.
“Yes,” she breathed, as if in a sigh of relief.
Things were starting to make sense, but what Elizabeth still didn’t understand was why her mother-in-law would help the lunatic before her. “Does the dowager know you’re here?”
Her face fell, bitterness washing over her. She’d been pretty once, but now the woman merely reminded Elizabeth of someone else she knew…Lady Lavender. A woman so full of spite that it had hardened her heart and destroyed her beauty. “Of course not, but she would approve. I know it.”
Oh God, all that time she’d thought the old bat was the one responsible. In reality, Elizabeth and the dowager led a very similar life, pretending to be mothers for another person’s child. Now that she had the facts, it was no longer surprising that the dowager had been suspicious of Henry’s and Cally’s births. The question remained…why would the dowager prefer John over Henry?
“You want John to inherit,” Elizabeth said slowly, carefully. This was the truth of the past four years. Everything was suddenly falling into place.
Miss Howell’s lower lip quivered, her brown eyes swimming with unshed tears. “I gave up my rights to him. He doesn’t even know I’m his mother. I gave up everything so he could inherit. If he doesn’t inherit, it will be for nothing.”
The sun started to peek over the wall, splashing the garden with light. Miss Howell blinked, shielding her eyes with her free hand. Elizabeth finally understood why Gideon had been inching around the garden; he had wanted her positioned perfectly so that when the sun came up, it would blind her.
“You can’t possibly expect to get away with killing the both of us.” She could only pray the woman still retained some sense. “Both Will and Benjie know the truth, and by now the entire household will as well. If you leave this moment, you won’t hang.”
“I don’t care if I hang!” She shook so hard, the gun trembled dangerously. “Don’t you understand? I’ll do whatever it takes so John can inherit.”
The entire world seemed suddenly bleak and she knew no good could come of this. Their luck had run its course. Gideon shifted again, this time moving toward her. She knew instantly that he thought to shield her when the gun went off. He would protect her until his dying day. But no, she wouldn’t let him sacrific
“And you uncovered my past?” Gideon said. “Very clever of you.”
Her lips lifted into a sneer. “A whore. Yes, I know about your father, and I know that you’ve been nothing more than a whore. You don’t deserve the title, and I will see you rot before I’ll allow you to take the estate from Johnny.”
The vehemence in her voice shocked and frightened her. Elizabeth shook her head, still confused. Nothing made sense. She didn’t understand why the dowager would claim John. She didn’t understand why Miss Howell would assume that John deserved the title, unless…“Who is John’s father?”
“Don’t play coy with me. You know,” the woman said, her gaze burning into Gideon’s. “Your father.”
Miss Howell had had an affair with Gideon’s father, which meant…John was Gideon’s brother? Her gaze jumped to him. His face was unreadable, his body still. Too still. Her heart broke a little as she realized the effect this was having on the man she loved. His father was a terrible man, and each day brought some new chapter in the story that was his father’s dastardly past. How long she had wanted the truth, and now that she had it, Elizabeth felt overwhelmed.
“When the dowager found out I was with child, she promised to raise the babe as her own and keep me on if I didn’t tell anyone.”
Gideon didn’t respond, but she noticed the tightening of his jaw. If he thought his father bad before, what must he think now? How she wanted to pull him into her arms and tell him he had nothing in common with the man. It was over, or would be just as soon as they could take care of Miss Howell. A tiny bluebird landed on the bench not far from them, chirping as if it to say why didn’t they get on with it already?
“He told me he loved me and we’d marry, but then he died,” Miss Howell said, her gaze unfocused, as if lost in the past. They were not the only ones who had been destroyed by secrets and lies.