His to Keep (Regency Scoundrels Book 2) Page 11

  He nodded his head. In one quick stride, he was at the open window. She raced to stand beside him. “I can’t see much, but from the direction of that scream he must be out by his treehouse,” she sighing, wringing her hands nervously. “You don’t think he fell out of it, do you? He could have broken his neck!”

  “I doubt he fell out. That lad is like a little monkey, he’s used to climbing ship’s rigging. Something else must have made him scream.”

  “He should be in bed by now, shouldn’t he?”

  Archie shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t take much interest in the lad. He left his care to Seamus and his one nursemaid, who always seemed to be screaming in reaction to one of Charles’s pranks.

  Aye, Charles was a little hellion at times.

  They heard him screaming again. This time he sounded like he was being murdered.

  “Damnation. I can’t take it. He sounds so pitiful. We must do something.” She looked wildly around the room. “We have to get out there.” She reached inside of her escritoire and produced a case holding two pistols. “These were Malcolm’s,” she said, readying them for firing. “Here.” She shoved one of them into his hands, took the other one for herself.

  “This isn’t necessary, I’m already armed. I’m always armed. I am a walking weapon, and a lethal one at that.” He gave her a wink. She looked as if she was about ready to fly about the room, her eyes were so crazed. He hadn’t realized how deeply she cared for the troublesome little bastard.

  “We have to get out to Charles. You don’t think that any of the unsavory sorts that he used to be with found him here, do you?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Oh, where is Mallory when you really need him?”

  “You hardly need Mallory. I can keep you safe.”

  “I…” she fell silent, and chewed her lip. “Well, then, protect me.”

  “You stay here.”

  “No, I’m going with you. I need to see for myself that Charles isn’t broken and bloody.”

  “Come on then,” he said, reaching for her hand and leading her from the room.

  “No,” she pulled back on him, and stopped short. “I know of a quicker way. Come with me,” she said, leading him in another direction. Welford Abbey was filled with secret passageways that had been used over the years to smuggle people in and out of the house.

  She walked over to the far wall of her room hating herself for what she was about to do. Reaching up, she touched the wall in just the right spot. The secret passageway opened to reveal a stone interior. “Follow me. It will be drafty and dusty in here, but there’s an escape stairwell that will take us directly to an outside opening. From there, we should be able to reach Charles in under five minutes.”

  “Fine. We shall do it your way, Lady Northam.”

  “Thank you. Besides, we are not the only ones that must have heard Charles. Mallory left some of his men behind when he left to see Elizabeth’s cousin. We should have some help in aiding Charles.”

  They entered the passageway. He looked back at her. “I’m running blind here.” She shoved a candelabrum into his hands. “You’re going to have to light the way, since I have to hold my skirt so I don’t break my bloody neck on these damn steps. Just take care, they can be slippery.” She didn’t know why she was concerned about him, he was only a huge thorn in her side.

  “Let’s go.” He gave her a look of determination. “I wish you’d remain behind.”

  “I can handle myself. I’ve had two older brothers that have schooled me well in the arts of self-defence. My younger sister and I were the ones that took care of the little ones while my brothers were away at war you know. I’ve meted out my own form of justice on more than one occasion. I won’t shirk away from this challenge, Archie.”

  Within a few minutes, they were out in the chilly night air. She should have grabbed a shawl and thrown it over her shoulders, but in her haste, she had forgotten.

  “Over there!” She pointed toward a grouping of horses, and what looked like Charles struggling madly against two men that were trying to drag him away.

  “Blast and damn, what do those blackguards think they are doing?” Her breath came in ragged gasps, as they ran to help Charles.

  “From what I can see, my lady, I think they might just be kidnapping Charles.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gemma’s heart was thudding so loudly in her ears that she could barely hear what Archie had said.

  She heard nonetheless, and that’s when she froze.

  “Why?” she croaked out hoarsely.

  “How would I know? Maybe because your dear brother has officially adopted him?”

  She shook her head. “This makes no bloody sense. Charles is not a true St. Martin though he may be loved like one, he will not inherit Mallory’s title or wealth. He cannot. No child that is adopted in Great Britain can inherit any titles or be styled with any courtesy titles. It just isn’t done!”

  “That doesn’t take away from the fact that some men of ill repute could seek to capitalize on the fact that Charles is treasured by Mallory and Elizabeth. Face it Gemma, they would pay a hefty sum for him, if he was taken.”

  “I—just let’s rescue him before it’s too late. You there!” She pointed at the blackguard restraining a wildly struggling Charles. “You put that little lad down this instant!” Her shout echoed across the landscape. She could see that one of the men was holding his hand over Charles’s mouth. Charles bit his hand, and for one brief second the would-be kidnapper dropped his hand away from the tenacious boy’s mouth.

  “Get back to the house, it’s a trap!” Charles yelled at the top of his lungs.

  “Trap?” she echoed a little disoriented. She couldn’t take seeing Charles at the hands of those ruffians, and now…now, it would seem that they had been lured out into the open. Oh, lud.

  Archie stopped, and grabbed onto her elbow pulling her backward. She slammed against him.

  “What are you doing? Just let me go so I get a clean shot, I should be able to hit one of the men. I’ll just wing him so he’ll release Charles.”

  “Didn’t you hear Charles? He’s trying to warn us.” The sound of carriage wheels caught her attention. She tried to still her ragged breathing. The cold night air seared her lungs, making it difficult for her to breathe. She gripped Archie so tightly she was probably bruising his arm. “I think we are being watched. How the hell did this many people get on the Estate without Mallory’s men noticing? I suppose they are not worth their salt. When I get a hold of him, I’m going to give him such a what-for that his ears will be ringing for days! He was the one who lived such a dangerous life, and now…now that dangerous living is catching up to him—except he’s not the one who is going to pay. Family always pays.”

  Distantly, she heard Archie, though her eyes were furtively scanning the landscape.

  “Archie.” She narrowed her eyes, squinting them tightly together. Now, she really had reason to worry. “Archie, my God, that’s…that’s Mallory’s carriage. They…they must have returned and been ambushed…”

  “Bollocks. I can’t believe this. Are you certain?”

  “Aye. I am. Don’t you see our family crest?” Behind the St. Martin carriage rolled another carriage. She could only assume this carriage was filled with men armed to the teeth. “Archie, what do we do?” she asked plaintively.

  Her family was in dire peril. She had to do something fast before it all blew away from her like dust on the wind.

  “Wait for my instructions. For once, you have to follow my orders to the letter. Do you understand?”

  Numbly, she nodded her head.

  He looked down at her. Suddenly, she was so happy to have him on her side, on their side. She knew if there was one person that could save her family, it would be Archie. He was fully capable of taking care of all of them.

  The carriages rolled to a stop. The second carriage opened first. A dark haired man descended the steps. He was around Mallory’s age, and
had a strikingly dangerous air to him. His looks were almost too good. He was one of those men who knew that he was handsome, and wasn’t afraid of flaunting it for all to see. He was a dandy, a dandy and a blackguard—all wrapped into one. He carried himself with a refined grace, and yet, she could tell that he wasn’t a man she would like to meet in a darkened room. The coolly detached expression he wore on his perfect visage made her heartbeat quicken. This man was deadly. And right now, he held in his hands, the lives of her brother, sister-in-law and niece. She tried to swallow past the huge lump in her throat.

  “Ah, my dear Lady Northam,” he proclaimed, locking his dark gaze on her.

  She started at the sound of her new title rolling over his tongue. His accent told her that he was French. Malcolm had died because of the French. And though her family drew from Norman roots, none of that seemed to matter anymore. Her heart hardened toward the man. He held his hand up in a commanding gesture. “There is no need for you to speak, my lovely lady, you are no present danger. However, in due course, you will understand the terms I have.”

  “What terms?” Archie asked coldly.

  She looked wildly at him, seeking his guidance, hoping he could be her lighthouse in this wild storm, her heart constricting in her chest to the point where it was hard to draw breath.

  Archie had a look of thunder on his face. If the odds weren’t so heavily stacked against them, she felt sure he would have killed the frog with his bare hands.

  “I did not give you permission to speak, Scottish fool.”

  Her heart still hammered against her corset. This day had turned into a living nightmare. Why hadn’t Mallory enlisted more security to guard the Estate? And why would they come here? Shouldn’t they have targeted Chichester Castle or one of the other estates that Mallory and Elizabeth owned? Again, he had let the family down. She closed her eyes, saying a silent quick prayer before she opened them again to meet the blackguard’s gaze.

  “I am only addressing, Lady Northam, Scotch. Your presence to me has absolutely no relevance. If you speak again, one of my men will put you out of my misery, are we understood?”

  Why did he know that she was Lady Northam and yet quizzically, he didn’t know that Archie was Lord Northam? She felt a little dizzy trying to make sense out of it all.

  “Yes, we understand,” she said hastily, gulping down her trepidation. She might go between loving and hating the man, but she didn’t want to see him die. She needed Archie, just as much as he needed her. Pain twisted around her heart. Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes and show her vulnerability.

  “Excellent. Lady Northam, you will be happy to know that your brother, his wife and your niece are quite alive, for the moment. Though there is a formidable hole in your brother, he gave us quite the trouble when he saw what we up to, he tried playing the hero—alas, he shall shortly be a legend.”

  She drew her breath in sharply. “If he dies—”

  The Frenchman laughed. “You have no bargaining ground here, my lady. You are on unequal footing. You shall wait on bated breath for what I have to say. I am after all, the one holding the reins of power.”

  “Not for long,” she muttered, proudly lifting her head to meet and hold his gaze.

  “You are tenacious, Lady Northam. Your mouth might be big...but your body looks weak. With that willowy figure of yours, you could blow over in a great gust of wind. To my eyes, you look as if you need a bit fattening up. I do so hate a boney woman.” She bit her lip. He was only trying to make her angry—she couldn’t lose her head not when she had so much at stake. “As much as I like to talk to you, my Marchioness with the Mettle, I have other things to say that relate to you, even if they do not center in on you. I will be taking two people with me away from this estate this night. Two hostages, if you will. Your blackguard of a brother took something precious from me, so I shall endeavor to pay him back in kind. As it stands now, I shall be leaving with the Duchess, and her darling baby girl. The little lady is a picture of perfection, from what I can see, she favors her father’s side of the family.”

  “No.” Gemma’s heart stopped. “No. You can take me, you don’t need Lady Susan. She will only slow you down. Traveling with a baby won’t be as easy as you think—Susan needs special care, her health is delicate—”

  “And you think that trifles me one little bit? Unfortunately, sentimentality falls short on me, as such, the brat’s health is of no concern to me.”

  “I am more valuable to you,” she said fervently.

  “You are not the duke’s daughter.”

  “Not the current duke, but I am a duke’s daughter, and I am worth much more to you than Susan or Elizabeth—”

  “I fail to see the logic in your proposition. You belong to another family now. No, I am still quite determined to take the duchess and her child. However, I am not prepared to leave witnesses. I will be sad to see you dead, Lady Northam, but sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good.”

  She exchanged a quick desperate glance with Archie. She didn’t like the way this was going. Before the frog had the time to do anything they couldn’t take back, they had to stop him. The carriage that Elizabeth and Mallory were being held in started to lurch from side to side. Obviously, Mallory was putting up some sort of resistance. They had to strike while the iron was hot.

  Without thinking, she aimed her pistol at the Frenchie and shot. That’s when all hell broke loose. She hit him squarely in the shoulder. Grunting, he let out a slew of swearwords in French, and staggered backward, though by the looks of him, she hadn’t served him a deathblow.

  “Get down,” Archie ordered angrily, pulling her a little too roughly down to the ground with him. Who was he mad at? The Frenchman or her?

  Shouts rang through the air. Finally, Mallory’s men had been roused into action. It had taken them long enough to come their aid, but she would point out that sad fact to Mallory once she knew he was alive and well. In the haze of all of the chaos, she somehow managed to slip out of Archie’s ironclad grasp.

  She had to make it to the carriage carrying Mallory, Elizabeth and Susan. Charles had managed to break free and he was fighting like a little hellion. She had to admire his grit and determination.

  Gunshots echoed through the landscape, coupled with the sounds of blades striking each other in battle.

  She tossed her pistol aside. She had no more shot, and therefore couldn’t reload it. A rather gruesome looking man stepped in her path. She tried darting around him, and he pulled her back. Pulling her right leg back, she gave him a hell of a kick in his shins, causing him to release her. Then, she formed her hand into a fist, and punched him. God, her hand smarted. She might have broken a few bones. The surprise of her striking him, caught him off guard, and his head snapped back. She pushed him and as he was quite disoriented he fell down with a great thud.

  He grabbed onto the end of her gown, in his attempt to pull her back. “Get off!” she yelled. She kicked him again, and heard his bellow of pain at the same time she heard the silk on her dress rip. Lovely. She really liked this dress.

  Wrenching the carriage door open, she saw Mallory struggling with one last still semiconscious blackguard. Elizabeth sat on the satin squabs, holding Susan to her chest, wild-eyed with fear.

  “Help your brother, Gemma. He has taken quite the beating, he’s weak … he’s already taken down three men, I fear he can’t stand much more.”

  “Then, you don’t know what us St. Martins are made out of. Hell itself couldn’t beat us.” Her voice was hoarse, and broke with emotional strain.

  She looked around the carriage for something to help Mallory with. She shouldn’t have thrown away her pistol that had been one foolhardy action. Removing her slipper, she stalked up behind the struggling duo waiting for the right instant. When Mallory was pinned to the floor of the carriage she took her chance, and whacked his attacker soundly across the back of his head. As he fell to the side, she noticed he wielded a dagger in his hand.

/>   “Oh, lud! Mallory, are you all right?” She gingerly moved toward him, noticing the flow of blood gushing out of his shoulder.

  “Bullet wound or stab wound?” she asked, looking at the wound with terror in her heart.

  “Stab wound.” His face was drawn and paler than usual. She ripped off a good bit of her petticoat. “Let me help you.” She padded it against his shoulder, instructing him to hold it there. “We’re going to have to get that sewn up soon, I don’t think that will stop you from bleeding, though I’m hoping it will staunch the flow of blood.”

  “Get Elizabeth and Susan to safety,” he ordered, his voice transforming to a tired rasp.

  “You don’t understand. I think we have gained the upper hand, your men finally realized we had been infiltrated, and their fighting tooth and nail out there for you. Who is that annoying frog?” she asked.

  “Mallory, please, tell me he isn’t one of Antonio’s men,” Elizabeth implored. Some of the fright etched across Elizabeth’s face had faded.

  “No,” Mallory winced when Gemma placed extra pressure on his shoulder. “He’s someone I knew during the wars. I don’t think he’s allied with Antonio…but then, I wouldn’t exactly be surprised if he was.”

  “Who is he?”

  “His name is Louis-Daniel di Challant, Marquis de Saint-Vexin.”

  “Well, he is quite vexing, but he is no saint,” Gemma snorted. “Perhaps, I shall just call him Lord Vexing.”

  “I don’t know much more than that, except for the fact that he was one hell of an officer. He was one of Napoleon’s best, actually.”

  “Bastard,” she spat out.

  “I suppose that’s one word for him,” Mallory winced. “I first came into contact with the Marquis shortly after Malcolm’s death. I was leading a landing party, and we were given bad intelligence. We barely made it back to our ships by the skin of our teeth. During our skirmish, he referred to me by name, and told me that one day…one day he would have finish what he had started,” Mallory’s voice was halting, filled with emotion. “I…I lost a good lad that day. He was a lad that got in the way and paid the price for that bastard’s loyalties. And now, he is determined to make me and mine pay. He is a bloody monster, Gemma. He’s madder than someone that’s already traveled to Bedlam. You have to help Elizabeth get Susan back to the house—and lock it up like a fortress until more help arrives. In fact, knowing the Marquis, he’s probably set up explosives on the perimeter of the estate. I wouldn’t put a bloody thing past him. You must tread carefully with him, Gemma. He…he plays dirty. He is a ruthless son of a bitch.”