“No, if I went to London, I might find a prince, too, and he might kill me, and I’d be dead just like Lily.”
“You do not believe she killed herself, or perhaps she had a lover?”
“Oh, no, she had no lover. Well, not exactly what you would call a lover.”
Leah said, “What do you mean?”
“I mean I have no need of London, seeing everyone trying to be something they’re not, or trying to make everyone believe they’re better than everyone else. It must be fatiguing. I am happy right here at Hardcross Manor. I do miss Lily, though. But soon I will have you. Look at yourself, Leah. Don’t you look grand?”
Leah stared at herself in the mirror, then looked down at the small miniature of Lily that lay on the dressing table. Vicky had fashioned her hair in exactly the same style—hair pulled away from her face and braided high on her head, no loose dangling curls. A severe look, too severe, and identical to Lily’s. But on Lily, it didn’t look at all severe, it made her look somehow regal. Like a princess.
Leah again looked at Vicky in the mirror, smiling like a proud mother, patting her hair here and there. “Here,” she said, and handed Leah a pair of small pearl earrings. “Lily always wore these earrings with this gown.”
Without saying a word, Leah fastened the delicate pearl earrings onto her ears.
She looked once again down at the portrait of the long-dead Lily. Despite her blond hair and her light eyes, she still looked too much like the dead woman, and for the first time, she felt alarm.
She turned slowly on the dressing stool. “What happened to Aunt Elaine? Did she return to live here at Hardcross Manor?”
“Yes, she did. Her son no longer wanted her about in his house, you see. I rather liked her.”
“What do you mean? What happened to her?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? She caught a putrid inflammation of the lung and died. I believe it was soon after Lily died. There is so much death in the world, don’t you think? I’m very glad I’m not dead.”
Leah nodded numbly. She couldn’t look away from the pale-faced woman in the mirror. She again met Vicky’s eyes in the mirror. “It must have hurt Richard very much to believe his best friend killed his sister.”
Vicky shrugged, lightly tugged a small curl out of the braid to pull it down along Leah’s cheek. Then she studied the braid, pulled down another bit of hair on her other cheek. “That softens your face, but it is a pity you don’t look as fine as Lily did without the dangling curls. What did Richard really think of the prince? They were close, I suppose, but it was Lily who held Richard’s heart.”
Vicky leaned close. “Do you know, Richard always believed Lily the most beautiful girl in the world? And perhaps that is why he never allowed himself to really see other ladies, you know? But now here you are. You are the first.”
67
The two women stood atop the cliff, watching Julian and Devlin make their way down the path. The rain had stopped, but the footing was treacherous.
“It’s not really a path,” Roxanne said. “It’s so dangerous, and Devlin is still hurt.”
“I don’t care if we have guns or not,” Sophie said. “Those men chasing you—surely they must realize they can’t get to you now.” They saw the men’s indecision, then all three of them turned and ran back up the beach toward the upward path.
“I don’t think Julian and Devlin can catch them. Oh, no, Devlin slipped. Thank goodness Julian caught him.”
Sophie turned and pulled Roxanne close. “We were so worried, so scared, but Devlin said you were smart. He said it over and over, he knew you would manage to get yourself free. But how did you get up that path when it isn’t a path at all?”
“I prayed,” Roxanne said. She kissed Sophie’s cheek and pulled away to look down at Julian and Devlin. They’d stopped halfway down the cliff, staring after the retreating men. Then they turned and began the climb back up.
Roxanne said, “I know where the cottage is. I think we can beat them back there, because that’s where they’ll return, since they left their horses there.”
Julian helped Devlin to the top of the cliff. He threw back his head and laughed. “I heard you, Roxanne. Let’s end this, ladies, once and for all.” Then he stopped cold, saw they were all soaking wet, Roxanne’s hair in wet ropes down her back. She was shivering, so pale he thought she’d surely drop into a dead faint. Sophie looked drowned as well, her heavy clothes weighing her down, her hair straggling down her back from beneath her scarf. But there was such fury and determination on her face, he knew if he said anything, she’d very likely try to hurl him off the cliff.
Devlin was looking even paler than Roxanne, yet he was shrugging out of his cloak, wrapping it around her.
Roxanne looked at him even as she felt the warmth from his cloak sink through the wet material to her skin. “No, this isn’t right. You were hurt, Devlin, you must—”
Devlin lightly laid his fingertips over her mouth. “Hush, dear one. Do you wish to show us the cottage, or do you wish to stand here arguing with me?”
“Let’s go.”
It was only a ten-minute ride back to the cottage. How could that be, Roxanne wondered, when she had run for so very long?
“It looks as if we’ve beaten the men back,” Julian said. “Roxanne, you and Sophie see if there are any more weapons inside. Devlin, let’s take care of their horses. We must hurry.”
It required only five minutes to walk the three horses, one of them a very fine Thoroughbred, a goodly distance away from the cottage and tether them in a copse of maple trees.
“I found this,” Sophie said, and showed them a pistol.
Julian took it, saw it was loaded.
Roxanne said, “There was nothing else. Listen, I hear them coming. I still can’t remember where I’ve heard the one man’s voice, but he is educated, unlike the other two.”
They raced across the clearing to huddle down behind some thick yew bushes.
“It ain’t fair, jest ain’t fair.”
“Shut yer trap, Crannie, if only ye’d tapped the little pigeon ’arder, she wouldn’t ’ave escaped.”
“Ye were saying I ’it the littl’ gal too ’ard!”
“I can’t believe she gots ’erself through that window, thin as a sliver of ice that window is. I saw ye looking at that window.”
“Both of you, be quiet.” Roxanne saw the third man was well dressed, unlike his compatriots, in buckskins and a long cloak, and he carried a gun in one hand, a riding crop in the other. All of them were soaked to their bones.
“Yes, I did look at the window, and yes, I deemed it too small for her, yet she still managed to get through. You were supposed to be sitting outside her door, Crannie. Why didn’t you hear her break the glass?”
Roxanne whispered to Devlin, “Where have I heard his voice? Why won’t he turn around so we can see him?”
“I don’t need to,” Julian said quietly.
All three of them stared at him, but he shook his head.
Crannie didn’t say a word.
Vic said, “Tell the truth, Crannie. Ye were drinkin’, yer brain fuddled, that’s why, ain’t it?”
The man whirled about. “You drunken lout!” He backhanded Crannie across his face, sending him sprawling to the rocky ground. “You stupid sot, I should have known.” He raised his pistol and shot Crannie through the heart.
Crannie didn’t make a sound. He looked surprised, then simply fell to the ground and didn’t move.
Vic said, “Crannie! Ye shot Crannie dead! I’ll kill ye fer that, ye bastid!” And Vic rushed at him.
“You are both incompetent fools,” and he shot Vic in the head. Vic grabbed his head and lurched forward, but then he dropped to the ground beside Crannie.
“Good riddance to both of you.”
Devlin said quietly, “I’m sorry, Julian.”
Julian only nodded. “Stay here, all of you.” He strode around the side of the cottage to see Harlan standing there, h
is pistol at his side, anger radiating off him, slapping his riding crop against his thigh.
“Hello, Harlan. I suppose I’m not really surprised,” Julian said. “When Roxanne told us she believed your voice was familiar to her, I didn’t have the time to pick my way through to you, but I should have. If only I’d really opened my eyes, I would have realized Richard couldn’t have been the one hiding in the shadows, watching our smuggling run that night in Saint Osyth. It was you, wasn’t it?”
Harlan Whittaker whirled around, bringing his gun up.
“No,” Julian said very precisely, his own gun aimed at Harlan’s chest. “No, Harlan, this is the end of it. Drop that gun to the ground or I will shoot you between your eyes.”
Julian watched the other man’s eyes, knew he was considering what to do. Finally, Harlan nodded, dropped the gun to the ground.
“Kick it over to me.”
Harlan kicked the gun toward him. It stopped several feet short.
“It was you that night, wasn’t it, Harlan?”
Harlan was breathing hard. “Yes, it was. How did you know to come here?”
Julian said, “You must have seen his lordship and me coming down the cliff after the three of you, but evidently you didn’t see us run back up. It is always faster to ride than to run. You still don’t understand, do you?”
Devlin said from behind him, “Harlan didn’t realize Roxanne would remember the location of this cottage and bring us here.”
“Prince, Julian—”
Julian said, his voice emotionless, “You and I have worked together for five years, Harlan. I trusted you until—well, I did wonder how anyone could have known about my final smuggling run here at Ravenscar. Who was there to tell?” He said over his shoulder to Roxanne and Sophie, “I never believed Leah knew; we were too careful. And that meant Richard could not have known. Why did you do this, Harlan?”
Harlan’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “You were so trusting, Julian, and you told me everything. I even remember you told me what your long-ago Sergeant Lambert told you, something you lived by but hated, you told me, but it made me smile.”
Julian nodded slowly. “I asked Lambert why men couldn’t ever be content with what they had, and he told me that greed and envy and jealousy were sewn into the very fabric of a man’s body. Evidently, he was right, at least about you, Harlan. Was it greed and envy and jealousy?”
Harlan smiled at him. “That sounds rather damning, doesn’t it? But yes, I suppose that is close enough.”
“I know Richard Langworth took Roxanne that first time, but that was because he believed I loved her. Why did you take her, Harlan?”
“Do you know, I was certain you’d allow the ladies to accompany you on this harmless little adventure. And I was right. Why did I take her? The moment I saw her in your drawing room, I knew I wanted her, more than you wanted her, and because you wanted her as well. I took her because I was going to leave England with all your money and marry her in France. I have enjoyed basking in the irony of it.”
Harlan looked at Roxanne, standing beside Devlin, clutching his cloak around her. “When I first met you, I knew you were different, I knew you saw more than you should see. You fascinated me. You were too good for him. I wanted you.”
Roxanne said, “I certainly didn’t see you for what you are, Mr. Whittaker. Did you kidnap me that first time as well? And not Richard Langworth?”
“I had nothing to do with the first time. Julian has doubtless told you Langworth hired Manners to damage the goods on the Blue Star. He did manage to light a fire, only to have it put out by that cabin boy. Then Langworth hired Manners to kidnap Roxanne. Why he imagined Manners could do anything right, I do not know. I was not at all surprised to hear you did him in and escaped. Manners is an incompetent sod.”
Sophie said, “It seems to me you also hired incompetent sods, sir.”
Harlan rounded on her. “You crass little fortune hunter, no one cares what you think.”
“I care,” Julian said.
“So do I,” Roxanne said. “I fancy all of us care.”
Sophie said, “You are grossly misinformed, Mr. Whittaker. It is not Roxanne who is going to marry the prince. I am.”
Harlan’s sneer became more pronounced. “He wouldn’t have you, he’s far too proud.”
Sophie merely smiled at him. “You really believe I’m crass? A fortune hunter? I doubt that would sit well with my father, a vicar, you know. You needn’t worry, though, since it won’t be your problem, sir, but rather my future husband’s, and let me tell you, the prince believes me an angel. How did you know Roxanne knocked Manners unconscious and he never woke up?”
“Everyone talks in a village.” Harlan shrugged. “Everyone knows about your misadventures.”
He drew a deep breath and said to Julian, “Well, you’ve won. You always win, don’t you, Prince? You’re renowned in the city for your luck. But I’ve always recognized it was more skill than luck. I’ve admired you, Julian, but alas, when it came to the sticking point, I chose the groats.
“Do you know it was my plan to have excisemen on the beach, waiting for you? But not one of them came, because, to put it simply, they refused, to the man. Not the prince, they said, not the prince. One of them said you should have your fun, and God bless you.”
Harlan gave Roxanne a brooding look. “When you came to his house, you were alone. I saw how you acted with each other. I saw you were taken with her, Julian, and she with you. Will you tell me what happened? Why did you turn to this one?” He gave a negligent nod toward Sophie.
Roxanne said, “It appears things sorted themselves out the way they were meant to be sorted. Actually, Julian and Sophie are quite perfect together.”
“You lost him to this little girl?” Harlan said. “Will you be the maiden aunt to your niece and her husband, mayhap tend their children for them, Miss Radcliffe?”
“Occasionally,” Roxanne said.
Devlin said, “Miss Radcliffe will be my wife and the future Duchess of Brabante. She will tend her own children.”
Harlan was shaking his head, staring back and forth from Sophie to Roxanne. He threw back his head and laughed. “It is really too much. How very blind I was. Do you know, Miss Radcliffe, my mother had red hair, not flaming red like yours but red enough. I always hated red hair, as I hated her, the witch, until I met you. You could have been my wife, not his.”
Roxanne looked at him from head to toe. “Do you think I would marry you, sir? I would stick a knife in your ribs the first chance I got.”
Julian said, “Of course, this wasn’t your only betrayal, Harlan. How long have you been stealing from me?”
Harlan shrugged. “You’ve gathered so much money, Julian. And you were always traveling, and I was in charge of everything, since you trusted me. I haven’t taken that much over the years, though. I’m not a fool.” He began tapping his riding crop against his thigh. “What are you going to do, Julian?”
“I believe I should kill you. That would end it.”
“It would.”
Sophie took a step forward. “The prince is too honorable. I wish to kill you.”
Harlan looked over at her. “You?” Harlan watched her move closer to Julian, watched her lay her hand on his forearm. He said slowly, “Did you seduce him to make him turn from your aunt?”
“I tried,” Sophie said, “but he refuses to allow any seduction at all until we are married.”
Harlan whirled about to Roxanne, who had moved closer to Devlin. “Let me tell you, the Duke of Brabante will never allow his precious heir to wed a mere baron’s daughter. I wager your dowry is nothing out of the ordinary.”
Roxanne said, “It appears you haven’t seen anything clearly, Mr. Whittaker. You have made one mistake after the other. And you had the nerve to shoot those poor men for being incompetent? What about shooting yourself?”
She took Devlin’s hand. “Do look at his lordship and me, sir. We complete each other. He is an excellent man,
and I am the luckiest of women.”
In an instant of time, Harlan pulled a stiletto out of his sleeve and hurled it at Julian.
Devlin fired.
68
Ravenscar
Roxanne, Corinne, and Devlin stood at the end of Julian’s gigantic bed, one of his ancestors’ beds, mayhap even the very first Duke of Brabante’s bed, as Corinne had endlessly repeated while Dr. Crutchfield, so very ancient and rheumy, worked to save her son’s life.
Sophie sat on the bed beside Julian, watching every move Dr. Crutchfield made. She hated that his old hands shook, but hadn’t he been a doctor for decades? What was a little unsteadiness, since surely he knew what he was doing by now.
Dr. Crutchfield looked at her. “The knife missed his organs, blessed be his famed luck. Ah, he’s stirring, more’s the pity. Hold him down, missy, don’t let him jerk around.”
Devlin stepped forward, but Sophie frowned him away. “I can do it.” She leaned over Julian, her palms flat on his shoulders. She whispered down to him, “You mustn’t move, Prince. Dr. Crutchfield is going to set stitches now in your side. Hold still, all right? Can you understand me?”
Julian was swimming in laudanum and pain from the knife that had sunk deep into his flesh. He didn’t really understand what Sophie said, but he smelled her, a wonderful smell that was surely lessening the pain. He breathed in deeply, felt her smell reach deep inside him. He felt the needle jab into his flesh, but he didn’t move.
He looked up at her face. “I love the way you smell, Sophie.”
She wanted to weep. She leaned close. “You will be able to smell me until the next century, Prince. I’m sorry the pain is so bad.” She leaned down and kissed him. He lurched up, nearly knocking her backward. But she came down over him hard. “No, you can’t move.” Her gentle voice changed abruptly. “Dr. Crutchfield, you will kindly go more easily! Surely you are nearly done?”