A Regency Invitation Page 30

  This definitely wasn’t the path she had used on the way out. As far as she could tell it wasn’t heading towards the house at all now. She hesitated. Perhaps she should go back to the lake and hope Cassie was still on the cupola. Anthony might be back by now.

  A small hut was visible through the trees. She stopped. A familiar voice came to her ears. The words were indistinct, but she recognised it—William Lyndhurst-Flint’s.

  You shouldn’t trust him… Mr Sinclair’s warning echoed in her head.

  Had William purposely garbled that message to Anthony? Stolen the pearls? Anthony hadn’t wanted to discuss it at all. Did he suspect William of stealing Cassie’s ring? Common sense told Georgie that she should leave. At once.

  Yet…who was William talking to? Obviously someone who couldn’t come to the house, which was suspicious in itself. She slipped closer and words emerged…

  ‘Dammit, Grant! I’ve been trying to find you and give you this for the past day! The curst thing must be worth a fortune! More than what I promised you. Look at that sapphire. Take it!’

  ‘I am looking,’ came the other voice. ‘For all I know it could be glass and foil! And if it isn’t, it’d be right easy to identify, wouldn’t it? How convenient for you! You could just happen to find out I’m still about. Suggest to a magistrate that I’ve got a grudge against her ladyship and prigged the bloody ring myself! Not flaming likely, sir. Your family’d leap at the chance to pin it on me!’

  ‘Really, Grant!’ blustered William. ‘You insult me!’

  ‘Insult you?’ The other man sounded as though he might choke laughing. ‘Insult you?’ he gasped. ‘Who told me to attack Frobisher and make it look as though Sinclair did it? Who just suggested that I should murder his cousin? Just so’s you’d have the blunt to pay me off for attacking Frobisher! No, thanks. We’ll keep your account current, my buck. Not but what I might consider the offer after you pay up for Frobisher.’ The mocking laughter died from his voice. ‘Major High-and-Mighty-Lyndhurst! Kicking me out for a bit of poop-noddy on the stairs with Lady Margaret. Hah! You pay up what you owe and we can talk about getting rid of Major Anthony Lyndhurst.’

  The vindictive sneer froze Georgie’s spine. William’s response was lost to her. Shaking with horror, she tugged on the cravat. She had to get out of sight, find her way back to the house and warn Anthony.

  Stella resisted, her ears pricked.

  ‘Come on, Stella!’ whispered Georgie, pulling harder. Then she saw the rabbit lolloping across the clearing. Stella snuffed the air. And barked. Her distinctive, wheezy bark.

  William’s voice fell silent. Then a vicious curse. And, ‘That’s Anthony’s bitch! If she’s here…’

  There was no point running. They’d catch her in a flash. If she faced them, she had an advantage with the pistol. As long as they didn’t have one. Nausea condensed, an icy lump in her stomach.

  William’s jaw dropped when he saw her. Then a very nasty smile curled his lips. ‘Well, well, well. Anthony’s bitch indeed! My gullible little cousin. And how much did you hear? Don’t bother lying. It won’t help.’

  His scornful amusement lashed Georgie’s temper. ‘Enough!’ she spat at him. ‘You stole Cassie’s ring and then you tried to blame Timms and Ebdon!’

  ‘Yes, well. It would have been a little hard to pin it on you this time,’ he said casually.

  She tasted fear at his calm admission of guilt. ‘You won’t get away with it,’ she told him.

  ‘Oh, I think so,’ he said, edging towards her. ‘You see, there’s two of us. And you’re only a female. I’m afraid this time Grant will have to help me. You’ve heard enough to hang us both. So—’

  ‘Who the hell is this?’ demanded Grant.

  ‘Mrs Anthony Lyndhurst,’ said William. ‘Sadly the reports of her demise at the hands of my cousin were vastly exaggerated.’

  Grant blinked. ‘No doubt he’ll pay up then to get her back. All safe and sound.’

  ‘No,’ snapped William. ‘She’s heard too much. We’ll have to shut her mouth.’

  The look in Grant’s eyes chilled Georgie’s blood. ‘Pity,’ he said. And came towards her.

  Georgie pulled out her pistol and levelled it at a point between them.

  ‘Stop there,’ she told them, praying that they wouldn’t call her on this. ‘You can escape if you like, but if you come any closer, I’ll shoot.’

  ‘Shoot?’ sneered Grant. ‘I’ll wager it isn’t even loaded!’ He had stopped, his eyes wary. ‘What female knows how to load a pistol?’

  ‘This female,’ she told him. ‘And at this range I can put a ball wherever I choose.’

  She set her jaw, biting her lip as she brought the pistol to bear. In this situation she would have to shoot to wound seriously, if not to kill. With two of them, she had no choice.

  ‘Now!’ snarled Grant. And rushed her.

  She squeezed the trigger.

  Chapter Nine

  The sound of the pistol shot nearly stopped Anthony’s heart. He could hear Stella now, barking hoarsely, and William yelling something. He burst into the clearing. Terror blanked his mind as he sprinted towards the hut, unable to see what was happening behind it.

  Georgie! Oh, God! No!

  Behind him he was vaguely aware of John, Marcus and Quinlan, yelling for him to wait. Ignoring them, he rounded the hut. And stopped dead.

  Then he sprang, insane rage bubbling in every vein at the sight of Georgie struggling with William.

  With a snarl, he seized William by the throat and flung him away from Georgie, speeding his fall with a savage right to the jaw.

  Then he spun and caught Georgie before she could collapse. The sobs racking her shuddered through him. He held her tightly, whispering reassurance, unable to believe that she was alive and unharmed. That the pistol shot had not reached her.

  Then he saw Grant, groaning on the leaf mould, darkness spreading inexorably over his chest. ‘Darling, what happened?’

  ‘Oh, Anthony—’

  ‘Well may you ask, coz!’ William had struggled to his feet. ‘God knows how this is to be hushed up, but—’

  ‘Hushed up?’ snarled Marcus, coming up to them. ‘If you think any of us will connive at hushing this up, you’ve windmills in your head!’

  William smirked. ‘Well, it would be no very pleasant thing for Anthony to see his wife stand her trial for murder and swing for it, after all!’

  ‘What?’

  Anthony felt Georgie shrink closer and shudder in his arms.

  ‘She shot him,’ said William. ‘Accident, of course. I dare say she meant to kill me. I overheard her handing over Cassandra’s ring. Now, where did it get to? Ah, here we are!’

  Speechless with fury, Anthony watched as William bent down to pick up the jewel, dusted it off and handed it to Quinlan.

  ‘I was trying to get it back from her when you came.’ He shook his head. ‘Sad. Very sad, Anthony. I knew you were unwise to trust her again. After the pearls…’ He left it hanging.

  In Anthony’s arms Georgie froze—he could feel the fear leaching out of her. Anger surged through him that even now William could still threaten her. He looked down, words of reassurance ready. They strangled in his throat as he saw her face—the fear, the uncertainty in her eyes, the plea, unspoken on her trembling lips, for his faith, his trust.

  Then, ‘Anthony—I did shoot that…that man, but I swear, it wasn’t like he said…they were…’ Her voice died, as she stared up at him, despairing.

  She thought he would believe William, as he had in Brussels. And it sounded so…so plausible, so reasonable. And he had refused to discuss the matter with her last night. Dear God, he hadn’t even told her that he knew she hadn’t taken the pearls.

  It shook him to the very foundations of his being that he had left her in any doubt. His arms tightened, fiercely protective. Knowing that his betrayal had wounded her so deeply hurt him in ways he couldn’t even name.

  He looked at William. ‘The pearls,�
�� he said, in a queer, tight voice he hardly knew as his. ‘It all comes back to the pearls, does it not? Perhaps you would like to explain, coz, how you knew them to be missing?’

  Georgie’s breath jerked in.

  William paled. Then he blustered, ‘Really, Anthony! Common knowledge. Not the sort of thing one likes to bruit about, but—’

  ‘Not so common that we knew,’ said Marcus coolly, standing shoulder to shoulder with him. ‘Anthony never said a word to us. The first I knew of it was last night when you accused Timms.’

  Frantically William looked to John.

  Who shook his head. ‘Not this time, William,’ he said grimly and ranged himself with Anthony, reaching out to lay a hand on Georgie’s shoulder.

  ‘So if we didn’t know, how did you find out?’ repeated Marcus.

  William’s mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

  ‘There’s only one way you could have known, William,’ said Anthony savagely. ‘God knows why you went back to our lodgings in Brussels, but when you found Georgie gone, you searched the place. You read the note she left for me and then destroyed it and stole the pearls! You must have thought that one way or another it would be enough to destroy my marriage!’

  And her. He left that unspoken.

  Quinlan, who was kneeling by Grant, staunching the wound, looked up. ‘This fellow is still alive. I think the ball might have missed the heart. Hard to tell, but the blood isn’t pulsing, so…I’ve made a pad of my cravat, but if one of you has a spare shirt about you…’

  Grant moaned again.

  With a mutter, Marcus began shrugging out of his coat. In moments he and Quinlan had Grant bandaged.

  Quinlan bent down again. ‘Can you hear me? Can you tell us what happened?’

  There was a slight nod.

  Slipping an arm under his shoulders, Quinlan eased him up.

  Grant opened his eyes and groaned at the sight of them. His voice came faint, but clear. ‘He had that damn ring. Wanted…pay me off with it. For attacking Frobisher. Told me what to say…look like Sinclair did it.’

  A howl burst from William. ‘He’s ly—’

  It broke off, as Marcus turned and casually administered a punch to the midriff. Gasping and spluttering, William doubled over.

  ‘Hold your tongue,’ said Marcus.

  Grant had shut his eyes again, sweat breaking out on his forehead. His face was grey. ‘She heard us,’ he went on. ‘Arguing. We’d have killed her, but she drew the pistol.’

  Anthony made a low sound. His fingers, tangled in Georgie’s tumbled curls, shook uncontrollably. He took a deep shuddering breath, reminding himself that she was safe, in his arms. She nestled closer, pressing into him.

  Grant was still speaking. ‘Tried to rush her, never thought she’d shoot. Might have done the trick…confused her…if he hadn’t hung back.’ He gasped and sagged in Quinlan’s arms.

  ‘So it was self-defence?’ snapped Quinlan. ‘If we wrote this down for you, would you sign it before witnesses?’

  Anthony listened, breathless. Georgie was safe, no matter what, he’d protect her with his life, but—

  The pain-ravaged eyes opened again. ‘Will it ruin that bastard?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Quinlan.

  ‘Then write it!’ he gasped. ‘Just keep me alive long enough to sign it.’ He closed his eyes.

  Quinlan checked the pulse in his throat. ‘He should last long enough. Who knows, he might even live. We’ll bring him up to the house, Lyndhurst. You see to your wife.’

  With a sigh of relief, Anthony swung Georgie up into his arms.

  ‘What now?’ asked John tiredly, his face set.

  ‘I’m taking her home,’ said Anthony. ‘There’s a pallet in the hut. Bring Grant in on that.’

  ‘It’s a pack of lies!’ protested William. ‘You can’t think—’

  ‘Yes. We can,’ said Anthony in tones of ice. ‘You have a choice, William. Accept our judgement or risk a trial. Or you can make a run for it now.’

  He turned his back, and began walking.

  ‘Georgie. Oh, God. Georgie! You little idiot!’

  Hoarse and shaking, his voice poured over her in a torrent of love and relief as he walked. Steely strength held her cradled against his chest. She clung to him, dazed at the things he was saying, things she had never expected to hear. Words of love, of need. All she felt for him returned and redoubled.

  He had believed her. Without the least hesitation. And he had known that she had not taken the pearls. She nestled against him, joy swirling through her. Vaguely she was aware when they reached the house.

  ‘I can walk,’ she said.

  He ignored that, carrying her up the steps.

  A frightened gasp greeted them in the hall.

  Cassie stood there, her hand to her mouth. ‘Anthony!’ she whispered. ‘Whatever happened? Is Georgie all right? There’s a magistrate here! A Sir Charles Brandon. Looking for Marcus.’

  He swore and she looked at him blankly. ‘What does that mean?’

  Ignoring that, he asked, ‘Where is the fellow?’

  ‘In the drawing room,’ she said. ‘Aunt Harriet has him cornered. Apparently she knows his mother. And his grandmother. She sent me out just now to warn you. At least I think that’s what she meant, when she told me to hurry up and find “Miss Saunders”!’

  Anthony could almost feel sorry for the magistrate.

  Cassie’s gaze fell on Grant as he was carried in by Quinlan and Marcus. ‘Why—that’s Grant! What is going on?’

  ‘Did you say Sir Charles Brandon, Cassie?’ asked John, following them into the hall, his hand gripping William’s elbow.

  ‘Anthony—what will happen? I…I shot that man.’

  His arms tightened. ‘Don’t think about it. You’re safe. I swear it.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You’re safe,’ he said. ‘I lost you once. I’ll never let it happen again.’

  ‘Good God!’

  Looking up, Anthony saw a middle-aged gentleman standing in the doorway to the drawing room, his jaw at half-mast.

  He came forward. ‘Mardon. Lyndhurst. I’m sorry for this, but I have no choice, you understand.’

  Turning to Marcus, he said, ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me, Sinclair. It’s—’

  ‘No!’ said John, stepping forward. ‘Sinclair isn’t the man you want, Brandon. I’m afraid it is my brother here that you need to question. And his tool.’ He indicated Grant, groaning on his pallet.

  William protested. ‘Damn it all, John! I saw Georgiana shoot this man! Are you going to—?’

  A cry of terror broke from Georgie’s throat.

  The magistrate turned and stared at her.

  Rage flooded Anthony. ‘I’m afraid you may not speak to my wife at present, Brandon,’ he said, ‘She was—’

  Gentle fingers were laid across his lips.

  He stared down at her. She shook her head.

  ‘No, Anthony. Set me down, please. I can speak to Sir Charles.’

  He kissed her fingers. ‘Sweetheart, it’s not—’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ she whispered. ‘Truly,’ she went on, ‘I will be all right. We must stay and help Lord Mardon.’

  He bit his lip. She was right. He could not leave John to weather this alone. And if he kept Georgie away from Brandon, it could look as though they were frightened of what she might say.

  ‘Very well,’ he said curtly. Looking at Marcus, he said, ‘Get Grant up to a bed and send for the doctor.’

  ‘So how do we get him out of the country?’ asked Quinlan as the door closed behind a grave Sir Charles. He had heard Georgie’s story and Grant’s confession. William was in the cellar under lock and key. Georgie was being taken upstairs by Aunt Harriet and Cassie to rest before dinner.

  ‘We don’t,’ said John with savage finality. ‘The only protection possible for Marcus and Georgiana was for this to come before a magistrate. Brandon has heard the truth and accepted it. I will not ruin th
e whole family’s reputation for a brother who has betrayed us all!’

  Anthony’s heart ached for the bitter twist to John’s mouth. Bad enough to know what a blackguard William had turned out, but to know that it would become public knowledge…His jaw hardened.

  ‘I’m sorry, John,’ said Marcus quietly. ‘Had I not lost my temper with Frobisher that night—’

  John’s harsh laugh seared Anthony.

  Marcus fell silent.

  ‘No, Marcus. You were right. William made his own choices. He did his best to ruin Anthony’s marriage and then you. And he would have killed Georgiana.’ His face looked grey, gaunt. ‘Excuse me. I should go up to Sarah. I shall see you at dinner.’

  ‘John—if you would prefer not to come down,’ said Anthony awkwardly, ‘I’ll ask for your dinner to be sent up.’ This was the worst of William’s treachery—John’s shame and hurt.

  ‘No thank you, Anthony. Not unless you prefer to have nothing further to do with a man whose brother has served you and yours so ill.’

  Anthony went to him and gripped his shoulder. ‘You damn fool! After you supported me? Go and change before I lose the famous Lyndhurst temper with you!’

  John smiled briefly. ‘Don’t let this spoil the fireworks tonight. We have much to celebrate after all. A betrothal. A marriage. Your happiness. And Marcus is completely cleared.’ His mouth tightened. ‘I would have been sorrier had it gone the other way.’ He nodded to them and left.

  ‘I repeat my question,’ said Quinlan, as the door closed. ‘How do we get Lyndhurst-Flint out of the country?’

  Marcus and Anthony exchanged startled glances.

  ‘What makes you think either of us is any more willing to stick our necks out for William than his brother?’ asked Anthony mildly.

  Quinlan raised a brow. ‘I don’t. But I think you’d do a great deal more to save Mardon the scandal. So…’

  ‘Cassie married the right one, didn’t she, Anthony?’ said Marcus wryly.

  ‘It would appear so,’ said Anthony.

  ‘Leave it to me, Anthony,’ said Marcus.

  ‘But—’