Page 62

The carriage was stopped before the open doors of the main stable, but there was no sign of James or Reynolds. Rick paused. His impulse was to race to the back door and find Cecey, but a new caution, born of the last few days of trials, made him stop and gesture to Ward, who drew up with him.

“Something is wrong,” he murmured.

Hereward nodded in agreement and took out the pistols he carried in each pocket, passing one to Rick. Just then, Reynolds appeared in the side door to the stable and came toward them at a clip. Behind him emerged James and Pagette. Pagette was sporting a nasty bruise on his cheek and was rubbing his wrists, which Rick could see were red and abraded. He moved toward Reynolds and said in a low voice, “What is happening?”

“Bidenden,” said Reynolds grimly. Before Rick could react with more than an expletive, Reynolds gave a nod to Pagette. “You tell it.”

Rick swallowed what he had been about to say and listened, his heart thudding hard and his hand tightening its grip on the pistol he was holding.

“My lord, Viscount Bidenden arrived yesterday and took over the house. He said you were dead, my lord. But I refused to believe it. When I tried to get away to get word to you, I was hit, trussed up, and thrust into the cellar below the stables. I’m so sorry, my lord. I’ve failed you!” The young man looked distraught.

Rick grasped his shoulder and shook it slightly. “Her Ladyship, where is she?”

“As far as I can make out, my lord, she’s in the house, confined to her room with Mary. The servants were all threatened if they tried to leave or communicate with anyone. No one has been allowed to leave.”

“He’s run mad!” muttered Rick.

“Aye, my lord, I do think you’re right. Hendrix is helping him. He’s the one that put the fear of God into the servants and made them do what the viscount wanted. He—the viscount—left Hendrix in charge yesterday afternoon while he went off somewhere. That was when I tried to escape. When the upstairs maid brought me water and bread this morning, she told me he was back with a priest and determined to force Her Ladyship to marry him. He insisted you were dead, my lord.”

Rick ground his teeth. “My God, I swear if he’s harmed a hair on her head, I’ll kill him!” He looked around at the four men and thought quickly, his mind suddenly clear and logical.

“I’ll go back around to the front and break in, loudly. You four, infiltrate through the back entrance. Find Hendrix and nobble him and anyone else who wants to help him. Ward, you find Her Ladyship and protect her for me. I’ll find Bidenden.” He said this last with a grim promise of retribution that the viscount was going to regret for what was left of the rest of his life.

Ward and the others nodded, and Rick shoved the pistol Ward had given him into the pocket of his coat, turned, and loped back to the front of the house, where he found a large rock and threw it at the windows of the downstairs parlor. The windowpanes were too small for him to get through, but having smashed the glass, he seized the narrow wooden frames of the small panes and ripped them out until he had a large enough hole to crawl through. More repairs, he thought with grim humor.

Crunching the broken glass beneath his boots, he crossed the room to the door and cracked it open. He could hear faint sounds from the back of the house, or possibly from the servants’ quarters below, it was hard to tell, but the entrance hall and stairs to the upper floors were empty. If anyone was on this floor they would have heard his breaking and entering and appeared to investigate.

He loped up the stairs rapidly, listening at the top of the stairs for some clue as to the whereabouts of his quarry. His heart thudded steadily in his chest. He felt remarkably calm for a man bent on murder. A part of his brain was gibbering with terror for Cecey, but he shut it off. He had a job to do, and he was going to fucking well do it. He was going to rid the world of Bryson Passmore, Viscount Bidenden, once and for all. He should have done it before. He should have called him out when he’d tried to ruin Cecey the first time.

Scanning the first floor for sounds, he was about to ascend to the second floor where the bedroom suites were, when he heard it. The muffled sound of voices, one deep, one more high pitched. His heart turned over. Cecey!

He reached into his pocket for the pistol and moved instinctively toward the drawing room, but a sound behind him made him turn leveling the pistol. Hereward appeared at the top of the stairs, and he lowered the pistol with relief and jerked his head toward the drawing room and murmured. “In there.”

Hereward nodded, hefting his own pistol.

The two brothers crept toward the drawing room door, and Rick set his hand on the doorknob and glanced back at Hereward, who nodded again. Rick turned the knob and pushed the door open, springing into the room with his pistol raised, Hereward right behind him.

He took in the tableau before him: Cecey, with Mary behind her, standing in the center of the room, Bidenden, with his back to the door, and a thin, bespectacled fellow with a clerical collar standing beside him.

Rick cocked his pistol, leveling it at Bidenden’s back, and said, “The game is up, Passmore.”

Cecey turned her head, and such a look of relief and joy washed over her face, Rick’s heart lifted with hope. “Rick!”

Bidenden spun around and came up short at the sight of Rick’s pistol and presumably the one being levelled by Hereward behind and slightly to his left. The clerical fellow gave a quiet yelp, dropped his bible, and ducked behind the couch.

***

Cecey went to move toward Rick instinctively, but Mary gripped her arm, pulling her back, and several things happened at once.

Bidenden bent and snatched a knife from his boot which he threw at Rick, causing him to dodge. The knife flew past him and lodged itself in Hereward’s broad shoulder, causing the big man to grunt and his pistol arm to waver and drop.

With the momentary distraction, Bidenden seized Cecey, bringing a second knife to bear against her belly and shaking off Mary who tried to claw at him. The faithful servant was flung off and fell against the table behind her, hitting her head. She crumpled with a soft cry and lay insensible on the carpet.

Cecey shrieked as Bidenden pulled her back against him, struggling in his grip and trying to stomp on his booted foot, but her indoor slippers had no effect on his leather clad foot, and he tightened his hold on her throat with one hand and angled the knife threateningly against her belly.

“Stop!” he said. “Unless you want me to accidentally stab you!”

She stopped, whimpering, her heart thudding wildly as she watched Rick straighten and level the pistol at Bidenden again.