A Clandestine Courtship (29 page)

This was far worse than the attack from those Italian brigands that had crippled Luigi. They had only wanted money and were content with beating him senseless once they got it. This could only end in death.

Thump thump … thump…

“Stop!” Mary’s voice split the darkness, drowning the wheel.

His heart froze. What in Hades was she doing here?

Ruddy paused, his arm poised to strike.

“Drop the knife,” she ordered, stepping into the flickering candlelight. One hand nearly obscured a tiny pistol, but her expression rivaled the furies. Blue ice flashed in her eyes. Her voice sliced the air like tempered steel. And despite the pistol’s size, its barrel yawned as wide as a cannon.

Hope kindled in his breast – and joy. But they were immediately swamped by terror. Ruddy was insane. What would he do to Mary?

“Drop it,” she repeated coldly.

“Not bloody likely,” swore Ruddy. The knife descended.

“Run,” shouted James at the same moment. He couldn’t bear to have her witness his death. “I lo—”

An explosion obliterated his words.

“Aaah!” screeched Ruddy, grabbing his leg. The knife twisted, slamming against James’s side, then bounced free to clatter onto the floor a foot from his face. Ruddy fell behind him.

James gasped, rolling to dodge Ruddy’s kick. Stars danced through his head with the change of position, but he fought down the darkness. Mary might need help.

“Don’t move, Mr. Ruddy,” she snapped, the steel clear in her voice. She pulled out a second pistol, cocking it to drop the trigger into place. “The next shot will hit your heart. If that doesn’t kill you, I’ll try again. Muff pistols are wonderful weapons. Half a dozen will fit in a pocket.”

Ruddy froze. Mary was now only six feet away. He had no doubt she would make good her words.

“Are you all right?” She glanced briefly at James.

“I’ll live.” Thanks to her, but he couldn’t say that yet. The situation was still precarious. Terror swirled through her eyes. He doubted she had even a third pistol. How long until Ruddy deduced that?

“Can you slide away from him?” She stooped to pick up the knife, keeping her eyes on Ruddy and the pistol steady.

He didn’t waste energy answering. Searing pain burned through the cuts on his arm and leg, and sharper stabs radiated from kicks to his groin, ribs, and spine, but he humped across the floor until he was out of Ruddy’s reach. Only then did he gingerly sit up.

Keeping the pistol steady, she sawed through the rope that bound his hands, nicking him twice, but he remained silent. The moment the cord parted, he grabbed the knife and freed his legs.

Ruddy was whimpering, still clutching his thigh. Mary’s bullet had passed clear through, leaving a gaping hole in the back. Blood pooled on the floor.

Fighting down nausea and lightheadedness, he tied Ruddy’s arms and legs, then collapsed with his head between his knees.

“Lord Ridgeway was telling the truth,” Mary declared, uncocking the pistol and returning it to her pocket. “John often impersonated his brother, but I’ve never known James to do so. John was a liar. You should have realized that. Everyone else does.”

“Ha!” snorted Ruddy.

“It’s true. I’ve caught John impersonating James more than once. As has Cotter, Turnby, and several others. Didn’t you know that James left England ten years ago and did not return for five years? Even then, he stayed away from Ridgeway, for John had thrown him out following their father’s funeral.”

She ripped a strip from her petticoat as she talked, first bandaging James’s cuts, then giving him the rest so he could stop Ruddy’s bleeding.

“I was in London when John attacked your daughter,” James said as he worked. “If you need proof, ask the Regent. On the night your daughter died, I was at Carlton House with two thousand others, celebrating the prince’s elevation to his new office.”

“Ha!” snorted Ruddy again. “Why would the prince invite a younger son and not the earl?”

“You aren’t the only one who had grievances against my brother,” said James sadly. “Refusing John an invitation to the most prestigious event of the Season was a cut direct from Crown to subject.”

“Oh, no!” Mary’s soft gasp drew the men’s attention. “Frederick was also cut that night. No wonder they came home without warning.”

“And no wonder they were looking for trouble,” James finished for her. “Inviting me emphasized the cut, proving that even John’s title brought him no power and no respect in higher circles.”

“So they would have sought to prove their power here.” Her voice cracked.

“The inn fire. Wilson’s farm.” He should have seen it sooner, he realized in despair. But he had not connected the dates.

“But why attack my Alice?” demanded Ruddy.

“I heard she went to Ridgeway to ask for a position,” said Mary. “Perhaps she wanted a peek at the house, or maybe she sought a glimpse of the earl. She would not have realized that she was putting herself in danger.”

“My Alice was a good girl,” insisted Ruddy.

“I’m sure she was,” agreed James. “But that would not have stopped my brother.”

“Or my husband,” added Mary.

“Especially when they were spoiling for trouble. Her fate would have been the same if she were a saint.”

Ruddy crumpled, a broken man. “I wronged you, my lord. You’re right that he was a liar. He told me straight out, even through pain, that it was you. He swore he’d not been here. He swore he’d been in London celebrating with the Regent. I didn’t believe him at first – and things had gone too far to let him go anyway – but the words ate at me. I couldn’t take a chance. Alice deserved better.”

“How did Alice die?” asked James.

“They ravished her.” Tears trickled down Ruddy’s cheeks. “Both of them. She lost count of how many times, but she was desperate to escape, so when they left her alone, she tried to run. But she was so weak, she stumbled and hit her head on the corner of a table. When they found her, they thought she was dead. Ridgeway was furious at Northrup for leaving her, so he made Northrup dispose of the body. She tried to tell them she was alive, but she couldn’t make her voice work. Northrup took her out to the quarry and dumped her.”

“How did she survive that?” demanded James.

“It were the nearest end, which isn’t so steep as up by the road. I musta happened on her almost immediately.”

He didn’t ask what Ruddy had been doing on Ridgeway land. If he hadn’t been looking for Alice, he had undoubtedly been poaching.

“She lived long enough to tell you the tale?” asked Mary softly.

Ruddy nodded. “Poor Allie. Her hair was soaked in blood, and her face was so pale. I figured God helped her survive that long so’s I could avenge her death.”

“I doubt it, but you’ll have to make peace with God yourself.”

“She died almost immediately. I carried her home and let on that she had influenza. Enough others were afflicted that no one questioned it. My wife was attending her mother’s deathbed, and I hoped to spare her the pain of knowing how Allie died.” His voice suddenly hardened. “I’d hardly got her settled when Northrup showed up, raising a ruckus in the shop. He called my Allie a lazy slut for not being there – as if he didn’t know where she was. I couldn’t shirk my duty after that.” His eyes closed, shutting his pain inside.

“What now?” Mary asked James quietly.

“If I turn him over to Isaac, he’ll hang. Whatever the provocation, he killed two lords.”

“And came far too close to killing a third,” she added with a shudder.

His arm slid around her shoulders. Reaction was setting in. Now that the danger was past, she was ready to collapse.

“Can you hold up a little longer?” he asked.

She nodded, but tremors belied her bravado. He seated her on the lumber stack, pushing her head down to her knees. His own head was also spinning. He needed to conclude this business quickly and get her away – get them both away.

“I cannot condone murder, whatever your reasons or however evil the victims were,” he said, prodding Ruddy until his eyes opened so he was sure the man could hear him.

“I understand.”

“Probably not. If I could arrange for you to be transported, I would do it, but I can’t.” He paused a moment in thought. “No, having you confess to theft won’t work. I have to tell everyone what happened – to prove I will not treat them as John did and to remove the stigma John’s lies caused innocent parties like Lady Northrup.”

Mary was staring, as was Ruddy.

“I’m going to give you a chance, Ruddy. You cannot remain in England. But neither can I condone John’s actions.” He leaned wearily against a post. “You will write a full confession, which I will turn over to Squire Church. In return, I will pay passage to America for you and your wife. You will have to leave immediately if you hope to be out of the country before the authorities start looking for you. If they catch you, you will hang. And once you leave the ship, you’re on your own. Don’t ever try to return. Killing a lord – even one like John – is a grievous offense.”

Ruddy was almost incoherent in his thanks.

“Enough.” He wasn’t being quite as altruistic as Ruddy thought. It was even odds whether the man would survive that wound, and he didn’t want Mary to suffer if he died. She had been through too much already. “I will leave you here while I escort Lady Northrup home. My valet and groom will collect you in an hour or two, take you to town, and supervise your confession. When it is complete to their satisfaction, they will give you the passage money.”

Without another word, he helped Mary from the building.

 * * * *

Mary waited nervously in her sitting room. Caroline and Amelia had been shocked when James brought her home, riding before him on his horse with Acorn trailing behind. They had been more shocked to see his tattered coat and bloody bandages. But she had insisted that they keep to their plans to deliver a basket to an ailing tenant.

Justin had been appalled when he’d arrived half an hour later. And Justin’s disclosures left her head spinning.

James was innocent of every calumny heaped on him in India. Taking in another man’s mistress and arranging for her care was exactly what she would have expected of her former friend. A similar tale probably underlay that orphanage in Italy.

James had vowed to return as soon as he had made arrangements for Ruddy. Now she anxiously awaited his call, wondering how badly he was hurt. She had been too dizzy to ask earlier, but Ruddy had been kicking him when she’d arrived. Was anything broken?

But fears for his health were not her only concern. She was also fighting an acute case of embarrassment. He had half carried her out of the mill, supported her head when the realization that she had shot a man had spun her stomach out of control, hurling her breakfast into a bush, then cradled her gently before him on his horse. How could he excuse such gauche behavior?

And he must have sensed her reaction to that ride home. Despite being only half conscious, her body had quivered with desire. His chest had been hard, his arms like iron bands as they pressed her close. His heat had enveloped her, countering the lingering cold. His breath had whispered through her ears, sounding almost like endearments. She had nearly protested when he had lifted her down and released her.

How could she yearn for a man’s touch? Yet how could she not yearn for his touch? She loved him – far more deeply than that youthful infatuation.

Her terror when she had realized that he was walking into a trap confirmed it. Seeing him tied and bloody with Ruddy looming over him with a knife had banished her last doubt. His leniency proved that he was a vastly different man than John had been. Their kisses had promised something she had never experienced – pleasure. Now she could only pray that he was truthful about the rest.

“Lord Ridgeway,” announced Trimble from the doorway.

“Send him in.”

“You look better,” James said the moment Trimble left. And she did. While still pale, her face had a modicum of color, and her hands were no longer shaking.

“So do you. How badly did he cut you?”

“Scratches.” He didn’t mention the ribs. At least one was cracked, but it would heal. He hesitantly joined her on the couch, needing to touch her, needing to assure himself that she was alive and well. “I wish I could thank you for coming after me, but I can’t. You might have been killed.”

“You would have been.” She looked away. “When I realized he was using the letter to draw you into a trap, I had to follow. I could not have lived with myself if my inaction had let you die.”

His heart lightened at her intensity. “I’m grateful, of course. But seeing you so close to a madman nearly drove me insane. I didn’t realize you were such a good shot.”

“I’m not.” She laughed a little hysterically. “I was aiming for his chest the first time, but I missed.”

She was shaking again, so he draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “It’s over,” he crooned, lifting her into his lap. “It’s over, and we’re both safe.”

Her control broke. Turning into his shoulder, she cried until his own eyes were wet.

“Shush, love. It’s all right.” One hand stroked down her back, soothing, comforting. He fought to keep the gesture light. He hated tears. Most were wiles women employed to get their own way, though these were real enough. She needed the release, so he could only endure the pain that stabbed him with every sob.

But eventually, they eased. One of her hands crept around his neck as her head burrowed under his ear.

“Feel better?” he murmured.

“Mm-hmm.” He couldn’t see her face, but her rosy neck showed that she was thinking again, and probably embarrassed about breaking down.

He recalled his vow to never touch her. It had slipped his mind at the mill, but unless he wanted to destroy her limited trust, he had better do so now.

“Should I set you down, or may I hold you?”

No response.

He had tensed to lift her away when her fingers crawled into his hair and clung. “No need. I feel safe here.”

Safe.
His heart swelled. No other vow could make him feel better. His hand stroked her hair, then tilted her head back so he could look into her face.