A Risk Worth Taking (33 page)

“My brother made his own choices. I tried to stop him before he got in too deep, but I failed. Afterward, I did what I had to do to protect my family’s reputation.”

“Why have you been following me?”

Hawkins smiled. “I wasn’t the only one following you at first. We all were—Johnston, Turner, and myself. We were all trying to save you from yourself. Between the liquor and the brawling, you were bloody well bent on killing yourself.” Hawkins stopped. His features turned more serious. “I’m glad to see you’ve left the bottle alone. We were worried about you.”

Griff felt his face flush. “But you were the only one to follow me when I left London.”

“I wasn’t following
you
.”

“Then who?”

“Your wife.”

Griff’s heart skipped a beat. “Now you want me to believe you followed me here to protect my wife?”

“You can believe what you want. I know you think an assassin wants you dead, but you were never the intended target. Your wife was.”

Griff considered what Jack Hawkins told him. “It seems odd that every time something happened to either of us, you weren’t far away.”

“But not close enough to catch the culprit.”

“What are you saying?” Griff’s heartbeats quickened.

“I’m saying that the carriage that ran Lady Anne down meant to do exactly that. Just as I will wager every pound of my pension that the bullet that killed your friend Brentwood hit its mark, too.”

The earth shifted beneath him. He didn’t want to believe Hawkins. Freddie didn’t have an enemy in the world. Surely no one had wanted him dead. Or Anne. Why in heaven’s name would they want to hurt either of them? There was no reason.

Hawkins shook his head. “You need proof, don’t you? I should have known. Follow me.”

Hawkins walked toward the grove of trees. Griff had no choice but to follow him to a secluded place where only a little sunshine filtered through the thick leaves. Hawkins stopped, then pointed to a medium-size wooden chest on the ground. He walked to the chest and flicked open the lid.

Griff stared down at the chest, then picked up one of the small oval cakes wrapped in poppy leaves and cotton cloth. “Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice nearly choking on the lump he couldn’t swallow past.

“From the caves. The new Marquess of Brentwood is smuggling in opium and using the caves to hide his contraband until he sells it.”

“That’s why the bastard is so desperate to have that pile of rocks.”

“There’s only one cave on the whole coastline large enough and deep enough in which to store and hide the opium. Your wife was in it the other day when she nearly got trapped by the tide.”

Griff’s gaze darted to Hawkins’s.

“You gave me quite a scare,” Hawkins said. The grave expression on his face confirmed his confession. “I didn’t realize she’d gone there until you went after her. I went back this morning and looked around.”

“And you found this?”

Hawkins nodded.

“The floor slants upward as you go toward a large open area near the back of the cave. The water never reaches that part, but it prevents anyone from entering the cave once the tide comes in. It’s the perfect hiding place. Brentwood’s men unload the opium into the cave, then guard it until the water rises. Once the tide comes in, it’s impossible for anyone to enter or exit the cave. When the tide goes back out, Brentwood removes his contraband, and the water erases any sign they’ve been there.”

“The bastard.”

Hawkins closed the lid to the chest and sat down on it. “My guess is that Brentwood’s been using the caves for quite some time, and your friend discovered it. That was why he was killed.”

“But Brentwood didn’t get the land. Freddie willed it to Anne.”

“Brentwood didn’t know that until the will was read. I talked to your wife’s solicitor before leaving London, and he told me Brentwood was shocked to learn that Freddie had petitioned to have that strip of land removed from the rest of the entailed estate.”

Griff’s temper rose. “That’s why he went after Anne. He sought to marry her first. As his wife, anything she owned would belong to him. When she refused, he tried to kill her, knowing as long as she wasn’t married, her possessions would go next to Rebecca, who would undoubtedly sell him the land with little resistance.”

“But before he could accomplish either, she married you,” Hawkins added.

“That was why he attempted to kill us both.”

“He had to,” Hawkins added. “Just killing her would do him no good. Upon her death, the land would go to you. He knew he had no chance of getting it then.”

Griff looked down at Jack Hawkins. He sat on the lid of the chest. For the first time he noticed his pale complexion and the uncharacteristic way his shoulders slumped. Then he noticed the dark spot on the sleeve of his jacket. “What happened?”

Hawkins tapped the chest with his good hand. “It’s a scratch. Let’s just say I didn’t escape with the proof of Brentwood’s crimes without a reminder.”

“Brentwood was there?”

“Not in person, although I’m sure by now he knows someone has discovered his hiding place. This shipment
came in at dawn, and one of the men he had guarding it saw me as I was trying to leave. I’m afraid I had to kill him.”

Griff felt the first unsettling wave of fear take hold of him. “I have to get home. I have to get to Anne. Brentwood sent word earlier he was coming. It’s hard to tell what he’ll do if he knows he’s been found out.”

Jack Hawkins rose from the chest and concealed the opium beneath some bushes. “I’ll go with you.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Griff hollered over his shoulder as he raced to where he’d left his horse.

“I sustained worse than this saving your sorry hide in the barroom brawls you weren’t sober enough to remember.”

But Griff barely heard him. His thoughts were on Anne and his need to get to her before Brentwood did.

A
nne heard Brentwood’s voice from the foyer and fought the dread that consumed her. She clenched her hands in her lap and worried her bottom lip, hoping whatever Griff had to do wouldn’t take long.

“Good afternoon, Lady Anne,” he said, his words clipped as he marched past Carter and into the room.

She took a deep breath and braced herself to fend him off. She focused on the severe expression on his face and the anger in his gaze. He seemed different today, dangerous. The desperate expression on his face gave her warning.

She reluctantly held out her hand as was expected. The familiar way in which he held her fingers made her flesh crawl. She wanted to pull her arm back, but he held her fingers in his grasp and wouldn’t let go.

“Are we alone?”

“For the moment. My husband will be here soon. Would you care to sit while we wait?” She pointed to the chair farthest from where she sat.

“No, I think not,” he answered. “I don’t think I will be here long enough to get comfortable.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. Good, he didn’t intend to stay.

“In fact, I think neither of us will be here long enough to make ourselves comfortable.”

She lifted her gaze and stared at him. The bone-chilling glare in his eyes sent a shiver of fear through her. “I can’t imagine where you think I am going, Lord Brentwood.”

“It’s quite simple, my lady. I have decided you should come with me.”

“Surely you’re joking.” She couldn’t believe his audacity.

“Not in the least. I think having your husband hunt for me where I am in control is preferable to waiting here for him to arrive.” Perspiration glazed his forehead.

Anne was suddenly more than a little afraid.

Brentwood looked around the room and shook his head. “Being here is like walking into the proverbial lion’s den. You can almost feel him here, can’t you?” A malevolent sneer lifted the corners of his lips. “He has that kind of power. Have you noticed?” He laughed. “Of course you have.”

He turned his attention back to her and offered her his hand. “If you would be so kind,” he said. He motioned toward the door. He expected her to leave with him.

“Get out. I have no intention of going anywhere with you. I want you out of my house. Now.”

The marquess opened his jacket and pulled out a pistol. He pointed it at her. “I would be glad to leave, my lady. But you are coming with me.”

Anne jumped from the settee and darted to the left. Before she could get out of his reach, he grabbed her arm and swung her around.

“Please, don’t cause me trouble, cousin. For your own good.”

Anne struggled to get out of his grasp, but he had too tight a hold on her. Every attempt was useless, and as a last effort, she reached out and grabbed a vase sitting on a small table at the end of the sofa and brought it down against him.

He ducked his head to the side, but the vase hit his shoulder and broke. A broken piece skimmed his face and a narrow stream of dark blood oozed from the cut on his cheek.

“Damn you!” He slashed his hand in front of him and slapped her across the face.

Anne clutched her hand to her burning cheek and staggered backward. This couldn’t be happening. “It’s the land, isn’t it? You’re using it for something illegal.”

He laughed, the sound even more frightening than the look on his face. “You might say that. And I don’t intend to lose control of it. I’ll take care of you first, then your husband. He’s been a problem since he first arrived.”

He clamped his fingers on her shoulder to push her. Before he got a tight hold, she twisted hard and felt his grip loosen.

He bellowed a vile curse and reached for her. She wasn’t free long enough to get away, and the next time he reached for her, he wrapped his fingers around her arm like a vise.

His hold bit into her flesh, and she cried out in pain. He pulled her up against him and pinned her arm behind her back so she couldn’t move. Before she could gather her breath, he poked the pistol against her ribs.

“Now, Lady Anne. You are going with me. I would hate to have to kill you here. Finding you shot in your own drawing room would cause too many unnecessary questions.
But I will if you force me. I have nothing to lose anymore. By now your husband knows all my little secrets.”

“What secrets?”

“Quiet!” He brought his hand down across her mouth hard enough for her to taste blood. “Move!”

He pushed her forward.

She tried once more to escape him. She stomped down hard on his foot and yelled as loud as she could. “Carter! Help me!”

The butler came around the corner at record speed, but before she could issue a warning, Brentwood raised his arm and fired the pistol in his hand. Carter staggered backward, clutching the round red spot that darkened his shoulder.

Anne watched in stunned horror as Carter sank to his knees, then crumpled in a heap on the floor.

The doors burst open, and Franklin and several of the guards Griff had hired to protect her rushed into the room. Brentwood grabbed her from behind and pressed the pistol to the side of her neck.

“Come one step closer and I’ll blow her pretty head off.”

Franklin lifted his hand and the guards stopped.

“Now, drop your weapons.”

The guards looked to Franklin for instructions. There was little hesitation before Franklin ordered the men to drop their weapons.

“Wise choice,” Brentwood said as he pulled her toward the door. “Now, stay where you are and don’t follow, or she dies.”

They walked past Carter lying on the floor, and Anne prayed that he was still alive, but she didn’t have a chance
to see how badly he was hurt. Brentwood held the pistol to the side of her neck and pulled her along with him.

“Move,” he hissed when she held back. “Cause any trouble and I’ll kill them all.”

Anne choked back her fear. She had no choice but to go with him. She walked past the shocked expressions on the servants brave enough to hide behind half-open doors.

“Help Carter,” she managed to say as Brentwood pushed her across the foyer.

He led her out the door, past more stunned servants racing to the house. Past the guards and Hodges, who’d come with a weapon, an old rifle probably only used to kill predators who were a threat to the animals.

“Drop it,” Brentwood said, shoving his pistol against Anne’s head, “or I’ll kill her right here.”

The men hesitated as if debating what to do, then dropped their rifles to the ground.

“Now, someone bring my horse and help your mistress mount.”

Hodges brought Brentwood’s horse, then helped Anne to the saddle. The tortured look on his face was almost more that Anne could stand.

“Do not fear, my lady,” Hodges whispered before he left her side. “The master won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” she answered, struggling to give Hodges a reassuring smile.

“Quiet!” Brentwood bellowed. He swung his arm through the air and knocked Hodges to the ground. Before Hodges could rise to his feet, Brentwood leaped atop the horse. He dug his heels into the horse’s side and the stallion took off at a run. Anne was forced to hang on to the
saddle in order to avoid leaning back into Brentwood’s body. She couldn’t stand to have him touch her.

“You won’t get away with this,” she said as they raced down the lane. “The minute Griff returns, he’ll come after you.”