Code of Honor (30 page)

"Y... yes," stammered Alex. "But how did you ever..."

"Your father's letter," answered Branford. "I finally gave it the attention I should have when you first asked me to look at it. If I only had — well, I'm sorry. I should have prevented this."

"You are sorry," exclaimed Alex. "I..." She suddenly noticed the ugly red splotch seeping through the fabric of Branford muddied and disheveled shirt. "My God, you are hurt!"

Instinctively she took a step towards him.

"Alex! No!" he began. But it was too late.

For a brief second, she came between Hammerton and Branford's pistol. It was all the time the other man needed. His arm shot around Alex's neck, dragging her right up against his body to shield him from any further threat. In a flash, he whipped out a knife he had hidden in his pocket and pressed it up against the side of her throat with enough pressure to draw a bead of crimson.

"Put the gun down on the table," he shouted.

Branford hesitated.

"Don't, Sebastian, " said Alex. "You know he'll only kill us both. Put a bullet in the monster."

"Shut up, you bitch." He shook her roughly, causing Branford to take an involuntary step towards him.

"Stop! Put it down," he cried again, his grip tightening around her throat even more. "I swear, I'll cut her throat if you don't by the time I count to three — and I shall enjoy every second of it." The wildness of his expression made it clear the threat was not an idle one. "One!"

Branford's eyes narrowed, the only sign of emotion on his face. For the first time he took note of the darkening bruise on Alex's cheek. "

"Two!"

"You know, you have just signed your own death warrant, Hammerton," he said softly as he lowered the weapon and set it skidding halfway down the table.

It was still out of Hammerton's reach. Even so, he relaxed his hold on Alex, letting the knife fall ever so slightly away from her skin. Sure of his victory, he couldn't help but gloat.

"Hah! You see, I am smarter than all of you," he crowed. "I've beaten you, by God, Branford. I've beaten you in the battle of wits and now I'm going to shoot you down like the dog you are."

"Is that so?" inquired Branford with no trace of emotion in his voice. He seemed to want to keep Hammerton talking. "Why exactly do you hate me so?"

As he spoke, he moved ever so slightly forward.

Hammerton didn't notice, so caught up in his rantings was he. "Everyone thinks you are the clever one for having saved Wellington. Any idiot can appear a hero in war. You're nor clever, merely lucky. I'm the clever one. People should look at me with respect in their eyes, not you. Why you, you are nothing but a murderer!"

"Rather the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn't you say?" said Branford dryly. He inched another step closer.

"Oh that." He smirked. "Was I to let a an eccentric old man take away what I had worked for all my life?" He slanted a quick glance at Alex. "So the old codger did manage to warn you? I don't see how — I climbed down to the wreck and checked his pockets and belongings quite thoroughly. And I inquired at every possible place he could have posted a letter."

"Not thoroughly enough, it seems," said Branford, saving Alex from having to answer her tormentor. "He left a letter of warning in one of his books."

Hammerton furrowed his brow. "There was nothing but scientific gibberish."

"It was in code." Branford gave a slight smile. "I'm afraid the eccentric old man managed to outwit you."

Anger flashed in Hammerton's eyes. "Hardly! The fool is dead. And so will all of you be in a short time, including that sapskull of a brother of yours. For all the trouble you've given me I shall be well rid of a tiresome nuisance." He gave Alex another shake. "I am protecting what is rightfully mine! I am the true Earl of Hammerton." The hand that held the knife jabbed at the air to punctuate the point.

Alex saw her chance. Her hands slipped out of the loosened bonds. One shoved Hammerton into the table while the other shot out for the pistol. Hammerton recovered and moved nearly as quickly towards the weapon, but she managed to knock it away from him and twist out of his reach. His arm dealt her a resounding blow as she escaped his grasp, but he wasted no time coming after her. He lunged for the gun.

Branford moved at the same instant. The two of them came together, grappling for the pistol that lay so tantalizingly close. The struggle went on for what seemed like ages, the two bodies intertwined, first one on top, then the other. It appeared that Branford had the advantage, with his superior size and skill, but his strength was ebbing from all the previous exertions. Hammerton managed to free one hand and land a vicious blow to Branford's injured side. It doubled him over, sending him to his knees and allowing Hammerton to grab the pistol. He jumped back, out of arm's reach.

"It is you who are the dead man," he sneered as Branford painfully dragged himself to his feet.

He raised the pistol and with a wicked laugh took dead aim at Branford's heart.

A shot rang out.

Alex screamed.

For an instant, no one moved. Then Hammerton lowered his eyes, an incredulous look on his face as he watched his white shirtfront slowly turn red.

"No! It can't be..." he said faintly as he crumpled to the floor.

Branford brushed some of the dregs of leaves and moss from his sleeve. "Thank you, Justin. I'm relieved to see that your aim left nothing to chance on this occasion."

Alex staggered to her feet, not quite believing that Branford was still standing. With a small cry, she rushed across the room and flung her arms around him, holding him very tightly and burying her face against the familiar warmth of his shoulder.

"I thought that monster would pull the trigger, and I'd never have a chance to tell

you..." Her voice wavered. "W . w .what happened?"

His cheek came to rest against her hair and his hand stroked the long, curling locks that had come loose in the struggle. "Fortunately, my dear, your brother has become an excellent shot."

Alex picked up her head to see Justin's figure framed in the doorway, the smoking pistol held calmly by his side. "Oh Justin, thank God, you are safe! I was so afraid that you would let Hammerton lure you into his grasp."

"Though you sometimes consider me little more than a child, I should hope you wouldn't think me addlepated enough to fall into such an obvious trap." He grinned. "Besides, I knew you'd ring such a peal over my head if I got us both sent to our Maker that I couldn't even consider the possibility. So I..." He looked rather shyly at Branford, "I went to the one person I trusted could help us."

"I am no magician," said the earl. "It was your father's letter. I finally deciphered the code and discovered it was Hammerton who was the villain behind all this. Remember those little symbols? The hatchets, you called them. Hammers, really. How blind can I have been? I might have spared you this ordeal."

Alex looked from Branford to her brother and then back to the earl. Suddenly she burst into tears.

"Oh dear, I never cry," she managed to croak between sobs.

Branford merely pressed her to his chest and waited wordlessly until her shoulders stopped heaving.

"Really," she sniffed. "I am usually never so weak as to become such a veritable watering pot.

"Alex," murmured Branford as he gently brushed away a tear from her bruised cheek. "You do not have to carry the entire weight of the world on your own, very capable shoulders any longer."

She looked up at his face. It was deathly pale beneath the dirt and sweat, and a trickle of dried blood had formed at the corner of his mouth where another of Hammerton's blows had connected. But his eyes sparkled with a warmth that sent fire throughout her entire being. She reached up and ran her hand lightly along the line of his jaw.

"Oh, Sebastian," she whispered.

His head came down towards hers.

The front door was thrown open with a bang and there was the clatter of footsteps in the hallway, followed by the sound of familiar voices.

"Damnation," muttered Branford. Then he kissed her anyway. Long, hard, possessively.

Justin, the grin still on his face, reached out and pulled the door firmly shut.

At least for a brief interlude, they had only each other.

Moments later, Lord Ashton and Sykes burst in, pistols at the ready, followed by a very determined Lady Ashton brandishing her parasol like a saber.

"Sorry, Cap'n." Sykes lowered his pistol and tried to repress a grin at the earl's current situation. "When I couldn't convince His Lordship and Her Ladyship to stop, I figured I better come along as well."

Ashton surveyed the body on the floor and Branford with Alex wrapped in an intimate embrace.

"You see, my dear," he said rather smugly. "I told you Sebastian would have things well in hand without any help from us."

"A little too well in hand," she retorted. "Sebastian!" she added sharply, turning to face the earl. "What is the meaning of this, may I ask, taking advantage of a young lady behind closed doors?"

"I think you know very well what it means, Cecelia," he answered dryly. "But you could at least allow me to pay my addresses without an audience."

"Of course you may — in due time." She smiled sweetly. "Just so we all understand each other. I have noticed that Mr. Chilton is holding a pistol and I wouldn't want there to be any more misunderstandings."

Branford chuckled. "I think Chilton knows by now that my intentions are entirely honorable."

To her dismay, Alex found herself coloring to the roots. "But Lady Ashton, it's not what you think. Sebas... Lord Branford should not be forced — I mean, he doesn't want to mar...."

"We shall discuss that in the carriage ride back to Town," interrupted Branford.

To her own surprise, Alex fell silent without an argument.

Branford turned to Ashton. "How did you manage to track us down, Henry?"

"I'm afraid half of White's could do so if they wished. Odds are fifty-fifty on whether Whitleigh will recover,"

"Yes, well, I suppose the gossips will have more than enough fodder for their hungry tongues after today." He glanced at Hammerton's lifeless form. "Would you and Chilton — or should I say, the real Lord Hammerton — be kind enough to summon the magistrates and settle matters here. There is another cur out in the stables that must be dealt with as well. I would like to attend to... other things."

Ashton regarded Justin, and then the pistol in his hand. "I take it, Chilton, we have you to thank for keeping Sebastian sticking his spoon in the wall in him today?"

A glimmer of a smile came to Justin's countenance. "I received some very wise advise about putting pistols to more honorable use, sir. And it is I who owe both you and Lady Ashton thanks. Without your counsel, I fear things would have turned out very differently."

Ashton's reserve finally melted away. "The Earl of Hammerton is it? Hmmm. I like the sound of it, young man. I think you will be a credit to the title." He grinned at Branford. "I think his lordship and I would be happy to straighten things up here. I shall send my driver for the authorities right away"

Branford nodded his thanks. "I should like Sykes to drive Alex and me back to Town as soon as possible. She has had enough excitement for the day, and I'm sure her aunt is sick with worry."