For the Love of a Soldier (43 page)

G
ARRETT RODE AS
if the beasts of hell were on his heels, needing to race off the rage boiling inside him. If the truth were told, he hadn’t learned anything new. When Brandon had first given him Hammond’s guest list and his eyes had lit on his stepfather’s name, he had paused and considered, but he had rejected the thought. He had done so for Kit’s sake and because he had refused to lend credence to his darkest suspicions. But slowly, inexorably, like a pulsing tide wears down the most impermeable surface, the truth wore at him until he could no longer reject it.

His stepfather wanted him dead. Had hired assassins to murder him.

It was a truth he ignored at his own peril.

He had fought in the Crimea for two years, but he and Arthur had been at war his whole life. It had begun when he was six years old and Garrett had sought to console his newly widowed mother. Arthur, their closest neighbor, had physically dragged Garrett from her side and coldly explained that he would be taking care of Garrett’s mother from then on. Garrett was not needed.

He didn’t know what had changed or why, but Arthur must have decided the time had come for one of them to be declared a winner. The Browns’ damn falcon might stand for achieving their objective, but the Kendall coat of arms had two crossed swords that stood for justice and military honor. Garrett had earned the latter and he would achieve the former.

He reined in before the periphery of the hops fields, searching out Brandon, who had ridden down earlier with Beau. He
dismounted and handed Champion off to one of the workers who stepped forward to assist him. He nodded a curt greeting to those who recognized him. However, intent on his purposes, as soon as he located his quarry, he made his way to where Brandon stood conversing with Holt. When Brandon noticed his approach and his black expression, he excused himself and met Garrett halfway.

“What is it? Is it Kit?” Brandon’s face was etched with worry, and he caught Garrett’s arm in a painful vice.

“Kit’s fine. Everyone is fine. Where is Beau?”

Brandon raised a brow, but dropped his hand. “He’s riding with Ned.” His brow furrowed as he waited for Garrett to speak.

Garrett nodded. “Good, that’s good.”

“Christ man, what the hell is it?” Brandon studied him. “You’re sheet white. Look like you’ve seen Lazarus rise from the grave. You haven’t, have you?”

“It’s Arthur, Brandon. Arthur is behind the attacks on my life.”

Brandon recoiled at Garrett’s words. He opened and closed his mouth, eyeing Garrett as if he had spouted two heads. When he recovered his voice, his words shot out in a heated tone. “Are you certain? Do you understand what you’re saying? We’re talking murder here!” he hissed, his gaze hard and sharp. “Your stepfather, for God’s sake! Kit’s father! My father-in-law plotting your murder!”

“I know what the hell I’m saying and what it means, how it touches us all. But this is Arthur’s doing, not mine. Denying his guilt could cost me my life. I choose me over Arthur.”

Brandon raked a hand through his hair and looked around, assessing who could overhear their conversation. He blew out a breath. “I saw his name on the list. And…and it crossed my mind. He’s been talking strangely of late, things about Will, about Beau inheriting my title and Will your fortunes.”

“Not so strange. I don’t have an heir, didn’t plan to have one until recently.”

“Yes, but Arthur talked about things changing soon. How Will won’t stand in Beau’s shadow. The boys are Warrens, but Brown is in them as well. He finally has his boys. What made you realize it was Arthur? What happened?”

“It was the watch.” At Brandon’s confusion, Garrett recounted his belief that the flash of gold tossed for payment at Hammond’s ball was Arthur’s lost watch. “But deep down, I knew, and that’s why I was dragging my feet about pursuing the matter. I can’t fathom a madman’s reasoning, but Arthur always said I wasn’t worthy of my title and should be divested of it as well as control of the Kendall estates. My death certainly takes care of that. And you know how he rants about the Browns’ fall from grace. Perhaps he refuses to stand by and watch Will’s fortunes fall. My death protects Will’s inheritance, which I’m jeopardizing with this new venture into trade.”

Brandon looked at him and his expression hardened. “It makes sense in a madman’s perverse reasoning. But we’ll need proof. Evidence implicating him. We need that watch.”

“We’ll get it. Once we find the man hired to pull the trigger. Once he’s in custody, he’ll squeal like the rat he is.”

“I take it you have a plan?” Brandon cocked a brow. “One that will keep us out of Newgate?”

“I do. Let’s collect Holt and I’ll go over it with you. But there’s something else. We followed your plan with Alex’s uncle, but we’re using mine this time. I need you to back me up, but I can’t have you in the forward guard. This is my fight, not yours.”

Brandon met his eyes. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

Garrett released his breath. He’d known Brandon would have his back with no questions asked. He always had, always would. Garrett hoped this was the last battle he and Brandon would wage together.

He was looking forward to spending the rest of his life sparring with Alex instead.

A
LEX PACED IN
the front parlor, seething. Damn Garrett. Damn him for storming off and refusing to listen to a word of explanation. To upset Kit like that. Poor Kit had gone to bed complaining of a headache. When Garrett returned and Alex had said her piece to him, his head would hurt, too. If it didn’t, she’d pound on it herself. However, considering how thick it was, she doubted she’d make a dent.

If Garrett continued with this behavior, she might have to
reconsider her answer to any proposal of his. And he could forget making those babies. The world didn’t need any more replicas of Garrett Melrose Sinclair. There would be…She paused, a sudden knocking on the front door interrupting her tirade.

Stewart was visiting the vicar, Ned had moved to work in the stables, and still short of a butler, which Garrett appeared in no rush to hire, Alex blew out a frustrated breath and changed course.

Pausing a moment to collect herself, she swept her hand over her hair, neatened her skirts, and opened the door. Surprised, she blinked at the unexpected sight of Garrett’s stepfather, Arthur Brown, standing on the front landing.

He looked a far cry from the angry, confrontational man who had stormed inside during their last encounter. His clothes were dusted with dirt, his golden eyes anxious. Concern filled her. “Mr. Brown? Are you all right?”

“It’s Beau…it’s…”

“What?” She gasped, rushing outside and grasping his sleeve, the door slamming closed behind her. “What has happened?”

“He’s all right,” he hastened to clarify. He patted her hand reassuringly as he tucked it around his arm. “My apologies. I should have said that first.”

“Thank God,” she exhaled in relief. “Then what is it?”

“I’ll explain along the way.”

As they spoke, Arthur led her down the front steps. They stood before his carriage, her arm still looped through Arthur’s. “But I need to get Kit,” she protested, moving to disengage her hand. “If something has happened to Beau, she needs to know. Beau will want his mother.”

“But it’s you that I need.”

Alex frowned at his enigmatic reply. “I don’t understand.”

“Please, if you’ll come with me, I can explain.” He opened the carriage door and withdrew the steps. “I must insist.”

Despite her concern for Beau, Alex found her hackles rising at Arthur’s officious manner. “Mr. Brown, I’m not going anywhere without speaking to Kit first. She needs—” She sucked in a sharp breath when something jabbed into her side. Hard.

She looked down to see Arthur’s hand curled around a revolver, its menacing barrel lodged firmly in her waist.

“As I said, I must insist.”

Her eyes shot to his face, her heart thundering. She knew that voice, its furious whisper. His lean, hawkish features, aquiline nose and thin lips, and his golden eyes now dark with a hard, feral gleam all came into sharp focus.

It was as if she was seeing him for the first time, recognizing him in all his evil duplicity.

When Arthur had visited previously, she had felt as if she had known him. She had been right. She had first encountered Arthur that fateful night on Hammond’s patio when he had orchestrated the murder of his stepson.

However, she had seen him from a distance and could never identify him again with complete confidence, so it was not surprising that when she met him a second time with Kit, she didn’t recognize him. His voice had also been different, not as nasally as it had been before, as if he had a cold.

“Move,” Arthur barked, prodding her with the gun.

Damn Garrett for his abrupt departure and damn him for not hiring a big, burly butler because she really had need of both of them right now.

She gritted her teeth. If Arthur thought she would docilely climb into his carriage, he thought wrong. Arthur would have to drag her kicking and screaming into the carriage. Her eyes searched out the man on the box, but seeing his averted face, she knew he was Arthur’s man and he would be of no help to her.

“If you value Beau’s safety, you need to come quietly. His life depends upon it.”

Damn it. For Beau’s sake, she had to go. She had to make sure he was all right.

She cast a helpless glance over her shoulder before lifting her skirts to move toward the carriage.

She needed a plan of action and she needed it fast. Nothing came to her. Fear, cold and numbing, clouded her thinking.

“For Christ’s sake, hurry up,” Arthur hissed, giving her a shove.

She stumbled. Anger replaced fear and she vowed to muster a plan. If not, Garrett would find her.

She just needed to stay alive until he did so.

It was her last coherent thought before Arthur vaulted in behind her. As she turned to face him, a searing pain exploded across her temple.

She cried out as her knees buckled and her world went black.

W
HAT
do you mean you thought she was with me?” Garrett exploded when Kit informed him that Alex was not in the house and she hadn’t been seen for a few hours.

Kit’s eyes widened at his temper, her gaze shifting to Brandon as if seeking an explanation. “I thought she had gone to find you after you had stormed off so abruptly. Really, Garrett, I didn’t tell you about Arthur because I knew you’d act like this, and he’s just not worth—”

“Have you looked for her?” Garrett cut her off, a chill sweeping him.

She raised a brow. “Of course, and no one has seen her. She’s not here.”

Brandon held up his hands when Garrett cursed and began to pace the foyer. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. We’ll divide up and search the estate. She could still be here.”

“I’ll look outside,” Garrett said, whirling on his heel. Two years in the Crimea had taught him to heed his gut instincts. His gut told him Alex was not inside and her disappearance was not good.

“Garrett—”

He heard Kit start, but Brandon must have silenced her because she quieted and let him go. He needed to go. He’d speak with Gus first, determine if Alex’s mount was missing.

Quickening his pace, he covered the ground to the stables and burst inside at a near run, startling Gus, who was rubbing down Champion. The chill sweeping Garrett plummeted a few degrees at the sight of Autumn in her stall. “Have you seen Alex?” He stormed over to Gus. “Has she been here? Is Ned back yet?”

Gus frowned. “No, I haven’t. I don’t think she’s been here. Least if she was, she didn’t speak to me. But I was out repairin’ fence in the back paddocks and Ned’s ridin’ with Beau.”

“When you were out, did you see anyone near the house or riding this way?” Damn Keyes for his big mouth in informing Arthur about Garrett’s location. If anything happened to Alex, Garrett vowed the man wouldn’t survive the day.

Gus shook his head. “Can’t say I did.”

Garrett swore. “I need Champion, and I need you to keep an eye open for anything unusual—and for Alex. I fear she may be missing.”

Gus’s expression hardened as he clenched his jaw before collecting Champion’s saddle. He worked with quick efficiency as he spoke. “Do you think she’s all right? Is it her uncle?”