Lori Brighton - [The Seduction 02] (35 page)

The fierceness of her expression confused Elizabeth, made her nervous when she should have been thrilled to finally have the witness they needed. Something felt decidedly off. Benjie pushed open the gate.

“Miss Howell,” Elizabeth said, stepping aside. “I wasn’t expecting you. Shall we head to the parlor and I’ll ring for tea?”

“No.” She shook her head and swept into the garden. “This can’t wait.”

Elizabeth followed more reluctantly. She knew what the woman would say, and she should have been thrilled, so why was she so wary? She took her lower lip between her teeth. Perhaps it was only natural to be nervous since in the past Miss Howell had only shown extreme loyalty toward the dowager. “What is it?”

Miss Howell paced down the narrow path, her reticule swaying from her wrist. Elizabeth slid Benjie a glance, making sure he was still nearby. The lad had moved into the garden and leaned against the stone wall, watching them with a distrust that she knew mirrored her own.

“Miss Howell,” Elizabeth said gently. “Do please speak your mind if something is wrong.”

The companion paused next to a clump of dying forget-me-nots and faced Elizabeth, the woman’s black skirts settling comfortably around her dusty boots. “I have come upon some news that you might find upsetting.”

Elizabeth had the sudden desire to laugh. Nothing the woman could say would be worse than her own imaginings. But the poor dear didn’t realize that they already knew about the
dowager. Elizabeth’s unease fled as compassion surged. She was determined to find Miss Howell a place in their home once this was all said and done. She deserved some peace after being at the dowager’s beck and call for so many years.

“Please,” Elizabeth waved toward the bench. “Do sit down. But I must warn you, I fear I already know your news.”

The woman settled on the stone bench and glanced nervously toward the house. Oh, she wished she’d get on with it already! Elizabeth felt like it was Christmas morning. Finally, they’d get the truth, and God willing, Miss Howell would be the witness they so desperately needed.

“It’s all right,” she said, reaching out and patting the woman’s gloved hand. “You can tell me.”

The companion nodded slowly.

Yet something didn’t seem right. Elizabeth studied the woman before her, marveling over her steady nerves. She was calm. Almost…too calm. One would think at least her hands would tremble. “Go on, dear.”

“I have something to show you.” Miss Howell reached into the reticle hanging from her wrist. Before Elizabeth had time to react, the woman pulled something from her little purse and swiveled toward Benjie. The blast rang through the garden, frightening a flock of sparrows. Elizabeth’s heart leapt into her throat. The lad fell against the wall and slid to the ground.

“No!” Elizabeth cried. She started to surge forward, when Miss Howell swung her arm right, pointing the pistol directly at Elizabeth’s chest. She froze, the roar of blood pounding in her ears as she attempted to understand what had just happened.

“Don’t move,” Miss Howell said, her voice shaky, but her eyes hard with determination.

Elizabeth dared to dart a quick glance at Benjie. The lad was breathing harshly, his hand pressed to his chest as brilliant red blood spread across his beige shirt. Frantic fear clawed at her insides, chilling her veins.

“Benjie!” Elizabeth took a hesitant step toward the lad. “I have to go to him, he’s dying!”

Miss Howell shoved her hand into Elizabeth’s chest, pushing her back with a strength she hadn’t expected from the smaller woman. “I don’t care!”

She was mad. Utterly and completely mad.

“Why?” she whispered. With Miss Howell’s back to the gate, the companion didn’t see Benjie slowly regaining his feet. Elizabeth focused on the woman, attempting to keep her attention where it needed to be so Benjie could escape. “Because you owe the dowager? You’ll murder for her?”

“This has nothing to do with her.” The woman sounded calm, but Elizabeth could read the nerves in her shifting gaze and unsteady hand. Finally, she was showing some common sense.

From the corner of her eye, she could see that Benjie had made it to the open gate. Will appeared, grabbing his injured friend. When Gideon slipped into the garden Elizabeth almost cried out in relief.

Determined to keep them safe, she kept her attention on the crazed woman. “I don’t understand.”

“She’s the one who has been trying to kill you,” Gideon stated.

Miss Howell stumbled back, swinging her pistol toward him.

“No!” Elizabeth cried out, resisting the urge to throw herself in front of the man.

“Easy.” Gideon moved slowly up the path, his boots crushing gravel. He wore only his shirtsleeves and trousers, his hair rumpled as if he’d been abed, or more likely had never slept. Will and Benjie were gone. It was just the three of them. By the time Will could summon the constable, this would be over. Who would come out the victor?

“It’s just us,” Gideon said calmly, his gaze focused on the woman, his steps slow and sure. He showed no emotion, his face oddly calm, too calm. “Tell us what this is about.”

“You know!” she hissed, her eyes flashing, her hand trembling dangerously. “You’re a whore! A common whore, and you will not take the title promised to my son!”

Elizabeth tried to make sense of her ramblings but found herself utterly confused. “Your son?” Dear God, the woman truly was delusional. But then living with the dowager would make anyone crazed.

“Is John your son?” Gideon asked calmly, as if having a chat with the local vicar. He shifted ever so slightly, and the woman shifted with him, as if they were participating in some odd country dance.

“Yes,” she hissed. “The dowager claimed him long ago so he wouldn’t be a bastard. You know the stigma attached to being born out of wedlock.”

Elizabeth’s lips parted on a gasp of surprise. John was her son? But who was this woman? Why would the dowager claim John over Henry? “It’s why you said you owe her.”

Her wild gaze flickered toward Elizabeth, giving Gideon just enough time to shift again. What was he doing? “I owe her everything.”

Elizabeth took a step closer to the woman, demanding her attention and helping Gideon with his plan, whatever it might be. “You wanted me and Henry dead so your son would inherit.”

Any compassion she felt for the woman vanished. She felt ill merely saying the words and even worse when the woman nodded eagerly, as if desperate for someone to understand her dilemma.

“Yes,” she breathed, as if in a sigh of relief.

Things were starting to make sense, but what Elizabeth still didn’t understand was why her mother-in-law would help the lunatic before her. “Does the dowager know you’re here?”

Her face fell, bitterness washing over her. She’d been pretty once, but now the woman merely reminded Elizabeth of someone
else she knew…Lady Lavender. A woman so full of spite that it had hardened her heart and destroyed her beauty. “Of course not, but she would approve. I know it.”

Oh God, all that time she’d thought the old bat was the one responsible. In reality, Elizabeth and the dowager led a very similar life, pretending to be mothers for another person’s child. Now that she had the facts, it was no longer surprising that the dowager had been suspicious of Henry’s and Cally’s births. The question remained…why would the dowager prefer John over Henry?

“You want John to inherit,” Elizabeth said slowly, carefully. This was the truth of the past four years. Everything was suddenly falling into place.

Miss Howell’s lower lip quivered, her brown eyes swimming with unshed tears. “I gave up my rights to him. He doesn’t even know I’m his mother. I gave up everything so he could inherit. If he doesn’t inherit, it will be for nothing.”

The sun started to peek over the wall, splashing the garden with light. Miss Howell blinked, shielding her eyes with her free hand. Elizabeth finally understood why Gideon had been inching around the garden; he had wanted her positioned perfectly so that when the sun came up, it would blind her.

“You can’t possibly expect to get away with killing the both of us.” She could only pray the woman still retained some sense. “Both Will and Benjie know the truth, and by now the entire household will as well. If you leave this moment, you won’t hang.”

“I don’t care if I hang!” She shook so hard, the gun trembled dangerously. “Don’t you understand? I’ll do whatever it takes so John can inherit.”

The entire world seemed suddenly bleak and she knew no good could come of this. Their luck had run its course. Gideon shifted again, this time moving toward her. She knew instantly that he thought to shield her when the gun went off. He would protect her until his dying day. But no, she wouldn’t let him
sacrifice himself because…because he could protect the children much better than she. Because he was the rightful heir. But mostly because she loved him too much to let him die.

“And you uncovered my past?” Gideon said. “Very clever of you.”

Her lips lifted into a sneer. “A whore. Yes, I know about your father, and I know that you’ve been nothing more than a whore. You don’t deserve the title, and I will see you rot before I’ll allow you to take the estate from Johnny.”

The vehemence in her voice shocked and frightened her. Elizabeth shook her head, still confused. Nothing made sense. She didn’t understand why the dowager would claim John. She didn’t understand why Miss Howell would assume that John deserved the title, unless…“Who is John’s father?”

“Don’t play coy with me. You know,” the woman said, her gaze burning into Gideon’s. “Your father.”

Miss Howell had had an affair with Gideon’s father, which meant…John was Gideon’s brother? Her gaze jumped to him. His face was unreadable, his body still. Too still. Her heart broke a little as she realized the effect this was having on the man she loved. His father was a terrible man, and each day brought some new chapter in the story that was his father’s dastardly past. How long she had wanted the truth, and now that she had it, Elizabeth felt overwhelmed.

“When the dowager found out I was with child, she promised to raise the babe as her own and keep me on if I didn’t tell anyone.”

Gideon didn’t respond, but she noticed the tightening of his jaw. If he thought his father bad before, what must he think now? How she wanted to pull him into her arms and tell him he had nothing in common with the man. It was over, or would be just as soon as they could take care of Miss Howell. A tiny bluebird landed on the bench not far from them, chirping as if it to say why didn’t they get on with it already?

“He told me he loved me and we’d marry, but then he died,” Miss Howell said, her gaze unfocused, as if lost in the past. They were not the only ones who had been destroyed by secrets and lies.

“Gideon is the rightful heir,” Elizabeth said calmly.

“No!” She shook her head. “No. He’s nothing but a whore. My Johnny is good. A good lad who deserves to be a lord.”

Miss Howell was frantic to have her son inherit, because if he didn’t it would mean her life without him hadn’t been worth the lies. It was sad and pathetic. She glanced at Gideon. He was the true kindness in this swarm of greedy people. He didn’t care about the title. He didn’t care about the money. He only cared about them.

“I’m sorry,” Miss Howell said. “I truly am. You’ve both been kind, but you both have to die.”

Her arm shifted toward Gideon and in that brief moment Elizabeth’s entire world tilted off its axis.

“No!” Desperation sent Elizabeth forward.

She leapt in front of Gideon just as the gun went off. The blast sent her stumbling back into Gideon’s hard chest. She felt the slightest sting against her side, right before Gideon’s steel arms gripped her. He spun Elizabeth around, as if to shield her with his body. But it was too late. She knew by the sting in her side and the odd numbness that was stealing through her body that it was too late.

The world wavered, the sky spinning. Her legs suddenly went weak. Elizabeth slumped toward the ground, expecting to hit hard earth, but Gideon was there, picking her up so she rested against his chest. Vaguely, she was aware of the rush of footmen who raced across the yard, their thundering feet and shouts of despair fading as she faded.

It was over. The threat was no longer there. She didn’t regret her act. It was for the best. Gideon was on his knees, cradling her to his body, his musky scent swirling around her. She tried to focus on his beautiful, anguished face instead of the warm blood
she felt soaking her bodice. Tried to focus on his sweet lips instead of the numbness welling within.

“Elizabeth?” Gideon’s metal eyes had somehow melted into shimmering pools of heated liquid. But no, that couldn’t be right. Gideon would never cry and certainly not over her. “Elizabeth, please talk to me.”

“Take care of the children.” She felt oddly cold. “Promise me.”

His hoarse cry sent a shiver over her skin. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. He was warm, so very warm, and exhaustion suddenly pulled her under.

His unsteady hand gripped the side of her face. “Elizabeth? Don’t leave me, Elizabeth…please.”

He pressed his lips to hers, and then he said the words she’d been waiting to hear.

“I love you.”

And she knew in that moment that she could finally rest easy. Gideon would take care of the estate, and he would take care of the children. Her life would not have been in vain. If only…if only she could have made him realize how much she cared.

Before she could part her lips, before she could gather her tumultuous thoughts, her lashes drifted down, and the world went black.

For three hours Gideon stayed by Elizabeth’s side, holding her hand tightly in his strong grip, worried that if he let go, she would as well. For three hours he murmured sweet, ridiculous words of comfort, unconcerned with who heard him wax poetically. And for three hours he pressed soft kisses to her forehead as the surgeon tended to her injury while she lay unconscious upon the bed.

He did everything he bloody well could to keep her with him, but he knew in the end it wasn’t up to him. How he wished he was lying upon that bed instead of her. Damn it all, it should have been him. The guilt he felt overwhelmed him, made him ill, desperate. He should have been there, he should have protected her.