The Masked Heart (Sweet Deception Regency #2) (28 page)

Remus, whose face was marked by myriad scars and abrasions, generally spoke in a single word or a grunt which one could interpret as one pleased. He had not been as forthcoming as his brother, but Romulus had explained that his reticence was due solely to shyness and not to dislike.

Blaine leaned her head back against the cushions of the chair as she debated how soon Stoddard would return. She had been lucky so far in her jailors and, despite her apprehension, she could view their arrival at the cottage earlier with some amusement.

Stoddard had waited until the men had brought her into the parlor of the cottage before he had ordered them to tie her. Blaine was terrified that, despite her costume, her identity would be discovered if the men handled her. She clutched her heart and staggered to the nearest chair, thankfully one well cushioned, where she gave her finest performance as a shocked and feeble old lady. Apparently her pitiable cries were sufficiently moving, because the two men refused to tie her up.

For a heartstopping moment, Blaine thought Stoddard would tie her himself. She held motionless as he stood over her. His face was red with anger, and his hands were clenched at his sides. She had little need to pretend to have difficulty catching her breath, since it wheezed and rattled in her throat from fear. She must have looked pathetic enough to convince him she was harmless, for, with an oath, he stormed across the room and slammed out the door of the cottage.

She pretended to a slow recovery, giving herself time to examine the room. It was decorated in a very feminine style, slightly overdone, and had the definite look of a cottage used only infrequently. She assumed Stoddard either rented or owned the little lovenest.

Her eyes roamed the room, but, other than a very large Oriental vase which she marked for possible use, it yielded up nothing by way of a weapon. Even the hearth was disappointingly barren of either a poker or shovel. It did however give her an idea. Behind her veil, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the giants doing their best to press themselves into the woodwork.

"Boys," she called in her frailest voice. "Would it be possible to have a bit of a fire? My bones are quite chilled and I fear an inflammation of the lungs might set in."

She was decidedly cheered when, after a whispered conference, the two men agreed. She watched as they traveled back and forth from the kitchen bringing bundles of sticks and then laid the fire. Although she was glad of the heat, they had cleaned up meticulously and she was no closer to the possession of a weapon than she had been before.

After a trip to the necessary, with her embarrassed guard of honor shuffling nearby, Romulus suggested tea and she accepted eagerly. They presented the tea in a none-too-clean mug, cautioned her to behave herself and then retired to the kitchen. Keeping one eye on the kitchen and the other on the door which Stoddard had used, she loosened her veil and drank down the reviving brew while warming her hands on the mug. She refastened her veil and smoothed out her skirts, feeling fortified for the coming events.

Stoddard did not return and Blaine used the opportunity to make friends with Romulus and Remus. After minimal success in discovering where she was, she did learn that the men did not work for "his bleedin' lordship" but had been hired for the day. Stoddard had told them he was planning to elope and, when they discovered he was actually kidnapping an old lady for blackmail, they were offended, clearly disgruntled at such an affront to their personal code of honor and truth. It was due to their dudgeon, that they felt justified in entertaining her with the stories of their lives.

The kitchen door squeaked, bringing Blaine out of the contemplation of her disastrous day. Romulus entered with a lamp, followed by Remus carrying a small bundle of wood. She noted the shadowy corners of the room with a sinking feeling. It would be full dark soon and she knew Stoddard would return.

"Would you like me to build up the fire, mum?" Romulus asked as he placed the lamp on the table beside her chair. "My brother thought as how you might take a chill."

"You are both very thoughtful boys," she said. "I didn't mention it at the time but I am sure it was a sad day when your mother died."

Remus grunted as he handed his brother a bundle of wood.

"That it was." Romulus shook his unkempt head and hunkered down on the hearth. "We was glad to be with her though. They had sprung us from Newgate just two days 'fore she was took. It was the gin what got her. Just you have a care, mum, and stay away from Blue Ruin."

"I shall heed your words, young man."

"Ma were only a mug short o' the tavern record, when her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell over dead."

Remus grunted twice to indicate he was moved by the memory.

A silence fell over the room in respect for the much-lamented woman. Blaine closed her eyes and gingerly rested her head against the back of the chair, being careful not to disarrange her hat. She had tried not to think of the possible consequences should Romulus and Remus discover that she was not a little old lady. Their gentle treatment, thus far, did not fool her. She had heard enough to know that they were cruel and dangerous men. If they discovered she had tricked them into believing she was old and frail, they would be ruthless in their revenge.

The outside door slammed against the wall and Talbott Stoddard stormed into the room. Blaine sat up straight, placing her cane directly in front of her feet. Her pulse pounded in her throat and she swallowed convulsively as the blond nobleman glared at her.

"Get out, you two," he snarled.

Romulus and Remus hesitated, then shrugged in resignation as they went out to the kitchen. Stoddard kicked the door shut and walked across the room. He threw himself in a chair across from the prim figure in black and eyed the fire with disfavor.

"All the comforts of home and hearth, eh."

"Not quite, Lord Stoddard," she said. "Have you come to your senses? Will you take me back to Portman Square?"

"Not, Lady Yates, until I have the information I want!"

"Surely, you do not think I will just hand my niece over to you?

"That is exactly what I think. I have been walking around trying to figure just exactly what might induce you to listen to reason. I believe that I have discovered the answer."

Blaine tensed at the tone of his voice. There was a gloating quality that warned her that the man was done playing games. Through the veiling, she observed the casualness of his pose, which gave the same intimations of danger as a snake sunning on a rock. He was a handsome man, almost beautiful, with his golden curls and fine featured face. She contrasted him to Drew whose face was all angles and planes. There was little comparison.

Stoddard lacked the laugh lines in the corners of his eyes and the hint of a smile that always lurked on the edge of Drew's mouth. He was just as tall and lean but his body lacked the masculinity that radiated from Drew's body. But most of all, he did not possess the qualities that Blaine loved in Drew. Stoddard had neither heart nor soul.

"I grow weary of threats from a person of such insignificance and low morals." Her scornful voice was filled with contempt. She was pleased by the flush of color that rose to his face but she knew her victory would be short-lived.

"It is not a threat, old lady! It is a promise!" he shouted.

Stoddard slammed his fist on the arm of his chair, pleased when the woman flinched in fear. He had had enough of her viperous tongue. He had no need to lose his temper. Soon, he would have her begging him to take La Solitaire off her hands.

"Now, madam, this is my proposition." Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his legs and smoothed the material with his long fingers. "I am quite willing to take you back to Portman Square or anywhere else for that matter. I am convinced, you will be more than willing to make me known to Blaine, once you have the opportunity to consider the alternatives."

"The alternatives?"

"Your niece Fleur is an enchanting child. If I cannot have La Solitaire then I will have to be content with second best. I believe I will take great pleasure in bedding the virginal Fleur."

"You Devil!" Blaine hissed.

Tears of fright started in her eyes as she realized at what risk she had placed her sister. Even knowing the foulness of Talbott Stoddard, she was still appalled at the depths to which he would sink.

A smile of derision crossed Stoddard's face. In the dim light he was able to see the slumped shoulders of the figure in black. He had won! "Well, madam?" he prodded.

Blaine knew when she was beaten. If she had only herself to consider, she would have fought to the death. She knew in her heart, she would never survive, if anything happened to Fleur. The thought of the price she would pay, meant little as compared to her sister's safety. The girl must be spared. Once her decision was made, Blaine pulled herself up in the chair. She might have lost the war but they still had to settle the terms of surrender.

"The game is yours, Lord Stoddard."

In the silence that followed her capitulation, the hinges of the door squeaked loudly as the outside door swung open. At the noise, Stoddard turned his head sharply and then leaped to his feet. For Blaine, no guardian angel or cherubic messenger could look as much like a vision of heaven as the figure in the doorway.

"Although I am reluctant to contradict a lady," Drew said, bowing gallantly, "I believe the game is mine."

"Damn your eyes, Farrington!"

"Don't make a move, Stoddard. I would take great pleasure in shooting you."

Seeing Drew's pistol, Stoddard froze but his eyes flashed toward the back of the house and Blaine gasped. She was just about to shout a warning when the kitchen door burst open and the giants emerged. The gun in Drew's hand seemed faint protection from the combined forces of Romulus and Remus.

Drew moved away from the doorway and Sarge, his leathery face seamed with fury, took his place. His hamlike hands were bunched into fists, prepared for the coming battle. The odds were considerably better, Blaine thought in satisfaction. Grinning, she lifted her cane. Now it was three against three.

"Are you well, Blaine? Or should I say, Miss Mason?" Drew asked.

"Just fine, now that you're here, Lord Farrington. I approve of a man who will arrive in the wings in time for his cue."

Stoddard swung around to her, staring in disbelief at the figure in black. Even without Drew's words, he would have recognized the ringing tones of her voice. It was a voice he had listened to, night after night, in a darkened theatre. A voice which had haunted his dreams and filled him with an obsession to possess her.

"La Solitaire," he whispered.

"Your servant, milord." Despite her bulky skirts, Blaine dropped into a graceful curtsy.

The thought that he had had her in his hands all along, sent a shaft of rage through Stoddard's body. He grimaced in fury and the muscles in his neck stood out in cords. "Take them, you idiots!" he shouted to the motionless ruffians.

With a guttural snarl, Romulus and Remus charged. Drew discharged his gun over the heads of the mountain of flesh roaring across the room but neither man checked. Romulus butted Sarge in the stomach with his head, slamming him against the wall with a bone crushing crash. Remus was not as lucky. As the giant rushed him, Drew sidestepped the assault and hit him on the back of the head with the gun he still held in his hand.

Sparing a quick glance for Sarge who was holding his own, Drew shoved the gun in his pocket, stepped over the recumbent Remus and advanced on Stoddard.

As the two men squared off, Blaine hiked up her skirts and ran across the floor to assist the beleaguered Sarge. Owing to the fact that Romulus was considerably younger, the old soldier was having a difficult time of it. She skidded to a stop beside Remus, who was beginning to come around. He was on his hands and knees, shaking his head like a dog with fleas. Gripping her walking stick like a club, she brought it down, wincing at the dull thud as it crashed into the back of his head. The cane shattered and Remus dropped to the floor once again.

She heard a gasp and swung to face Romulus. The giant had Sarge in a necklock but his eyes were on her. She grinned at the offended expression on his face as he surveyed the damage she had done to his brother. Clearly she had sunk in his estimation of the behavior proper for little old ladies. Perhaps it was the loss of attention, for in the next second, Sarge had extricated himself and elbowed Romulus in the stomach. As the man doubled over, Sarge clenched his hamlike hands together and slammed them down on his back. Romulus dropped as if he were poleaxed.

Blaine's hat had tilted to the side and the veiling inhibited her vision so she untied the band at her throat and threw the hat into the nearest corner. Now that Romulus and Remus had been taken care of, she could turn her attention to the other combatants. She snatched up the Oriental vase she had noted earlier, gripping it tightly with her mittened hands and waited for the proper moment to hurl it into the melee.

Up until then, she had been enjoying the fight. She had been filled with excitement to be in the thick of action. Now as she watched Drew and Stoddard, she was sickened and the vase slipped from her nerveless fingers to crash on the floor. Sarge moved to stand beside her. He put his arm around her but she could take little comfort from it.

While she had been fighting, she had thought little of injury. The sight of the blood on the face of the man she loved was agonizing and at every blow he took, she felt pain. She clutched at Sarge's sleeve, her nails biting through the woolen material. Even the fact that Drew was winning, made no difference.

Drew punched Stoddard in the stomach and felt a sweet thrill at the shudder of the man's body. He ignored his own bruises, bent on doing as much damage as he could. A trickle of blood rolled into the corner of his eye and he wiped it away with his sleeve. Stoddard was tiring but Drew hoped he wouldn't surrender yet. He had a driving need to punish him and took satisfaction with every blow. A feint to his right, caught him on the shoulder but he dodged away. As Stoddard fought to keep his balance, Drew brought his arm back and slammed his fist into his jaw. Stoddard stiffened and then slowly crumpled to the floor.