Читать книгу Hunter Of My Heart - Janet Kendall - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Hunter regarded Miss Beaumont’s pale blue gaze, a fiery one that swept his face and stabbed his uncertainty. Innocent? Actress? He didn’t know, but her desperate and sincere tone gnawed at his conscience.

As thunder clapped, something nudged his leg. Startled, he looked down and suppressed a grin as the filly licked the end of his crop. “Still hungry? Go back to the stall. Your mother will get anxious if she can’t see you.”

“See to your animal, milord. Surely your questions can wait.”

Her soft voice caused him to glance up. Miss Beaumont’s piercing eyes had melted to a different emotion. Sadness? Panic? Damn his conscience. Quickly reaching for the filly, he guided her to the mare, now shifting with unease. With a few strokes, he calmed her, wishing something could settle him as readily.

Had his father found a way to leave Australia? Who else could or would impersonate Hunter? Had he coerced her into this scheme? Despite the cold panic knotting his gut, caution warned him not to speak of his father. Discussing him might lead to questions he must avoid, for in the legal world, he had committed a crime against the blackguard. Hunter had taken justice in his own hands. What could he do now? Leaning, he secured the stall’s rope closure.

“Ma chérie! The fool raced by me!”

Hunter whipped his head toward the stable door and quickly joined his guests. The intruder, a comely woman, curtsied. Water rolled off her hat brim and onto his boots as Miss Beaumont introduced them. “Oh, not an accomplice?”

Frowning, the newcomer fumbled through her valise as water dripped off the tip of her nose. “Monseigneur? What are you saying? Accomplice? Mon Dieu. Where is my handkerchief?”

Hunter reached into his frock coat pocket and offered his. “May I save you the trouble?”

“Thank you, sir, but I’ll give her mine. You might accuse us of stealing if we forget to return it.”

Shrugging, he tucked the cloth into his pocket. “A handkerchief hardly compares with six thousand pounds.”

Rolling her eyes, Miss Beaumont unbuckled her bag and snapped it open. “Marga, what happened? Please don’t tell me the mail coach left. Didn’t you wave?”

“Of course! I stood near the trees to stay drier. The idiot had his head burrowed into his collar like a turtle and never saw me. We’re stranded!”

As Miss Beaumont searched her bag, a gardenia scent drew his gaze downward. He caught a glimpse of a pistol. His pulse beat out of time. Had she come with dark intent?

Only one person harbored enough contempt to wish him dead. What if the debt was just a prelude of blackmail to come? Would Miss Beaumont use the gun as inducement? He watched her hands, but now she held a garment that might be a pair of drawers.

Although his concern that Randall might harm another innocent person continued to grow, the gun heightened his uncertainty and curiosity about Miss Beaumont. Why would she carry a pistol? Did someone threaten her? Who sent her? Who was she?

Rain pelted the slate roof and water gushed down the interior pipes into the horse troughs. Should he offer them shelter? As fast as the thought came, the words flowed. “You’ve missed the coach. Consider staying here.”

Briefly, Kenilworth wondered if, during the night, he would find himself facing a pistol. But his worry that they might be his father’s victims concerned him much more.

“No, thank you, milord. We’ll walk.” She pressed a handkerchief into her aunt’s hand.

As Madame Beaumont dabbed her face, she turned to her niece. “Walk to Edinburgh? We will drown!”

“His lordship refuses to pay us. I’ll not spend one night with that—” Miss Beaumont threw him a glacial look “—tyrant.”

His goading and authoritarian manner had not affected her in the least, yet to show a softer side would be disastrous. If he didn’t stay alert, her beseeching eyes could weaken his resolve. He whacked his thigh with the crop. “That’s nothing compared to what I can be if you’re lying.”

Madame Beaumont dried her brow then looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “Mon Dieu! Look at her young and honest face!” Cupping her niece’s chin, she turned it side to side.

“His imagination blinds him to all else. Isn’t that so, sir?” Miss Beaumont smiled thinly.

He arched an eyebrow. True, she possessed an innocent’s look, too young to let life harden her incredibly beautiful eyes, or etch lines on her porcelain skin. Her plaited mink-colored hair only added to her aura of youth. He had, however, learned to look past a lady’s appearance. Her connections and mind interested him more.

“First, I need to confirm your story and identity. Are you acquainted with a person who might do so? Someone of repute?”

Miss Beaumont chewed her plump bottom lip until she worked it to a rosy hue. For some reason, the chaste act seemed like something a child would do and stirred his watchful nature more.

Finally she looked up with her white teeth still gripping her lip. “Geoffrey Norton. He’s our solicitor.”

“Stay. I’ll send a message by ship to my man of business. With good wind, I might have an answer in a few days.”

“So you really plan to be judge and jury, milord? We decline your offer. I’ve no wish to visit with the executioner too.”

He narrowed his gaze. “The truth decides your fate.”

“I think monseigneur is very generous, ma chérie. We will accept his offer.”

Her pale blue eyes grew round. “Aunt Marga! An investigation might take longer. Investigation! We can’t afford—”

Madame Beaumont shook her head, and a look passed between the ladies that Hunter couldn’t decipher. “Monseigneur might use the time to reconsider. Especially when Geoffrey proves our story.”

Desperation flashed in her eyes, but she raised her chin a notch. “Considering my aunt’s condition, I might agree... if you promise to pay us before we leave.”

“No assurances, Miss Beaumont. Confirming your story and identity is a beginning. Questions regarding the debt require a deeper investigation. Your aunt’s right. I’m being generous. You could spend the night in prison.”

Her mouth opened and snapped shut. “I’ve no words to express your hospitality.”

He threaded his crop through his fingers. “Scots are famous for it. You’re staying?”

She glanced at his hands then looked up. Her dainty nostrils flared. “Only because of my aunt.”

“Wise choice.”

A short time later, his housekeeper ushered the ladies up the servant’s staircase. With his mysterious guests comfortable, he marched down the hall, which looked ghostly due to the sheets covering the furnishings. Miss Beaumont’s untimely demand irritated him anew and he yanked the covering off a Queen Anne side table. He threw the sheet onto another macabre heap.

As he entered his study, the air still smelled musty, but at least the housekeeper had cleaned this room before his arrival. His oak desk and worktables gleamed from beeswax. After removing his greatcoat, he threw peat bricks into the hearth and lit a fire. Within minutes, he penned a note to his solicitor.

Suddenly his foster brother, Gavin MacDuff, entered. A frown heightened the sun-etched lines on his face. Water matted his blond hair. Gavin’s rolled sleeves and smudged trousers reminded Hunter that he had promised to help unload the wagon.

“I worked and ye entertained a lass. Hardly seems fair. Now we’ve guests, I hear. What’s this about?”

“I wish I knew. I need you to take this note to London.” He folded and sealed the parchment.

“Now?” Gavin asked incredulously. “It’s raining! We’re supposed to be opening the castle. Hiring staff! What of me wedding plans?”

After handing him the letter to Jonathan Faraday, their solicitor, Hunter explained the situation. “You’re the best captain I know, and the only man I trust to do this.”

“Bloody hell! Fine time for Randall to concoct another scheme. We could wait. He might show his face.”

“No. You helped me! A kidnapper. You were the ship’s captain. I don’t know the punishment, but transportation comes to mind.”

Gavin drove a fist into the air. “I’ll strangle him myself if he ruins me wedding!”

Hunter shook his head. “I’ve already brought enough trouble into this house. If he reveals the reason he’s been in Australia, my esteemed peers might charge me with kidnapping. The Tories would embrace any chance to stop reform!”

Gavin let out a disgruntled sigh. “You think Parliament would take the case to trial?”

“I’ll not chance your life or my ruination.”

“What about the things he did to you? Were they not crimes?”

Hunter combed his fingers through his hair. “True. My word against his, and you’re my only witnesses. I doubt the law would heed an accomplice’s word. Even in a land full of criminals, Australia has a small fashionable society now.”

“Ye think he opened his bloody mouth and announced he’s the Baron of Wick? He’d risk his freedom to leave the estate!”

“Maybe he’s testing me to see if I would do as I threatened. Maybe he lied to explain his presence. He’s made me look like scum before. I must learn if he’s behind this debt.”

His friend scowled. “He’s always liked to play games, yer father. I’ll go, but watch yer back while I’m gone. This wouldn’t be the first time a desperate lass allied with the Sinner.”

Hunter lowered his face in his hands. “I’ve the worse feeling that he found a way to leave Australia. You’re the last person I want to hurt.” He pounded his desk. “Damnation! I should have found a better way to stop him. If asked, I’ll say I held a gun to your head, and demanded you sail my ship.”

“Nay! You’ll not lie to save me hide! Do ye hear me?” Gavin threw him a determined look. “In yer place, I would’ve done the same thing, and asked ye to help me.”

Despite his knotted stomach, the words warmed Hunter’s heart. “I would have agreed.”

Gavin moved forward and squeezed his shoulder. “As lads we pledged that we’re brothers, that we’d watch out for the other and share equal blame for everything. Don’t break our vow.”

“We were children!”

“Say it! No sacrifices!”

He swallowed the emotion that rose to his throat. “No sacrifices. Go now. May God be with you.”

After Gavin left, Hunter untied his cravat and leaned into his leather chair. For years, he’d rationalized his actions because he had prevented an offense against an innocent person. In doing so, he had committed a crime against a member of the peerage. He’d involved Gavin, a man with no title—although Hunter’s grandfather had raised him like his own—to help him. The thought reminded him of his mother and the loving way she had nurtured Gavin, too.

Hunter closed his eyes and tried to shake away the memories and dark thoughts. Short of another crime, he would do anything to keep his past buried. The questions remained. Had his father returned to London? If so, what did he want?

Yawning, Sabrina closed the door to her room and crept down the dimly lit hall toward the tower. Her head felt numb from worry and no sleep. She hoped the housekeeper was awake and would offer her a cup of tea.

In the turret, dawn’s light flowed through a small window and softened the stone staircase, one smoothed by time. The steps seemed to shimmer with history. Each step bore a slight indentation, proof to the numbers who had used them. With a light touch, she traced the curved wall and coolness kissed her fingertips. Even to her untrained eye, she knew the turret had breathed for centuries while the main section of the house boasted Georgian architecture.

For some odd reason, the heritage the turret represented mocked her situation. She missed the twins! Blinking away the tears, she continued down the stairs. Until the time was right, she must keep her and her sibling’s ancestry a secret.

If Kenilworth paid her when she left Keir Castle, the money would curb some worries. She hoped the messenger returned quickly. Lord, she needed the money.

As she reached the lower steps, she blinked at the surroundings. The staircase had spilled into the foyer and not the servant’s hall. She stared at the crystal chandelier that graced the domed entrance, the carved oak door and the sheet-covered furnishings. The appointments told her that riches filled the house, yet the contents didn’t matter. She was lost.

Due to her worries last evening, she had paid no attention to the route. She glanced behind her. Should she retrace her steps? Gooseflesh covered her arms. Suddenly she realized the earl might take offense to her wandering and she eyed the door. Maybe she could walk around the castle and find the rear.

“Going somewhere?”

With her heart pounding, she swung around. “I’m looking for the servant’s hall. Actually, I’m lost.”

Kenilworth leaned against the doorway of a room off the foyer. As he regarded her with a raised brow, he threw his frock coat over his shoulder and fingered his untied cravat. The motion drew her gaze to his throat, unshaven jaw and the exposed portion of his chest. Without his toilette, he looked... savage.

Suddenly a knock sounded and his lordship glanced at the door. “Early for callers. More of your friends?”

She produced a wry smile. “Perhaps just a traveler needing aid. If so, they’d do themselves a favor by looking elsewhere.”

“A man could shave with your tongue.” With long strides, he crossed the foyer and opened the door.

A servant dressed in indigo livery whipped off his hat. “Beggin’ yer pardon for the hour, milord. The Duke of Sadlerfield wants a word with the earl.”

Sabrina’s pulse raced. Her grandfather! He must have followed her! She had to leave. Grabbing her skirt, she climbed a few steps, but curiosity urged her to look to the door again.

“I’m Kenilworth.”

Stepping into view, the man dismissed the servant with a crisp nod. “Splendid. May I come in?”

Kenilworth gestured for him to enter. “Sadlerfield. I only know you by your politics. Did you come to sway my reform efforts?”

Sabrina climbed a few more steps, but a sudden need to see this man made her peek over her shoulder. Maybe he hadn’t come because of her. The thought didn’t calm her thundering heart. If she moved beyond the banister, the curved wall would hide her.

“That is a subject for later. Right now, I am looking for a young lady.”

No! Spinning around, she raced up the stairs. Despite his longer nose and leaner build, the man resembled her father, only with white hair and a determined set to his jaw. She had to alert Marga!

“A moment while I see to my guest. Miss Beaumont?”

Sabrina halted but didn’t turn. Only three more steps to the wall! “Milord?”

“Young lady! Come here,” Sadlerfield said.

Sweat trickled down her back. What could she do? Slowly she turned and managed an unaffected look. “Yes?”

“Sadlerfield, do you know Miss Beaumont?”

The duke let out a disgruntled breath. “Beaumont! One look and I know she is my granddaughter. Sabrina Barrington!”

Kenilworth’s dark eyes demanded answers. “Barrington, is it?”

Holding his gaze, she raised her chin. A powerful urge to deny her grandfather’s claim skipped across her conscience. Despite his discovery, a tiny part of her was glad she could emerge into the light and fight him. Maybe this was the reason she hadn’t run. However, this didn’t mean she would acknowledge him as her kin. “So what if it is?”

“One of you. Start explaining.” Kenilworth marched toward her. His steps resonated off the marble floor, bounced off the stucco ceiling. “Who’s it going to be?”

“In time, Kenilworth, but I will not discuss this matter for all to hear! Come down at once, young lady!”

For one second, Sabrina considered appealing to Kenilworth, but his cold gaze held no mercy. Where were the servants’ stairs? When she glanced over her shoulder, an iron grip captured her wrist. An indignant cry whispered through her lips. She tried to yank her arm from his hold, but Kenilworth’s large hand imprisoned her fingers. His breath, hinting of brandy, brushed against her cheek and filled her ear.

“This time, I want the truth!” Seizing her elbow, he escorted her into the room from which he had emerged earlier.

Her heart thundered. “Let go of me!”

“Sit!” He pointed to a leather chair and motioned Sadlerfield to take the seat beside her. Standing in front of her, he leaned against his desk.

“Undoubtedly, you have questions, Kenilworth. First, I must properly introduce myself to Sabrina. Look at me, young lady! I am your grandfather.”

Her line of vision ended at Kenilworth’s taut stomach and broad chest, one that vibrated with anger. She trembled and laced her hands. Shifting her gaze to her grandfather, she suddenly realized he had remained silent during Kenilworth’s tirade. Was that a look of satisfaction brightening his blue eyes? She pursed her lips. In that moment, she didn’t know which man frightened her more.

To hide her emotions, she summoned her most insolent manner. “Have I passed your examination, your grace?”

“Quite. You have your father’s eyes. I will not go into the reason you have avoided me these past years. Not seeking me out and avoiding the meeting I requested conveys your feelings. However, I did spend considerable funds searching for you.”

How much did he know? Despite the dread that threatened to steal her breath, she managed an unaffected facade. “A waste of money, I assure you, but I’m curious. How did you find me?”

He placed his ebony cane between his legs and rested his hands on the gold knob. “Bank clerks receive little recompense. That is irrelevant now.”

“Bribery! How dare you!”

His eyes gleamed. “My men informed me that you came to Scotland. One sailed with you. So, of course I had to follow.”

She fought for a steady voice. “How long have you had someone trailing me?” Guessing she would run, he had undoubtedly completed his plans before he approached her. Had he found the twins? What horrible fate did he plan for Marga?

A white eyebrow rose. “A very short while. I needed time to decide the best course for your future. Dashing off to Scotland changed my plans naturally.” He shifted his gaze to Kenilworth. “She stayed the night here. You realize her reputation will be in ruins if society learns.”

Kenilworth’s eyes turned hard. “I offered her and her aunt shelter from the storm. Don’t make anything more of my generosity.”

Refusing to consider the dark thought that blew through her mind, Sabrina willed her pulse to calm. “Your grace, I came here about a debt.”

“I know you are in financial straits. Your bank account and closure of that shop are proof.”

What else did he know? To hide her concern, she slapped her knee. “Did you hear that, Lord Kenilworth? Surely, you’ll believe the duke. The debt put me in my current position.”

“Odd. Despite an obvious estrangement, you embrace his words. His affirmation doesn’t mean I’ll pay you.”

“But now you have proof of my story and identity!”

The earl’s black eyebrows snapped together. “Do I? That was before I learned your real name. You lied.”

She bit her lip. “Barrington doesn’t suit a couturiere. Beaumont is French. You know the English relish Parisian fashion.”

“Trade!” the duke scoffed. “We will discuss that and your finances later. Your reputation concerns me more. Already you have sullied it by dabbling in commoner’s work.” Her grandfather turned to the earl. “I must speak to you alone.”

“If this conversation concerns me, I’m staying.”

“Kenilworth. Put her somewhere.”

“Wait in the secretary’s office.” The earl looked at her hard and pointed to a small room off the study.

When she remained in her chair, his arm shot out. Strong fingers captured her hand. She tried to dig in her heels as he pulled her across the room. “This isn’t fair!”

“Right now, I don’t care what you think.” He dragged her inside and retreated quickly.

“Lock her inside, Kenilworth.”

To her dismay, he did as the duke ordered. As she pounded on the door, she pressed her ear to the wood, but the thick oak muted their voices. She squeezed her eyes shut. Imprisoned like her mother! As old stories emerged, hot tears rolled down her cheeks.

When Sabrina’s father had refused to abide the duke’s demands, her grandfather stealthily created circumstances to make the English government believe her mother was a French spy. He even pretended shock when the authorities arrested her as a war criminal.

Worst of all, the powerful duke did nothing after Thomas’s barrister father saw her in jail, nearly dead from starvation. She hadn’t fit into the duke’s plans. He had used his power to keep the affair quiet. Thank heavens for Thomas. He and her father had managed to smuggle her mother out of jail.

The black recollection reminded Sabrina of her own situation. How long would Kenilworth keep her imprisoned? Fear and anger mutated to determination. She ran her sleeve over her damp cheeks and vowed to never show any weakness or let her grandfather rule her life. His cunning had ruined her parents’ lives, and she’d not forget his strength on this score or forgive his sins. He had indirectly killed her parents. Cursing, she kicked and pounded on the door.

What were they talking about?