Escape with A Rogue (36 page)

He’d changed his mind. If he loved her, he had to take her with him, not leave her here.

“I think I have to take you away. You deserve more than a life where you are unhappy. Where you feel you have to run things so that you are useful, needed, and in control—so that your family does not cast you out.”

She gasped and jerked her head up. He knew how she felt—it was how he had grown up.

“You deserve freedom and adventure. You used to talk to me about seeing the world. I want to show it to you, Madeline. We would be running, it’s true, but we would be together and you would be free.”

She shook her head. “I can’t—”

He silenced her with a kiss. He was determined to kiss her forever.

The door swung open. Lord Philip Ashby stood in the doorway of Jack’s bedroom, his face suffused with rage.

* * *

Jack smacked his hand to his forehead. Even though he was in an isolated part of the house, the crash must have alerted a servant, who had gone to Ashby rather than investigate. The door slammed back against the wall as Lord Philip stalked into the room. “What in the blue blazes are you doing with this—this man, Maddy?”

Her brother thought Jack was a groom—he assumed a servant had been taking liberties with his sister.

Horror widened Maddy’s eyes. Disapproval from her family was her greatest fear.

Lord Philip’s gaze raked over her slender form in her gauze summer nightdress. “You came to him wearing that? Were you mad?” The tall lord whirled on Jack, glaring at him with pure fury. “You damned knave. I’ll have your hide for attacking my sister.”

“He did not attack me.” Madeline had regained her composure. To Jack’s astonishment, her voice was cool and modulated, like a placid lake trying to run over Ashby’s violent waterfall. She hurried to her brother and touched his arm.

Lord Philip growled at her, “What in God’s name did he do to you? I’ll kill him over this, I swear it.”

She blanched. “You mustn’t. I—”

“My lady, his lordship is correct.” Jack interrupted before she revealed too much. He faced her, his eyes full of unspoken caution. “My lady, I had no business pressing a kiss on you.”

She gasped in shock and that was
his
warning. Jack’s left arm shot up and he took Ashby’s blow against his forearm.

She launched forward and tried to clamp her hand on Lord Philip’s arm, but her brother took a sharp step back.

“I kissed him, Philip,” she said fiercely, “because he saved my life.”

Ashby snapped, “He took advantage of your foolish gesture, Madeline. He had no right to touch you. He is nothing. A nobody. You should have known better than to come to his bedroom alone.” Ashby spun on his heel and stared at the bed, then at Madeline. “Good Christ, he did more than kiss you, didn’t he?”

She went scarlet and put her hands to her cheeks. She looked on the brink of tears.

Jack stepped forward to protect Madeline, looking at her. Something slammed into his jaw, knocking him sideways. He’d been caught unaware by Ashby’s punch. Jack stumbled and almost fell to the floor. Hands fisted, Ashby loomed over him. “Damnation, Madeline, he’s ruined you. Ever since Jack Travers—”

Ashby stopped cold. Gray eyes bulged in shock.

“Christ, this is Jack Travers. I see it now.”

There was no point in denying it, especially as Madeline chose that moment to push her brother aside and embrace Jack as he regained his footing. Gold glinted in her eyes. Jack knew the look—a storm of outrage was about to break. Embarrassment and fear were gone, replaced by something that took his breath away. She was going to stand by him.

“Yes,” he said to Lord Philip. “I’m Travers. Alive and well. Not hanged wrongfully for murder, after all.”

Philip’s fist lifted but Madeline hissed, “Stop. You can’t hit him here. I won’t stand for it.”

Her brother’s face reddened. “What madness are you playing at, Madeline? This man is a criminal. An animal.”

“He is not,” she gasped, but Ashby’s words hit Jack to his soul. Of course, Lord Philip would think this of him. Hell, the man was correct. Jack had wanted to believe he could escape the past. Here was proof he could not. He couldn’t deny what Ashby had said.

A sharp pain shot through his heart. He remembered the feeling. He’d felt it on the night he lost his mother. Only this pain was a hell of a lot worse.

“Do not lecture me, Philip,” she said firmly. “This is not madness. I am protecting an innocent man.”

Ashby grabbed her hand and jerked her roughly to him, forcing her to release Jack. She tumbled forward with a squeak of surprise but caught her balance. “He is a
criminal
, Maddy, you daft girl. Grandfather told me exactly who he was. A gaming hell owner, likely a whoremonger and a thief.” Ashby shook her arm.

That was enough. Jack grasped Ashby’s wrist and crushed it until his lordship cried out in pain and let go. “Someone shot at her today. I expect you to treat her with delicacy.”

Ashby swung at him and caught the edge of Jack’s jaw as he darted away. He slammed his fist into his lordship’s gut. But watching the man crumple to the floor gave Jack no satisfaction. He stepped forward, placing his boots closer to Madeline’s groaning brother. “I came back to protect Lady Madeline. The real murderer has been free for two years and is a danger to her. I’m here to look after you, too. She wants to discover the truth to protect you. She’s risked so much to help you, you idiot, including her life. Do you understand that, Lord Philip?”

Nothing. Only a sullen glower.

“Do you understand?”

Ashby nodded.

“I expect you to show your appreciation for all Lady Madeline has done for you. I expect you to shower her with respect and devotion. You will treat her like a queen.”

Ashby looked at him as though he was mad, but nodded. Then he said sullenly, “I know she used to spend her afternoons visiting you in the stables. What did you do—play on her admiration and seduce her?”

“He did not,” Madeline protested. “And my admiration of him is completely justified.”

Ashby struggled to his feet. “I am going to turn Travers in.”

She paled. “You can’t.”

Protectiveness launched through Jack. That would put Lady M. in danger. He fisted his hands, then forced himself to stop. He was willing to pound Lord Philip into oblivion to protect Madeline, but he knew she would never forgive him if he killed her brother. “That would put her in trouble,” he growled, “if the Crown believes she has harbored me.”

“Please, Philip, you mustn’t.”

“She would go to jail, wouldn’t she?” Ashby asked, as though puzzling it out in his head.

Hades, was the man considering letting that happen to her? Did he think that, if Madeline went to jail, he would get the money she had inherited?

Then Ashby shook his head. “I don’t want Madeline in trouble. To protect her, I won’t hand you over to the Crown, Travers.”

Jack let out a quick breath. It appeared Lord Philip did care for his sister, after all.

“But your masquerade is over,” Lord Philip snapped. “Get the hell out of this house or I
will
turn you in.”

“Jack is only here to protect me,” Madeline protested. “Our family owes him for what we did to him.”

Jack opened his mouth. He couldn’t go, leaving her in danger. Hell, someone had just shot at her.

But Ashby turned on her. “The house is Father’s and it is his right to bar anyone he pleases. Do you think he would let Jack Travers live under his roof? Keeping him here puts us all in danger, Madeline. He has to go.”

“I won’t allow him to go. Bar the house to Jack and I will leave. I will take all the money with me. That is what you care about, isn’t it?”

“No,” Ashby snapped. “I care about you.”

“Where were you and the other gentlemen this afternoon?” Jack asked.

The sudden change of topic seemed to catch Ashby off guard. He stared at Jack in confusion for a moment.

Then he turned pale. “You think—? It’s impossible. None of them could have fired the shot at Madeline. The four of us rode out early and went to the Earl of Pemberton’s estate to look at a couple of mares he has for sale. We left at ten this morning and only returned after the doctor had come to look at you. Pemberton’s is an hour’s ride away, and none of the men were out of my sight for more than half an hour—” He broke off and turned to Madeline. “You do not need Travers to protect you. I will watch out for you. Travers cannot stay in the house.”

“Then I will—”

“No,” Jack said quickly. He could not ask her to estrange herself from her family for him. “You won’t abandon your home for me, Madeline. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.” He could still watch her, and he had something he wanted to investigate off the estate. “Does that satisfy you?” he asked Ashby.

“It does.”

“There is one condition. You have to promise you will not let Madeline out of your sight.”

“A promise to you—?” Lord Philip began, offended, then stopped. “All right. It is agreed.”

“But Jack, you are wounded.”

“It’s for the best, Madeline.” He saw Ashby’s brows rise at his familiar use of her name. “I can still look out for you. This way, if I get caught, you won’t be in any danger.”

He knew now that his fantasy of giving her freedom and showing her the world was nothing more than that—a fantasy. She was far better off without him.

Chapter Twenty-one

“Yes, there was a diary. I had it burnt.” Catherine set down her book—surprisingly, it was a treatise on the mechanics of steam-driven vehicles—on the long table in the library of Lindale Park.

Madeline felt her heart sink to her toes, and her soul felt as grim and dark as the rain-laden sky. “Heavens,” she cried. “Why would you destroy it?”

Her hopes had been dashed by something entirely unexpected. She’d hoped the diary would reveal the secrets Sarah had learned about the other gentlemen in the house. It was possible one of them had had an accomplice fire the shot that had frightened her horse.

Keeping his word, Jack had left this morning. Philip had also kept his word—he had not told Oberon’s men about Jack. She feared Jack had not gone far—that he was staying close to protect her—which meant he was in danger of being caught.

Perched on the edge of her seat, her heart racing, she knew she must find the truth quickly.

But Catherine was not willing to speak quickly. She paused, twitched her lips, and gave a sharp sigh of frustration.

“Catherine, I must know,” Madeline implored.

“Well, if you must . . . I destroyed it because of what it contained. It was filled with all sorts of sordid gossip Sarah had ferreted out about people.” Catherine looked haggard. “Sarah’s behavior was
appalling
. The diary recorded the sneaky, underhanded things she had done to acquire information about people. She searched the gentlemen’s bedrooms in your house, my dear. She listened at doors. That sort of thing would only wound Lindale. After Sarah’s death, he wished to remember her as an angel. In truth, she was a wretched, nosy child. Why cause him more pain, I thought?”

“But to burn her very words?” She remembered bundling up everything Grace Highchurch had owned. She’d sent it all to Grace’s family, certain they would want it for its connection to Grace. “It would have been all he had left.”

“Sometimes, words that are dripping with spite are best destroyed.”

Suddenly, Madeline understood. Sarah must have written catty and cruel things about Catherine. “Did Sarah write about her love affair?”

“How did
you
know of the affair?” Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “Did you learn about Sarah’s unforgivably scandalous behavior from your sister?”

She shook her head. There was no need to involve Amelia. “Through other gossip. And I think I understand Sarah’s behavior. Lord Lindale was so sad over the dead of his infant son he did not show love to Sarah.” Lindale had never stopped mourning the loss of his heir. “I think Sarah desperately wanted to be noticed and cared for.” Madeline swallowed over a hard lump in her throat. Sarah had been very much like her. “In the diary, whom did Sarah say she was having an affair with?”

“Mr. Peregrine Rhodes.” Catherine rested her hands on the table.

“I believe we were wrong,” Madeline said. “I believe Sarah was the murderer’s first victim, and Grace was killed because she caught him.”

“I don’t understand. Wasn’t
Sarah
killed later because she stumbled upon the murderer? He strangled her so she could not expose him.”

“That was always just an assumption,” Madeline pointed out.

Anger glinted in Catherine’s large teal eyes. “If what you say is true, and Sarah was killed first, Rhodes must have done it. He was a wicked sort of man. But he is also dead. There is no way to prove his guilt, but I am sure he is now paying for his crime. You must stop digging into this.”

“I need to know for certain. There are ways, even though he is dead, of finding the truth about Mr. Rhodes. And I have evidence he was not the murderer.”

Catherine stared. “What do you mean? What evidence?”

“I cannot say, but it means it would have been impossible for Rhodes to have murdered Sarah. It must have been someone else. I thought the diary might give me some clues. You read it—could you tell me what she knew about the other men?”

“If it is important . . .” Her friend gave an elegant sigh. “Sarah discovered Lord Mayberry had purchased fake antiquities—ones he had donated to a museum, even though he knew they were not real. He is known for his interest in antiques. He would not want that exposed. Deverell is an atrocious rake—he propositioned Sarah. He also hoped to marry you, Madeline, anticipating your grandfather would settle an enormous dowry on you. Apparently, Sarah threatened Deverell. She said she would tell you about his attempt to seduce her so that you would refuse him—unless he paid her several thousand pounds.”

“Blackmail?”

“Funds to begin her life with the charming Rhodes,” Catherine said with sarcasm. “As for Braxton—when he was on a hunt in Africa, he accidentally shot a man in his party. The gentleman lived, but it was a near thing. Sarah found out the wounded man had married a woman Braxton had been in love with. Braxton is in love with Amelia, so Sarah blackmailed him. If he paid her, she wouldn’t tell Amelia he had tried to commit murder.”