Lord Sinister (Secrets & Scandals Book 3) (33 page)

Giles leaned down and tied the rope around her ankles.  The pale glow from the mouth of the cave gave her enough light to see.

“What are you doing?”

Pulling the knot tight, he tested the hold, then straightened.  “Just making sure you don’t go anywhere.”  He turned to leave.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I’ve got some unsettled business to deal with,” he said over his shoulder, then disappeared through the cave’s entrance.

****

Julian flew into the cabin, pistols ready.  Empty.  His disappointment so great, he wanted to throw his head back and howl.  A noise sounded behind him.  He spun around.

“It’s just me.”

“Father,” Julian lowered the pistols, “sorry.”

“Amelia isn’t here?”  His father stepped to his side, glancing around.

Julian shook his head.  “Apparently not.”

“Alex could have been mistaken.”

Just as Julian started to concur, something on the ground caught his eye.  He tucked the pistols away and retrieved the four-inch piece of twine.  “Look here, Father.”

“What is it?”

He handed it over.

“It’s rope.”  His father lifted his head.  “She must have been here.”

Julian pounded the stone wall with the side of his fist.  “And the son of a bitch has moved her.”

His father turned to the door where one of Porter’s men stood.  “Go retrieve the others.”

“Right away, Your Grace.”

“Now that we know this is the right cabin, it is a place to start, Julian.”

“Yes, you’re right.”  He faced his father.  “I just wanted t—look out!”  As a man stood a few yards behind his father, ready to throw a knife, Julian grabbed for a pistol.

Time slowed.  His father fell to the floor just as the blade whizzed through the air.  He took aim and squeezed the trigger, praying the thing hadn’t gotten too damp to fire.  The blade grazed the side of Julian’s arm just as the explosion sounded.  With wide eyes, the man crashed down to his knees, then fell forward into a large patch of ice.

“Father!” Julian raced forward.  His arm burned as though on fire, but he ignored it.  “Father, can you hear me?”

“Yes.” His father rose and wiped the dirt from his pants.  “I am unharmed.”  He eyed Julian’s torn sleeve and removed a handkerchief.  “Here, let me wrap your arm, it’s bleeding.”

Julian glanced toward the man lying beyond the door and crept forward.  The man had rolled over and covered the lower center of his chest with both hands.  Dark blood, almost black, seeped out from between his fingers.  Julian lifted his gaze to the man’s sneering face.  To the four scars running down the length of his left cheek.  To the hole where a tooth had been.  Recognition flared.  “I should have known.”

Giles chuckled.  “You’ve lost, Amersleigh.”  He coughed and blood trickled from his lips, running down his chin.  “Your wife is dead.  I killed her.”

“A lie!”  Julian reached down and grabbed the man’s coat.  He gave him a good shake.  “Now tell me the truth.”  He shook harder.  “Where is she?”

Bloody lips twisted into a grimace.  “She’s dead.”

CHAPTER 34

Amelia shivered on the hard ground.  Darkness approached.  And with the darkness, the temperature would drop even lower.  Each breath created a plume of white smoke.  She tried once again to bring her bound wrists up to her teeth, but since the rope had also been attached to the rope securing her legs, it wouldn’t reach.

“Curses,” she hissed, lowering her arms.  Then she tried to lean forward, to reach the knot at her ankles, but couldn’t reach that either.  Her swollen middle wouldn’t allow her hands to go any farther than her knees.  Frustration swelled within her.

She needed to get away now, before Giles returned.

Tears stung her eyes.  She took a deep breath and leaned her head back against the stone wall. 
Think, Amelia.  Think!
 

Her thoughts turned to Alex.  She prayed Giles hadn’t caught up to him.  She also prayed he would make it safely to Kenbrook.  A tear skidded down her cheek.  What if he got lost?  He was just a little boy.  He didn’t deserve to die.  “Please, God,” she whispered, “don’t let my son die.”

The bitter cold turned her bones to ice.  She trembled.  Her eyes grew heavy.  So heavy.  She could no longer think straight. 

****

Julian watched two of Porter’s men secure Giles’s dead body in a blanket.

“It’ll be fully dark in less than an hour, Julian.  We should make camp here and start at day break.”

Shoulders hunched in defeat at his father’s words, Julian gave a nod.  The rest of Porter’s men began to take care of the horses and prepare a fire for a sparse meal they would all share.  Another prepared to set out to Kenbrook to inform Megan of their plans.

The wind whistled through the trees.  Julian closed his eyes, wishing the bloody damn wind would tell him the location of his wife. She was still alive, dammit.  And he was going to find her.

A hand settled on his shoulder.  “You don’t believe what Giles said, do you?”

He turned to Nicholas.  “No.  Amelia is still alive.”  He could feel it.  He started to say more, but something lying on the frozen ground caught his attention.  “What’s this?”  He hurried to where a frilly scrap of material lay.  If he hadn’t looked right at it, he would have missed it.  The white lace blended with the patches of ice.

“What is it?” Nick asked.

“It’s a handkerchief.”  He brought it up to his nose and inhaled the sweet scent of vanilla.  Amelia.  He turned.  “Amelia must have gone this way.”  Excitement pumped through his veins.  Scanning the area carefully, he noticed footprints disturbing a patch of ice nearby.  “Here, Nick, look at this.”

His friend’s swift intake of breath confirmed that Julian hadn’t been seeing things.  “I’ll go summon the others.”

Julian continued along the path.  Evening shadows made it difficult to keep track of the footprints.  Then light flooded the area.

“Thought you could use some help,” Jack said, holding up a torch.

“Thank you.”  Julian took the torch and found Nick, Jeremy, and his father hurrying toward them.

“Are the footprints still visible?” Jeremy asked.

Julian turned back to the ground and held the flame up.  He could see the indentions in several places up ahead.  “Yes.  It leads deeper into the forest.”

“Thank God you found that handkerchief.  The path might have been hidden to us otherwise,” Nick said as they continued on.

Julian clutched the wood firmly in his hands, his eyes studying the prints.  Occasionally, he would see an area where Amelia had stumbled, and where she had been dragged for about a foot.  His gut twisted.  There were a few smears of red in the areas she fell.  Her hands must be bound, her wrists bleeding.  God, please let it be nothing more.  He moved faster.

Finally, the path ended at a pair of trees.  There was a cave just beyond.  He knew because he used to explore it as a child.  Julian held up the torch to the dark entrance, his stomach in his throat.  Amelia was in there.  He knew it.  On shaky legs, he moved into the mouth of the cave.  Golden light spilled in and over the small form huddled against the rear wall.  He sucked in a breath.

She didn’t stir, her face white as fresh cream.  His heart jolted painfully.  The others stood behind him.  No one spoke.

Throwing the torch against the wall to his right, he went to her.  “Amelia?”

She didn’t move.  The back of his throat burned as tears collected.  “Amelia, please.  Please wake up.”

Her eyelashes fluttered then parted.  She moved her head slightly.  “Julian?”

Oh, thank God.  “Yes, Pixie, it’s me.”  He removed his knife.  “Let me cut the rope.”  He gritted his teeth at the sight of her raw, bleeding wrists, then cut through the bindings.  Then he scooped his wife up into his arms.  “Are you in any pain, my love?”

She rested her head against his shoulder.  “No.”

He smiled because he knew that would be her answer whether she was in pain or not.

“Hello, Amy.”

Amelia lifted her head.  “Jack, it’s dangerous for you to be here.”

He shook his head.  “Finding you was more important.”

As Julian brought them out of the cave, Jeremy stepped forward.  “You all right, pet?”

“I’m sure I feel better than I look,” Amelia said tiredly.  “And not at all as beautiful as the picture you drew.”

Jeremy gave one of his smiles that made all the ladies sigh.  “Nonsense, my dear.  You are even more beautiful.”

Julian rolled his eyes.  “Go flirt with someone else’s wife, Jeremy.”

“But not mine,” Nick said, giving the old fellow a pointed look.

“Mine either,” his father grumbled, conveying to the entire group Jeremy’s shamelessness.

“Well, you are a fussy lot,” Jeremy said before leading the way back in the direction of Kenbrook.

****

Amelia sighed and opened her eyes.  How wonderful to be warm and comfortable again.  She focused on the canopy above her.  The burgundy material looked exactly like the material above Julian’s bed at Kenbrook.  Everything rushed back at once.  Her rescue, Julian’s arms around her, the slow ride back to the estate.

She turned.  The burgundy panel at her head had been tied back to the post, allowing her to see Julian sitting in the chair beside the bed looking right at her.  He smiled a tired smile.  “Hello, love.  How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”  She noticed his pasty countenance and the sweat on his forehead.  “But you don’t look well.”

He waved her concern away.  “Just tired.”

She started to say more when Alex rushed in the room.  “Mama.”

“Oh, Alex.  Are you all right?”  She reached for him, noting her stinging wrists had been bandaged.

He gave her a gentle hug, as if she would splinter to pieces.  “I’m fine.  How are you feeling?”

“Wonderful now.”  She slid her gaze from him to Julian and back.  Noticing the light in the window, she asked, “What is the time?”

Alex pulled a face.  “It’s almost eight o’clock in the morning.  You slept a really long time.”

“I guess I needed the rest.”  She frowned when she saw Julian raise his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.  His hand trembled.  Something was wrong with him.

Amelia pulled the covers back and prepared to leave the bed.

Alex’s eyes went round.  “What are you doing, Mama?”

Julian came off the chair, staggered, then fell to the floor.

Amelia sucked in a breath.  “Alex, go get the duke.”  She raised her head.  “And my bag.”

As Alex dashed away, Amelia ambled to Julian.  She felt the pulse at his wrists.  Slower than normal.  She frowned.  Then she rolled his head toward her.  His skin had a greenish tint and glistened with sweat.  She lifted his eyelids as the duke hastened into the room.

“What the hell?”

“Your Grace, please, lift him onto the bed.”

He did as she directed.  “What happened to him?”

She shook her head.  “I don’t know, he just fell down.”  She started to unknot his cravat.  “What has he eaten recently?”

The duke frowned.  “Nothing for a while.  Yesterday evening.”

She bit her lip.  “What was the last thing he drank?”

Comprehension slowly dawned.  “Wine, hours ago.  Port.”  The duke took a step closer.  “But we drank from the same decanter.”

Amelia sighed.  “Was he injured at all recently?”

The duke started to shake his head then stopped.  “Yes.”  He pointed to Julian’s right arm.  “Giles threw a knife.  It grazed Julian there.”

“Quickly, Your Grace, I need that knife.”

The duke had just disappeared through the door when Alex rushed in with her bag.  “What is wrong with Father?”

It warmed Amelia’s heart to hear Alex call Julian Father.  “I-I think he was poisoned.”  She opened the bag and rummaged through the contents until she found a large vial.

“Poisoned?”

She nodded.  “Help me remove his coat and shirt, Alex.”

They worked for several minutes until Julian lay naked from the waist up.  A piece of linen had been tied around his upper arm.  She unknotted the bandage and rocked back on her heels.  The slice, about three inches long, had already festered red and swollen.  And streaks of poison sneaked up his arm from the wound.

She cleansed the cut with the contents of the vial, then removed a thin, sharp surgical knife from her bag.  “Alex, go see what is keeping your grandfather.  I need to examine that knife for traces of the poison so I’ll know how to treat your father.”

With a wide-eyed nod, Alex scrambled from the room.

Amelia said a quick prayer, then lowered the knife to Julian’s arm.  She had to reopen the wound and drain as much of the poison as she could.  And that’s when a pain so fierce wracked her lower stomach, she almost fell over.

Panting, she clutched the knife, lest she drop it to the floor.  The pain lasted about ten seconds, then it receded.  It had her weak and shaken.  She lifted her eyes to her husband lying on the bed, his breaths turning shallow, and brought the knife back to his arm.  Her hand shook.  She swallowed.  Oh, please, not now.

When nothing happened, she continued.  After placing a stack of square white cloths below his arm, she sliced into the wound.  Blood rolled out.  She set the knife on the table and reached for the vial.  She poured the clear liquid over the laceration.

Pain struck, a bit stronger than before.  She breathed through it, suddenly flushed.  She frowned over at the roaring fire.

When the pain subsided, she squeezed Julian’s arm to get as much poison out as she could.  Where was the duke with that knife?  If she could identify what Giles had used, she could make an antidote.  Julian would be better in no time.

She retrieved the surgical knife just as a fierce cramp struck low in her belly.  She sucked in a sharp breath.  She splayed a hand over the bottom of her stomach and felt the muscles tense.  Oh, God.  She would have the baby soon.  When the muscles relaxed and the pain subsided, she slumped forward, taking in deep gulps of air.  She couldn’t go into labor yet.  Julian needed her.

Someone opened the door.  She straightened and turned.  The duke entered the room.  And with him, Inspector Hastings.

Seeing the knife in her hand, the blood on her white gown, the inspector rushed forward.  He jerked the knife away.  “See, Your Grace, we caught her in the act.”  Then he grabbed her arms, his grip bruising.

Amelia shook her head in vehement denial.  “No.  The knife was poisoned, I was—”

“Poisoned?”  Hastings bared his teeth.  “How despicable, Lady Amersleigh.”

She faced the duke.  “Your Grace, Mr. Giles’s knife was poisoned.  I had to reopen the wound because it has begun to fester.”  Her voice rose in urgency.  “I must continue with an antidote.  Julian could die.”

The inspector began to drag her from the room.  “You aren’t doing anything bu—”

“If I were you, Inspector Hastings, I would release my daughter-in-law this very second.”  The duke’s words held a deadly tone.  Chilling.

The inspector halted after two steps.  His brows shot up.  “Your Grace, with all due respect, we just saw her—”

“I said to remove your hands, sir.”  Joseph had murder in his eyes.  “Now.”

The inspector let her go.  The duke’s expression softened when he glanced at her.  “Are you all right, my dear?”

“Yes.”  She turned back to Julian and had to hold onto one of the bed posts when a labor pain struck.

“Amelia?”  The duke hurried to her.

She shook her head.  “I’m all right.”  She glanced at her father-in-law.  “Giles’s knife.  I must inspect it.”

“Right away.”  He sent the inspector a perturbed look.  “I was on my way to fetch it when I was detained.”  He began toward the man.  “Come, Inspector, while I do Lady Amersleigh’s bidding, allow me to explain what has happened.”  Giving the other man no time to respond, the duke grabbed his arm and urged him from the room.

****

No, her eyes were not deceiving her.  The man walking down the stairs with her father was, indeed, Inspector Hastings.