His smile grew. “I have my spies.”
She nodded. Hadn’t she known all along? “Edlyn. How did you get her to spy for you?”
“It was easy. She hated Quenton Stamford—” he gave a burst of laughter “—for killing her beloved mistress, Antonia.”
“Why do you find that so amusing?”
“Because she was wasting her hatred on the wrong man. Quenton didn’t kill Antonia.” He laughed again, a wild, nervous sound that was chillingly unreal. “I did.”
Quenton pushed himself and his mount to the limit. He realized that now that Wyatt had nothing to lose, he had become even more dangerous. Desperate men were willing to take desperate measures.
At Blackthorne he leapt from the saddle and raced up the steps. An ominous silence greeted him. A quick check of the bedrooms revealed them to be empty. He hurried to a window to peer at the gardens. They were as empty as the rooms. Puzzled, he was about to turn away when a movement high on the cliffs caught his eye.
His heart stopped. Even from this distance he could make out Olivia and Liat. And his worst nightmare. Wyatt Lindsey.
A cold black rage seemed to settle over him as he sprinted down the stairs and out the door, heading toward the cliffs. He had no weapon. And no plan. Armed only with a desperate will to save the two people he loved, he ran headlong toward disaster.
“Oh, Lord Stamford. Thank heaven.” Minerva, her hands raw from struggling to push Bennett’s chair over rocky outcroppings, dropped to her knees. “Master Bennett has gone mad.”
Quenton barely paused. “Go back, Minerva. Take Bennett back to the house.”
“My lord, look at him.”
Quenton did look then, and was shocked. Blood spurted from a gash on his brother’s forehead to mingle with a bloody nose that had soaked the front of his shirt. “Was it Wyatt? Did that monster attack you?”
Bennett shook his head, gesturing wildly.
“My lord, he threw himself down the stairs to get my attention. And when I finally realized that he wanted to go to the cliffs, I couldn’t refuse, even though it seemed impossible.”
“Aye.” Quenton closed a hand over his brother’s shoulder. “I understand. And I’m grateful. Stay here, Bennett. I’ll save her. Or die trying.”
Olivia moved closer, holding out the document as bait. “Take this, Wyatt. It’s what you want. I have no use for it.”
“But you’ve figured it out, haven’t you? You have a surprisingly facile mind, little mouse.”
“I don’t understand all of it. But I assume, since you’re so desperate to control my estate, that I must not be penniless.”
“Far from it, cousin. When I was first employed at your solicitor’s firm, I made it my business to learn all about you.” He gave her a chilling smile. “When my firm was asked to convey the king’s stipend and the title of Lord to your father, I offered to be the messenger.”
“But why? You have no need of another title, Wyatt. And the stipend couldn’t have amounted to much more than a few hundred pounds.”
“And a lovely little house in Oxfordshire.” He nodded. “I had your dear parents sign it all over to me before they...met with their little fall.”
As the horror of what he had just revealed began to dawn on her, she shrank back from him. “You killed them? You killed my parents for the sake of a pittance?”
“Ah, but all those pittances add up to a fortune, cousin. Did you know that I’m one of the richest men in England? And soon, thanks to our rather poor and needy monarch, I’ll also be the most powerful.”
He glanced beyond her and began to laugh when he caught sight of Quenton racing toward them. Far back, inching along, were Minerva and Bennett. “Well, now, isn’t this cozy? It seems all the players have arrived”
“Players?” Quenton paused to catch his breath, staring first at Olivia, to assure himself that she was unharmed, and then at Liat, who was being held firmly by both wrists. “Do you consider this all a game, Wyatt?”
“Aye. All of life is a game. I learned that at my mother’s knee. And the man who amasses the biggest fortune gets to play, while all the others exist only to serve him.” He shot Quenton a look of triumph. “The boy served to get me what I want now.”
“What do you want, Wyatt?” He could see the madness in his eyes. Could hear it in his voice.
“Everything you have, Lord Stamford. Everything.”
With a jolt Quenton recalled the old seer in Jamaica who had said, “There is one who desires everything you hold dear.” He had laughed at the time. Now he understood with chilling clarity.
“I’ll start with this boy.” Wyatt’s words brought him out of his reverie.
As Wyatt dragged the boy closer to the edge of the cliffs, Quenton called, “Wait, Wyatt There’s something you should know.”
Wyatt paused. “And that is?”
“There’s no need to harm the boy. He isn’t mine.”
“Not your little bastard? Whose then?”
Quenton gritted his teeth, hating the truth. And hating himself for having to admit it. “He’s your son, Wyatt. When his mother lay dying, she begged me to keep him safe.”
For a moment Wyatt was too stunned to react. Then his surprise slowly turned to rage. “The Jamaican slut, Mai, meant nothing more to me than a moment’s pleasure. You cannot expect me to acknowledge her spawn as my own.”
Olivia was horrified. “Please, Wyatt. If what Quenton says is the truth, you would be killing your own flesh and blood.”
“That matters not to me.”
“Then think of this. If it is true, it makes Liat my cousin as well. If you won’t spare him because he is your son, spare him because he owns my heart. I would do anything for him.”
His eyes glittered with madness. “Anything?”
Olivia nodded.
He gave her a dangerous, feral smile. “Then walk here to me and take the boy’s place.”
“Don’t do it, Livvy.” Quenton’s words were torn from his throat. “You know what he’ll do to you. I love you too much. I couldn’t bear to go through this again.”
Wyatt gave a high, shrill laugh. “Oh, this is such a sweet dilemma. Will you watch as I throw the lad to his death, dear cousin? Or will you exchange your own life for his, and know that Quenton Stamford will never again know happiness?”
Olivia turned to Quenton. “Please understand. I love you more than life itself. But I can’t stand by and allow him to harm Liat.”
As she walked to him Wyatt threw back his head in a roar of triumph. “Now, Lord Stamford, I will have everything you ever valued. Olivia. Antonia.”
“Antonia?”
At Quenton’s arched brow he said, “You didn’t know? Oh, this is such fun. I was here that summer.”
“Here?”
“I thought you knew, Lord Stamford. I own Duncan Hall. Right here in Cornwall.”
“That cannot be. It is the Earl of Lismore’s estate.”
“Aye. I acquired it after his...untimely death. And then, while you were off sailing your boat and seeing to your tenant farmers, I was busy seducing your lovely, innocent young bride.”
Quenton remained as still as death. But the look in his eyes was frightening to behold.
“It took a great deal of time and patience. She was...reluctant. But when the deed was accomplished, she was so remorseful, I knew she would have to be... silenced, before she went running to you with the truth.” He was smiling now, as though it were nothing more than a business transaction. “Of course, young Bennett had to complicate matters. He saw us up here and tried to come to her rescue.” Wyatt shook his head. “I don’t know how he survived. But it would have been better if he’d died. Had he been my brother, I would have helped him out of his misery a long time ago.”
He released Liat while clamping a hand firmly around Olivia’s wrist. “And now I have it all. And no one will believe your tale. You see, I waved to the crowd along the king’s route this very day. Hundreds of people will attest to it. And my family will swear that I was with them, nearing London, when this little tragedy occurred.”
He was, Quenton knew, completely, utterly mad. He wished he could comfort Liat, but there was no time. Instead he set the boy safely behind him, then turned to Wyatt. “You forget one thing. I’ll know, Wyatt. And I won’t rest until you pay for this.”
“You.” Wyatt’s eyes darkened. His smile was wiped away, and in its place was a look of pure hatred. “I should have made certain you were dead back at the village before I came here. But I will not miss again. When I finish with your lady...” He held up a gleaming dueling pistol. “I will permit you to join her on the rocks below. Along with yonder servant and your poor crippled brother.”
“Then do it now.” Quenton started forward, determined to give his life rather than see Olivia die.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bennett pull himself from his chair, and for the space of a heartbeat he feared he would have to see his brother tumble to his death as well.
Then all his energy was focused on Olivia. He heard her cry out as he caught hold of her hand and tugged her free. Heard the terrible roar of the dueling pistol as a ball of lead hurtled through his shoulder and sent him spinning backward. Heard a shriek that sounded strangely like Bennett’s cries in the night. Then heard Wyatt’s gasp of surprise as he stiffened, then tumbled over the cliffs.
Protruding from his back was the hilt of Bennett’s knife.
Quenton and Olivia turned in time to see Bennett, still standing, his arm still upraised. Then, as the enormity of the miracle he had accomplished set in, he slowly sank to his knees, then slumped to the ground.
Quenton gathered Olivia and Liat into his arms. A sob escaped his lips as he muttered, “Thank heaven. Oh, thank heaven.”
And then, like his brother, he slowly sank to the ground. Olivia gave a cry of distress when she realized that the back of his shirt, his breeches, his boots, were soaked with his own blood.
Chapter Twenty-One
“M
istress Thornton.” Pembroke came upon the housekeeper crumpled in a chair in the library. “Here now. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She blew her nose loudly, then tucked the handkerchief in a pocket and turned her head.
“Are those tears?” He knelt in front of her.
“Not a bit of it. Just dust in me eye.” She blinked furiously.
“Go ahead. You deserve a good cry. Look what you’ve been through lately. Helping Miss St. John nurse Lord Stamford back to health.”
“Aye. When I thought for certain he would die from the knife wound in ‘is back and the pistol ball in ’is shoulder. But look at ’im now.”
Pembroke nodded. “And you’ve been lending a hand to our Minerva while she worked with Master Bennett, teaching him how to walk and talk again.”
The housekeeper nodded. “The lass is amazing. Such patience. Such love. And Master Bennett’s making such progress.”
“Aye. And now the king and his entourage have returned and you have the weddings to deal with. This is all too much for you.”
She shook her head. “Not really. Everyone’s been doing their share. Especially Edlyn. Ever since she found out the truth about that scoundrel Wyatt Lindsey, and realized ‘e’d lied to ’er all these years about Lord Stamford, she’s been a changed person.”
Pembroke smiled. “You could have knocked me over when she asked if she could be lady’s maid to Minerva after she marries Master Bennett.”
“Aye. And a more devoted maid I’ve never seen. All the staff are saying how generous it is of Lord Stamford to allow ‘er to stay on when ’e learned she’d been taking money from Lord Lindsey all these years to spy for ’im. Why, she even admitted to luring poor old Thor into the closet with a bone, though she didn’t know Lord Lindsey’s evil motives.”
The butler shook his head. “How was she to know what to believe? Lady Antonia had been distressed, and had admitted to her maid that she had something terrible to tell her husband. Something that would cause him great pain. I suppose it was natural for Edlyn to assume Lord Stamford had flown into a rage and killed his young bride.”
“Aye. Especially when that villainous, crook-pated skainsmate Lord Lindsey continued to feed upon her hatred all these years.” Mistress Thornton sighed. “I’m just so glad all the bad times are behind us, and Blackthorne can be a happy place again.”
Pembroke got to his feet and drew her up with him. “So why were you crying?”
She shrugged. “I guess I’m just a tottering, dismal-dreaming dewberry. Weddings always make me weep.”
The butler couldn’t help smiling at her descriptive words. “I love it when you get all fired up, Gwynnith.”
“You do? I can’t help it. The words just tumble out of me mouth.”
“Aye. They do that.” He cleared his throat. “Far be it from me to be the cause of any more tears. But I was thinking that I might...that you might...that we could...”
She clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, man. Stop the mammering, fawning, mumble-news. Out with it.”
At her words his grin was quick and amused. Then he sobered, swallowed and tried again. “Gwynnith, I’d be honored if you’d be my wife.”
For the space of a full minute she went completely still. Her face drained of all color until it was the shade of her new apron. This wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting him to say. Oh, not that she hadn’t had her dreams, like any woman. And all of them spun around this very special man. But they’d seemed like so many fairy tales. And now, here he was, saying the one thing she’d always hoped she’d hear.
“I’m sorry, Gwynnith. I’ve made you cry again.”
“Aye. Haven’t you just now.” Then she fell into his arms, blubbering like a fool.
“Well, old friend.” King Charles sat in the small room off one side of the chapel at Blackthorne, and watched as Quenton paced. “How strange life is. Who would have believed that Q would uncover so many deep, dark secrets? How does it feel to discover that you are one of the wealthiest men in England?”
Quenton shook his head. “It still hasn’t quite sunk in, Chills. I knew that my grandfather’s estates were vast. I just didn’t know how wide-ranging were his interests. Tea in India. Diamonds in Africa. He had even established trading with the colonies in New Amsterdam, and it seems to be flourishing.”
The king chuckled. “You’re very wise to wed your little governess before the rest of the eligible men in England learn about her wealth. When a woman is that beautiful, and has a handsome dowry as well, she would soon find herself swamped with suitors.”
Quenton paused, smiled. “I’m not about to let her get away. Not when I had to fight so hard to win her.”
Charles stretched his arms wide. “Ah, it’s good to be back in Cornwall. And I do so love weddings. But I wish you’d have let me bring along the archbishop from London.”
“Bennett and I both prefer the old priest from the village. Did you know he presided over our parents’ wedding?”
“Aye. So you’ve told me now three times.” He smiled as Quenton changed course and began to pace the other way. “Do I sense some nerves, old friend?”
“Nay. I just want this over. I think every village and shire in Cornwall has emptied out and their citizens are now filling those pews, waiting to see if I’ll stumble or forget my name.”
“It’ll do you good. Give you a taste of how I must live my life every day.” Charles filled two goblets with wine and handed one to Quenton. “Here. Drink. ’Twill do you good.”
The two friends drank in silence.
“Tell me about Bennett’s recovery. It seems quite remarkable.”
“Aye.” Quenton smiled. “He is determined to walk up the aisle with his bride. He may have to lean on her arm a bit, but I think he’ll make it.”
“And his speech?”
“Coming back slowly. But he’ll manage to speak his vows.”
“I’m happy for him. For both of you.”
“Not nearly so happy as I am, Chills. I have my brother back. And the woman I cherish. When I thought I was going to lose Olivia, I realized that she was my reason for living. Without her, nothing else in life would matter.”
“Then you’ve found something I’ve yet to find, Q. I’m not certain I ever will. I envy you, my friend.”
Both men looked up when the door opened and Olivia, holding Liat’s hand, entered. Over her arm was a small embroidered bit of cloth.
“Majesty.” She curtsied, then came forward as Charles held out his hands.
“My lady.” He held her a little away, to better see the gown of white gossamer shot with threads of gold. At her throat were shimmering jewels, the famed Stamford diamonds. “You are truly a vision.”
She dimpled. “Thank you, Majesty. And what think you of Liat?”
The lad wore a white jacket and breeches and hose, and was looking as nervous as Quenton.
“You look splendid, lad. Do you have the rings?”
“Aye, Majesty.”
“And do you know which one goes to Quenton’s bride, and which to Bennett’s?”
The boy patted his pockets. “The one in this pocket goes to my Aunt Minerva, and this goes to Mum.”
“Mum is it? Next I suppose you’ll be calling me Uncle Charles.”
“And why not?” Quenton said with a smile. “I was hoping you’d offer to stand for him at his christening. It’s time we welcomed our son into the faith of his king.”
“I’d be honored. But only if the two of you will agree to come to London, and allow the Archbishop of Canterbury to perform the ceremony.”
Olivia turned to Quenton. “Oh, my love, would you mind?”
He laughed. “Right now you could ask me anything and I’d give it. Would you like the moon, my love? ’Tis yours. The stars? Take them all. I’ll fly through the sky collecting them for you if you’d like.”
Charles threw back his head and roared. How grand it was to see his old friend so happy.
Hearing the music, he muttered, “I suppose I must make my appearance now.” He turned and drew Olivia close, kissing both her cheeks. Then he offered his hand to Quenton. But instead of shaking hands, the two men embraced.
“Be happy, my friend. Happy enough for both of us.”
“Aye.”
They clapped each other on the back, then stepped apart.
“Come, Liat” The king took the boy by the hand. “Let’s get you ready for your walk up the aisle.”
Olivia watched them go, then turned to Quenton. “I’ve brought you a bride’s gift.”
“You’ve given me quite enough already.”
She shook her head. “This is very special to me.” She held up the small embroidered coverlet.
“Your shawl?”
“Nay. My mother made this coverlet for my father when they were wed. It covered them every night of their wedded life.”
“Then I shall cherish it, my love.” He pressed his lips to the soft fabric, and then to her hands. “And I pray it will bring us as much love as it gave them.”
He set it on the table and turned to regard her. He was standing very still, staring at her with a strange look on his face.
“What is it, my lord? What is wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, Livvy. Everything is suddenly so right.”
She smiled. “The music has started, Quenton. Bennett and Minerva will be starting up the aisle. We must go.”
“In a moment. Come here.”
She walked to him and slipped her arms around his waist. “Are you having doubts, my lord?”
“Doubts? Oh Livvy.” He pressed his lips to her hair, breathing in the fragrance of lavender. “I have never been so sure of anything in my life. I just need a moment to hold you.”
They stood, feeling their two hearts beating in perfect rhythm.
“I’ve been thinking that we might take a little journey. Aboard the
Prodigal.
It would give Bennett and Minerva some time alone here at Blackthorne. Give the servants a rest as well. And it would give us an excuse to avoid the coming winter, and a chance for Liat to see his island once again.”
“Jamaica?” She drew a little away to look up at him. “You wish to sail to Jamaica?”
“You’d like it there, Livvy. The sun is warm, the air sweet and the people friendly.”
She chuckled against his throat “You have no need to persuade me, love. I’ll go anywhere you ask, for as long as you ask. Lest you forget, I am a simple country lass who has never been away from England. I am eager for any adventure, as long as it’s shared with you.”
“Oh, Livvy. How did I live before you?”
“Very badly, as I recall. You were the blackhearted villain of Cornwall. The despair of your housekeeper, the bane of your butler’s existence, and...” She caught the gleam in his eye and took hold of his hand. “Come, my rogue pirate. It’s time someone tamed you.”
As they stepped into the chapel and took their places behind Bennett and Minerva, she felt a sudden, unexpected rush of tears.
Quenton turned to her with a look of love so blinding, she felt her heart nearly explode with feeling. She placed her hand in his and felt the warmth, the strength, the tenderness. She gave a sigh of anticipation as she prepared herself for a life as his wife. This would surely be the greatest adventure of all.