Mentally measuring the distance between himself and Arthur, Lucas slid a half step to his right. “Then let me rephrase it…
as a request.” He turned to Lady Battersham. “You are obviously intelligent, Lady Battersham. And clever enough to know that
you really have no option but to negotiate.” He heard Ciara move up beside him but didn’t look at her. Thankfully, she seemed
to sense that he wished for her to stay silent. “We are, after all, about to be related by marriage. So let us discuss this
reasonably.”
Lucas felt her flinch and knew the effort to remain calm must be causing her agony.
Steady, steady.
This time the warning was meant for himself. Peregrine looked so damnably vulnerable. And trusting. Though his face was pale,
the boy looked up at him with a brave smile. “I knew you wouldn’t let them take us, Hadley. I knew you would come to the rescue.”
To Peregrine, he wasn’t Mad, Bad Had-ley, the reckless rake, the wild wastrel. He was a far different man. A man worthy of
admiration. His throat tightened. No one had ever expected him to be a hero. Least of all himself. But the look in the lad’s
eyes said otherwise.
“Isabella—” continued Peregrine.
“Yes, I will find Isabella,” he said softly. “I promise you that I’ll have all of you home safely soon.”
Light glinted off the gun barrel. “Don’t be so sure of yourself, Hadley.”
“Stop waving that weapon around,” said Lucas. “It might go off accidentally and actually hit something.”
Arthur’s face turned even redder with rage. “You won’t be sounding so cocksure when I put a bullet through your bollocks,
Hadley.”
“Put the pistol away, Arthur,” ordered Lady Battersham. “As Lord Hadley says, there is no reason why we can’t settle this
once and for all.”
“What is it you want?” Ciara finally tore her gaze from her son and looked up at her sister-in-law. “Money? It can’t be the
land, for you must know it is all entailed.”
“It should belong to me,” growled Arthur. “I am more a true heir to Uncle Richard than his own brat.”
“True,” replied Ciara with a subtle sarcasm that sailed right over Arthur’s head. “However, life is often unfair, and we must
learn to live with disappointment.”
“Not necessarily,” replied Lady Battersham with a crafty squint. “Sometimes, nature takes its own course… illness intervenes
or accidents happen.”
Ciara drew in a sharp breath.
“And sometimes, a concerted effort of cleverness can even out the vagaries of chance.”
“I take it you are going to tell us what you have in mind,” said Lucas.
“It’s a simple exchange,” explained Lady Battersham. “Lady Ciara gets the boy in return for the scientific secret that she
has discovered.”
“Scientific secret? I—I don’t understand.” Ciara gave voice to his own bafflement. “What possible interest is my work to you?”
The laugh was harsh and hard. “The fact that it’s worth a fortune to the government. Even more, in fact, than your son’s inheritance.”
“You are gravely mistaken—” began Ciara.
“Don’t try to play me for a fool.” Lady Battersham waggled her walking stick. “We’ve heard the talk about how Whitehall is
willing to pay an astronomical price for the patent to a drug that will help protect our armies from battlefield wounds.”
Bloody hell
. Lucas felt a little sick to his stomach on recalling how he had bragged of her accomplishments to his friends at the club.
“I believe that the account you heard has been exaggerated,” he began to explain. “A misunderstanding—”
“And just how do you see this working?” cut in Ciara. It was her turn to be pragmatic. “I doubt that anyone would believe
it for an instant if you or your family claimed credit for making the discovery.”
“You are right. Which is why you will sign over the rights to the discovery to us as a gift, acknowledging that you wish to
honor your late husband’s wishes that his family be taken care of. My lawyers have worked out all the legalities. You have
only to sign the document, which will allow us to sell it to Whitehall.”
“And if I do?” asked Ciara. “You will leave me and my son alone?”
Lady Battersham smoothed at the hood of her cloak. “We would have no more reason to bear you ill will.”
That was hardly a reassuring answer, thought Lucas.
Ciara, however, betrayed no hesitation. “Have you this document with you?”
“It’s close. We can arrange to meet first thing in the morning.”
The dowager’s flash of teeth was not a very convincing smile. “Naturally, we’ll have to keep the boy until the exchange is
made.”
“Absolutely not.”
Arthur gave a snarl of laughter as he waved his weapon dangerously close to Peregrine’s head. “Don’t forget, dear Aunt, that
you are not the one calling the shots.”
“Keep quiet, Arthur,” ordered his mother. “I’ll handle this.”
“No, actually, I will,” announced Lucas. “Here is Lady Ciara’s counteroffer. She—that is, I—will pay you a onetime settlement
of ten thousand pounds. You are entitled to nothing, but I’m willing to be extremely generous in order to put an end to this
matter. As for the boy, his release is non-negotiable. He comes with us now.”
“Go to hell,” cursed Arthur. “You expect us to accept a pittance when a fortune is within our grasp?”
The dowager remained silent.
“The offer is final,” said Lucas. “And you have exactly thirty seconds to make up your mind.”
“And after that?” sneered Arthur. Despite the show of bluster, he was sweating profusely.
“After that, you miserable muckworm, I will break every bone in your body,” said Lucas calmly. He edged another half step
closer to the other man. One more move should bring him near enough to lunge for the weapon before Arthur could react.
“What guarantee do we have that we can trust you?” demanded Lady Battersham.
Lucas curled a lip. “You will just have to take my word of honor as a gentleman.”
The dowager appeared to be giving the ultimatum consideration.
But Arthur’s gestures were becoming increasingly erratic. “We have the upper hand, Mother. Don’t give in to his demands!”
“Be quiet,” snapped Lady Battersham. “I need to think—”
“I won’t!” cried Arthur. “I’m sick of always being ordered about, as if I am a child. We all agreed our plan is a good one,
and I mean to take charge and see that we carry it through.”
The pistol was now aimed at Lucas’s heart.
Ciara tried to set herself as a shield, but he caught her wrists and forced her back. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Even a bacon-brained
clodpole like your nephew ought to realize the consequences of pulling the trigger.” He didn’t take his eyes off Arthur. “And
if he doesn’t, perhaps his mother will explain. She, of all people, knows that murder is a hanging offense.”
“Arthur!” Lady Battersham’s voice was suddenly shrill. “Don’t be a fool.”
“Fool, am I?” The hammer cocked with an ominous click. “I’ll teach you all to show me some respect!”
Ducking low, Lucas spun away and pushed Ciara out of the line of fire. The move lost him a split second, but with any luck,
Arthur’s reflexes would prove as slow as his wits. He saw a herky-jerky flash of steel as the gun barrel tried to draw a bead
on his chest.
Damn.
He would have to take a shot at grabbing the pistol—
CRACK!
From out of nowhere, a round missile whizzed through the air and struck the wavering weapon, knocking it from Arthur’s hand.
It flew up and then fell with a leaden splash into the water.
“A corking good throw, Isa!” cheered Peregrine. “Now hit him between the eyes!”
Lucas looked around. Sure enough, Isabella was winding up with a second rock. “It was the snooker spin pitch, sir!” cried
the little girl. “I did it just like you showed me.”
“It was perfect, lass. But—”
Arthur staggered back, with Peregrine still in his grasp. He slipped on the mossy stones, causing the throw to miss by a hairsbreadth.
“Call her off, call her off!” he screamed.
“That’s enough, sweeting,” said Lucas, scooping up the little girl and giving her a fierce hug. “You wouldn’t want to risk
hitting Perry.”
Isabella responded with a sniff. “I was
not
aiming at Perry.”
“Little hellion! No doubt you’ve learned your evil headstrong ways from my sister-in-law.” Lady Battersham shook her stick
at them. “The two of you headstrong hellions are unnatural females, I say. Unnatural! I have never seen the like of it in
my life!”
“Nor have I.” Lucas allowed a ghost of a grin. “My ladies are both brave and bold as Boudicca, but now, if you please…” He
handed the girl to Ciara. “I would like a chance to don my armor and play the noble knight.”
Her eyes had an odd gleam, one that seemed to come from deeper than the unshed tears clinging to her lashes. “Perry,” she
whispered.
Lucas stilled her quivering lips with a touch of his fingertips before turning to Arthur.
“Come now, Battersham, toss down your hand. This is no different than a gaming hell. You played your cards well, but luck
was not on your side. It’s time to accept defeat and settle our accounts.” Much as he itched to charge in and pummel the man
to a pulp, he did not wish to drive the man to a desperate act. “I am still willing to pay you something. Just let the boy
go.”
Arthur looked around wildly. The sky had turned gray as gunpowder, and a rumble of thunder from the approaching squall echoed
the slap of the surf against the nearby cliffs.
“There is nowhere to run,” added Lucas quietly.
Perhaps sparked by the word “run,” Peregrine suddenly twisted and tried to bolt free.
Arthur managed to keep hold, and a blow from his meaty fist stunned the boy. “Throw down my cards? Not when I still hold an
ace.” He lifted a groggy Peregrine up into his arms and slid his fingers around the boy’s throat. “Back off, unless you wish
for it to be a spade.”
Lucas looked to Lady Battersham. “Talk some sense into your son,” he growled. “Listen to the seas. Your boat will have been
forced to weigh anchor, and with the rising tide, there is no other way out of the cove.”
“Arthur…”
But Battersham had already turned, Peregrine still in his arms, and bolted over the slippery path of stones that led across
the stream. Pausing on the opposite bank only long enough to hurl a last curse, he then squeezed through a sliver in the rocks
and disappeared.
Ciara’s anguished cry echoed Arthur’s shout of “Go to hell!”
“Courage, sweetheart,” said Lucas. “We’ve no real choice—you must stay with Isa and trust Perry to me.”
L
ogic and loyalty all said Lucas was right. But at the moment, her heart had a hard time listening to reason.
Ciara hugged Isabella, willing herself not to shatter into a thousand tiny shards. Right now, Alessandra’s daughter was her
responsibility, and she must stand in as the little girl’s mother. While Lucas played the part of Peregrine’s father.
“Perry isn’t in any danger.” The little girl’s mud-streaked face betrayed not a flicker of doubt. “Lord Hadley is a great
gun. He won’t let him come to any harm.”
“Yes, he is.”
“I hope he pounds that nasty man to a pulp,” continued Isabella. She clenched her small fingers into fists. “I shall ask him
to give me boxing lessons next, now that he taught me the basics of cricket.”
“Look at you.” Lady Battersham regarded Ciara with a basilisk stare. “You’re a disgrace to Polite Society, and I see that
you have poisoned yet another child.”
Ciara slowly looked down at her ripped skirts, her scraped hands, her tangled hair, her friend’s daughter, whose face was
now scrunched in a scowl. And then she lifted her chin. “The poison flows from people like you and your son, who are overflowing
with hate and greed and envy.” She set Isabella down. “I am proud of who I am and what I do. And if I can encourage my son
and my friend’s daughter to develop their own individual spirit and to value truth over material possessions, then I shall
be even prouder.”
Lady Battersham gave a snort of derision. “You’re a fool. You always have been.”
Isabella responded by calling the dowager a name that made Ciara blink.
“Lud, where did you learn that word?” she asked.
“From Perry,” admitted the little girl. “Who overheard Hadley use it when he was talking to Lord James”—she pointed a finger—“about
her
.”
“It’s not a term you ought to repeat,” said Ciara.
“I know.” Isabella did not appear at all contrite.
“I’ve heard quite enough. Out of my way.” Lady Battersham was a big woman, and her walking stick was a stout length of hawthorn
topped with a heavy brass knob. Swinging it in a menacing arc, she came at Ciara. “You may have worked your black magic to
escape justice today. But don’t think you have seen the last of us.”
Ciara stood firm. “You are not going anywhere. This time, you will pay for your perfidy.”
“And who is going to make me?” The dowager laughed. “You have no proof. It’s your word against ours. We’ll simply say that
we stopped to visit my nephew, and as children are wont to do, the boy made up a wild story. All this will be dismissed as
a mere misunderstanding.”
“It’s not just my word this time, Lady Battersham. Lord Hadley is a witness.”
“Hadley?” The stick waggled. “Ha! As if anyone will take him seriously! Society will simply think he’s up to one of his outrageous
stunts.”
“You might be in for a rude surprise,” replied Ciara.
For a moment, there was a flicker of uncertainty in the dowager’s expression. “Bah! You are bluffing.” The malevolence was
back in a flash. “Out of my way,” she repeated. “I mean to go extricate Arthur. You see, Hadley will have no choice but to
let him go. Your name can’t stand another smudge of scandal.”
“Only because you and your family have taken such pains to blacken it with your lies.”
Lady Battersham shrugged. “I warned you long ago that it was a grave mistake to try to match wits with me.” She started for
the stepping stones, but Ciara moved to block her path.