Unbuttoning Miss Hardwick (22 page)

Chapter Twenty

C
hloe climbed and climbed, leaving the noise and chaos of the party behind as she made her way to the top of the house. The upper floors were deserted, the servants’ rooms empty of their occupants. Quiet, too, save for a lone thumping noise coming from the end of the corridor. She followed the sound, letting it lead her to a large suite of nursery rooms.

Rob was there, alternately trying to pry the lock off a fair-sized trunk and hitting it with a fire iron. She paused inside the doorway, as with a cry of triumph, he sprang it open.

His elation died away as he caught sight of her. ‘Did
he
send you?’ Rob demanded.

Good. The boy had latched hard on to his anger. It would mask the hurt and allow him to get through these first, difficult hours. An intelligent strategy. She rather thought she would adopt it herself.

‘No.’ She walked in and perched on a bed in the corner. ‘I left, just like you.’

‘Well, that’s what I’m doing. I’m leaving—for good.’ He had begun to rummage through the trunk, removing some items, leaving others. ‘I’m not waiting for him, or going where he wishes me to. And I’m not taking nothing he gave me, either.’

‘I understand.’ She sighed. ‘I think perhaps he doesn’t intend to cause such hurt, but the end result is just the same.’

It struck her how painfully similar their situations were. She imagined Rob teetering on the same edge as she had as a girl, hoping someone would save her, realising with sinking despair that she had to find a way to protect herself. His last defiant statement illustrated the biggest difference between them, however. Braedon had given her nothing to discard.

Watching the boy, feeling the tug he exerted on her heartstrings, a far more difficult truth was driven home. Braedon wanted neither of them. He did not want, or could not accept, the emotional entanglement—the
intimacy
—that would come along with accepting either of them into his life.

‘I’m leaving, too,’ she announced suddenly.

‘Why are you going?’ he asked with suspicion. ‘Does he think you hurt someone, too?’

Chloe shrugged. ‘Not exactly, but close enough. I think he believes that I am going to hurt him.’

He grunted and continued his sorting. Chloe watched for a moment, thinking hard. The boy was wounded and justifiably wary. But surely, surely there was something she could do to help him. ‘Where are you going when you leave?’ she asked idly.

‘I don’t know. I’ll find a place. On my own.’

She nodded understanding. ‘As will I.’ She stood suddenly and went to the window. ‘I think I shall go to the seashore. I told Lord Marland, not so long ago, that I’ve always wanted to live there.’ She fell silent again and waited.

‘I saw it once,’ he ventured after a moment. ‘My ma took me.’

‘Didn’t you love it?’ She shot a quick grin over her shoulder before facing the dark window again. ‘I’m going to go down to the beach every single day. I’m going to walk for miles with the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. I’m going to throw rocks at the water and frolic in the waves and collect shells.’ She was going to sit and feel the spray and allow the ocean to make her feel small—because at the same time, being part of the majesty convinced her that she was never truly alone.

She glanced over at the pup curled on the bed. The idea in her head was taking firm root in her heart. ‘Too bad you can’t come with me. Fitz would love to chase the waves and the seabirds. He’d have a high time.’

Rob blinked. ‘Yes. Too bad.’

‘Unless…’ she glanced at him as if startled by the idea ‘…I suppose you could come along. I wouldn’t mind the company and it seems a shame to deny Fitz the experience.’

He frowned as he sat down heavily next to the dog.

‘Oh, I understand,’ she assured him. ‘Never mind. You have plans of your own.’

‘Well, not really. That is, I don’t have anything important to see to. I suppose we could go along with you—for Fitz’s sake.’ He ducked his head. ‘If you don’t mind, that is.’

‘Mind? I’m finding it a brilliant idea.’ She left the window and crouched before him. ‘Why should we both set out alone? Lord Marland doesn’t seem to need us. And I can tell just on our short acquaintance how fine a boy you are.’ She smiled. ‘Yes, you can come with me if you wish. I’ve plenty of money set aside and you and Fitz and I will have a grand time.’

Faint hope lit his gaze. ‘We’ll leave together, then? Tonight?’ he asked, with a quick return of anxiety.

Chloe sucked in a breath. She didn’t want to leave tonight—because a part of her was still tempted to stay and fight, to convince Braedon that the love and laughter and richness of an open heart could outweigh the pain. But the vision of his empty eyes stopped her. It wasn’t her that he’d been chasing so hard, but the Spear—and the seclusion that it symbolised.

‘Tonight.’ She sighed. ‘Get your things together and we’ll go along to my room. I’ll write a note to the countess, pack and we’ll go.’

‘Not yet, you won’t,’ a masculine voice interrupted. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to add one more item to that list before you leave.’

‘Sir Thomas!’ The unease he’d inspired in her earlier blossomed into fear that reached out with icy tendrils. She knew enough, however, not to show any sign of it. She pulled Rob to his feet and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘How kind of you to come and check on us. But you needn’t have bothered, we were just on our way out.’

‘Yes, so I heard.’ He leaned against the doorjamb. ‘You won’t be going anywhere, however, before you turn over Skanda’s Spear.’

She stared blankly.

The master swordsman took a threatening step into the room. ‘Don’t toy with me, Miss Hardwick. I was watching today—watching you and Conover. A very slick manoeuvre, I must admit. I nearly missed it. But I know you have the Spear.’

Reaching for her, he yanked her away from Rob. ‘I’ve already been through your room. Either you’ve hidden it well, or you’ve turned it over already.’ He reached behind his back, beneath his coat, and withdrew a flattened belt with a scabbard attached. He drew the blade, a short sword that glittered in the dim light. ‘For both of your sakes, I hope it is the former.’

‘Here, now!’ Rob stepped forwards. ‘You shouldn’t be threatening a lady!’

Chloe gasped as Sir Thomas brandished the blade in the boy’s direction. ‘Keep back and keep out of this,’ he ordered.

‘Rob,’ she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. ‘Don’t worry. It’s in my room,’ she said to Sir Thomas. ‘Leave him here and I’ll take you to it.’

‘He comes.’ He beckoned the boy with the blade.

‘No! I’ll give it to you without a fuss—but you leave him here.’ She let him see her determination and the very real threat of the mayhem she would create if he did not bend on this.

Glaring at her, he nodded.

‘Rob.’ Bending over the boy, she caught his eye and widened her own. Significantly. ‘You know the marquess hates for you to hide away, unseen.’ She raised her brows and hoped he understood that she was trying to send him a message. ‘Think of this like a game. You stay hidden here. He won’t come looking for you—he’s too busy with his guests. Then I’ll be back in a moment and we’ll be off.’

‘To the seashore?’

‘Right away.’

‘Fine, then.’ He sat on the bed and pulled the pup into his arms. ‘But hurry.’

‘I will.’ She met the mad, mercenary gleam in Sir Thomas’s eye and hoped she spoke the truth.

Chapter Twenty-One

B
raedon could not shake his unease—or his urge to find Chloe and apologise for—something. Everything, perhaps.

He stayed, though, acting the host as the dancing began and answering questions with non-committal answers.

When Mairi returned, red-rimmed eyes the only sign of their difficulties, he welcomed her back by pulling her into his arms. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I should have told you. I didn’t want you upset.’

‘The upset was inevitable.’ She gave him a tremulous smile. ‘It was the timing that was atrocious. But I’m better now and Ashton has forgiven me.’

‘You’ve done nothing for which you need forgiveness.’ Braedon took her hand. ‘And you don’t need to worry further. The boy leaves in the morning for one of my estates.’

Her brow wrinkled. ‘I’m sure I didn’t mean—’

‘Mairi.’ He kissed her hand. ‘Not now, please. I have to…’ His voice trailed off. What was it that could be done, really?

His sister smiled. ‘Go to her.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘They are gone now, Braedon. Connor and Father are dead. They can’t hurt us any more, can they? We both need to remember that—and stop living in dread.’

He couldn’t stop—couldn’t change, at least. Mairi had a chance, but he knew that he was long past such a thing. Still, he couldn’t let things with Chloe end without at least an explanation. A goodbye. He left the ballroom in a hurry, his heart starting to beat fast in anticipation.

His pulse doubled again, for an entirely different reason, when he encountered Rob racing down the stairs at top speed, terror in his eyes and a fire poker in his hand.

‘Whoa there.’ He caught the boy with both hands. ‘What are you doing, Rob? Where are you going with that?’

Gesturing back up the stairs, the lad gasped for breath. ‘He’s got her. Your lady. I think she was telling me to get you. She needs help! Go!’

Braedon clutched his shoulder. ‘Who has her?’ But he knew. That look. A denial lurked on his lips even as a chill swept over his soul.

‘Your friend.’ The boy still breathed heavily. ‘The one you fight with.’

Something dark shifted inside him. Could it be happening again? Betrayal. By a friend of so many years. Someone he’d sweated, laughed and bled with.

He straightened. ‘Where are they?’

‘He was taking her to her room. To get something.’ Rob shook his head. ‘I don’t think he means to let her go.’

‘Stay here.’ Braedon moved to climb the stairs, but Rob grabbed his coat. ‘Here.’ He offered up the poker. ‘He’s got a knife.’ He shook his head. ‘No, it’s a sword, like you fight with, only shorter.’

Braedon grasped his hand for a moment. ‘Keep it. Stay here— Wait, no. Lord Ashton, the earl. The man the party is for tonight—you know him?’

‘Aye, I think so.’

‘Find him, Rob.’

‘But where?’

‘Somewhere in the crowd. He should be with the brown-haired lady. Tell him what you’ve seen. Tell no one else! We don’t want to start a riot and I don’t want anyone else interfering. Tell Ashton to be careful.’ He put his hand on the banister. ‘And thank you, Rob.’

* * *

Rob watched the marquess move stealthily up the stairs. He climbed a few himself to peer upwards. His lordship stopped on the correct landing, but moved off to the right, instead of left to the lady’s room. To get a blade of his own, likely.

Just below, a footman hurried past as Rob paused, indecisive. His head wavered back and forth between the emptiness above and the crowd at the back of the house. There were hundreds of people in the house and he figured the odds were high that Ashton wouldn’t believe anything he said—if he could find him. He’d seen the look on the wife’s face and knew from where it had come. It would take too much time. He could help on his own. Resolute, he squared his shoulders, gripped his fire iron and, pressing close to the railing, began to slink up the stairs.

* * *

‘You are a wily one, aren’t you?’ Thom’s voice was just audible. ‘Twice I threw that bolster across the room and I never suspected… You split the seam and just tucked it in? Oh, my dear, I fear I have underestimated you in every way.’

Braedon eased up to Chloe’s door and pressed against the wall. There was a hard edge to Thom’s voice that he had never heard before. Suggestive and sarcastic both, the way he expressed his admiration caused Braedon to grip his blade even tighter.

‘My God, but she’s a beauty,’ Thom breathed. ‘Those jewels on the handgrip! Those alone could keep me debt-free for a decade. Ah, the gold point and the jewels there, too. It’s hard to know whether it would be better broken up or intact.’ He gave a nasty laugh. ‘Laxton is a fool twice over if he thinks I’ll be turning this over to him.’ He huffed. ‘For the trouble I’ve been through and the pittance he’s paid me over the last months?’

Soundlessly, Braedon grasped the wall for support. The Spear! It had to be Skanda’s Spear. God, had it been Thom who had frightened Chloe and stolen her notebook? Thom who had mimicked concern as he asked after Braedon’s success in the hunt? He thought further back. Yes, Thom who had shown up unannounced at Denning, just after the first whispered rumours of the Spear.

And Chloe? Chloe had the weapon? How? For how long? He clenched his teeth against the pain in his chest. This anguish felt like too much to bear.

‘What I want to know is—just how deeply did you have old Braedon fooled?’ Thom demanded. ‘Whom are you working for on the side?’

Braedon lifted his head. Yes. He wanted to know, too.

‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’ Chloe sounded indignant—and a little frightened.

‘Well, you didn’t turn it over to him, did you? I confess, I had to brace myself to come tonight—I fully expected to find him crowing over his success.’ There was a pause. ‘I doubt you accomplished this alone. So who is it?’

‘I have only Braedon’s best interest at heart,’ she said angrily. ‘You are judging me by the short rod of your own behaviour.’

‘So you were going to give it to him?’

Braedon held his breath.

Chloe held her silence.

Thom laughed. ‘Yes—just as I thought. I’ll wager you and Pisano were in cahoots.’

She didn’t answer.

‘Or perhaps you haven’t even made up your mind. But it doesn’t matter in any case, does it?’ Thom sneered. ‘The thing is mine now. Come on,’ he said roughly. ‘You are coming with me. The house is full and you will prove useful, in case Connor’s little by-blow proves to be not as smart as I suspect he is.’

Braedon crouched into position, his blade at the ready.

‘Wait,’ Thom said. ‘The bolster was a good idea.’

His ears straining to listen, Braedon’s eyes focused on the blade before him. It wasn’t his best, merely a practice sword. He started, realising it was the very one he’d been restoring the day both Mairi and Thom arrived at Denning. The day Hardwick had spoken of the sea. He wondered if that was the day she had first began to drift away from him.

‘Let’s go.’

Suddenly she was there before him, thrust first into the hall by his former friend. Braedon pressed a finger to his lips, but she could not suppress the start she gave at the sight of him so close. Her eyes widened and that was all the warning that Thom needed. He pushed her hard and she stumbled up against the opposite wall. Leading with his sword, he entered the corridor.

‘That boy disappoints me,’ Thom said with a shake of his head. ‘Almost as much as your assistant, there.’ He nodded toward Chloe, but Braedon was not naive enough to look. Sighing, Thom tossed a long, round bed pillow to the floor. It was split down the seam and amidst the stuffing he caught a glimpse of gold. ‘None of the people around you is ruthless enough.’

‘Except for you, it would seem.’ Still crouching, Braedon took a step toward the centre of the corridor, blocking the passage.

‘Not half as ruthless as the money lenders after my head, old man.’

He feinted, but Braedon didn’t flinch.

‘Oh? So that’s the reason you’ve descended to terrorising women and children? Why you’ve betrayed one of your oldest friends?’

‘Well, I am fond of my head. Attached to it, you know.’ He gave a sharp, bitter laugh. ‘And friends like you are expensive to keep.’

He slashed to the right, trying to shift Braedon out of position, but he’d trained with him for far too long to fall for such a manoeuvre.

‘It’s my fault, then?’ Braedon laced his words with sarcasm. ‘Convenient for you.’

‘No, it’s damned inconvenient, actually.’ Thom straightened and let his blade fall a bit. ‘You were a friend, but in the end, you were no different from the Royal Dukes or the rest of the blue bloods. Oh, you might invite a chap to stay for a week or two in your vast house, with servants and fine food and abundant drink, but you never consider what I’m going home to afterwards. You were one of the few who actually bothered to pay your shot for my services, but it was never enough to let more than tiny rooms in a dirty neighbourhood. Never enough to dress well or drink richly or play deep.’

His attack came fast and on his last syllable. Braedon was ready. Their blades crossed and the battle was on.

Eerie silence settled over the passageway. There was no talk now, only harsh breathing and the sound of steel scraping steel as they clashed again and again. An odd echo drifted from below—the high clink of glass and silver sounding sharp over the swell of music and laughter. The servants, setting up the midnight buffet.

It reminded Braedon that he had more to focus on than just Thom. Chloe? Where was she now? He risked a glimpse past his opponent and found her crouching against the far wall of the passage. Deliberately he retreated, just a bit. He didn’t want her hurt, but neither did he want Thom gaining access to the stairs and escape.

Thom took heart, though, from his apparent advantage. He spun, suddenly, and drew first blood, slashing a thin line in the narrow spot where Braedon’s waistcoat rode high.
Damn.
Braedon let loose a hiss of pain and swiftly doubled his own attack.

The fight stretched on. They were too closely matched, too well versed with each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Braedon knew that Thom was prone to resort to dirty tricks when he began to tire. He took it as a good sign when his former partner lashed out at him with a booted foot.

He avoided it easily. ‘Growing tired, old man?’ he taunted. He knew a few dirty tricks, too. The vast majority of Thom’s experience came from private matches, from training and sparring with the gentlemen of the
ton
. Braedon had fought on battlefields, amongst the slick blood and fallen bodies of comrades and enemies alike. He’d brawled for his life with men armed with rage and fear and fervour as well as weapons of steel. He lunged now, lightning quick, striking hard and fast in a move designed to confuse Thom and leave him teetering off balance.

It worked. Thom hung suspended for a long moment, leaning back over one foot. Braedon relented, waiting.

It was a mistake. With an effort nearly beyond human ability, Thom somehow righted himself and surged forwards. Braedon was too slow to get his sword back up to defend. In a fiery blaze of pain, his left arm was laid open.

He stepped back. Too far. They’d reached the stair landing. He couldn’t let Thom slip past. He had to end this quickly now. His coat grew damp from the rush of blood.

He swung, a vicious arc aimed for Thom’s retreating arm, but the older man spun away and lashed out with his foot again, this time connecting with the wound at Braedon’s waist.

He doubled over, nearly windless with the pain.

‘You’re not ruthless enough either,’ Thom said through gritted teeth. ‘It seems a damned shameful reason to die, but I know you. You’ll come for me and that damned Spear and you won’t stop. I have to have it, Braedon, or I’m as good as dead anyway.’

Braedon lifted his head. He saw the grim determination on his former friend’s face. He saw him poised at the edge of the stairs, saw his arm lift high for a killing strike.

And then he saw a small form unfold from the railing several stairs down. Another, smaller arm raised high, poised to strike a blow with a fire iron.

Somehow Braedon launched to his feet, his sword arm held low. At the same moment that the fire iron hit Thom behind the knees, he thrust up, driving the point of his sword deep in the spot between shoulder and arm. He winced at the jolt and grind of steel meeting bone.

Eyes bulging in shock, Thom contorted impossibly. He hung, oddly twisted and suspended on his toes for a long moment, before he overbalanced and went tumbling down the stairs.

Braedon sank back to one knee. Clutching his arm, he stared at Rob. ‘You scared the hell out of me,’ he said.

Chloe approached. Her eyes fixed on the still form below, she reached out and pulled the boy close. Watching her, Braedon saw the moment she recoiled and glanced down to see Thom climbing slowly to his feet. He glared upwards with a snarl of pure hatred.

Braedon pushed the pair of them back, but the fight had gone out of Thom. Limping, his sword arm hanging useless, he started down the stairs.

‘Follow after him, at a distance,’ Braedon ordered. His head had begun to spin. He couldn’t help it; he sank down to sit on the floor. ‘He’s lost and he knows it. He’s hurt. Let him go, as long as he doesn’t try to touch or talk to anyone.’

Chloe searched his face and then rose to do as he bid. Braedon waited until she had gone, and then he looked at Rob. ‘Watch over her,’ he said. And
then he slid down and back into black oblivion.