Ducal Encounters 03 - Portrait of a Duke (31 page)

“Quick, boys. Sit back where you were.” Nia loosely fastened their gags back in place, and wrapped the rope around their waists so they appeared to still be bound. “Wait for my word and do as I say. Do you understand?”

Eyes once again round with apprehension, both boys nodded. Nia just had time to arrange her skirts to cover her now untied feet and place her hands behind her, as though they were still bound together, when Kenton appeared in the doorway.

“Ah, there you all are. Just as I left you.”

Where else would we be?” Nia asked scornfully.

“Where indeed?” Kenton took a moment to consider their situation. “Right you are, lads. You two first, I think.”

Damnation, that was what Nia had been worried about. She had hoped he would conduct her to the carriage first, giving her the opportunity to launch an attack with her dagger and disable Kenton for long enough that they could all make a dash for safety. Kenton stepped towards the boys, presumably intending to pull them to their feet and drag them to the carriage. She could not allow him to do that. The moment he approached them he would see their rope was not properly tied. Precious seconds slipped by as she tried to decide how best to divert him.

“Dive!” she yelled at the boys.

“She has a dagger!” Annie shouted simultaneously.

In the pandemonium that ensued, Kenton moved with the speed and agility of a large cat. He lunged at Leo, sending both boys tumbling to the floor, where they remained without moving. At the same time he turned to face Nia, who had leapt to her feet and held the dagger out in front of her. She was right handed, and it was her right wrist that was cut and continued to bleed copiously. Her hand wavered and Kenton actually laughed as he reached forward to take the dagger from her.

“I always knew you were a wildcat beneath that prim exterior,” he said. “You really should have accepted my offer. Now come along, my dear, give that knife to me before someone gets hurt.”

Feeling nauseous and more light-headed by the moment, Kenton’s arrogant assumption that she would simply bow to his authority, strengthened Nia’s diminishing…well, strength. She thought of the boys, of what would happen to all of them if she failed to get the better of Kenton, and refused to meekly give in. She found further resolve in thoughts of Lord Vincent, the man she now accepted that she loved with single-minded, albeit one-sided, passion. She definitely wanted to experience more of those kisses of his for as long as he was prepared to administer them—another reason why it was absolutely necessary for her to remain alive.

With a disarmingly sweet smile of compliance that clearly confused Kenton, who was probably expecting anger and defiance, she pretended to hand the dagger to him. At the vital moment, she drew her hand away and then thrust it forward again, aiming the pointed end of the knife directly at his heart.

“Definitely a wild cat,” Kenton said, laughing aloud as he grabbed her cut wrist and squeezed it until spots appeared before her eyes and the dagger clattered to the floor.

It was too much. Nia had failed and she had nothing left to fight back with. His strong arm circled her waist as she crumpled to the floor beside the boys.

***

Vincent plunged along the narrow path, noticing freshly broken branches and trampled twigs underfoot in what used to be an orchard. The trees were in full bloom, littering the ground with fragrant pink blossom. Blossom that had recently been disturbed by several pairs of feet, if Vince was any judge. In his haste to rescue Nia and the twins he had not had the foresight to bring a weapon with him; a grave error. Resigned to improvisation, he picked up a stout branch and tested it against his open palm. It was strong and could knock a man senseless. It would serve, he fervently hoped, because he would be facing just one man and a maidservant.

He thought of Nia, of the twins, but tried not to lose his focus by being drawn into images of how afraid they must be. Why the devil had Nia not waited for him or her brother to arrive before charging off on an ill-conceived rescue mission? It was a rhetorical question that Vince already knew the answer to. Fears for the twins’ safety had caused her to act without thought for her own welfare. Brave, foolish child! If he lost her, if the forger harmed one hair on their collective heads, he would beat the man to death with his bare hands. He might well do that anyway in retaliation for the trouble he had caused for Nia and her grandfather.

He strode on, not bothering to move stealthily, but alert and ready for any danger that presented itself. He prayed he was not too late. The forger would be desperate to cover his tracks, and would not care about collateral damage. Nia had a good twenty minutes head start on him. If she had blundered into a dangerous situation the consequences could well be catastrophic. This villain was as cunning as he was desperate and Vince would not make the mistake of underestimating him.

Vince did have one or two advantages of his own. He knew the lie of the land. The small track he was approaching was a turning off the Winchester road just wide enough to accommodate a man on a horse, or a small carriage. Even if the forger had already taken Nia and the twins elsewhere, he did not have much of an advantage. With superior horses Vince and his brothers would soon overtake him. Besides, he could not have got away because Zach would have sent someone to block off the end of the track by now.

He reached the end of the path and glanced across the width of the track that bisected it. Of course, there was an old barn here, long disused. He ought to have remembered that. He and his brothers had often played in it as boys.

As he arrived he saw a small closed carriage pull up outside. The driver jumped down and entered the barn. He was alone. Presumably Annie was inside, keeping watch over Nia and the twins. Did the arrival of the carriage imply that the forger was about to leave with or without his captives? It was impossible to know, and there was no time to consider all the possibilities. If he planned to leave without Nia and the twins, there was every reason to suppose he would kill them first and make a clean getaway. Vince suspected there was little he would not do to protect his identity.

He stepped out from the trees, grim-faced and determined. Still clutching his club, he slipped silently into the barn a very short time after the forger left his carriage. His heart lurched when he observed the twins huddled together on the floor, looking dazed and frightened, but thankfully alive. Their eyes widened when they saw Vince, but he held a warning finger to his lips. They were gagged, but even so, it was important that they remained passively where they were. They were quick on the uptake and made no further attempt to attract Vince’s attention.

The forger was preoccupied with Nia and had not yet noticed his approach. The serving girl’s eyes widened and she seemed on the verge of shouting a warning. It seemed strange that she was tied up when she was the forger’s accomplice, but Vince didn’t have time to worry about the mind-set of a deranged criminal. He sent her a warning glower and she wisely closed her mouth without speaking, looking sullen and afraid.

Satisfied that Annie would probably change sides on a whim, depending upon who appeared to be in the ascendency, Vince turned his attention to Nia. She was also crumpled on the floor, blood pouring from a wounded wrist. Anger surged through Vince at the sight of the forger standing over her with a dagger raised. Nia was holding his gaze defiantly, refusing to cower or beg.

The forger must have sensed Vince’s movements in the periphery of his vision. He turned his head just fractionally, shock registering in his expression when he saw Vince.

“Try fighting a man instead of picking on women and children,” Vince invited in a tone tight with controlled anger.

The forger swung around, thrusting the knife towards Vince. Having anticipated such a move, Vince knocked it from his hand with a vicious swipe of his improvised club. He heard bone shatter, and the forger cried out in agony. Vince glanced at the twins, at Nia’s pale face and the blood-soaked handkerchief wrapped around her wrist. He wanted to kill the blaggard for what he had put them through, but even through the blinding mist of his anger, he knew better than to attack a man who could not defend himself.

But the forger didn’t seem willing to give up so easily. He made a desperate attempt to reach for the fallen knife with his left hand. Vince was delighted by his stupidity, since it gave him
carte blanche
to retaliate, now that his foe was attempting to arm himself. He brought his club down again for a second time, this time on the back of the man’s head, with considerable force, probably shattering his skull in the process. He fell to the ground with a sickening thud and didn’t move.

“Lord Vincent…”

“Is Aunt Nia all right?”

The twins pulled off their gags and ran to crouch beside Vince, not seeming to care about the forger lying prostrate on the floor, blood pouring from the back of his head.

“I didn’t mean to cut her wrist,” Leo said, tears pouring down his face. “Will she die?”

“She won’t die,” Vince assured them, helping Nia to sit. Her eyes blinked open and she looked at him as though she didn’t know him. “It’s over,” he said softly, somehow resisting the urge to reassure her with kisses. “You are safe.”

“The boys?”

“We’re here, Aunt Nia,” Leo said.

“Kenton is dead,” Art said with great satisfaction. “Lord Vincent killed him.”

Annie wailed. Everyone ignored her.

“Unfortunately I didn’t hit him hard enough,” Vince replied when Kenton, since that was obviously who the forger was, stirred and groaned.

Vince examined the slit on Nia’s wrist as the boys took it in turns to explain how she had come by it. The bleeding had slowed, but the cut was deep. He extracted his own handkerchief and tied it tightly around the wound, suspecting that it would need stitching.

“We shall all have to return to the house separately,” Vince said. “That carriage isn’t big enough to take everyone at once. Can you walk back, boys, and reassure your papa that you are safe and well.”

“Yes,” Leo replied. “We can do that. But what about Aunt Nia?”

“And Annie?”

“She deceived us.”

“She was working for
him
all the time.”

“I helped you,” Annie wailed.

“And then you warned Kenton that Aunt Nia had a dagger.”

“You almost got her killed.”

Annie wailed even louder. “I love him, and he loves me, deep down. We were to have such a fine life together.”

Vince shared a helpless glance with Nia. Between the boys’ chatter and Annie’s pathetic noise, it was impossible to think straight. Fortuitously, Sean Trafford and Amos burst through the door at that moment.

“Papa!”

The boys threw themselves at him and Trafford crouched down in order to embrace them both at once. “Thank the lord you are safe.”

“It was not our fault, Papa.”

“Kenton held our heads under the pond and we nearly died.”

“We would have fought him, but he was too strong.”

“Shush, I am thankful you are safe. You can tell me all about it later.” He turned to Vince. “How is Nia?”

“She has a wounded wrist. It will need stitching.”

Trafford persuaded his sons to walk back to Stoneleigh Manor with him. They appeared to be recovering from the ordeal with remarkable speed, vying with one another in a verbal contest to decide which of them would have overpowered Kenton, given the opportunity. Amos unceremoniously lifted Annie over his shoulder and threw her onto the floor of Kenton’s carriage, still bound hand and foot, still wailing that none of this was her fault.

“Take Miss Trafford home, Vince, and send Trafford back with the carriage for this bounder,” he said, glancing with total disregard for his obvious distress at Kenton. “I will stand guard over him until then. With great good fortune, he will try something foolish.”

Vince nodded as he swept Nia into his arms and carried her from the barn. Briefly alone with her, he covered her pale lips with his own, revelling in their sweetness and thanking God for her relatively safe deliverance.

“Don’t you ever frighten me like that again,” he said as he carried her to the carriage and gently deposited her on the seat before driving the conveyance the short distance back to Stoneleigh Manor.

A welcoming committee awaited them on the terrace. Sophia gasped when she saw the state of Nia, as did Hannah. When Nia herself assured them she was not mortally wounded and that Sean and the boys would be back at any moment, some of the tension drained from the atmosphere.

“What about her?” Hannah asked, pointing an accusatory finger as the sobbing Annie.

“Lock her in somewhere secure,” Vince replied, heading for the stairs with Nia in his arms. “We will deal with her later. Come with me, Miss Ash, if you please, and direct me to Miss Trafford’s chamber.”

***

A voice repeatedly called her name. Nia willed it to go away and leave her in peace. She was sleeping for the first time in what felt like days and had no wish to interrupt a vivid dream that centred upon Lord Vincent and his rather skilful fingers teasing at her body. The voice persisted, which was perhaps just as well. There was a very good reason why she should not be thinking about Lord Vincent. Unfortunately, she could not recall what it was. Her head throbbed and thinking exhausted her. So too, did the sound of the persistent voice. It would be easier, she supposed, to open her eyes and be done with it.

Sophia’s lovely face loomed above her when she forced her eyelids to lift.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Like I have been trampled by a horse.”

She lifted her right arm, and immediately lowered it again. Her wrist was heavily bandaged, which brought all the memories of Kenton’s demented behaviour flooding back.

“You have been seen by a doctor,” Sophia explained. “The duke was here and arranged everything, as only dukes can. Your wrist has been stitched but you will have a scar.”

“The boys?”

“Are full of their adventure. Their only concern was for Ruff. He bit Kenton, apparently, and Kenton responded by kicking the poor little chap quite viciously. Anyway, all is well since Ruff found his way home and has nothing wrong with him other than bruised ribs, according to Lord Amos, anyway.”