If He's Noble (Wherlocke Book 7) (Paranormal Historical Romance) (19 page)

“Lilybet is right. You are an idiot.”

“Been thinking it through for several days now. You will see it, too, given time.”

Bevan shook his head. “You are the one who has to see whatever needs to be seen. Go on then. I intend to stick with this right through until the end. There is still that murderess to be rid of.”

“Primrose is here, well guarded, and Augusta is close. I believe Simeon and you and any of the others are capable of catching her or just shooting the bitch as she tries to run away again. Take care. Our mother might be a bit grieved if you got hurt even though we all know I am her favorite.” He smiled as he left, his brother’s arguments to his last statement echoing behind him.

 

 

“Where did Bened go?” asked Simeon as they left Courtyard Manor.

“He is headed off to his lands,” replied Bevan.

“Says the battle is near done and we are capable of dealing with it.”

“Men are such idiots,” said Lilybet as she rode up between them. “Thought he might actually have the wit to see more clearly by now, that he was still lurking about after leaving the kitchens because he had regained his senses, but it appears I was wrong.”

“You knew he was going to leave now?” asked Simeon.

“I did.”

“You should have told us.”

“No, because then you may have acted in a way that would change everything and that would be very bad.”

“Why? What happens if someone does act in such a way?”

“I have no idea but something always tells me where one just has to let it roll on by to get to the destination it has to. If I am shown someone losing his life, it is usually because I am supposed to do something. Bened’s being a big dumb male is one of those things where all the feelings that come with seeing what he will do, tell me to stay right out of his way.”

Bevan cursed. “Do not like it but it is best that way. If the fool turns back of his own free will, it will be for the best. And will he? Turn back?”

“He will and will be doing so very soon.”

They had not even reached the door of Willow Hill when the servants arrived and told them of how Augusta had come and taken Primrose. Bevan stared at Lilybet. “Did you not see this coming?”

“Not precisely but I did see Bened coming back this way and facing that evil witch Augusta. Just not why he would be doing so. Also thought I saw Primrose trying to come out a door at the side of the house, the one leading from the garden to her little workshop, but it was too quick a look to be sure and I was being nudged to Courtyard Manor.”

“Gifts such as yours can be bloody frustrating.”

“Aye, I am well aware of that.”

“Was there anything you saw that told you she survives this?” asked Simeon.

“Oh, aye, there was. This was Bened’s story I saw, you know,” Lilybet said, and both men nodded. “It ended with him very happy.”

“And?” pressed Simeon when she said nothing else.

“Why does there need to be any more? It ended with him happy. He would not be if harm had come to Primrose, now would he.”

 

 

Bened rode along, making no effort to get anywhere fast. He knew he should have just ridden away at a faster pace but he was faltering. He did not want to go. He thought about Willow Hill and grimaced. He could not match that elegance, and doubted he would be able to match what Primrose had as a dowry. With each length the horse went, the less he cared.

He was making up Primrose’s mind for her. He had not even given her the courtesy of asking her what she wanted. The reason for that, he admitted, was pure cowardice. He suspected that was the cause of the looks the others had given him when he had said his hasty farewells. They were disappointed in him because he did not have the backbone to face Primrose, say what he wanted, and wait for her to decide on him.

Realizing he had come to a halt in the middle of the road, he sighed and shook his head. This was wrong. Primrose was a well-bred lady, an innocent who had allowed him to become her lover. He owed her more than slipping out of her life like a thief in the night. The more he thought of how she had been with him, the less he felt inclined to run away.

He frowned and slowly turned his horse around, staring off in the direction of Willow Hill. There was no arguing that she had better than he could offer her yet she had given him a lot. She had given him her innocence, her warmth and laughter, her trust, and even her acceptance of him and his family. There was a chance that she would give him even more, that she would have not one single objection to becoming his wife and bearing his children in a too-large stone block of a house in the wilds of Wales. All he had to do was gain the courage to take that chance.

Primrose woke to a pain that engulfed her head. It took her several minutes to wade through it to find the source and she started to reach up to touch the back of her head only to discover her wrists were tied to a chair. She took several deep breaths, letting them out slowly, to push back the fear that surged through her at the discovery.

Then memory of what had happened returned and she cursed. A brief struggle against her bonds was all she needed to know she would not be breaking free of them easily. Her only hope of escaping what Augusta had planned for her was that Simeon would return in time and come looking for her.

She looked around the room and frowned. It looked very like the schoolroom at the parish but that made no sense. Why would Augusta risk so much by imprisoning her so close to Willow Hill and in a building that was rarely empty?

Realization struck her like a blow to the stomach and Primrose gasped. She was here because Augusta planned to go through with the marriage plans she had made, the ones that would clear away all of Rufford’s debts, and the same ones Primrose had run away from. For a moment she saw a glimmer of hope because the pastor was a good man and would never agree to perform a forced marriage. Then good sense returned and she cursed. Augusta would issue threats to him or his family to make him comply and it would work. The pastor had never been known for his bravery.

The door opened and a very smug Augusta walked in. “Awake at last. Thought I might have to throw some water in your face. I was actually looking forward to that.”

“Augusta, you cannot possibly believe you can get away with this,” Primrose said, even though she suspected there would be no reasoning with the woman.

“Of course I can. The pastor loves his wife and child, you know. Deeply. It is quite touching.”

“Just as Geoffrey loves his but you will fail there as well.”

“Oh, has dear Simeon run to their rescue? Just as I knew he would?”

“He is no longer the sweet little boy you used to beat.”

“Who he has become does not matter when one man runs blindly toward three armed men.”

She did not know about the allies Simeon had with him, Primrose realized, and her fear for Simeon faded a little. He had Bened, Morris, Bevan, and several servants as well as Lilybet. Simeon was also too smart to run blindly into the house when he knew Augusta was behind Geoffrey’s troubles. They had seen how fond the woman was of having her hirelings ready to do her killing for her.

“You do know you are quite mad, do you not, Auntie dear?”

“Mad? I have almost succeeded and
will
succeed in getting all I want, all I have wanted for a very long time. How is that mad? That is intelligence, you silly girl. That is cunning and skill.”

“It is madness when one leaves behind her a trail of the dead. It is madness when you think you have some right to what was never yours or could be yours, not by birth or blood. That is just base thievery.”

“A trail of the dead? You exaggerate.”

“Oh, I do not think so. But you have failed to rid yourself of all witnesses and that will help to bring your murderous games to an end.”

“I have not failed. Not yet. There is still time. I will even find Jenson. If he proves elusive, I have a way to draw him back into my grasp.”

“And just what would that be?”

“His brother and his family plus the little bastard he bred on my maid.”

“Ah, yes, your favorite threat. Do as I need you to or I shall kill your family. Do not defy me or I will cut your baby’s throat.” Primrose thought about Jenson (a man who had been called Saint Jenson by the other servants and not always in a flattering way), the maid, and the baby. “You set your maid on him.” She had to wonder if the woman ever stopped plotting.

“I did. It worked very well for I always knew what Rufford was doing and was able to stop the fool most of the time. Ending his many idiotic plans all too often took time away from my own or this would have been finished years ago.”

“When I realized what a murderous bitch you were, I was surprised you had let him live.”

“He has to be named the baron first.”

“Ah, of course. How silly of me to forget. He is still useful to you. And, yet, you see no madness behind all of this.” Primrose shook her head.

“You will not stir me to attack you. I have worked for years to get even this close to what I seek. I will not allow you to push me into doing something foolish now.”

“And killing off an entire family is not
foolish.
What a mealy-mouthed word. It is evil, Augusta. It is depraved. You killed my mother and the child she carried. You killed my father who had only ever helped you and his idiot of a brother. You even killed my dog! Now you intend to kill me and my brother.”

“I do not intend to kill you. I am giving you a husband.”

“You
are
killing me. That depraved man, a man banned from society, which is overflowing with depraved and sinful people, because even they consider him too nasty to share a ballroom with, has the pox. From what I can see he is riddled with it and very close to madness and death. So, yes, Augusta, you are trying to kill me and make certain I never bear a child who might one day have the power to take back all you have stolen.”

“Do not be so ridiculous. Edgar does not have the pox.”

Primrose noted not only the familiarity her aunt used in speaking of Sir Edgar Benton but also that the woman had gone a little pale. “When did you bed down with him?”

“He does not have the pox!”

“If it was a long time ago, you might be safe. If he used a sheath, then you are safe. You would also be showing signs of the disease by now just as he does. Of course, this mad, bloody quest you are on could very well be a sign in itself.”

“You will cease talking about that. Edgar does not have the pox.”

Primrose shrugged. “I am the one who deals in potions and salves, if you recall. To do that well you need to understand about injuries and diseases. The man does have the pox. And, even if I am wrong, which I am not, it is still killing me for he will eventually beat me to death as he did his other wives.”

“That is just evil gossip.”

“I cannot believe someone like you managed to kill my mother and father and no one caught you.”

“Your mother’s death was an accident.”

“That is what Edgar said about both of his wives.”

Augusta ignored her. “Your mother goaded me and I lost my temper. The next thing I knew she was lying at the bottom of the stairs and everyone was yelling for your father.”

“My mother goaded you? The woman everyone who ever met her called sweet, shy, and quiet, goes from being a ‘gentle soul’ as people were fond of calling her to suddenly becoming a woman who goads you, or anyone, into a murderous temper? No, Augusta, your temper was already on the rise when you confronted her, afraid she might be breeding the all-important spare. More obstacles, more time to spend in slithering up the path to be called by a title you never earned.”

The slap came so quickly, Primrose had no time to avoid it in even the smallest way. Pain seared the entire side of her face and the back of her head slammed into the hard wooden back of the chair. For just a moment she thought she would lose consciousness. Her vision wavered and she closed her eyes to fight back a wave of nausea. She wanted to give in to the blackness trying to flow over her mind but fought it. She knew it would not be safe to be unconscious before Augusta.

“And what did you or Simeon do to earn it? What did your father ever do to earn it? Nothing! I am at least working toward my goal. The rest of you only had to come squalling out of the right womb, sired by the right man.”

“Yes, and I am certain that leaving that trail of blood behind you clearly shows everyone how very hard you are working.”

“I have not left a trail of blood! I have not killed anyone.”

“I find it a little hard to believe that you have not killed anyone. But you must know that just because you did not use your own hands, you are not innocent of the crime. But you did use your own hands a few times, did you not, Aunt? On my father, my mother, my bloody dog!”

“Enough of this. ’Tis time to prepare you for your marriage.”

“Untie me and I will strangle you.”

It did not surprise Primrose to watch her aunt take a hasty step back. The murderous tone to her words had even surprised Primrose. The fury she felt toward this woman who had destroyed her family astonished her even though she doubted anyone would question the righteousness of it.

There was nothing she could do to halt her aunt’s meager attempts to tidy her up. When the man untied her, she tried to wrest free but he was too strong. Then she tried to drag her feet as she was taken up to where the altar was. It was hard to believe that the kindly pastor she had known for years would officiate over such a marriage.

It took only one look at the pastor’s face to tell her that the man would officiate and that he was too terrified not to. Augusta had become very proficient in threatening even good men into doing as she ordered them to, to go against their own beliefs and rules. Seeing the pale, shaking Pastor Robbins standing near the altar broke her heart and not simply because he was about to marry her to a man who made her skin crawl.

She looked at Sir Edgar, as the man named Carl dragged her over to stand next to her groom. His wrinkled face was well decorated in patches that had gone out of fashion a long time ago. “They do not fool anyone, you know,” she said.

“What are you speaking about?” Sir Edgar asked. The look he gave Primrose told her he did not like women much at all even if he did keep marrying them.

“Those silly patches. They do not fool anyone. All know you but try to hide the sores caused by the pox that is eating you alive.”

His age-spotted hands clenched into fists and she was sure he was going to strike her but Augusta stepped closer. Primrose knew it was not to save her niece from a blow but to keep Sir Edgar from giving the pastor any reason to speak out later. How the woman could ever have bedded the nasty little man, Primrose did not know but she doubted whatever reward Augusta got for the act was really worth it.

“Now, Edgar, my dear, soothe your temper. She is a very disobedient child who speaks as if she has some right to tell everyone what is on her mind. Her father’s fault, of course.”

Sir Edgar took a deep breath and let the air out slowly. It was a very foul air. Even Augusta winced. Primrose heard the man holding her in place curse softly and had to agree with the obscene sentiment. Sir Edgar was a walking dead man. His breath was so foul, she knew he had to be rotting away inside.

Clearing his throat, the parson sent Primrose a look that screamed for forgiveness and, with one curt nod, she gave it. Sir Edgar reached out for her hand as the pastor cleared his throat and opened his prayer book. Primrose actually leaned farther against her captor. The fact that the man did not just smack her and shove her back in position told her that he found the man pretty disgusting as well.

Just as Primrose was wondering how she could get out of this mess, the door to the chapel was thrown open and in strode Bened followed by the others who swiftly spread through the church. Primrose grinned, and that’s when Edgar hit her hard on the side of the head with his closed fist. As she fell to the floor she was certain she heard a gunshot.

 

 

Willow Hill was in chaos when Bened rode up and he felt a growing alarm tighten its bands around his heart. He dismounted quickly and tossed his reins to a nearby stable hand. The fact that none of the horses had yet been led off to the stables troubled Bened as did the wide open doors of the manor. He raced into the house and followed the sound of a lot of loud voices all trying to talk at once. He found them all gathered around the open door to Primrose’s garden room where she grew and worked with her many plants and herbs.

After only a moment of listening to shouted questions that gained no coherent replies only to have the questions shouted at someone else, he yelled, “Hush! All of you cease this loud babble at once!”

The silence was immediate and everyone turned to stare at him. He studied them all and then fixed his attention on Mrs. Jakes and Jenson who appeared to have had some confrontation recently. “What has happened? Were you attacked?”

“We were, sir,” said Jenson. “Augusta came here shortly after you left to help save Geoffrey. We tried to stop them but I was shoved along while Mrs. Jakes was grabbed by Mrs. Augusta and had a pistol shoved in her back. She and one of her men dragged us in there and she confronted Lady Primrose.”

“Her ladyship was very brave but no match for the man and he was a scurvy sort of fellow. She almost got free and ran for the other door. It leads into the garden, sir, and she was so close to escape but the man caught her and pulled her back inside,” said Mrs. Jakes.

“And they took her?”

“They did soon after that.”

“Did they say where they were taking her?”

“To the church.” Mrs. Jakes wrung her plump, work-worn hands. “That horrible little man has come after her and that woman means to give her to him.”

“The pastor would perform a marriage she so clearly does not want?”

“I suspect he would, Bened,” said Simeon, “if Augusta played her usual game. The man has a pretty little wife and a few children. Young ones. One born only a few months ago. And, if I might ask, what made you come back?”

“Because I intend to ask your sister to marry me. So, I suppose we better hurry and get her back so that she is not forced to marry anyone else.”

“Since I am now the baron, should you not be asking me my permission to ask for her hand?”

“I just did,” said Bened as he started back to the front of the house.

“No, you told me.” Simeon ignored Lilybet who was yanking on his coat sleeve. “Not the same thing at all.”