Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 09] - Logic Of The Heart (42 page)

Valentine managed to sit up and propped his shoulders against
one of the boxes. "You've more than Excisemen after you, Lyddford. I
once thought you a fool to endanger your sister with your smuggling. I
little dreamed you were no better than a common thief!"

Monteil sighed and seated himself with fastidious care on a
large crate.

Lyddford let out a roar of wrath. "Common
thief
?
Damn your eyes and limbs, I'm a Free Trader! One of the Gentlemen! If
you were able to stand up, I'd knock you down!"

"And if you are so dense as to suppose that these crates now
hold smuggled brandy, or bricks, you're either—a fool, or a liar."

Flushing darkly, Lyddford sprang forward and wrenched off the
lid of the box Montclair leaned against. "See for yourself," he
snarled, taking out an object and pulling off the wrapping. "You can…
see—" His words died. He stood there unmoving, staring with stunned
eyes at the exquisite jewelled chalice he held.

Susan whispered, "Oh… God… !"

Monteil clapped his hands. "How very entertaining is this
little drama. Exercise your so great gift of the guess,
mon
cher
Valentine. Without turning your clever head, tell me
what he found."

"Part of England's stolen treasures, which you had the
confounded gall to store both here, and in our cellars at the Manor."
Ignoring Susan's shocked little cry, he went on contemptuously, "And
you're the brains behind the Masterpiece Gang, I'll go bail."

Monteil bowed. "Very true. But, alas, I think there can be
no—er, bail."

"What in the… devil… have you got us into?" gasped Lyddford,
turning to face the Swiss as one dazed.

Valentine looked at him narrowly. He was very white, his face
wearing a drawn look that could not be a pose.

"Why?" whispered Susan, staring at Monteil in stunned horror.
"You are a rich man. Why would you do such dreadful things? Several
people have been killed in those robberies."

He shrugged his bony shoulders. "They should not have
interfered. You see, dear lady, I am a vindictive man. Two years ago a
very fine gentleman and I concocted a little scheme to—ah, relieve
England of the encumbrance of her heir apparent and institute a
democratic government. But—"

"Claude Sanguinet!" interposed Valentine. "A murdering ruffian
without one iota of conscience or decency! Some of my friends took a
hand in that game, and rid the world of the crudity you term a 'very
fine gentleman'!"

Ti Chiu lumbered forward. "Ti humbly glad to break man with
rude mouth, master," he rumbled, his small eyes glitteringly fixed on
Valentine.

Susan gave a gasp and shrank against her brother.

Monteil said gently, "He can do it very easily,
mon
ami
, as you should be aware."

Valentine struggled to his feet. His head had cleared and
although he was aware of some new bruises, he had come off very lightly
compared to what might have resulted from such a fall. He regarded Ti
Chiu's might steadily. The man was a condensed Colossus, but not eight
feet tall as the distortion of the shadow had made him appear. He said,
"So you are the brave man who strikes down his victims from behind."

The little eyes seemed to disappear. The Oriental took a step
forward, his great hands curving into claws. "You fight Ti Chiu? Face
to face?" he offered, grinning.

"Now that
would
be amusing," said
Monteil.

At once the groom crouched. Monteil lifted his cane. "But not
just yet," he murmured, and with a disappointed grunt Ti Chiu
straightened. "The rest of you men, get the work finished," went on
Monteil. "We must be away before dawn."

Four of the newcomers went over to join the other two men in
carefully packing the collection of dusty art treasures into the boxes
and crates. Ti Chiu stayed close to Monteil.

Valentine, who had prepared himself for what he knew must be a
losing battle, relaxed, and said steadily, "So having lost the first
round you still mean to take over the throne, do you? I think you will
catch cold at that, Monteil."

"It is not my intent," said the Swiss. "I mean to make your
country pay me back with interest for the money I lost in our venture
two years ago. Also, in stealing her art treasures, I wound her pride.
It is,
parbleu
, a small revenge. But it is a
beginning."

Staring at him, Lyddford asked, "Why the bricks?"

Monteil smiled. "What is your answer to that, my dear
Valentine?"

"I think," said Valentine, "that your benefactor had been
storing his booty at Highperch for some time, Lyddford. Like you, he
found it an ideal location: isolated from prying eyes, yet with a front
door to the river. He had fully expected to buy the place. Probably, my
uncle told him he could do so. But at that time my uncle was unaware
that Highperch belongs to me. When you suddenly moved in, I fancy
Monteil was furious. However, he learned you had a boat, and when he
also learned you were short of funds, he hired you to bring many heavy
boxes here, telling you they contained his personal belongings. He
intended to discard the bricks at some convenient time when you were
away, and fill the boxes with the art-works he had stored down here.
When the time came to ship his stolen property, everyone would think he
had simply taken his own things." He paused, frowning. "Something has
occurred to make him move earlier than he'd intended. What, I wonder?
Is there really a Revenue cutter on the way, Monteil?"

"Merely a ruse, dear boy," said Monteil expansively. "To get
the lovely widow and her brother down here without waking the
household. One takes as few lives as possible when Bow Street comes
sniffing around."

"Good God!" exclaimed Lyddford. "You're a blasted monster!"

A hearty laugh sounded from the steps. The epitome of elegance
in a many-caped riding coat, his high-crowned beaver hat tilted at a
rakish angle on his handsome head, Junius Trent called, "I'd resent
that were I you, Imre."

Monteil shrugged. "Do I not
en effet
attempt to spare lives?"

Trent sauntered down the steps, his eyes fixed on his cousin.
"His—for instance?"

Valentine said contemptuously, "It would be nice to say I'm
surprised to find you're part of this nasty little business.
Unfortunately, I cannot. May I ask if my uncle is aware you sent your
killing machine here"—he nodded towards Ti Chiu—"after me?"

Junius glanced at Monteil. "Are we to be frank?" he enquired.
"Before the lady?"

He was asking if they were all to be silenced. Susan felt
cold, and tried not to show how frightened she was.

"But of course. Madame Henley will not speak, I do promise
you. To do so would be to sentence her brother to death." His jet eyes
twinkled at her. "Andrew
is
my partner, you know."

Lyddford raged, "Not in this filthy business!"

"Ah, but it would be most difficult to prove that,
mon
ami
. And besides, a wife cannot testify against her husband."

Lyddford swore and plunged at him, but Ti Chiu shoved him back.

Trent chuckled. "In that case, dear cousin of mine, I will
give you an honest answer. No. My parents did not know that Ti Chiu was
to rid us of you. The credit for that bungle belongs to my Swiss
friend."

Monteil looked at him thoughtfully.

Puzzled, Valentine asked, "Why, Monteil? As a favour to
Junius?"

"I never grant favours," said the Swiss. "The fact is that you
displease me on several suits, Valentine. You are an annoyance to Selby
Trent, whom I find amusing. He is so delightfully without principles,
while presenting such a pious picture to the world. Your friends are
unpleasant, and one is judged by the company one keeps—no? Again, you
are so impertinent as to address me with thinly veiled contempt.
Unwise,
mon cher
. Mostly, however, your stubborn
refusal to sell this house has inconvenienced me. Ergo, you must be
removed."

"You would kill a man—only for such paltry things as that?"
gasped Lyddford in astonishment.

"It is more than sufficient," said Monteil coldly. "However,
the Trents may have a more compelling reason, I'll admit."

Valentine stared at him.

"But—surely you have guessed?" The Swiss smiled. "You block
Junius's path to the title and the fortune."

"Rubbish! My brother is the heir—not me."

Junius gave a snort of laughter. "Your precious brother, my
poor clod, was killed by a tiger six months ago.
You
are Baron Montclair of Longhills."

Valentine reeled with shock, and put a steadying hand against
the pillar beside him. Paper white, he gasped, "You… lie! Damn you! You
lie
! Geoff's not dead! I—I would have heard!"

"My father learned of it in a rather roundabout way. He has
been able to suppress the news because against all advice your stupid
brother had journeyed miles into the jungle and told no one where he
was going."

"Do you see now?" asked Monteil, amused by Valentine's obvious
anguish. "Nobody in this country is as yet aware of Geoffrey's demise.
Therefore, your own pre-mature death would have caused no suspicion of
foul play, for who would have anything to gain by—er, hastening your
exit?"

Junius looked annoyed and said irritably, "If you hadn't taken
a hand, his exit would have been
fait accompli
by
this time."

"A twist of fate, my dear." Monteil sighed. "Who was to guess
he had so hard a skull? Or that the child would go to a spot everyone
else avoided, and find him before he obligingly died? If he had ever
been found, people would only have thought he must have fallen into the
Folly by accident."

Still numbed with shock, Valentine mumbled stupidly, "But—but
there is Uncle Hammond…"

"Your brainless Uncle Hammond will be easily ruled by the
Trents. For—a while, at least." Monteil smiled unpleasantly. "Now you
really should not look at me with such disgust, dear Valentine. I
assure you your cousin's plan for your—extermination was far less
humane than mine."

Valentine tensed, his narrowed gaze darting to Trent.

"Justifiably so." Junius nodded. "I've many scores to settle,
and it was such fun to watch his condition slowly worsening. A little
taste of hell that he richly deserved. I think, towards the end, he
really began to think his mind was affected… Didn't you, dear cousin of
mine?"

Through his teeth Valentine whispered, "You filthy…
bastard
!"

Junius chuckled. "Does the light dawn at last? Yes, dear boy.
Dr. Sheswell was once—er, indiscreet with a patient, and by a lucky
chance I learned of it. He's been in my pocket ever since. With his
help I arranged your first—er, 'attack.' And his 'medicine' did the
rest."

"Shocking, is it not?" said Monteil. "For the last few months,
Baron Montclair, your loving family has been slowly poisoning you. And
that was the trouble, do you see. Too slow. And I was in a hurry, so I
sent Ti Chiu to—"

With an incoherent cry of rage Valentine sprang at him.

His attack was as swift as it was unexpected. He seemed to
blur across the room, and his hands were locked around Monteil's throat
before anyone else could move. Monteil let out a squawk and the two men
crashed to the floor. Lyddford snatched a great golden bowl from the
open crate, and hurled it at Ti Chiu's head. The Chinese staggered.
Beating frenziedly and unavailingly at Valentine, Monteil gulped for
breath.

Jacques sprang to his employer's aid, but Lyddford hurled
himself between them, shouting, "Sue! Get help!"

Susan was already running for the stairs, but Junius was after
her. She whipped up the pistol Monteil had given her. Junius halted,
eyeing her uneasily. "I'll fire," she warned, the pistol steady in her
hand.

The fair man joined the attack on Lyddford, who was sent
hurtling back, to collapse behind a box.

Simultaneously, the Scot and the cockney ran to tear Valentine
away. Maddened with rage, Valentine jammed his elbow into the ribs of
the Scot and brought his right hand whizzing into a chop across the
throat that sent the cockney reeling. Then an iron hand grabbed his
left wrist and twisted it up behind him with brutal force. A mighty arm
clamped across his throat. A deep growl of a voice asked, "Master? Ti
break this?"

Helpless, unable to move, fighting to draw breath, Valentine
knew what the answer would be.

"No!" screamed Susan. "Unless you want me to shoot your
friend!"

Clutching at his throat, his face livid, Monteil pointed to
his amber cane and one of his men sprang to snatch it up and offer it.
"Shoot then," croaked the Swiss and tottered towards Valentine.

"Hey!" shouted Junius, blenching.

"I will!" Susan screamed.

Ignoring her, Monteil sent the cane whipping across
Valentine's face. "
Saleté
!" he hissed.

The blow was sickeningly painful. Valentine's eyes closed and
he sagged in Ti Chiu's grip.

With a sob of desperation, Susan swung the pistol at Monteil
and pulled the trigger.

There was a metallic click.

Junius tore the weapon from her hands, his own shaking. "You
murdering little doxy! It wasn't loaded! No thanks to you, Imre!"

Monteil sent him a narrowed, rageful glance. "I gave it to
her, you imbecile." He called silkily, "Valentine… ? You are awake?"

Valentine dragged his head up and met that enraged glare.
Somehow, he managed a faint grin.

Monteil hissed, "
Oui
. Break him."

With a delighted smile, the huge Chinese clamped both arms
about Valentine's ribs. His grip tightened and he began to laugh softly.

Susan saw Montclair's dark head jerk back, his face convulse.
She screamed at the top of her lungs.

With all his rapidly fading strength, Montclair rammed his
left foot back at Ti Chiu's shin. His spur struck hard. The death grip
eased and the Chinese uttered a shocked grunt. Montclair smashed his
right foot back. A guttural snarl sounded in his ear, and he was jerked
around. The craggy face was a terrifying mask of rage. One great arm
flailed upward. Wheezing, Valentine ducked frantically and discovered
that for all his might, the big fellow was slow. The blow that would
surely have finished him whipped over his head.