Taming Rafe (28 page)

“My lord?” Fitzroy said from the doorway. “Do you require assistance?”

The earl put the musket aside. “No, thank you. Do remind me to send someone out to the creek tomorrow to have a look about. I fear there may have been an accident.”

The butler nodded. “Very good, my lord.”

“And in the meantime, send Vincent out to make certain there will be something to find in the morning. I won’t take any chances at this point.”

“Yes, my lord. And if I may be so bold, congratulations.”

James smiled as he headed back downstairs to his book. “Thank you, Fitzroy.”

Beeks scratched at the morning room door. Felicity started, hurriedly wiping her eyes. “Come in.”

“Miss Harrington, dinner is served.”

“Oh. Thank you.” She looked at the mantel clock, surprised so much time had passed since her life and her future had ended. “Will you please inform May, as well?”

“Of course, miss.”

Three places had been set at the dining room table; obviously, someone had forgotten to inform the servants that the master of the house was no longer in residence. Trying not to start crying all over again, Felicity took her seat.

A few moments later, as Ronald brought out the soup, Beeks reappeared. “Miss Harrington, I knocked at Miss May’s door several times, but she has declined to answer. Neither have I been able to locate Master Rafael. Aristotle is gone, as well. Mr. Milton informs me that he went out riding.”

Felicity nodded and stood. “Rafe…will not be dining with us this evening.”
Or ever again
. She’d destroyed what she had with him, but perhaps it wasn’t too late to explain things to May. Her sister was all she had left in the world now.

She went upstairs and stopped outside May’s bedchamber. “May?” she called, rapping on the closed door.

Her sister didn’t answer.

“May?” she repeated, louder. “I know you’re mad, but I need to speak to you, sweetling. It’s important.”

When May still made no answer, Felicity turned the handle and pushed open the door. Her sister’s room was as dark as the night outside—the night she could see through the open window and the curtains fluttering in the chill evening breeze.

“Oh, no,” she breathed, hurrying to the window.

An old, half-rotted rose trellis still climbed the wall, within easy reach of a stubborn eight-year-old. And knowing May, Felicity realized she had decided to follow Rafe, on foot, all the way back to London—if that was even where he had gone.

“Beeks!” she yelled, only to jump as the butler materialized at her shoulder. “May was very upset
earlier. I…Oh, my God. I fear she may have run off. Please, check every room here first, to be certain she’s not hiding somewhere.”

“Immediately, Miss Harrington.” He headed promptly for the doorway, then paused. “Do you wish me to send word to Mr. Greetham or Lord Deerhurst?”

“Mr. Greetham, yes.” She nodded, wringing her hands. “I’ll go see James myself. He can muster a dozen men to help us search.”

She grabbed her shawl and flung it over her shoulders. Downstairs in the kitchen, though, she paused. Rafe had a great deal of common sense. And someone
had
tried to set fire to the new wing. Resolutely she snatched up one of the big kitchen knives and tucked it into her skirt. Then she ran out into the night, heading west along the lane for Deerhurst’s estate.

“Ah, Vincent,” Lord Deerhurst said, sipping his port. “Please tell me your news.”

The big-boned footman remained in the doorway. He was a natural shadow lurker—and very handy to have about from time to time. It was a pity not every household could afford one of him.

“Rode up and down the creek for a mile,” the footman said in his guttural voice. “Found blood sign, and where he fell into the water, but no body.”

The earl sat up, setting aside his glass. “No body?”

Vincent shrugged. “Might’ve washed downstream. Creek’s high. Or with the clouds I might’ve missed him in the dark. Don’t think so, though.”

Deerhurst tended to agree with that assessment. “Your thoroughness is one of your most endearing qualities, Vincent.” He tapped his chin. “Still, this
is troubling. I suppose we should go find him. What of his horse?”

“No horse, either. Must’ve run off. Did find this, though, crossing the bridge.” He stepped forward, yanking something in from the hallway behind him. “Thought you might have some use for it, my lord.”

With the footman holding onto her by the scruff of the neck, little May Harrington stumbled into the room. For a long moment Deerhurst gazed at her, while she looked back at him with angry, frightened eyes. For the past few years he’d thought of her as little more than a loud, messy nuisance. As the footman had said, though, tonight she might actually be of some use.

“Miss May. Surely you know better than to wander about by yourself at night.”

“I’m looking for Rafe,” she burst out. “You should let me go, or he’ll be mad.”

“Hm. I don’t think so, little one.” He leaned closer to her. “Does Felicity know where you are?”

“Yes.” A tear rolled down one cheek, and she sniffed.

This was becoming very interesting. “Well, perhaps she’ll come calling, as well. Vincent, show Miss May to one of the spare bedchambers upstairs. See that she stays quietly in one place.”

As the footman hauled the girl out of the room, James stood and rang for Fitzroy. When the butler appeared, he seated himself again to finish his drink. “Fitzroy, have the dinner table set for two. I shall be dining in company this evening.”

“Very good, my lord.”

James smiled. Events were progressing even more favorably than he had anticipated. His bride-to-be would be coming to call.

Rafe put a hand across Aristotle’s muzzle so the bay would know to be silent. Creek water flowed coldly around his thighs as he stood, listening. Nothing save the owls and water and crickets came to his ears, and after a long moment he sagged against the bay’s flank.

His left shoulder burned and throbbed, but the wound didn’t seem to be too serious. Whoever had been looking for him had headed back downstream, so they likely thought him dead or too badly wounded to fight the current. He didn’t have any more time to waste with evading them. He needed to get back to Forton—before Deerhurst turned his attention on the Harrington ladies.

Whatever was going on, the earl was obviously deadly serious about it. If the shot had been an inch or two to the right, Rafe would be dead right now. Hanging on to the stirrup and urging Aristotle forward, he made it up the steep, muddy bank. On the grass he stopped, trying to catch his breath.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, and with a pained grunt hauled himself up into the saddle. “Damn, that hurts.”

The bay swung his head around and nickered at him. Too late Rafe realized the reins were still hanging. He couldn’t climb down again to retrieve them. Rafe started to give Aristotle a verbal command, then realized he’d never taught the gelding to respond to the word “home.” There had never been a place that was truly his—until now.

“Aristotle, go find May,” he ordered, hoping that would be clear enough. “Go home.” He whistled the order to trot, and the gelding hesitated a moment, then moved off.

With a pained grunt he grabbed on to the cantle
of the saddle with his good hand, and held on. If Deerhurst touched his Lis, the earl was a dead man.

Felicity pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders as the earl’s butler gestured her into the library. Lord Deerhurst sat gazing at the fire, a closed book across his lap and a glass of port in one hand.

“James,” she blurted, not waiting to be introduced, “I’m sorry to call on you like this, but—”

The earl started and came to his feet. “Felicity. Please don’t apologize for anything. What can I do for you?”

She held tightly to the remains of her common sense, the only thing keeping her from slipping into complete hysteria. “May seems to have run off. I’m afraid—”

James nodded. “I know.”

“I was—” She broke off, staring at him. “You know?”

“Mm-hm. She’s upstairs, as a matter of fact, in one of my guest bedchambers.”

Her heart began beating again. “Thank goodness! Is she all right?” Felicity started for the door, but a very large man wearing the earl’s livery, the same one who had delivered that first bouquet of roses, blocked her path. “Excuse me,” she said, but he didn’t budge.

“A minute of your time, Felicity, if you please.”

She turned around. “In just a moment, James. May and I had a bit of an argument; I need to talk to her.”

“They’re just setting the table for dinner,” the earl continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Join me.”

A whisper of uneasiness ran just under Felicity’s skin. James was acting very odd, and whether she could ever believe Rafe or not, he had accused the
earl of some rather ghastly things. “I’m afraid I can’t stay, but thank you. Please show me where May is.”

“May is quite well,” the earl returned, the slightest edge of impatience touching his voice. “Don’t trouble yourself. Come—my cook has made a splendid venison stew.”

Felicity backed away ever so slightly, the whisper of uneasiness becoming a shout. “I must decline, my lord.” She cleared her throat. The big footman still blocked her way out, and she had no chance of moving him aside if he chose not to go. “Rafe…Rafe was looking for May with Mr. Greetham. He’ll be back at Forton by now, and he is expecting me.”

“No, he isn’t.”

Felicity didn’t even have a name for the sudden dread that hit her.
How could he know Rafe had gone? May surely wouldn’t have told him
. “I assure you he is, my lord.”

Deerhurst sighed. “Rafael Bancroft, my dear Felicity, is not anywhere waiting for you. Please save your lies for something more plausible.”

“How—”

“Stop talking about him,” he interrupted sharply. “He doesn’t signify.”

Felicity stared at the earl for a moment. “James, I think we should leave this for another time. I know you and Rafe don’t deal well, and so I asked him to remain behind. May and I need to return to Forton before he is forced to come here and find us.” It was the most boldfaced lie she’d ever told, and the reasonable tone she managed surprised her.

Deerhurst slammed his book down on the end table. “Stop it!”

She jumped. “James, I—”

“Don’t you presume to threaten me with that bastard!”

“My lord, I understand your anger,” Felicity said soothingly, trying to calm him down and becoming very worried about May, “but Rafael is my betrothed. I do wish the two of you might—”

“He is
not
your betrothed!”

Felicity backed away a step. May must have told him something, after all. “I would like to see my sister now, if you please.” This time her voice shook.

“Not until you tell me that you will marry me.”

She fingered the handle of the knife in her pocket. “James, I’m truly sorry if I’ve hurt you, but I have never lied to you about my feelings. I love Rafael, and—”

“Rafael Bancroft is dead!”

“Wha-
what
?”

“He had an accident. Someone shot and killed him not an hour ago.”

Felicity stared at the earl for a moment, her mind refusing to comprehend what her ears had heard. “Rafe is…not dead,” she managed, her voice coming out as a barely audible croak.

“I assure you, Miss Harrington,” Deerhurst said, “that he is. Terrible tragedy.”

Her legs gave way. She would have fallen to the floor if the footman hadn’t moved forward to catch her beneath the arms and haul her back upright. “No,” she whispered. “No.”

She couldn’t breathe; suddenly she had forgotten how. Her heart still beat, because she felt it pounding in her chest. Rafe could leave—that was acceptable, because he could come back. She could convince him that she was simply a fool and that she loved him so much it would kill her to lose him.

A ragged sob ripped from her throat. Rafe was dead. Rafe was dead, and she was alone,
again
, and she couldn’t die, too, because May needed her. She clung to the thought of her sister to keep her sanity. This bastard, looking at her with that mildly amused smile on his handsome face, had tried to burn down her home, and had murdered her love. He would pay. She would see to it.

“Do stop whining,” the earl commented. “Our stew will be getting cold.”

Felicity pulled the knife from her gown and ran at him. “No!”

Deerhurst stumbled backward, falling over his footstool. Before she could reach him, though, the big footman grabbed her from behind, lifting her off the floor.

“Let go!” she shrieked.

Without a word he wrenched her arm. Pain shot up from her wrist, and the knife dropped to the floor.

The earl grabbed the weapon and tossed it into the fireplace. “That was abysmally stupid, Felicity. Don’t make me angry.” He took her chin between his fingers. “I have May. And you most definitely need me now, if you want to keep Forton Hall.”

Felicity sagged. She didn’t give a damn about Forton Hall, but she needed to know what was going on. And he was right: First things first. She needed to get May out of there and summon the constable. Then she could mourn.

“Why?” she asked in a stronger voice, wrenching free of the footman’s grasp. “Why would you do this, James? I trusted you! We are—we were—friends.” Saying the word almost choked her, for all she wanted to do was hurt him, as he had hurt her.

“It’s a very long story, Felicity. I’ll explain it to
you over dinner.” His expression changed. “Don’t make me invite you to stay again.”

She swallowed, unable to keep her hands from shaking. “Then we should eat.”

B
eeks sat at the kitchen table and glared at young Ronald Banthe. “Did either Master Rafael or Miss Harrington instruct you to clear away the dining room table?”

The footman flushed. “No, sir.”

“Beeks,” Beeks corrected.

“No, Beeks.”

“Did
I
ask you to clear the table?”

“No, sir—Beeks. But I thought—”

The butler raised a finger, and Ronald swallowed and subsided. “Do not think,” he stated. “Anticipate.”

Ronald’s embarrassed look became blank and confused. “Anticipate?”

Beeks sighed. Being relegated to the country was one thing; being placed in the employ of Rafael Bancroft was another. Being surrounded by complete disarray and incompetence, though, was too much to bear. He watched the footman shift uneasily. Tonight, however, looked to be stressful enough without adding more wood to the proverbial fire. “Yes. Anticipate. But that is a lesson for another evening, I think.”

The footman sagged in relief. “Thank goodness.”

“We’ll see about that. Simply because Master
Rafael is a hopeless eccentric doesn’t mean his servants may have the same luxury.”

“Come again, Beeks?”

The butler stood. “Never mind. Please find Mr. Greetham and see if he needs your assistance in locating Miss May.”

The speed with which the footman fled the room was gratifying. At least he knew enough to be nervous. Instilling fear was half the battle.

Beeks paced down the hallway to the foyer and back again. Whatever tale Miss Harrington chose to tell about this evening’s fiasco was fine with him, and he would defend its veracity to the death. However, he had overheard a great deal of the argument between his employer and the young lady.

Knowing the youngest Bancroft’s temperament as he did, he thought Rafael should have been back by now—especially with the nefarious explanation for the recent construction “accidents.” And with the delightful Miss May gone missing, Rafael’s continued absence was becoming rather troubling.

A loud knock shook the front door, as if someone had beaten it with a club. “For heaven’s sake,” he muttered, returning to the foyer, “don’t go breaking the house again.”

The loud thud repeated, curiously low on the door. Either Miss May had returned, or violent midgets were coming to call at Forton Hall now.

Coming to attention, Beeks pulled open the door. “Good evening…”

Aristotle nickered nervously and stepped halfway into the foyer.

For a moment Beeks stared at the animal, wondering how he had managed to survive more than twenty years’ worth of Rafael’s games and pranks. Then the horse took another step forward, and he saw Rafael hunched over the saddle.

“Good God!” Beeks stepped forward and pulled Rafe over sideways, taking his employer’s weight with a grunt. “Master Rafael?” he said urgently. “Rafe?”

Rafe opened his eyes as the butler yanked him out of the saddle. “Beeks?” he grunted, gritting his teeth and working to get his legs back under him.

“Rafael. You’re injured.” Beeks put an arm around Rafe’s shoulders to steady him.

“Are Felicity and May all right?” Rafe asked, pulling free as the foyer stopped its nauseating rolling about and righted itself.

“I’m…not entirely certain.”

“What?” Rafe stopped.

“Let’s get you into the kitchen and patched up. I’ll explain there.” The butler frowned. “You’ve been shot, haven’t you?”

“Yes, by damned Deerhurst.”

Beeks’s normally stoic face went white. “
Lord Deerhurst
shot you?” he demanded.

Rafe, one arm outstretched for balance, strode toward the morning room. “Lis? May?” he called, glaring back at the butler when no one answered. “Wasn’t anyone listening when I said he was a bloody Bedlamite?”

“Apparently Miss Harrington should have paid more attention. I believe she was rather angry at the time, though.”

He stopped again. At the butler’s words and grim expression, dread tightened his chest. “What happened?”

Beeks took hold of his arm again, and began walking him at a brisk pace toward the kitchen. “Miss May apparently left in search of you, and—”

“May ran away?” he interrupted. “Damnation, I’m an idiot. I should have explai—”

“And Miss Felicity went to get help to look for her.” Beeks speeded his pace even further. “At Deerhurst.”

“
What?
”

“We didn’t know he had shot you, Master Raf—”

Clenching his teeth, Rafe tried to yank free again. “Let go, Beeks,” he snapped.

The butler shook his head and kept walking, his grip tightening. “I will not.”

Anger laced with terrible fear for Lis pulled at him. “Damn it, Beeks! He tried to shoot me in the back! What’s to keep him from—”

“I am aware of the situation,” the butler returned with uncharacteristic heat. “Your running off to the rescue won’t be very effective if you drop dead on the earl’s doorstep.”

Rafe subsided and let the butler guide him down the hallway. He wasn’t quite up to a full speed charge tonight. What he needed was a plan. “All right,” he muttered, cursing again. “But make it quick.”

When they reached the kitchen, Sally was there, pacing anxiously. As Beeks cleaned out his wound, the butler filled Rafe in on the chaos.

“So where’s Greetham?” Rafe asked impatiently.

“Well, sir, thinking that Lord Deerhurst and his men would be searching in the direction of Pelford, Greetham and his fellows headed south and east through the woods.”

“Should I fetch them?” Sally asked as the butler wrapped a bandage firmly across Rafe’s shoulder.

“No,” he grunted, wincing. “For all we know, May did head that way. I want her found, Beeks.”
If anything had happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

“I know.”

“Damn. A little looser, if you please. I need to be able to move my arm.”

“And you also need the bleeding to stop. The ball went right through your shoulder, and—”

“I know. It missed the bone, though, so I’ll worry about it later.” Anything that would delay him from going to find Felicity would have to wait.

“You cannot go after Miss Harrington alone.”

Rafe glanced up at the butler’s worried countenance. “I need you to stay here, in case either of them returns. Send Tom for the constable, if Greetham hasn’t done it already. And if I don’t return by dawn, send to Warefield Park for Quin.”

“I’ll fetch the constable, Mr. Rafe,” Sally broke in.

“I’ve already sent Tom after your brother, sir,” the butler said.

“You…” Rafe stopped. “Damn. All right.”

He gingerly pulled on the spare shirt Sally had gotten for him, and the old dark coat that had belonged to Felicity’s grandfather. Taking a deep breath, he stood. Through the burning pain, a deep, frightened anger grew. He needed Felicity back. Now. He pocketed the pistol Sally had also retrieved from his bedchamber and returned to the foyer.

“Best of luck, Master Rafe,” the butler said from behind him.

Rafe smiled grimly. “I’ll need it.”

Aristotle nuzzled him in the chest. He patted the bay on the withers and led him down the steps. Then he hauled himself up into the saddle again.

“Let’s go, boy,” he murmured. “We have another visit to make tonight.”

He kept an eye out for May as they galloped across the fields back toward Deerhurst. Ordinarily he knew Lis could take care of herself, and he would have joined the search for the little sprite—but James Burlough was a lunatic, and fond as the earl had seemed of Felicity, Rafe wouldn’t put anything past him tonight.

They paused at the edge of the trees. Though it felt like hours had passed since he’d last called on Deerhurst, from the position of the moon it couldn’t be much past nine. He circled around the back of the manor. No one seemed to be keeping watch. It was likely, then, that they thought him dead. They were about to find out differently.

Light shone through the windows of only one of the second floor bedchambers of the east wing. Lis had told him that, like Forton, Deerhurst kept the west wing for himself, and the east one for guests. On the slight chance that Felicity was the guest inhabiting that room this evening, he coaxed Aristotle up to the wall, awkwardly stood in the saddle, and with the help of a drainpipe climbed up to the neighboring window. His shoulder throbbing, he leaned over and pushed against the window. It was locked.

Cursing, he climbed a little higher along the wall and leaned sideways again, then kicked out hard. His right boot went through the glass, the sound loud in the quiet night. For several long minutes he stayed where he was, listening. When no sound came from the house or the grounds below, he descended, swearing again as the motion wrenched his shoulder.

By stretching across the long drop between the drainpipe and the broken window, he was able to reach the latch and flip it open. With a last hard
push against the drainpipe, he half jumped and half fell through the dark opening.

“Damn,” he hissed, cradling his shoulder as he sat back against the wall to catch his breath.

He was making a blasted lot of noise, which shortened the time he had to find Felicity. With a grimace he stood. Checking his pistol, he stood and made his way to the door. The hallway beyond was dimly lit, and again no servants seemed to be about. For the moment he would count that as lucky, and worry about what it meant later.

The next door down wasn’t locked, and a tremor of uneasiness ran through him. If Felicity was inside, he didn’t like the reasons that would allow Deerhurst to leave the door unlocked and unattended. Slowly he eased it open and leaned inside.

May sat in a chair in the middle of the room, her arms and legs secured to it by an absurdly intricate knotting of ropes. When she saw him a tear ran down her cheek, to be caught in the scarf they had used to gag her.

“Sweet Lucifer,” he muttered, closing the door and hurrying forward. Swiftly he loosened the scarf and pulled it down from her mouth. “Are you all right, sweetling?” he whispered, stroking her cheek.

“Yes,” she quavered. “I want to go home.”

He hugged her, then went to work on the ropes. “We’ll have you there in no time,” he murmured, each knot he untangled multiplying his fury at Deerhurst. This was
his family
, by God, and no one did this to them. No one.

As he freed her from the last knot, May surged to her feet and threw her arms around him. “I knew you wouldn’t leave.”

Rafe winced as she wrenched his shoulder, but held on to her tightly. “Of course I wouldn’t.” He
set her a little away from him. “Now—I need you to wait in the next room for just a few minutes while I find your sister. Can you do that?”

Her eyes widened. “Felicity is here, too?”

He nodded. “I believe so. You haven’t seen her?”

“No. Rafe, we have to rescue her—right away. Lord Deerhurst still wants to marry her, I think. And then she wouldn’t be able to marry you.”

Rafe stifled an unexpected smile. “Don’t worry, midget. She’s not going to marry anyone but me.”

“Good.”

“Do you know if Deerhurst has anyone helping him?”

“I saw four or five footmen. One of them is very mean. He pulled my hair.”

Too many for anything bold and straightforward. That suited him just fine, though. He knew plenty of other ways to do damage. “All right. Let’s get you hidden.”

“I can help,” May insisted. “I know number twenty-eight.”

“We’ll hold that in reserve. For now, just be quiet. I need to do a bit of scouting.”

He bundled up the rope for future use and led her next door, hiding her in the corner behind a wardrobe. Rafe slipped out again, then paused. Number twenty-eight gave him an idea—and an opportunity for May to assist in the rescue. It was time to make a little more noise.

Felicity picked at her stew. Deerhurst’s appetite, though, didn’t seem to have suffered at all from the night’s events. Just watching him eat across from her made her want to gag. She’d always thought him a bit dull and pretentious; never had she suspected him of being a monster. Obviously, though,
he was the worst sort of beast—eating calmly when he’d killed and kidnapped and God knew what else. And given what he’d already done this evening, she wouldn’t put anything past him now.

“You’re not eating,” he noted.

“You can’t expect me to have much of an appetite.”

“No, I suppose not.” He devoured another mouthful. “You know, all of this is really your fault. But don’t fret. I shall forgive you.”

Felicity tried to keep her attention on him and away from the dark, empty chasm in her heart. She couldn’t fall into it yet—not until May was safe. “How is this my fault?”

“I asked you repeatedly to have Bancroft sell Forton to me. You couldn’t manage it. So I had no choice but to kill him.”

Her insides jolted all over again at the words. “But you still don’t have Forton. It’s gone to his brother, or his father.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I will have the deed. And you’ll keep quiet about tonight for Forton Hall and May’s sakes, won’t you?”

“You’re insane! Deerhurst is…perfectly lovely,” she returned, though she hated every stick of it. “Why do you want Forton Hall?”

“I don’t want that rotting, ramshackle hole,” he said indignantly, looking at her as though she were an idiot. “I only want the deed.”

“For God’s sake, why?” she burst out.

The earl eyed her. “Because it includes ownership of Deerhurst.”

Felicity blinked. “
What?
”

“Oh, it’s a long story. We can discuss it later. Suffice it to say that everything is now very close to how it should have been all along. At the moment I’d rather discuss our wedding plans. None
of that damned publishing of the banns. I’ll secure a license from the vicar, and we can be married by Thursday.”

“I am not going to marry you,” she spat.

He took a sip of port. “Yes, you are, or your sister will pay for your stupidity.” The earl leaned across the table and grasped her fingers before she could pull away. “I won’t have you testifying against me in court. And I want an heir, Felicity.”

That sounded even more ghastly than marrying the madman. “Go to hell.” She flung her glass of wine into his face and rushed to her feet.