Chapter Twenty-Nine

"I'm so sorry to pull you away from your family's ball, Stacy," Kitty said yet again as they ascended the stairs to the third story. "I feel like such a fool, but I just could not bear another moment. Robert wouldn't—"

Stacy patted her hand. "He's not thinking clearly. I believe he and his wife have been playing these nasty games for years. You are well away from it while I get to the bottom of everything. Jewell will take you to Plymouth and then return for us." She began to protest and he cut her off. "No, that is what will happen. This situation is intolerable. I don't know what that woman is about, but I plan to find out."

He took her through a large set of double doors that separated the main wing from one of the older sections. He looked around the dark hallway and frowned. The smell of damp and mildew was stifling.

"Good Lord, who put you all the way over here? This is dreadful—the viscountess should be flogged," he muttered. She stopped walking and he turned. "What is it, Kitty?"

Her eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm so ashamed at having brought all this on you."

Stacy took both of her shoulders and gently shook her. "Stop it right now, Kitty. You are not to blame for any of this. It's obvious the viscountess is playing some sort of game with Robert."

Her beautiful face twisted into an expression of misery. "I wouldn't have come but when the letter mentioned the baby—"

"Kitty," he said sternly, "I'll find out everything I can—including the truth about your child. Do you understand me? The woman is poison and has driven my brother half mad—you must leave. All you need to worry about is—"

"Stacy!"

Frances was running toward them, clutching her ball gown in her fists. "It's Portia," she gasped in between breaths. "You must come with me now!"

***

Portia fell into the darkened room and bumped into something hard.

"Stay put," Rowena snapped, entering the room and shedding light in the darkness, slamming the door behind them.

The room was perhaps three times as wide as the tunnel they'd just left behind and there was a second door across from the one they'd just come through. The only furniture was a spindly side table against one wall and a large, rough-hewn table in the center of the room, which is what she'd hit.

Wide leather straps were attached to the top, middle, and bottom of the bigger table and Portia could barely pull her eyes away. When she looked up, she wished she hadn't. The walls had dozens of carved niches and each one held a hideous mask. It felt as though dozens of hate-filled eyes were watching.

Rowena dribbled a daub of wax on the side table and stuck her candle in it. The determined grimace on her face was far more frightening than any of the masks on the wall.

"Get on the table." She pushed the pistol into Portia's side to encourage obedience. Her eyes slewed toward the second door and her mouth tightened with irritation as it slowly creaked open. Mr. Fant stood in the narrow doorway, his eyes wide.

"Close the door, you idiot," Rowena snapped. "What took you so long?"

The dour-faced man flushed. "I got lost, my lady. There's miles of tunnels down here." He carried a big wooden tool box in one hand and a shielded lantern in the other.

A look of intense annoyance spasmed across Rowena's face and for a moment the hand holding the pistol wavered, as if she were considering shooting her accomplice.

"Do you have it?" she asked through clenched jaws.

Fant's eyes flickered from his mistress to Portia and moved quickly to the wooden box. He set it on the floor beside the lamp and dug into its depths, extracting a large piece of folded canvas and a small round clay jar. "The woman said it only took a mouthful."

"Put that out," she gestured to the lamp in his hand and held out her pistol. "Take this." She waited impatiently as he complied. "Can you keep this trained on her without shooting either yourself or me?"

Fant's lips tightened at her belittling tone but he took the gun without comment, aiming it at Portia, his expression even grimmer than usual.

Rowena pulled the bung out of the earthenware jar and thrust it Portia. "You're going to take at least two mouthfuls and then lie back on the table. It will happen fast and there will be very little pain. Do you understand? I'll strap you down if you—"

The heavy plank door behind her flew open and slammed into her shoulder. She cried out and staggered sideways, knocking into the table where she'd set the candle. Her hand scrabbled for purchase and she knocked the candle to the floor, plunging the room into darkness.

"Put down your weapon Fant, I know you have a pistol," a calm, familiar voice demanded. "There are five men with me and more approaching from the other direction. You are trapped. Do as I tell you, and you might live."

Portia jumped off the table and took a step. And then an arm snaked around her neck.

"Stacy!" Her scream came out a choked gurgle as she struggled against Rowena's surprisingly strong hold, clutching her stomach protectively. Rowena's arm tightened around her throat and Portia gagged.

"Fant, hand me the gun," Rowena demanded.

"Do not give her the pistol, Mr. Fant." Stacy's voice was almost bored. "My pistol is aimed at your heart. You know very well that I can see better in the dark than a cat. I can see you right now, in fact, backing toward the other door. You've got a lamp in your hand."

"Give me the gun!" Rowena screamed, shoving something against Portia's lips.

Portia realized it was the flask of poison and clamped her jaws shut tighter than a vise. A mindless fury swept through her trembling body and she drove her elbow back with all the force she could muster. Rowena grunted and staggered back, her arm loosening. Portia dropped to her hands and knees and crawled between the legs of the big table, curling her body into a tight ball.

"Fant!" Rowena screamed.

Portia heard the sound of scuffling feet and a muffled curse as somebody struck the tool box and sent the contents clanging and banging across the flagstone. The deafening crack of a pistol filled the room and what sounded to be at least a dozen male voices shouted just before a second gun went off, followed by a sickening grunt and the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the floor.

"Fant is down, Lady Rowena. It is over." Stacy's voice came from someplace close by and Portia had to bite her tongue to keep from calling out.

The sound of pottery shattering on the flagstone was followed by a watery, choked laugh. A light flared and Portia looked up to see Stacy holding a candle away from his face and staring at something on the other side of the small room.

"My God. What did you do?" His voice was thick with dread.

"You didn't think I was going to let you lock me up, did you?" Rowena's gurgling laughter turned into an animal scream of pure pain. Her pale green eyes bulged with the torment she'd promised Portia she would not feel and she slid down the wall until she sat slumped on the floor.

The door Fant had come through exploded and Robert stood panting in the doorway, his lantern illuminating the carnage, a giant man beside him holding an ax.

He saw Fant's body first. "The devil!" he hissed.

"Ah, my darling husband has arrived."

Robert turned at the sound of his wife's voice.

"Rowena! What have you done?" He closed the short distance in one long stride and dropped down beside her. Blood oozed from her mouth and she coughed and spat blood at his feet.

"You poor fool," she rasped. "I did all this for you. And it was all for—"

Portia closed her eyes at the sickening sounds and felt a light touch on her shoulder and looked up to find Stacy's beautiful eyes only inches away. He took her hand and lifted her to her feet. "Are you hurt, darling?"

She launched herself at him. "I am so sorry, Stacy."

"Sorry for what, sweetheart?"

Portia further embarrassed herself by dissolving into tears, the love in his voice making her feel like the world's greatest fool. She squeezed him until she hurt.

He stroked her hair. "Don't cry, Portia, you're safe now."

"I never cry." She sobbed into his neckcloth.

"I know you don't, love," he agreed, his laughter a low rumble in his chest. "But I think you may have earned this one. In fact, do you mind if I join you?"

She laughed but it turned into wracking sobs, her body shaking so hard she could barely stand.

"Are you going to faint, Portia?" He pressed his lips against her head over and over.

"I never faint."

And then everything went black.

***

The first thing Portia saw when she woke after the nightmare in the tunnels was her husband, reading a book in a wingback chair close to her bed. A slow smile spread across his face when he saw she was awake. He took off his reading glasses and put down his book.

"I thought you would sleep today away," he murmured, coming to sit on the bed.

Portia took his hand and looked up into his beautiful eyes, "I am so sorry, Stacy," she said, the enormity of her idiocy the first thing to enter her mind.

"You kept saying that all the way back to the house last night, even after you fainted. You'd wake from time to time and mutter how sorry you were. Would you mind telling me exactly what you are sorry for?" He reached out and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Or do I want to know?"

Her face became hot and she kissed his palm before holding his hand against her face. "I heard you and Mrs. Charring in the chapel yesterday."

He looked blank. "So?"

"I believe I didn't listen quite closely enough to what you were saying. I'm afraid I thought something quite different." His brow wrinkled and she groaned. "I thought you were the one she loved and you regretted marrying me. I am an idiot." Tears built behind her eyes and that made her even angrier. When had she turned into such a watering pot? She closed her eyes and hot lines made their way down her cheeks.

He took both her hands in his. "Look at me." She heard the sternness in his voice and her stomach clenched painfully. "Portia, open your eyes and look at me."

She opened her eyes; he looked angry. "I love you."

She blinked. "What did you say?"

He gave her a look of helpless amusement. "I love you. I'd hoped you might understand how I felt based on my behavior. I see now that I could not have been more wrong. I love you, Portia. Can you get that idea into your beautiful head?"

Portia did not trust herself to speak so she nodded.

"Good. I will tell you again in five minutes. Just to make certain you heard me."

"And . . . Kitty?" Portia seemed to have lost her ability to concoct complete sentences.

"I was Kitty's lover years ago—almost a decade ago. We've been nothing but friends for a very long time. I know I should have told you as soon as she arrived but she had a dreadful shock when she saw Robert and she needed help." He grimaced. "I suppose I should have guessed you would draw the worst possible conclusion from the way Kitty and I were behaving. I love Kitty as a friend and would do anything for her, but that is all."

Jealousy flared at the thought of him with another woman but this time the emotion flickered and then died; he loved her.

"Please, tell me what happened."

"Are you sure? It is not a pretty story—nor is it short."

"I'm sure."

"On the face of things, this whole mess appears to be a coincidence of almost mythic proportions. However, most of it happened by design—Rowena's design. Robert met Kitty years ago—before he married Rowena." He stopped. "But I'm getting ahead of myself. Kitty grew up in a vicarage, the youngest of two daughters. She was eighteen when her father died and she needed to find work. She took a governess position just outside Plymouth. Her young charge had an elder brother who came down from Oxford with friends from time-to-time. One of them was Robert. It doesn't take much imagination to guess what happened, next. They fell in love. Unfortunately, Robert was already engaged."

"That's what Rowena told me," Portia said.

"Well, Robert knew Rowena was not in love with him and he felt certain he could convince her to release him. He told Kitty what he was going to do and promised to return as soon as he'd spoken to Rowena, the duke, and his father.

"Robert told Rowena the truth and she agreed that she didn't want to marry a man in love with another woman. Rowena said she would go to her father and claim that she'd changed her mind. She didn't seem upset, and she even invited him to stay the night and dine with her and her brothers.

"The next morning, on his way to Thurlstone Castle, Robert's horse was shot from under him while he was crossing a bridge." He gave her a grim look. "Based on Rowena's recent behavior, Robert and I have assumed it was no accident. A local squire found his body beside the river, not far from his dead horse. He had a broken leg and was badly concussed; there was nothing that identified him. It was weeks before he returned to Plymouth and by then Kitty was gone."

"This is like a novel from the Minerva Press," Portia said.

Stacy nodded and continued. "The family Kitty was working for found out that she was with child. It's not wild conjecture to think Rowena was behind that, as well. They discharged Kitty without references."

Portia could hardly imagine the young girl's terror. At least when Ivo had abandoned her, she'd had her friends to turn to.

"She waited for him until she ran out of money, and then she sold the only thing she had left."

"Dear God," Portia said. "And Robert?"

"Her former employer told him Kitty had gone to an aunt up north but they didn't have the woman's direction. Robert went to her father's old vicarage, but the new vicar knew nothing about Kitty's family and nobody in the village had ever heard of an aunt. He had nowhere else to look."

"What a horrible story."

"There is more. Rowena knew exactly where Kitty ended up because she made sure the Fants were there to offer her a place to stay."

"The Fants!"

"They've worked at the duke's Yorkshire property for generations. So when the time came for Kitty to give birth to Robert's baby, Rowena paid the midwife who attended the birth to claim the baby died." He gave Portia a chilling look. "The reason Kitty came to Thurlstone was because she received a letter telling her the child was still alive. The letter said that if she wanted her child she would come to the house party."

Portia shook her head. "But why? Why would Rowena do such a thing?"

Stacy shrugged. "Revenge? Anger? We'll never know, now."

"How did you learn about the child?"

"Fant told us."

"But I thought he was shot?"

"His wound was mortal but he lingered for several hours and was conscious. He told us the truth in exchange for letting his wife go free. He claimed she knew nothing about any of it."

Portia pictured the shrewish woman and her small, mean eyes. "I don't believe that."

"Neither do I, but it was the only way to get the rest of the story." He continued. "Several years ago Rowena became curious about Frances and didn't believe the story about her living with a school friend, so she had her followed."

"Why?" Portia asked.

"Frances thinks Rowena might have heard something from Nanny's elder sister—a woman named Elsa who was the midwife who delivered us. Elsa lived in a cottage on the estate and Rowena, doing her duty as the future mistress of Thurlstone, met the woman while delivering calf's foot jelly or whatever it is that angels of mercy think the poor, old, and infirm need. Elsa would have known the truth, and perhaps she decided to share it. Or maybe, like Nanny, her mind simply wandered and the story came out. In any case, it is telling that Elsa died not long afterward."

Portia shivered. "More like an angel of death. How did the Fants begin working for Nanny?"

"Fant said Rowena told them about the position when Frances advertised for it. Fant said part of his duties were to keep an eye on me and he was the one who found out I knew Kitty and reported that odd coincidence to his employer. Rowena had no use for that information until recently, when she decided Kitty would be the perfect weapon to punish both me and Robert."

He stopped, a muscle in his jaw flexing. "Did Rowena tell you about the earl?"

"What about him?"

"She must have smothered him in his bed just before she came after you."

"Oh God!" Portia covered her mouth with both hands.

"She thought it would stop the secret from going any further, but the murder of my father would have been her undoing. You see, he left sealed letters explaining the truth for both Robert and me in the event of his death." Stacy's lips curled with disgust. "I'm never happy when anyone dies, but my father truly deserved what he got."

"Do you think he knew Rowena was behind all those accidents?"

"I don't want to know, and I'm glad the truth died with him."

Portia remembered something else from the night before. "She paid Ivo to come to Cornwall, but I don't understand how she even knew about him."

"She never met him, but she sent Fant to check up on you when she began to worry you and I might be getting fond of each other. She sent him to London to your old house."

Portia grimaced. "Mrs. Sneed was our landlady. She is a dreadful woman; I daresay she was thrilled to bits to sell any information she had. So, Fant killed Ivo?"

"With his dying breath Fant claimed Ivo's death was an accident. He also said he knew nothing about the money Ivo blackmailed from you."

"Do you believe him?"

"No, I think his wife has the money, but she will have hidden it well." He shrugged. "I didn't trust the woman and before we came to Thurlstone I had Hawkins's oldest daughter move into Nanny's cottage to keep her safe."

Portia blinked. "What made you do that?"

"I saw Fant talking to Ivo."

"What?" Portia sat up straighter.

"Yes, the day we went to look at the Humboldts' roof. The same day we had a picnic in the woods."

Portia remembered the day very well. From the look on his face, so did Stacy. He smiled and ran a hand over her stomach, the gesture both tender and possessive.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What was there to say? I suspected there was something odd about Fant but I had no proof. When I went to ask him about Ivo's death later, his wife said he'd gone up north for a visit." The candles illuminated his sculpted features and stunning eyes. "You're staring, Lady Broughton."

Portia gasped. "How is Robert taking all of this—he must be devastated?"

"He's like a man in a dream. He hasn't said much about his marriage to Rowena but I gather the two of them made each other fairly miserable."

Portia thought about the woman who'd tried to kill her at least three times and shivered. "She was ready to murder all of us for a ridiculous title."

Stacy squeezed her hand. "I know, darling."

"What about Kitty and Robert—was it true about their child?"

"Fant said his brother raised the child. Robert has already told me he will be leaving in the morning to fetch their daughter."

"What do you think Robert and Kitty will do?"

"I don't know. But whatever happens he told me he would no longer live here."

She frowned. "Are we moving here?"

"No. At least not until after the baby is born. Robert has agreed to stay until then."

"Thank God. I want our child to be born at Whitethorn."

"As do I, my love." He pulled her into his arms, holding her so tight she couldn't breathe. "I love you, darling. Do you think we could have a week without you forgetting that?"

She laughed. "I promise. Maybe even two weeks."