Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

“ I have news, my lord.”

Andrew Caddington glanced up from the papers on his desk with a scowl.

“It had better be good news, Phelps.” He’d had enough bad news since his coach, protected by four armed guards, had been attacked by highwaymen and his money lost. One of the fools he’d hired had been killed during the struggle, not that Andrew cared, but at least he now had a murder he could hang about that blasted Tyburn’s neck once he caught the bastard.

Phelps had been sent to covertly watch Andrew’s coach from a vantage point in the woods. When he hadn’t returned straightaway with the men who’d been in charge of the coach, Andrew hadn’t worried. Phelps was known to go underground while he did his work, whatever it may be that Andrew asked of him.

Andrew couldn’t afford to lose much more of his income. Forcing most of the businesses and families in the district to pay for his protection as a magistrate was risky enough, but he’d be damned if he’d let some blasted thieves ruin his plans.

And he had grand plans indeed.

Once he had enough money, he would start investing in the loyalties of influential men in business—and politics. It was time that the power dynamics in London changed. The blue-blooded aristocratic families of old had failed to make themselves useful. They’d grown too dependent on the people who lived on their lands. Andrew had seen to the banishment of his tenants a long time ago. They were a waste of space and a waste of land.

True power lay in a lord’s ability to do whatever he pleased, to whomever he pleased.

Andrew realized that Phelps had been silent just a little too long. Rarely a good sign. “Well? What is it? You’ve been gone for two bloody days. I expect you to show results for your absence.”

Phelps smiled without humor. “I assure you, it is very good news. I know who your thieves are.”

Andrew shoved his ledgers aside and leaned forward. “Who is it?”

“First, you should know you have been robbed not by just one set of thieves but two .”

“Two? What the devil do you mean?”

“I mean, there is a second band of thieves, using the identity of Tyburn and his men. I believe most of your earlier robberies were conducted by the first band of three thieves. These men were clearly knowledgeable. The last two robberies seem to be the work of a second group of three people. Most of the reports about them match, but there were enough differences that I became suspicious. Two nights ago, it was the second group that attacked your coach first. Tyburn and his men came to their aid once the armed guards made their presence known. I wasn’t able to rescue your money because I was outnumbered. The more knowledgeable group of men handled the theft of the money, while the less experienced trio of thieves fled. I chose to follow those three to see what I could learn.”

“And where did they go?” Andrew demanded.

“To an old priest hole, which led to a tunnel that took them straight to Foxglove Hall.”

“Foxglove—” Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “You mean these men work for Diana Fox?”

It had taken him a moment to recall the shabby estate he’d visited when investigating the robberies. That woman who’d lived there had most likely lied to him that day when he’d gone to question her about her supposed abduction. Either she was working directly with him, or they were competitors of sorts. No matter. Now he had another piece of this strange puzzle.

His manservant was still smiling as he took a moment to relish delivering his news. “Better. Miss Fox is one of the thieves. I have learned she was shot two nights ago, a simple flesh wound. She’ll live.”

“A pity,” Andrew snorted. He didn’t like women and their simpering and lying. They were useless to him.

“Not a pity, as it turns out,” Phelps said, far too smugly.

“If you have something relevant to tell me, you’d best spit it out.”

Phelps narrowed his eyes, the only hint of rebellion he had ever seen in his loyal servant. That was because Phelps knew just how dangerous Andrew was when he was angry.

“The woman’s injury drew the leader of the other band of thieves right to her. I saw him go in through her window. I believe they might be secret lovers, which would explain why he snuck into her home rather than simply going through the main entrance.”

“And who is this other man?” Andrew said impatiently.

“That I learned later. When this man left Foxglove, I followed him back to his home.” Phelps paused, seeming to relish his next words. “Lennox House.”

“Lennox House? Lord Lennox is harboring these thieves?”

Phelps’s eyes glowed with triumph. “No.”

“You cannot expect me to believe Lennox himself is the leader of the highwaymen.”

His manservant was grinning wickedly now. “Not him...”

Andrew’s breath caught as a sudden, delicious, dangerous excitement filled his veins with the need to cause pain.

“You mean . . . ?”

“Yes,” Phelps said. “You finally have the means to catch the one you’ve wanted.”

The web he’d spun to trap a group of bothersome highwaymen had, by good fortune, caught the one man who had eluded him so long ago.

He’d tried over the years to snare the young Lennox in his usual ways, with debts or obligations that he did not realize led straight back to Andrew. But much to his frustration, the boy had never fallen for those cleverly laid traps.

But now... now he could feel the sweet vibrations of the struggling of his prey, not even realizing it was already too late. He would finally have Rafe Lennox under his power. He would break the man, take his time and bask in every second of his agony.

“We will need to bait our trap. I trust you will see it done?” Andrew asked.

“With pleasure,” said Phelps.

“Good. Get to it. I am no longer willing to wait.” He stood and waved for Phelps to leave. There was much to do. He must prepare his private cellar for Rafe’s arrival and wait. The anticipation almost made him lightheaded.

Finally, he would have what he’d hungered so long for.

Diana hummed to herself as she and Mrs. Ripley carried the vegetables in from the gardens. They’d harvested quite a few carrots and potatoes this week, as the weather had been good for their small crops. Diana could already taste the stew that their cook would make with the beef she’d acquired from the butcher this morning. Although Diana’s arm still twinged, it was more an ache now than an actual pain.

Perhaps it hurt less because she and Rafe were to be married in a month’s time, and that fact seemed to make everything glow inside her. She wished it could be sooner, but Lord Lennox had insisted upon the banns being read in church and a wedding ceremony with a large breakfast. It seemed most of the Lennox marriages had been hasty matters, and Rafe’s elder brother wished to do the thing properly once Rafe had announced the news to his family.

Rafe had given Ashton a most frustrated glare, which made Diana laugh and kiss Rafe’s cheek. She had whispered that she would make the wait worth it. He had kissed the shell of her ear and whispered back that he was certain he would find a way to see to her needs while they waited out the month. His sensual promise had made her legs wobble as much as some of the famous jellies that the Lennox cook made.

She’d written to Rachel straightaway with the news, since she was back in London again for the next few weeks. Rachel would be delighted; Diana could picture her friend smiling as she read the news.

“We must work on your trousseau, Miss Diana,” said Mrs. Ripley. She gave the cook and a scullery maid a grateful smile as the two servants collected the baskets from her and Diana.

“Oh, but I could think of a thousand things that require my attention instead of filling a trunk with fine clothing.” Even as she said this, however, a tiny part of her heart sighed with disappointment.

The housekeeper gave a firm shake of her head. “Nonsense. You will have one, no matter what. Now, come with me and let me show you something.”

Diana followed Mrs. Ripley out of the kitchen and up into the attic above the maids’ and footmen’s rooms. Late-afternoon sunlight crept in through the dirty attic windows, illuminating little trails of dust motes but providing enough light to show them a worn path through the old trunks, paintings, and other belongings of more than two hundred years of Foxes.

Mrs. Ripley stopped in front of an old ivory-colored trunk in a dusty corner. She retrieved the set of keys that hung at her waist and knelt in front of the trunk. Diana joined her, curious as to what this particular trunk contained. They had so little time to spend in the attic when the rest of the estate needed so much attention.

“This was your mother’s trousseau. I believe everything is still quite nearly perfect inside.” The housekeeper unlocked the trunk and lifted the lid. A faint lavender aroma drifted up from the neatly folded garments tucked in thin paper, with a set of letters that had been bound in faded blue ribbon.

“These are love letters from your father,” Mrs. Ripley explained. She delicately moved the faded letters aside and opened the first layer of thin paper about the clothing.

“And this was your mother’s wedding gown.” She held it up so Diana could see. The style was not in the current fashion, but the pearl beading and gold embroidery on the soft icy-blue silk were exquisite and timeless. The gown seemed to shimmer as though some fairy queen had worn it long ago and her magic still clung to the fabric.

Diana’s hands trembled as she touched the watered silk. “I’ve never seen her wedding gown before. It’s so beautiful.” She could imagine herself wearing it, feeling just as beautiful as her mother had been. For a moment, she felt overwhelmed. She’d long given up hope that she would have a wedding day or a husband. And now... She bit her lip to hide a smile as she thought of Rafe’s face when he saw her in this gown.

Mrs. Ripley gave a soft grin. “With a few adjustments to bring it up to the current fashions, I believe you could wear this and look as magnificent as your mother did on her wedding day.”

Diana bit her lip and nodded. “I wish... I wish she and Eleanor were here.”

“Me too, my dear. But think of your new family. Lady Lennox, Lady Kincade... you will have sisters.”

She would have wonderful sisters. She scarcely could have imagined that her life could have changed so much for the better so quickly.

“Do you think I’m being hasty, agreeing to marry him so quickly?” she whispered to Mrs. Ripley while they examined some undergarments made of fine satin and Belgian lace.

“If I hadn’t seen you with Mr. Lennox, perhaps I would be worried, but I’ve never seen two people so well suited to each other. The way that man looks at you... That is a man who loves deeply, loves purely.” Mrs. Ripley paused, her smile bittersweet. “But what matters most is his being here and courting you proper... It’s undoing the harm of the last few years.”

Diana felt a sudden flash of anxiety. “Harm?”

Mrs. Ripley set down the nightgown and took Diana’s hands in hers.

“You’ve always been a force of nature, my dear. More so than your sister. You shone as a little girl. It’s why that man adores you. You’re such a vibrant soul. But these last few years that shine has dimmed. Life has a way of stealing away one’s inner light when too much happens to break one’s heart.”

Mrs. Ripley was usually a woman quite in control of herself, but now she sniffed and wiped away a tear.

“Whenever you are in Mr. Lennox’s presence you shine , just as you deserve to. Mr. Peele and I have been so relieved and happy to see our little Diana come back to us. You deserve everything good life has to offer, and I believe that man will do anything to give it to you.”

She squeezed Diana’s hands. “Now, before I become a watering pot, I will have the footmen bring this down today and we will begin work on your wedding gown. We want to make Foxglove proud, don’t we?”

“Yes, we do,” Diana agreed, her own voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, Mrs. Ripley.”

Mrs. Ripley cupped her cheek as though she were a little girl once more. “I never had children of my own, but you... I claim you as my daughter in every way I can.”

Diana threw her arms around Mrs. Ripley and hugged her.

A few hours later, Diana walked to the stables to see how Nelson was doing tending the horses. It was an old habit she’d gotten from her father, who’d liked to check on Nelson, and he’d taken Diana with him more often than not so she could see the horses.

As she stepped into the stables, the aroma of fresh hay and grain mixed with the pleasing scent of leather and horses. She found the old groom in the farthest stall. He was speaking in a soothing voice to the beasts and winked at Diana when he spotted her. She tapped her fingers on the stable door and took a moment to breathe the air and enjoy herself.

“Nelson, don’t forget to come in for dinner soon,” she reminded the old groom.

“Yes, Miss Diana,” he said from behind a tall white Percheron he was brushing.

Diana turned away from the stables and returned to the house. She looked upon her home with new eyes, eyes that didn’t feel weary at the thought of caring for it. Now she saw what her life would be, how the gardens would flourish, how there would be Isla and perhaps another child running about the lawns, and she would spend her days with Rafe, basking in the sunlight and living in the way she’d longed for. Foxglove would once more be a shining jewel in the countryside, and her family would have been proud that she’d saved it.

She heard the sudden rush of steps behind her, and pain exploded in the back of her skull. She collapsed on the grass, her hands scrambling in the autumn leaves as she tried to get to her knees.

“You’re stronger than I thought,” someone hissed, and a second blow sent her into a world of black oblivion.

When she came to, she found herself on the floor of a dimly lit cellar. It took her a full minute to get past the throb in her head as she realized she was sitting in a... cell? A lit lamp sat on the floor just beyond her reach through the bars. She groaned and tried to sit up. The world still spun sickeningly, and her fingertips came away from the back of her head with a bit of blood. Where had she been just now? Had she seen Nelson in the stables? Yes, she remembered that she had... What happened after that?

Light flickered at the opposite end of the cellar as someone came down a set of stairs and emerged from the gloom.

“Welcome to my home, Miss Fox,” Lord Caddington said with a dark chuckle. “I find it amusing that I set the trap to catch a fox, yet I had no idea I would quite literally catch one.” He sneered and wrapped his fingers around the iron bars of the cell as he peered down at her.

Diana got to her feet. “You’ve kidnapped me.” The green woolen gown she wore was muddy and torn, and parts of her body ached as though she’d been dragged, which was likely given the state of her clothing. Whoever had taken her from her home must’ve tossed her about with little care to bring her here.

“Correction, I’ve taken you into custody . As the local magistrate, I am within my rights to see justice done. And seeing as how you have been robbing my coaches, Miss Fox, I fully intend to do so.”

“This doesn’t look like a proper jail,” she said coolly. “Where are we?”

“This is my private prison, for prisoners I must see to personally .”

A private prison. No one would know she was here. Diana stayed silent. It would do her no good to argue with a madman.

“But rather than see you hang, I’ve found a better use for you.” His gaze swept over her body, and she turned away from him.

“Oh, come now. I have no interest in you in that fashion. No, I’ve discovered recently that someone I dearly wish to catch happens to have one weakness. You. Quite frankly, I don’t see the appeal. However, once I have him, well, I will have no further interest in you.”

Rafe . He must mean Rafe. He’d told her about how Caddington had desired him when he’d been a boy, how dangerous he was. She couldn’t let Caddington know she knew him or cared about him. She had to protect him however she could.

“You don’t wish to know who you have bewitched and inadvertently betrayed? Come now, Miss Fox. Play along with my game or I shall become bored, and you would not like to see what I do when I am bored.” Caddington’s voice held such ice that Diana was surprised the bars of her cell didn’t frost over.

“Who?” Diana uttered the word quite against her will. She didn’t want to play his games.

Rather than answer her question, Caddington let go of the iron bars and paced the length of the short corridor in front of her, hands clasped behind his back.

“There is someone I have wanted in my grasp for a very long time. I couldn’t take him before because I had no way to keep him. Trapping him in crippling debt wouldn’t have been enough, and the man slips through every trap—until now. To have him under my power, to hurt him, make him bleed... Ah, what sweet bliss it will be to hear him scream. His life will now belong to me. All I needed was a reason for him to surrender himself to my keeping.”

“Who are you talking about?” Diana growled, but deep down a terror like she’d never known before filled her, because she knew the truth. “Just tell me, damn you!”

Caddington, his back to her, bent to retrieve the lantern on the floor and hung it from a hook opposite her cell before he turned to face her.

“Don’t act all innocent. You’ve pretended to be him, after all. The infamous highwayman who has made my life most difficult this past year. I believe you call him Tyburn.” The relief she felt that it wasn’t Rafe vanished beneath a wave of guilt.

“Tyburn?” Caddington could not catch Tyburn. He was a shadow, a dream. He could not be real, could not be caught.

But he could be lured . . .

“Yes, you see now. I know that he loves you and would risk everything for you.”

Diana clenched her skirts, not daring to move or speak. She wouldn’t betray Tyburn. She had promised to keep the fact that she knew him a secret, and she would never break that vow.

“Why do you want him? Simply because he robbed your coaches?” Diana demanded.

The evil smile that spread across Caddington’s face gave her a terrible chill. He approached her cell and lightly gripped the bars, studying her.

“I have... very unique needs, Miss Fox. The need to hurt others. I prefer men, prefer to see strong, virile men fall beneath my whips and my rods. When they beg for mercy, I hear symphonies, Miss Fox.”

Her stomach roiled dangerously, and she swallowed down rising bile.

“You’re mad,” she whispered.

“I am a sadist. I like pain—it is simple enough. And to have a man like Tyburn beg me for mercy, to have him on his knees...” He didn’t finish, and Diana considered that a small mercy.

“Do your servants know of this?” she asked.

“They do—more than one have been my temporary amusement while I wait for better prey.” He chuckled as if at some private joke.

“You’re a monster,” Diana said.

Caddington stroked his thumbs on the bars and then released them and stepped back, his gaze suddenly full of shadows. “Tyburn will come for you,” Caddington said. “Think upon that, Miss Fox.”

Caddington walked away, a cruel, victorious smile upon his lips, and Diana knew that Tyburn was in terrible danger. She sank to her knees, leaning her forehead against the iron bars for a long moment as she closed her eyes. Despair and death were old friends to Diana, and now both specters loomed near her in the gloom of that dingy little cell, whispering to her to let go, to give in to what fate had in store.

All those sunny daydreams she’d had of a life with Rafe and little Isla were vanishing before her, like sand slipping through her fingers. She’d dared to hope, dared to dream... and now the loss of those dreams hurt worse than she’d ever imagined because she’d been close enough to touch them, to feel what could be .

This was her punishment for daring to desire a fairy-tale life. Cinderella would not be found by the handsome prince. She would be a prisoner of the ashes forever. Diana buried her face in her hands and sank deeper into the dark, praying she could sleep so that she didn’t have to face the dawn.

“Diana...” The voice was more memory than a whisper, but it stirred Diana awake.

“Eleanor?” She searched the darkness of the cell. She had to be mad to think she felt her sister’s presence here.

“Find a way out...” The whisper turned into trails of smoke made from the lantern as the candle within burned low and then died, leaving her in total darkness.

“Find a way out,” Diana echoed softly. Yes. There was always a way out, if one dared to shine in the dark.

The sweet scent of cigars still clung to Rafe’s clothing as he left the dining room. It had been a pleasant evening with Ashton, Brock, Will, and Caspian, who had talked and joked and congratulated him. He’d felt younger than he had in years while being surrounded by his brother and his friends tonight. They’d drunk brandy and smoked cigars until long after the ladies had retired to the reading room and Isla had been taken up to bed by Mrs. Chesterfield.

The other gentlemen had gone to bed, but Rafe had stayed where he was, enjoying one last glass of brandy and thinking about how for the first time in years life seemed exciting.

Even though he’d missed Diana at dinner this evening—she’d insisted on returning to Foxglove to see to things—soon they would have a lifetime to spend together. He simply couldn’t wait, nor could Isla. They’d spent a long time talking about what their new life would mean, and he was thrilled to see how excited his daughter was about having a mother again. It made him think of Isla’s parents and how he wished they could know that she was well taken care of and loved beyond measure.

A footman halted Rafe just as he reached the grand staircase. “This letter just came for you, sir.”

“A letter at this hour?” Rafe accepted the slim letter from the footman and went to his bedchamber to read it. Missives that came after dark did not usually bear good tidings. He seated himself in a chair by the fire, broke the red wax seal upon the back, and unfolded the paper.

I have your pretty fox. She will hang for your crimes unless you do exactly as I say. Come to me tonight and tell no one. Surrender yourself to me willingly, and I will let her go unharmed.

There was no signature, but Rafe flipped the note over to examine the wax seal. The crest imprinted into the wax was one he’d seen only once before upon the signet ring of the man who’d threatened Rafe the night his father died.

Caddington .

Caddington had Diana? It made no sense. She had done nothing to?—

He remembered how she and her men had fled the road that night when the robbery had gone wrong. They had gone straight back to Foxglove, grouped closely together, and he had easily followed their trail. Had one of Caddington’s guards followed them? No, they’d been subdued by Rafe and his men. But someone else could have followed them—someone like Phelps.

They’d crossed paths more than once in grimy taverns near the docks and in the crowded din of gambling hells, with Phelps often speaking to people Rafe had been making wagers with. Each time Rafe had seen him, he’d left the area immediately. Wherever Phelps was, Caddington was likely to be close by.

Rafe wasn’t about to chance putting himself in a situation where he and Caddington would have to face each other. The man had unnatural interests. There were rumors about how he craved the pain of others, and more than one person had suggested that he’d killed a few of his servants. Not that anyone dared to challenge him in the light of day. The man was a local magistrate and held a fair amount of power.

And if he had Diana, he could accuse her of being Tyburn and hang her for it.

Rafe clenched the letter in his fist as he cursed his foolishness. He had assumed the storm would cover their tracks. He’d doomed them all.

Rafe stared at the paper he’d crushed in his fist as he tried to breathe.

That sense of urgency that always drove him to recklessness, that need to live his life at breakneck speed, came into clear focus now. Some part of him had always known this day would come. For his sins, both old and new, the piper had come to collect his due.

He would not live to grow old with Diana or see Isla become the incredible woman she was destined to be. And he would never get to lie beside Diana in bed and whispered to her, “I love you, wife mine,” as dawn kissed her face. All his dreams winked out of existence as Rafe’s night sky went forever dark.

But there was one shining star he could still save.

He cast the letter into the fire and stood. His hands trembled as he watched the words of his doom be devoured by flames.

“I’m coming, Diana.”