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Chapter 35

Chapter

Thirty-Five

T heodore heard the news as he was sitting down to his supper. A poached egg, cooked to perfection. He'd taken only one mouthful when Mrs. Henderson arrived in a flurry. The servant tried to block the way into the dining room, but she ducked around him, arriving breathless at Theodore's side.

"Mr. Garsed!"

Theodore dropped his fork against his plate and snatched the napkin from out of his waistcoat, where he'd tucked it. "Mrs. Henderson, please . . ."

"Lord and Lady Lacey are back from London already. It is very strange. First Lady Lacey arrived in the coach, and then Lord Lacey galloped up on his horse. I did hear"—and she looked behind her as if expecting to see Nic standing there—"from my friend the cook that Lord Lacey was roaring and ranting all around the castle looking for her, and then he hauled her in from the garden. Cook had to make hot tea and crumpets, and then there was a great deal of fuss about hot water being carried upstairs for a bath for Lady Lacey, and fears that she might have caught a chill."

Theodore had stopped protesting, sitting staring at her, with the napkin still crumpled in his hand.

"I haven't told Mrs. Monteith yet, but dear Mr. Garsed, I fear for her daughter. She should never have married that man."

Theodore stared at her with wide eyes in his pale face. Since Olivia had gone away he'd begun to feel almost his old self again. While she wasn't there he could relax and slip back into his old life again, and now she was back and under threat from Lacey.

And Alphonse! Theodore glanced about him wildly, as if expecting his brother to appear in a puff of smoke. He had to get Mrs. Henderson out of the house before Alphonse heard her news.

When he grimaced and pressed his hand to his paunch, it wasn't entirely pretense. "Mrs. Henderson, I beg you will stop. You are giving me indigestion."

But Mrs. Henderson had no intention of stopping. "Of course, my dear Laura would never have put herself in such a position, where she was forced to marry a man like that."

Theodore stood up. "Mrs. Henderson, I am most unwell. Forgive me, but you will have to leave."

The woman blinked at him. "Oh. Well, if you insist . . ."

"I do. I do insist. "

"I wouldn't have bothered you, I'm sure, only Mr. Alphonse, your brother, told me to tell you the news. He was most complimentary of my neighborly feeling," she added, preening herself.

Theodore froze, staring at her. "Alphonse?"

"Yes. As soon as I told him he rushed off, but he said I was to come to you and explain. Well, if you want to be alone I will go now. I don't want to stay anywhere I'm not wanted."

He was rude and she wouldn't soon forgive him, but Theodore didn't care. The pain in his stomach was genuine now, and he wanted to lie down. But Alphonse had gone off to do goodness knew what mad act, and Theodore knew it was up to him to put a stop to it.

Theodore accepted he was not a brave man—he might not even be a very good man—but it was time to stand up for what was right.

His decision made, he rang for a cup of peppermint tea to calm his roiling insides, and hastily scribbled a note to be delivered by hand. When that was finished he sat back and closed his eyes.

Olivia might not love him—in fact he knew very well she didn't—but when she discovered what he had done she would have to admire him. He'd saved lives tonight, and that made him a hero.

Alphonse gripped his gun, moving stealthily through the trees. The castle was ahead, a jumble of dark shapes against the stars, while the gatehouse sat vaguely to his left. He'd already made his plan. A diversion outside was needed, to keep the servants busy, while he crept inside and found Lacey.

One good clear shot and then escape, back into the woods, and home to bed. No one would suspect him—why would they?—and Theodore would have a clear run at the rich widow.

Alphonse smiled to himself at the brilliant simplicity of it.

He had the "diversion" in his pocket—a mixture of gunpowder and other combustibles, wrapped in a cloth. Gathering the ingredients had taken a little time after his conversation with Mrs. Henderson, but one spark and it would make a lovely big bang. He thought he might set it off on the terrace.

All his life Alphonse had felt a sense of isolation, of being different, and perhaps that was why he tried so hard to please his brother. Of course, the money would be very pleasant, too.

With a smile, he left the trees and moved like a shadow toward the castle.

"Stop! You there, stop or I'll stop ye for good!"

The Scots voice was closer than he could have believed. How the hell did Wilson the gamekeeper get behind him without his noticing? Or had Wilson been waiting there? Whatever Wilson wanted, Alphonse wasn't about to be stopped this close to his goal. Slowly he turned, a big friendly smile on his face.

"Don't I know you?" the gamekeeper said.

"I don't believe we've been formally introduced," Alphonse retorted .

"You're the brother of Mr. Garsed," Wilson said. His gun lowered slightly, as if being a gentleman meant Alphonse was unlikely to be a dangerous character.

Fool, Alphonse thought, and swiftly brought his own gun to his shoulder.

"No!"

He heard Wilson's shout, became aware of someone else on the other side of him, and then the explosion. Somewhere in his head it occurred to him that he hadn't been as clever as he'd thought, and then the gunpowder in his pocket ignited and blew up, and he knew no more.

"What'll we do now, Mr. Wilson?"

The eyes of his new apprentice were like saucers. Wilson looked back at what used to be Mr. Garsed's brother. Whatever the gentleman had been carrying had certainly done for him, but he couldn't feel sorry. In those last moments it had been clear to Wilson that the note he'd received was no hoax. Alphonse was planning mischief at the very least, and murder at the very most.

"You remember those shots I told you about, in the woods?"

The lad nodded, his eyes even bigger. Of course he remembered. It was Lord Lacey's close call that had got him this job.

"Did this gentleman fire at Lord Lacey?" the lad asked.

"Aye, I believe he did. Who would have thought it, lad? I'll get the gardener to cover this fine fellow up. I think we'll wait till the morning to tell His Lordship," Wilson said. "No need to spoil his evening, eh, lad."

The boy nodded. "Aye." He swallowed, and Wilson noticed he was turning slightly green.

"Come on, lad," he said gruffly. "I'll fetch ye a dram of my best whiskey. That'll settle your stomach."

And he set off back toward his cottage, the lad following.

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