Chapter Nineteen

A lice, her gown half fastened and her hair pinned anyhow, had hidden those deficiencies under the hooded cloak Fenton threw to her as she ran from the bedchamber and hurtled along passages and downstairs to the door closest to the beach path.

Peering over the edge of the cliff, she could no longer see anyone, least of all duelers. Terrified that she was too late, she started down the path, then paused as she heard footsteps. Her knees gave way, and she crouched down as two men emerged from further down the path.

"Hurry," the Duke of Atherstone's voice snapped. "We haven't got all day."

He strode on—fortunately up the other fork toward the road rather than to the castle.

Behind him came his chaplain, Mr. Jones, who did catch sight of her. His eyes widened in horror, then he stumbled after the duke. "Coming, Your Grace…"

Alice stayed where she was, her heart thundering. Dear God, she'd almost run straight into the man she needed to avoid at all costs, the man who meant her harm… Would Mr. Jones tell him she was there, in order to save himself and his family?

Below her on the beach, Cornelius could lie hurt or dying. Surely he had not been fighting a duel with Atherstone? Although what else made sense?

She could wait no longer. With a smothered sob, she slid and stumbled down the path, which was at least quicker than taking the carved steps from further around the castle. At any moment, she expected to hear Atherstone's hateful voice or, worse, feel his powerful, heavy hand on her shoulder.

But before she had reached the beach, she heard the sound of a carriage and several horses trotting off away from Blackhaven. Taking a flying leap, she landed on the sand.

The beach was empty.

Whoever else had been here had vanished, as though into thin air…

But of course they had not! Jumping to her feet, she ran closer to the sea and peered in both directions along the beach. Toward Black Hill, the beach was empty and the tide too close to the rocky coast to encourage walkers.

In the other direction, toward Blackhaven, she could make out several figures, men and horses. Was Cornelius among them? Was he hurt?

As she ran after them, she wondered lots of other things. What on earth had possessed him to fight with the duke? Was Atherstone still in such a hurry because he meant to catch her at the castle gates? Would Mr. Jones get the blame when Alice did not turn up there?

God, what a vile man…

Running along soft sand was hard work. She had to slow to a panting walk, but at least she was catching up. She could finally make out that none of the men in front was carrying anyone else, and no one was riding on either of the horses.

However, closer to town there were inevitably more people around—fishwives and fishermen, the odd rider taking an early morning gallop on the beach, a couple of ladies with pet dogs on leashes. She could not shout after the men without appearing like a fishwife herself. She had to remind herself she would be easily recognized. Hastily, she drew up her hood over her half-tumbling hair, and held the cloak more closely around her. Light rain was spattering on the sand, adding to the mist over the sea.

Relieved to see her quarries leading their horses up the path from the town beach, she hurried after them, but, walking toward the high street, they vanished from her view. Where was Cornelius going? To Dr. Lampton? To the hospital? Or was the doctor with him?

With despair, she realized she had never even got close enough to assure herself that one of the men was Cornelius.

She ploughed on toward the high street, hoping for a glimpse. Instead, she was forced to stop as a disreputable-looking young girl stood right in front of her, bending to peer under the hood of her cloak.

"It is you," said Leona Vale happily, then to her nearby brother, "It is Lady A—"

"Sh-sh," Alice said. "I'm looking for your brother—have you seen him?"

"Which one?" Leona asked, as though playing for time.

"Cornelius. Did you see him? Is he hurt?"

Leona looked so startled that she wished she had not frightened the girl, who was now clutching her brother's hand.

"He's not hurt," Lawrence said scornfully. "Anyone could see that. We hid from him, since we're not supposed to be interfering anymore."

"Are you interfering with Cornelius?" Alice asked, frowning.

"Oh no," Leona said. "But we had to hide behind a cart when he came by with Aubrey and Sir John Morgan. They went into the hotel together."

"Sir John?" she repeated, startled. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure."

Alice swallowed. "Was Lady Morgan with them?"

"No," said Leona. "They looked like men who wanted to have brandy for breakfast. Or at least with breakfast. At any rate, not to behave as ladies might wish." She exchanged a glance with her brother, and they both nodded. "We've changed our minds. We'll come to the hotel with you."

If Alice wondered about being allowed into the hotel in her present garb and accompanied by two apparently urchin children, she quickly saw that the opposite was true. She did not even need to reveal her identity to the doorman, who grinned at the twins and simply opened the door for all of them.

"We're looking for my brother," Lawrence said amiably to the first footman who glanced at them. "I believe he came in with Sir John Morgan."

It was the hotel's policy to give out no information whatsoever about their guests, as Alice, Helen, and Maria had discovered in their mischievous childhood. But the footman merely smiled tolerantly and pointed to the back of the foyer and the coffee room door.

Please let him be there. Let him be well and unhurt, please God … She raised her hand to knock, but before she could, Lawrence's knuckles thudded against the door and he opened it immediately, bowing exaggeratedly to Alice and his sister.

Alice stumbled in.

Three men, all in casual morning clothes and seated at the table, gawped and sprang to their feet. One of them was Cornelius, looking so bronzed and hale and hearty that she sobbed out, "Oh, Cornelius!"

Rushing at him, she flung her arms around his neck, clutching him as though she'd never let him go. His arms closed around her, firm and secure, and she cried harder.

"Alice, oh, Alice," he whispered in distress, sitting down again with her on his knee. "What has happened to upset you?" He glanced from her shuddering body to the twins, who had at least closed the door.

"She was worried about you," Lawrence said. "Don't know why, so we came along to help her find out."

Alice, appalled by her own weakness, wiped her wet face on Cornelius's shoulder and raised her head. He handed her a handkerchief, and she blew her nose before offering it back. Helpfully, Lawrence took it and stashed it in Cornelius's pocket.

"What are you up to, twins?" Aubrey demanded.

"What are you up to?" Leona retorted, picking up the brandy decanter. "It's only just seven in the morning!"

"It's medicinal," Aubrey said with dignity, then, more hastily as Alice turned on him in obvious fear, "Shock, you know. No serious injury."

Alice broke in. "Why were you on the beach at Braithwaite Cove?"

The men avoided looking at each other and shifted in their seats.

Alice grasped Cornelius by the shoulders. "Did you fight a duel with the Duke of Atherstone?"

"Of course not, and you were meant to stay in the castle out of his way," Cornelius exclaimed. "Dear God, what if he had caught you just as he meant to?"

"He ran right past me," Alice said impatiently, "and drove off in a coach, I think. He was in a terrible hurry."

"But what on Earth possessed you to leave the castle when you knew—"

She tried to shake him by the shoulders. "Because I saw people on the beach, and I was sure they were dueling. And I suddenly realized you were saying goodbye to me at church yesterday, just in case…" She hit her closed fist against his chest, raging, "How could you, Cornelius? What if you had died …?"

He looked harassed. Aubrey obligingly filled up his glass.

Cornelius didn't notice it. Shoving one hand through his hair—the other was holding Alice, most deliciously—he said reluctantly, "I wasn't fighting Atherstone. I was fighting Sir John."

She blinked across the table at Sir John Morgan.

"My fault," he said apologetically. "I got jealous—foolishly jealous—and challenged him. I see now why he has no interest in my wife."

Alice, blushing, closed her mouth and licked her lips, though she did not vacate Cornelius's lap.

"And now you're all friends," she said indignantly, although she wasn't quite sure what exactly she was indignant about. "Was Atherstone with you?"

"He was my second," Sir John said.

But Cornelius was staring at Alice. "More to the point, why was he in such a hurry?"

"To catch me at the castle gates," Alice replied, fishing inside her gown for the note she had received that morning. "Playing on my fears for you. It worked, too, only I went the wrong way and he didn't catch me."

"Then why," Cornelius said slowly, "did he drive off so quickly in the carriage? Why did he not wait around for you, closer to the castle gate? Was Jones at the gate instead?"

"No, Jones seemed to be waiting for Atherstone on the cliff path. He saw me but said nothing."

Cornelius scowled. "Something is going on here we don't understand."

"Shall we go and find out?" Lawrence offered.

"No," Cornelius snapped. "You stay away from Atherstone. For Leona's sake if no other. The man is a—"

A knock sounded at the door, and Alice, belatedly recognizing the impropriety of her perch on Cornelius's knee, hastily jumped to her feet.

Two footmen came in bearing trays of ham, sausages, eggs, mushrooms, and buttered toast, and pots of steaming coffee.

Sir John rose to his feet once more. "I'll just go and see if my wife is awake."

"Bring her to join us, if you like," Cornelius said distractedly.

As the footmen retreated again, his gaze shifted to Alice, disconcertingly warm, almost as if she were back in his arms. She flushed with pleasure.

"Were you truly so anxious for me?" he asked.

She wanted to deny it in her crossest voice but found herself nodding instead. "Who else would I be worried about?" she managed with a flash of spirit. "Atherstone?"

He threaded his fingers through hers and raised their joined hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles. The twins, helping themselves to toast and pieces of ham, watched with interest.

Alice cleared her throat. "Let me pour you coffee."

"Only if you sit and break your fast with us."

Her stomach rumbled in a most unladylike fashion, so she sat down, demurely poured two cups of coffee—the twins wrinkled their noses when offered—and helped herself to a piece of toast.

Cornelius sat beside her, close enough to feel the heat of his thigh almost touching hers. What a rather lovely day this was turning into after its awful start…

Sir John almost burst into the room, throwing a hastily scribbled note on the table.

"Cecily overheard Atherstone talking to some other villain and has gone to warn Lady Alice!"

It took a moment for the implications of that to sink in. Alice swallowed her toast. Cornelius laid down his fork.

It was Lawrence who put their thoughts into words. "That is why Atherstone drove off so quickly. He might have thought he had Lady Alice, but in fact he had Lady Morgan."

Cornelius took a large cup of coffee while he stood up. "Then we had better go after them."

"Where?" Sir John said, actually tearing at his hair. "We don't even know which way they went from the castle!"

"Toward Carlisle," Alice said, thinking back to the hoofbeats and the rumbling wheels she had heard from the beach. "And the Scottish border. I am not of age. He could not marry me in England without Gervaise's permission. And he does not like to lose."

"Cecily has thwarted him," Sir John said in a strangled voice. "I must get to her!"

"I'll come with you," Cornelius said, shoving him toward the table. "Eat something, quickly. Even if it's only a mouthful."

"I'll come, too," Alice said, jumping to her feet.

"You will not!" Cornelius cried.

"Don't be selfish!" Alice replied. "Cecily might need another woman with her."

"We'll come too," Leona said. "We're very useful."

Cornelius, who had been glaring at Alice, suddenly muttered, "You're right, Alice. You come. And twins, you are indeed very useful. In this case, I want you to take a message to the Earl of Braithwaite at the castle. Tell him Alice is safe with us and where we are going."

"The Scottish border," Lawrence said.

"Hopefully we won't need to go so far! I'll go and hire a carriage."

*

"Who the devil are you? And where is Lady Alice?"

The duke's question hung between them.

Cecily had never been so frightened in her life. Out of the frying pan… But she was not no one.

She lifted her chin. "I am Lady Morgan."

Atherstone blinked. Unexpectedly, he laughed.

"My husband will be most grateful to you for rescuing me from that awful man," she added in a rush.

"Will he?" Atherstone's eyes were like ice. His upper lip had a nasty, angry curl to it. It twitched.

Cecily rushed on, "So, if you could see your way to be of further service, we would both be in your debt. Perhaps you would either return me to Blackhaven or let me down at the first inn so that I might hire a conveyance?"

"Why would I do that?" the duke said, looking her up and down in a manner that was hardly respectful.

Cecily needed him too badly to scold. "Because it is vital that I get back to Blackhaven as soon as possible. I am very afraid that my husband was involved in a duel this morning, and I do not know if he even survived."

She was sure Cornelius would not have killed him—not deliberately, at any rate—but there was no point in telling the duke that. She needed all the sympathy she could extract.

"He did survive," said the other man, who had remained silent up until now. "They both did."

Atherstone cast him a glance of pure venom that almost threw Cecily. What in the world was going on here? Not entirely acting, Cecily gave a little sob of relief and resorted to dabbing the corner of her eye with a tiny wisp of embroidery and lace.

"And now you have quite upset my plans," the duke told her. "I do hope that was not deliberate?"

Cecily jumped with fright. She had indeed gone to the castle gates to upset the duke by warning Lady Alice. Daubin's appearance had thrown her, as had her fear for Jack. She hung desperately to the truth.

"That vile man lied to me!" she said tearfully. "He made me think Jack was wounded in the carriage, and then he drove off before I could even see no one else was there! He thought I was someone else."

Atherstone sat back. "Perhaps you are a friend of Lady Alice?"

Cecily widened her eyes at him. "You imagine we formed a conspiracy to play a trick on you and Mr. Daubin? How dare Your Grace? I am a respectably married lady!"

"So you are. Which has its compensations."

Again, those contemptuous eyes raked her from head to toe.

"Perhaps we should stop at the inn, as Your Grace first planned," the other man said nervously.

"What an excellent idea. For once." The mixture of coldness and lust in his gaze was terrifying. "We must decide what compensation is due me for my inconvenience."

If they had not been traveling so fast, Cecily might have seriously considered throwing herself out of the carriage and taking her chances with the road and any traffic coming the other way. She even started forward once, more from instinct than conscious thought, and instantly, belying his lethargic posture, the duke seized her arm in a grip that hurt.

"You would not do anything truly foolish, would you?" he said softly.

Cecily, who still harbored hopes of persuading him to help, forbore from retorting.

To her dismay, they turned off the main road and along a track to a half-hidden inn. If anyone was following, or looking for her, they would never find her here!

But she was being silly. She was not some foolish chit of no account that the duke could assault and abandon. She was the wife of Sir John Morgan, and though she had been somewhat tempted of late, she really did not want to be anything or anyone else. Tears pricked at her eyes as the carriage halted at the rather dilapidated house, but she blinked them away, determined to show no fear.

Perhaps there would be someone kind in the inn—the innkeeper's wife, even—who would help her?

No doubt to prevent her bolting, Atherstone helped her down from the carriage and clamped her hand to his arm as they walked into the inn.

A slovenly woman greeted him like an old friend before he interrupted, "A private parlor, if you please."

"Right away, sir. Come right in."

"Breakfast," the duke commanded as he walked past her into the parlor, all but pushing Cecily in front of him.

Since the main room was deserted, there seemed little point in making a fuss about the parlor. What could happen while breakfast was being served and consumed? And at least the other man, the generally silent Mr. Jones, was with them, looking miserable.

But then, Atherstone had turned silent, too. While he ate his way through the not terribly appetizing breakfast, he watched Cecily like a cat who had found a mouse to play with.

She barely nibbled at a slice of toast, despite not having eaten that morning.

The duke laid down his knife and fork. "Go away, Jones."

Without a word, Jones rose and bowed to her. Despite the rather terrifying sympathy in his expression, he turned his back and walked out of the room.

"Well," the duke said, pushing his chair back from the table. "What compensation do you offer me for my inconvenience?"

"My gratitude. And my husband's."

"That will hardly teach you not to interfere in my affairs. How did you come to be at the castle gates to fool the inestimable Daubin?"

"I wished to stop my husband's duel. Someone told me such affairs were normally conducted near the castle."

"You are a terrible liar." The duke threw his napkin on the table. "I think your ladyship listens at doors, like the meanest serving wench."

Cecily blushed furiously, not least because that was exactly what she had done. "Your Grace is unkind to a lady alone, fearing for her husband's life."

"Then let me set your mind at rest. Your husband was last seen scuttling toward Blackhaven with two of the Vale brothers, with the stated aim of getting drunk."

She doubted she hid her despair at that news either. No one would save her.

"Did you think to curry favor with the Earl of Braithwaite's family?" the duke murmured. "You have really rather done them a disservice, you know. Lady Alice could be a duchess by now. You, on the other hand, will be merely yet another faithless, adulterous wife. Will Morgan beat you?"

She jumped to her feet in agitation, and saw the disturbing flare of lust in his eyes once more.

"On second thought," the duke added, "perhaps I don't care. I believe we will compensate each other for our wasted time."

Oh, dear heaven, now what do I do? "I must go to the cloakroom," she said, inspired, bolting for the door.

Inevitably he was before her, catching her hand before he opened the door himself and bellowed, "Landlady!" He smiled frostily. "I would hate you to get lost."

Her main purpose was in fact to waste time, although she desperately needed someone on her side.

"Where is Mr. Jones?" she asked the woman as soon as they were out of earshot.

She cackled. "Praying, like as not."

Cecily stared at her. "He is a clergyman ?"

"Chaplain." He shrugged. "Could be defrocked, for all I know! There you are. I'll wait. And I wouldn't be too long if I were you. He'll only come in after you."

Cecily let out an exclamation of outrage, though it sounded more like a moan of fear. Atherstone was a duke. He was afraid of no one. How could she make him so?

She could try making herself as unattractive as possible, but she had the feeling this would make no difference to Atherstone. She doubted he would even recognize her tomorrow. All he wanted was to assuage his anger, take out on someone else the failure of his appalling plan.

She wished she had never even thought of warning Alice against the plot.

Emerging from the cloakroom, she found the landlady still waiting for her. She veered across the room toward the front door of the inn.

"Fresh air," she said vaguely. But again, the duke materialized before her, and in no time, she was bundled back into the parlor, the door firmly closed.

Clearly prepared to waste no more time, the duke immediately took her in his arms, forced her body hard against him, and slammed his mouth down on hers.

Cecily's shocked senses went numb. Her ears rang.

And then suddenly, the door of the room flew open.