A Seduction at Christmas (20 page)

Later, before dinner, the children painted the Yule log and added bits of string and lace. Gillian had made one of her holly bundles as a finishing touch. The men shared a pint, pouring a bit of it on the log as a blessing.

It had been a day full of fun and family. Fiona couldn’t remember when she had laughed so hard or enjoyed herself so much. That night, when Nick walked her to her room, he suggested an early morning ride.

“There will be more relatives coming in,” he assured her.

Fiona tried not to think of all the people she was meeting. She was growing nervous about the
wedding. Everyone in the family was kind and generous but she was not looking forward to having all eyes on her. A ride was an excellent suggestion to break the tension.

The next morning, they met at the back door at half past eight. Other than the servants, the house was quiet. Even Tad seemed to prefer a spot before the hearth in the sitting room to going out of doors. It was a reluctant dog who joined them.

Nick and Fiona took their ride in their usual direction. The horses that had been saddled for them were young and had tremendous energy. The ground was just the right hardness to make riding easy.

Fiona was pleased her seat was returning. She sailed over several walls and hedgerows, keeping up every stride of the way with Nick.

They had reached the knoll and were starting to trot back when they heard someone shout,
“Holburn.”
Both of them turned at once.

A rider was coming toward them yelling at them to run. It was the Spaniard.

At the same moment that Fiona recognized who the rider was, a shot rang out.

A heart beat later, Nick’s body jerked on his horse and she knew he’d been hit.

N
ick felt the bullet go through his arm and out again. If it hadn’t been for Andres’s shout, he wouldn’t have turned at the last moment, and the ball could have proven fatal.

Instead, it made him angry.

He looked over across the hillside in the direction where the shot had been fired and saw movement behind a huge boulder. The shooter knew he had missed his mark and now scrambled to make an escape. Nick couldn’t identify him because of the hat pulled over his face.

But if the bastard thought he was going to put a bullet in Nick and run, he was wrong.

“Stay here,” Nick said to Fee. He kicked his horse
up the hill, hoping to gain on the man before he hit a knot of trees and shrubs that would make chase by horse impossible. The man probably had a horse waiting for him somewhere around there.

Andres came riding up beside him…as did Fee.
So much for obedience,
Nick thought wryly and focused his attention on capturing his shooter.

In the end, with the three of them giving chase, the man didn’t stand a chance.

Nick pushed his horse to cut off the man’s escape route, forcing him to surrender. Andres slid off his horse and pulled the hat off the man’s head to reveal Colonel Swanson.

For a moment, Nick felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. He didn’t want to believe what the implications of the man’s presence meant.

Andres had no such problem. “So, you could not afford more Irish men?” he charged.

The colonel’s back went ramrod straight as he glared at the Spaniard with disdain. Andres didn’t care. He looked to Nick. “This is the man who has been trying to kill you. I followed your uncles to London like you asked but decided they are not the killers. They had no visitors and when I asked questions, none of the servants had seen or heard of any Irishmen.”

“You asked the barón to follow your uncles?” Fee said, sounding confused.

“I did,” Nick answered. “I rode out after him that day and asked for the favor.”

“But I thought you were angry with him?” Fee said.

“It was a trick,” Nick answered. “I wanted people to think I had washed my hands of Andres. I didn’t know who it would flush out, but, of course, I suspected my uncles. It was imperative I link them to the Irishmen. Only then would I know we were safe.”

“But
when
did you talk to the barón?” Fee wanted to know.

“After Mother arrived, later in the afternoon, I went for a ride. I had wanted Ramigio taken to the village inn just so I could talk to him.”

She nodded, now understanding.

Nick turned to the Spaniard. “When did you suspect Swanson?” he wanted to know.

“Now for my story,” the Spaniard said, taking over the center of attention. “I follow your uncles and decide they are not the ones who want to shoot you. So I ask myself, who would do such a thing? I have no answer.”

“Then how did you know that Swanson was here?” Nick asked.

“I did not,” Andres answered. “I came back to report to you. The grooms at the stable told me you were out riding and I thought you would prefer a
report in private, so I followed. I arrived in time to catch sight of this man positioning his rifle. It was luck, Holburn.
Suerte.
”

“If you hadn’t called out when you did,” Fee said, “that bullet would have killed the duke.”

Andres lowered his eyes with false modesty. He knew he’d repaid his debt of honor to Nick and was going to bask in it. He might even believe the scales between them had tipped in his favor, and they had.

Nick took charge. “Fee, I think it best you return to the house. Andres and I will take the good colonel to the village.”

“I am going with you,” Fee answered. “I want to hear his story and I’m also a witness,” she reminded him. “The magistrate will want to see me. I am not going to sit home and wait while the two of you have the excitement.”

Her stout refusal made him smile until she gave a soft cry of alarm. “You are bleeding.”

Nick looked down and saw the wet spread of blood on the sleeve of his black riding coat. He’d been so furious with Swanson, he’d not thought about his wound. “It’s nothing,” he assured her. “I barely feel it.”

“Let me see,” she said and ordered him to dismount so she could do a bit of doctoring.

“You don’t want to take me to the magistrate,
Your Grace,” Colonel Swanson said, breaking his silence at last. “You will not be happy with what might follow.”

Nick knew exactly what he threatened. A great weight came down on his shoulders. “You hired the Irishmen, didn’t you? This isn’t your first attempt on my life.”

Colonel Swanson stared off into the distance, his lips pressed tight. He didn’t need to answer. Nick knew in his soul this was true. He also knew someone had helped him with the plot, a person who had intimate knowledge of Nick’s life.

Beware innocence.

His poor, silly, greedy mother.

Fee understood, too. Her hands that were busy tying a torn portion of her petticoat into a makeshift bandage paused momentarily. She didn’t look up at him but the connection between them was so powerful, he knew what she was thinking. She continued what she was doing, and for that he silently thanked her.

Knotting the bandage, she said, “There, you are ready to go. Be careful. It looks clean but one never knows.”

“Una mujer maravillosa,
” Andres said. “She doesn’t flinch at a gunshot wound. Not one sign of vapors.”

“Scottish women are made of stern stuff, barón,” she answered.

“Si,
” he agreed. “If I was the colonel, I would be quaking in my boots.”

The colonel shot him a look of irritation and Andres laughed, taking the reins of Fee’s horse and ordering the colonel to mount up. For a second, the colonel appeared ready to defy the order, but then Andres produced a small pistol from his riding jacket. It added merit to his command. The colonel mounted.

Nick climbed onto his horse. His arm didn’t bother him. It might tomorrow but today he was fine and heartily glad of it. He took Fee’s hand and lifted her into the saddle in front of him.

“Should we let someone at the house know where we are going?” she asked.

“I’ll send a messenger from the Black Bird,” Nick answered. The Black Bird was the village inn. The magistrate, Sir Clarence, was usually in its public room.

They set off at a brisk pace and reached the village in less than an hour. Two local lads came running up to walk their horses. Nick gave each a half guinea and then escorted the colonel into the inn, which was doing a brisk business with the holiday almost upon them.

Mr. Jones, the innkeeper, came hurrying up to greet them. “Your Grace, what an honor!” he said bowing deeply. “And it is good to see you again,
Colonel. I’m glad you returned. May I offer Your Grace a table?”

Apparently, Colonel Swanson had not traveled far when he’d left Huntleigh.

Nick saw Sir Clarence standing by the end of the bar. He was having a pint with some friends. Nick could call him over, but decided the wisest course was to first know exactly how far the culpability went.

He smiled at Innkeeper Jones. “Yes, we’d like a table. And will you ask my mother to join us?” He watched Colonel Swanson as he said this. The man didn’t flinch.

Perhaps Nick was wrong…except Mr. Jones said, “Certainly. I will have one of my daughters go up to her room with a message.”

The color drained from the colonel’s face. He had apparently not been expecting Nick’s mother to be there. The whole story was made clear fifteen minutes later when his mother came down to join them at their table.

She had not anticipated seeing the colonel between Andres and Nick. Her step faltered. She forced herself to go forward but a wariness appeared in her eyes. Apparently she was willing to brazen it out.

The men rose as she approached. “How good to
see you, Dominic,” she said, offering her cheek to him for a kiss.

He didn’t move. Fee had not stood. Nick could tell by the anger in her brown eyes that she had pieced together the story.

Realizing her son wasn’t going to give her any sort of welcoming sign, his mother took her seat. “What brings you to the village?” Before Nick could answer, she caught the attention of a passing serving girl. “A sherry.”

The girl hurried away.

The colonel’s jaw had gone tight with anger. Nick wondered why. “I thought you had returned to London, Mother,” he said.

“I am but I decided to linger a day here.” She hadn’t yet met Swanson’s eye. She knew he was angry. Now she let her lashes sweep low before shyly raising them and saying to Nick, “I know I was rude at the house. The announcement of your marriage was so abrupt. You can forgive a mother for being momentarily confused by such a sudden decision on your part, can’t you?”

“I can forgive many things,” Nick said. “What I can’t understand is why a mother would plot to murder her only child?”

His mother’s eyes rolled in shock. “Murder?” she said as if horrified at the thought. “Where do
you collect such ideas?” she demanded. “Or is this Swanson’s idea? Harry, what have you been doing?”

She’d never been a convincing actress.

The colonel didn’t think so either. “Give it up, Daisy. I told you to return to London. I was trying to protect you. You chose not to listen to me. The fact that you are here tells him all he needs to know.”

“I didn’t want to return without knowing you were safe,” she said to her lover. “I couldn’t leave without you.”

The colonel leaned back in his chair, his frustration clear.

“I know how you feel,” Nick commiserated with him. “My mother always does as she pleases. However,
you
are the one that chose
her
.”

“Perhaps I haven’t,” Swanson muttered. “And perhaps you wouldn’t like what I have to say, Your Grace, especially with the magistrate close at hand. Your mother has been a foolish woman, but it is your family name that will be on everyone’s lips.”

Before Nick could reach across the table and choke the life out of the man, the serving girl returned with the sherry. While everyone waited until the girl was gone, his mother reached for the glass and all but drained it.

She spoke first. “It wasn’t all my idea, Dominic. Harry persuaded me.”

The colonel snorted his disbelief. “She came to me with the idea. I was to be paid well.”

“You mean you aren’t my mother’s escort?” Nick asked, uncertain.

“Ours was a business relationship, Your Grace,” the colonel answered.

Across the table, both Fee and Andres’s mouths had dropped open. Nick sat back, shocked himself. He looked to his mother. In a low voice that could not be overheard, he asked, “Why, Mother? I’ve always taken care of you.”

She pushed her empty sherry glass a few inches across the table. Her lower lip quivered. “You wouldn’t cover my losses. You refused.” She played with the stem of her glass, not meeting his eye.

“What would you gain from my death?” Nick wondered.

“The money you put in trust for me. I would have that,” she answered. “I was very angry, Dominic. Very angry,” she said, as if that justified her actions. “I haven’t been so angry since your father was alive. He was always telling me I couldn’t do what I wanted to do. He became unfair about it.”

“Would you have murdered him, too, Mother?” Nick asked.

Her smiled turned brittle. “He made me angry,” she repeated and suddenly Nick realized she could have. He sat back, his mind reeling with the thought.

His mother threw her hands over her face and burst out into loud, noisy tears. “Now look at what you’ve done. You’ve made me think about something I don’t wish to think about.” She dropped her hands. “Where is Rocky? I need Rocky.”

She started to pull away from the table. Nick reached for her wrist. She tried to yank it away from him and then realized people around the public room were staring. Her manner changed. She turned serene. “I threw the ink blotter at him. You know, the brass one that you have on your desk.”

Nick still used it. The blotter was a good solid piece of metal.

“He refused to pay my debts,” his mother said. “Told me we should both quit gambling. I threw the blotter at him in a fit of temper. It was very bad of me. It hit him right here.” His mother indicated a point on her brow. “And he fell. His head hit his desk. I heard him grunt and then he was quiet.”

She was playing with her sherry glass again. Glancing up at Nick as if she were a reluctant child, she said, “I was very good after that. Brandt paid my debts and I was good. But then, I wanted to
play again. I won, Dominic. For a long time I won and then I just started losing.”

Nick let go of her wrist. He sat back in his chair, stunned by the confession and realizing for the first time that his mother was not completely well.

“Do you still wish to call over the magistrate?” Colonel Swanson asked.

Nick could have murdered him to wipe the smirk off his face. Instead, Andres leaned across the table. “
Bastardo
, you’d best shut your mouth.”

Beware innocence.
His mother had stopped playing with the glass. She’d folded her hands on the table, as patient as a school child.

And then he realized he was a duke. Sir Clarence would listen to him. He could make a case that Colonel Swanson had taken advantage of his mother.

As for her…he’d give her living quarters and a staff, but she’d not be let close to anyone. For the rest of her life, he’d have her watched. Cared for, but watched. Sir Clarence could help him with those arrangements, too.

As to Colonel Swanson, Nick would recommend he be transported to a penal colony in New South Wales.

“Yes, Andres. Please ask the magistrate to join us,” Nick said and had the pleasure of watching Colonel Swanson lose his swagger.

“Whatever happens to me will happen to your mother,” the colonel threatened.

“I doubt that,” Nick answered, and he was right.

Sir Clarence was very amenable to Nick’s ideas.

It was a somber threesome that left the inn. A light snow was beginning to fall. It made the air smell clean, but Nick didn’t feel that way inside. He was relieved no one spoke on the way back to the house. He had no need of words right now.