Awakening Amelia (24 page)
“Your belief in her is admirable, Havering.” Captain Fury’s slight smile was complacent. “But I suspect she would do as she was told.”
Marcus sat back. “You haven’t met her.”
“I most certainly have. In truth, I encountered her in her first Season. Such a shame she chose to run away with that American when she had drawn the attention of a duke.”
Jack raised an eyebrow at Marcus, who nodded slightly.
“So what
do
you want, Captain?” Jack inquired.
“Your report on what happened in Wales.”
“Surely you already know?”
“Naturally, but I’d prefer to hear your account from your own lips. It is easier to work out who is lying to me then and why.”
Jack set his jaw and repeated the fantastical events of his trip into Wales, which had Marcus staring at him in disbelief.
“Thank you, Jack.” Captain Fury inclined his head an inch.
“Did you know the Rice brothers were working together to cover up David’s crime and keep me from receiving my pardon?” Jack asked.
“I became aware of it. The events that occurred while you were there in Wales simply confirmed my suspicions.”
“And, conveniently for you, there are no other witnesses to the original ambush left alive except me and Marcus.”
“From all accounts, your companion remembers very little, which is why he is currently still alive.”
Marcus glared at the smiling masked man in front of him. “No thanks to you.”
“On the contrary, I made
sure
you were kept alive. If it hadn’t been for my intervention, you would’ve been taken straight to a French military court and shot as a spy.”
“I’m supposed to be grateful for being imprisoned for several years and treated like an
animal
?”
“You’re alive, sir. One might think you should show some gratitude.”
Jack interrupted. “The only reason you kept him alive was to use him against me so that I would continue to spy for you.”
“You think very highly of yourself, Jack. That wasn’t the only reason.”
“Then what else?” Jack demanded.
“There were other… interested parties. The government, the army, the men supplying the French army with stolen weaponry. None of these entities wished the orders you were carrying to get through, Jack. A few good men such as yourself and Havering were seen as infinitely disposable by all concerned.”
“So David was a pawn as well.”
“Of course he was. Do you really think he had the brains other than to reveal the day and time you would be passing through that particular stretch of mountain range? He was demanding more money for even that small service, so he had to be killed.”
Marcus slowly raised his head and stared at the quiet figure opposite him. “Why are you telling us all this? Do you intend to kill us?”
“On the contrary, I thought it fitting that you and Jack should be present at the end of this particular episode in my life.”
“What do you mean?” Outside, Marcus heard the sound of a carriage arriving. Beside him Jack stiffened as well.
“I am finished with this country.” Captain Fury waved a dismissive, gloved hand. “It is too small for my talents and too depleted by the recent wars to provide me with either amusement or profit.”
“You’re
leaving
?”
“Indeed. I believe my future lies in the new nation of America.”
“That nation is not yet secure. Our forces are still attempting to regain control.”
“Not for much longer, and they will not prevail.” His smile was serene. “Not with my assistance being weighted heavily on the American side.”
Female voices echoed in the hallway below, and Marcus tensed.
“You expect us to let you leave this room alive?” Jack said so quietly Marcus almost didn’t hear him. “You traitorous, blood-thirsty, deceitful, bloody
bastard?”
Captain Fury stood and revealed the pistol in his hand. “If you wish to see your womenfolk unharmed, then yes.” He raised his voice. “Bring them in.”
Marcus instinctively stepped to the side as the door was flung open and Carys and Amelia were bundled through, held tightly by four of Fury’s thugs.
“Move out of my way everyone.” Captain Fury waited until his men formed a double wall for him to walk through. “You may release these people from this room when I have been gone for half an hour. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Captain.”
Marcus tried to move, but was brought up short by the knife one of the men held close to his wife’s face.
“Stay right there, guvnor. Wouldn’t want to mark the pretty lady.”
Captain Fury was almost at the door when Amelia gasped and pretended to swoon, swaying right into his path. Captain Fury went down in the tangle of skirts and shouts, and Marcus ducked as well, throwing himself toward where the captain had fallen. He scrambled over Amelia and clattered down the stairs after his prey, who was already on the move again. He leapt forward down the stairwell and managed to get a hand onto the hem of Captain Fury’s black cloak, jerking him backward.
His fingers grasped the captain’s wrist and he found himself staring right at the black signet ring with its lion rampant and bishops miter engraved in the center.
“That’s
my
family crest. Where did you get this?”
He yanked Fury’s arm up in a cruel grip until he could see into his face and tore off the man’s mask. Eyes the same dark blue as his own glared back at him.
“Who the devil
are
you?” Marcus growled.
“You really don’t remember, do you?” Fury sighed. “How ironic. All my work wasted because you can’t keep your wits about you.” His gaze hardened. “Who do you think I might be?”
Marcus blinked hard as a series of memories assailed him. “You…lived in one of the cottages on the Stortford estate. We used to play together before I went away to school.”
“Ah, the light finally dawns. Any more startling insights?”
Marcus studied Fury’s face. “You look like me.”
“Well
done
.”
“Are you my father’s son?”
“His bastard. My mother worked as a governess in the house until your father noticed her. I believe she was supposed to be grateful when he offered us the cottage and eventually paid for me to go to school.” His smile twisted. “I was expected to return and manage your estates.”
“I knew nothing of this.”
“Your father never mentioned his by-blow? How strange. Possibly because my mother was a lady he
ruined.”
Marcus eased his grip a little. “So you did all this to punish me for being the
legitimate heir
?”
Captain Fury’s blue eyes blazed. “No, to punish your father. It was quite amusing to send him hints about what had happened to you over the years, pieces of your uniform, a lock of your hair…and extort money from him in return for more, of course. What a pathetic little man.”
“Who died too young probably because of your perverted treatment of him.”
“He deserved everything he got,” Fury snarled, the pleasant mask finally stripped away..
Marcus drew back his fist. “As do you.”
Fury twisted to one side, making the blow land on the side of his head, his hand scrabbling on the floor.
With a savage curse, he raised the pistol. Marcus just managed to roll away as it went off, the sound deafening in the small space. Even as he reacted to the shot, the captain kicked him hard in the balls, and he went down again, nothing but screaming pain left inside him as his quarry made his escape, leaving Marcus writhing in agony on the floorboards.
Someone crouched over him and the next thing he knew he was being taken back up the stairs and laid out on the hearthrug, Amelia’s horrified face over him.
“Are you shot, Marcus? Where is it?
Tell
me?”
Jack was now on his other side and was feeling frantically up and down his torso. “I don’t see any blood.”
“No… blood,” Marcus managed to wheeze. “Balls.”
Jack winced in sympathy, and Amelia’s hand froze low on his stomach.
“The bastard got away.”
“I know,” Jack said grimly.
Amelia bent down to whisper in his ear. “But the Duke of Diable Delamere’s men were following us, so mayhap they will find him after all.”
“Good luck to them.”
Marcus let his head fall with a thud onto the threadbare carpet and closed his eyes. He had half an hour to wait before Fury’s men would release them from their prison, and he would need every second of it. What an inglorious way to go down, but at least he was alive. He had a lot to tell Jack and the duke but everything would have to wait.
He caught hold of Amelia’s hand. “What in damnation were you doing falling into Captain Fury’s arms like that?”
She bit her lip. “I have to admit that I was somewhat overcome by rage when I saw he was about to escape us all and decided I had to try and stop him.”
“And might have got yourself killed.”
She squeezed his fingers and then brought them to her lips. “I didn’t think of that. I was just so
furious.”
A reluctant laugh shook through him and he winced.
“Don’t ever do that again, will you?”
“If you promise not to launch yourself down the stairs and almost get shot, I will.”
“I believe my fighting days are behind me, my love. I am looking forward to a little peace and quiet.”
“That would be wonderful.” She hesitated. “Apart from the usual disruption having a child creates.”
He took a deep, slow breath. “You are with child?”
“I think so. Do you mind?”
Marcus gave a ragged laugh. “Considering what just happened to my balls, I’ll consider it a blessing and a miracle.”
As was his custom, Marcus awoke early and took a stroll around the grounds of Stortford Hall. The sun was coming up, but the air still held that crisp biting promise that reminded him of being in the mountains. He still hated being inside for too long and had formed a terrible habit of leaving doors and windows open wherever he went, making his hosts and his guests subject to far more bracing conditions than they were probably used to.
Amelia merely laughed and kept a shawl close by her, but his brother and grandmother tended to complain. But they would be traveling to London shortly to open up Stortford House and make sure that his cousin Felicity found a far better man than him to marry her—that is if Charlie didn’t finally speak up and marry her himself.
Marcus paused at the end of the terrace to observe a peacock striding majestically across the lawn, his long tail dragging through the dew. His family was still coming to terms with the changes captivity had wrought on him. He would never be the amiable laughing oldest son without a care in the world again. He knew too much, had suffered hardship and learned how fragile life could be.
But he had survived. He had forged new friendships with the Duke of Diable Delamere and his wife and reconnected with Jack, who, despite Marcus’s protests, preferred to live in obscurity in Wales and ignore society and its gossip. Jack was happy with his wife and son, speaking his native language and getting involved in local matters. In truth, his choices weren’t that different to Marcus’s, although he was lucky as a fourth son he didn’t have an estate to run.
But Marcus had even found solace in that. Growing things, tending to his crops and ensuring his tenants had the best he could provide for them—including a school—gave him some hope for the future and at least a gainful occupation that didn’t involve the horrors of war.
A recent letter from the duke crackled inside his coat pocket, waiting to be shared with Amelia when she woke up. It seemed Captain Fury was now established in Philadelphia and busy setting up an empire that the British government couldn’t touch. The duke still cherished hopes of running him to ground, but Marcus was quite happy for the man to stay away. If he ventured into England again—that would be a different matter, of course.
Marcus continued his stroll around to the side of the house, his boots crunching in the gravel. And of course he had Amelia, who made sense of everything and in saving him insisted she had also been saved herself. She said she’d been hiding from life and that his unexpected arrival into her quiet corner of England had woken her up again like a modern-day sleeping beauty.
Marcus allowed himself a quiet chuckle. Not that anyone would mistake him for a prince. He was still plagued by headaches and nightmares and wasn’t exactly a comfortable man to be around, but despite all that she loved him. He knew that in his soul.
A tapping on the glass made him look up to see a small figure framed in the long window of the drawing room that opened out onto the rose garden. His smile widened as he crossed over to the house, unlatched the door and crouched down on his haunches.
“Papa. Me come with you. See horses?”
Nodding at the nurse, he held out his arms and his son ran into them.
“I’m sorry, my lord, as soon as he saw you were outside, he was after me to get him down the stairs.”
He smiled at the nurse. “You know I don’t mind at all, Maggie, and neither does her ladyship.”
He boosted young Andrew onto his shoulder and felt his son’s small hands tug impatiently at his hair. At almost three years old, the boy was as remarkably single-minded as his mother.
“Horses?”
“Yes, my dear boy.” He winked at the nurse. “Tell her ladyship I’ll bring him back in time for breakfast.”
“Yes, my lord.” Maggie looked at her charge. “Now you be a good boy, do you hear?”
“Yes, Nurse. Come
on
, Papa.”
Obeying his son’s determined little heels drumming into his shoulders, Marcus turned toward the stables. This was his life. This was his present and his future.
His son.
His
family.
With a whoop, Marcus picked up the pace and galloped his delighted son all the way down the path toward the stables.
THE END
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