Compromising the Marquess (19 page)

Hal ground his jaw, furious that he’d been so easily outwitted. “This was a damned stupid idea,” he said, pacing the corridor in a futile attempt to relieve his anger. And his worry for Leah’s safety. “I never should have done it.”

“What’s that you’re holding?”

“A note from Leah.”

“Ah, so she’s okay.” Rob frowned. “But why is she writing to you?”

“I’ve no idea but presumably she isn’t safe, otherwise there would be no occasion to write to me in the middle of a ball.”

“I suppose not.”

“I’m assuming that she and Jean-Philippe both disappearing at the same time is no coincidence, but I’m damned if I can think of a connection between them.”

“It’s deuced odd.” Rob scratched his head, sending thick locks of hair cascading across his brow. “Best see what she has to say for herself.”

Hal opened the note and quickly scanned it, swearing aloud at its contents.

My dear lover,
he read.
I am instructed to inform you that I’m well and unharmed, at present.
“What the devil?”

“What is it?” Rob peered over his shoulder, grinning in spite of the seriousness of the situation. “Lover, eh?”

Hal didn’t answer, but instead carried on reading.

If you wish to see Jean-Philippe again you are to meet my captors in the boathouse when the fireworks start at midnight. Come alone and keep your boots dry as you make your way there.
The note was sighed,
Your loving mistress, Leah.

“That doesn’t help much,” Rob said with a frustrated sigh. “Why are they so interested in you when they already have Jean-Philippe?”

“I’ve no idea, but here’s another question for you. Why is Leah pretending that we’re lovers when we’re not?”

“Presumably because that’s what her captors think. You did only dance once this evening, with her.”

Hal nodded. “True, but—”

“There was a lot of gossip doing the rounds about that dance. That she might be your mistress, people can accept. That you would invite her to this ball and slight other women by dancing only with her scandalized the matrons.”

“You know why I didn’t dance with anyone else.”

“Hal, if I hadn’t known better, I would have shared the common opinion about your attachment to Leah. You’ve been vigilant all night, but when you danced with her, Jean-Philippe could have been snatched from beneath your very nose and you wouldn’t have noticed.” Rob lifted his shoulders. “Come to that, he probably was.”

Hal smothered a curse, aware that his brother was right. He never should have allowed himself that dance with Leah. Nor would he have, had he been aware that it would place her in danger.

Chapter Eighteen

Jean-Philippe’s gaze clashed with that of his companion. The satisfaction that communicated itself between the two men caused Leah’s fledgling hopes of rescue to evaporate and for the truth to come crashing in on her.

“It was you.” Leah pointed an accusing finger at Jean-Philippe. “You killed your own father.”

He offered her a mocking bow. “I can claim some of the credit, although I didn’t act alone. My faithful tutor here helped me to carry out the plan. Oh, excuse me, where are my manners. You two haven’t been introduced. Miss Elliott, allow me to present Monsieur Martell.”

Leah stared in bald disbelief as Martell executed an elegant bow, almost as though they were in a social setting. Older and stronger than Jean-Philippe, he was obviously the one who’d inflicted so much damage on Leah’s upper arm.

“At your service,
mademoiselle.
”

“How very daring of you both,” she said scathingly. “But what is all this to me? Why have you brought me here?”

“We need the attention of your lover.”

“My lover?” Leah shook her head, still able to smell that dreadful sacking on her hair and shoulders as she did so. Her lovely dress would be ruined and she hadn’t even paid for it yet. Quelling such inconsequential thoughts, she hastened to make her position plain. “I fear you’ve miscalculated. Much as I dislike ruining your plans when you’ve gone to such trouble, I don’t have a lover.”

Jean-Philippe smirked. “Come, come, there’s no need to be coy. The marquess brought you to his precious boat. He’s never taken any other woman there whilst I’ve been on board, or before that, either. I heard the crew remarking about how unusual it was.”

Leah shrugged. “That means nothing.”

“If more proof was needed, I watched from the balcony when he danced with you tonight. You, and no one else.” Jean-Philippe’s laugh was cruel, insulting. His eyes ranged over her body, clearly not impressed with what he saw.

“You are allowing your imagination to run away with you. You have drawn ridiculous conclusions from one innocent dance, merely because they are what you wish to believe.”

“His lordship enjoys creating a stir by flouting his lowly born lover in front of society’s elite. They might, perhaps, have overlooked your presence, but showing you such decided partiality truly scandalized them.” The young man’s face glowed with malice, and very evident dislike for Hal, as he warmed to his theme. “Perhaps he has French blood in his veins.”

Leah was about to repeat her denials regarding her relationship with Hal, but at the last minute she held her tongue. They thought it was the case and anything she said to the contrary was unlikely to dissuade them. Besides, whatever it was they wanted, Hal’s imaginary affections were pivotal to their achieving it. Best play along and see if she could discover precisely what they were about.

“Your intention is to escape Lord Denby and return to France, is it not? Although I don’t quite see why, unless someone else who is now here in England saw you commit the murder.” Leah wrinkled her brow, sure she was missing something important. Keeping this young man talking, encouraging him to boast about his achievements, might shake the missing ingredient free. “Anyway, I can see that Hal keeping you securely locked up on his boat whilst he awaited the appearance of a murderer only you could identify—”

“I thought that a rather clever touch,” Jean-Philippe said smugly. “They consider me a mere boy, a dutiful son incapable of patricide, and so no one doubted my account.”

“But you didn’t expect to be detained afloat for quite so long?”

“No, that was irksome, I grant you. The marquess was a more vigilant protector than I’d bargained for, but I knew he would get tired of confining me there eventually and relax his guard.”

“Again I ask the question, now that you’ve escaped, why not just disappear? Why bring me here?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t I explain?” He folded his arms across his thin chest, very aware that he’d withheld that vital explanation. “I need you to write a note to your lover.”

“And why would I oblige you in that respect?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He shared a complicit smile with his companion. “I intend for you to lure him into a trap so that I can kill him, of course.”

* * *

“She’s trying to tell me something,” Hal said, tapping the note against his thigh. “She’s trying to tell me where she is.”

“How so?” Rob asked.

“The business of being lovers. We never were, but I told her about the tunnel from my study to the dower house. I said our great-great-grandfather kept his boots dry when he went to visit her by using that tunnel.”

“Clever girl!” Rob slapped Hal’s shoulder. “Come on. What are we waiting for? If they have Leah in the dower house, then presumably Jean-Philippe is there too.”

“Have you sent someone upstairs to look after the injured guards?” Hal scowled. “Not that they deserve it.”

“Yes, already done.”

“Right, go downstairs and ask Darius not to let Flick out of his sight. Doubt that he’ll argue about that one, but I want to be sure she’s protected.”

“What about Gabe? I expect he’ll want to come with us.”

“No, ask him to keep Leah’s sister similarly engaged. Then round up Wright. Make sure you’re both armed and make your way to the dower house without being seen. Wait outside for my signal.”

“What will that be?”

“No idea yet, but you’ll know it when you hear it.” Hal grimaced, fear for Leah’s safety and determination to rescue her fuelling the gesture. “I shall go by the tunnel and surprise the scoundrels.”

“You shouldn’t go alone, Hal. These people are ruthless, and I need you to stay in one piece. I have enough to deal with chasing off the contenders for my chess crown. I have absolutely no wish to become a marquess by default.”

“But if you come with me, then our dear stepmother could finish up a little closer to achieving her ambition of having her son grab my title.” This time it was he who slapped Rob’s shoulder. “I know those tunnels. Leah’s captives have no idea they exist, which gives me an advantage. Even so, stealth is more important than strength of numbers.”

“Very well, big brother, but if I hear screaming, or any sort of disruption, Wright and I will go in regardless.”

“That’s good to know.”

The brothers shook hands and, grim-faced, went their separate ways.

* * *

All Leah’s bravado left her in an extravagant whoosh of escaping air. This young whelp was deranged. Growing up in the lap of luxury, what cause did he have to resent his father so? Leah glanced at Martel leaning casually against the mantelpiece. The cynical light in eyes that didn’t waver from her face answered her own question.

He had yet to speak a word but Leah suspected that he was the brains behind this evil scheme. Constantly at Jean-Philippe’s side whilst his father aided the British cause, he had fed on his charge’s dissatisfaction, manipulating it for purposes of his own.

“Why would you wish to kill Hal?” Leah asked, too shocked to keep her voice completely even. “All he ever did was try to help you.”

“He turned my father into a traitor, he and people like him!” Jean-Philippe said, flushing red with rage.

“No one forced your father to do what he did. Presumably he was guided by his principles.”

“If you had any idea what it was like for the aristocracy in France after that damned revolution, you wouldn’t entertain such a spurious notion.”

“You can’t know what France was like in those days either,” Leah pointed out in a reasonable tone. “You’re far too young.”

“My grandfather had to hide out like a common peasant to avoid the guillotine,” he said, talking over Leah’s interruption—probably not even hearing it. “Our lands and wealth were grabbed. All we had was what my grandfather and father managed to hide away before they made their escape. They lived lives of drudgery until that devil Robespierre was finally done away with and life slowly returned to normal. My father and grandfather reclaimed our lands and gradually restored our family to its rightful position.” He paused to flap a hand, obviously warming to his crazy theme—a theme that had been planted in his head by Martell. “And then, my father became a traitor to all he’d striven to achieve by working against France for the benefit of the English.”

“Perhaps he could see what is now evident to the rest of the world. Napoleon was a dangerous megalomaniac who had to be stopped.”

“My father was going to move us to England,” Jean-Philippe almost screamed. “Apparently senior members of the French army suspected him—rumours of retribution abounded and he needed to move for his own protection. Your government were happy to accommodate him, but to even consider such a move...bah! To turn our backs on everything my grandfather stood for, suffered for, without even consulting me.” He cast a glance at Martell, expelling deep, angry breaths through his nose. “It was not to be borne. It would have been history repeating itself and we couldn’t allow that to happen.”

“And so you murdered your own father without a qualm.”

“Not without a qualm,
non.
I’m a reasonable man so I explained my misgivings and gave him the opportunity to change his mind.”

Leah screwed her features into an expression of distaste. “Oh well, then, that makes it perfectly all right.”

“He didn’t take me seriously. He just laughed and said I would do as I was told.” Jean-Philippe narrowed his eyes, his expression rife with bitterness. “He made the same mistake he’d made many times before, treating me as a child with no thoughts or opinions of my own.”

It was deathly quiet in the room as Leah thought about this ideological, dangerously unbalanced young man’s rationale. Most of what he’d said made a chilling sort of sense, but she couldn’t quite believe that he’d come to England just to kill Hal. Why take such an enormous risk? She decided to push him on that aspect of his story. “You must have had opportunity to attack Lord Denby on the boat. Why wait so long?”

Jean-Philippe rolled his eyes. “Idiot! His crew are fiercer than any watchdog. They would have known it was me and I never would have left that boat alive.”

In a moment of clarity Leah understood what had really happened in France. “No one seriously suspected your father of treason,” she said slowly. “He wanted to move to England for other reasons.” She paused to assimilate her thoughts. “He became accustomed to English ways whilst serving here as ambassador at the king’s court and enjoyed the respect his position afforded him. Offered the opportunity to resume that life by way of thanks for his services to the crown, he chose to accept it.
That
is what you could not tolerate.”

“You know nothing,” Jean-Philippe spat sulkily.

“He felt it would be expedient to leave France for a while, until things settled down, just in case there were any doubts circulating about his loyalty. You, on the other hand, couldn’t risk the slightest rumour emerging about your father’s real activities during the war and his reasons for returning to London. It would have tarnished your precious family name beyond recall. And so you hid out in a place where you knew Lord Denby would find you, having first made it known that you’d seen an Englishman kill your father and were chasing him down. You would have then returned to France, quite the young hero, and taken over your father’s title and estates.”

“And so I still shall.” He grinned, disconcertingly confident. “Now, mademoiselle, it’s time to write that letter. Tell Lord Denby to meet us at the boathouse before the fireworks start at midnight.”

“Why would I deliberately draw my lover to his death?”

Martell levered himself from his position by the fireplace and stood directly in front of her, his eyes as cold and hard as ice. “There’s no saving Lord Denby,” he said. “But if you do as we ask, then your own life will be spared.”

Of course it will.
“How do I know I can trust you?”

“Because you have my word,” Jean-Philippe said grandly.

“But I know what you did. How do you know I wouldn’t tell the authorities?”

“Bah!” Jean-Philippe waved his arms in dismissal. “Who would listen to you, a paid courtesan? I saw how the gentry viewed you with extreme distaste when you danced with Lord Denby. If you don’t do as we ask, we shall still spare your life but make it very obvious that
you
killed his lordship.” He threw a gleeful glance Martell’s way, clearly delighted with his twisted logic. “The result of a lover’s tiff.”

“Very well then,” Leah said, with feigned reluctance. “You leave me with no choice.”

In actual fact she was keen to write. She’d think of a way to warn Hal, which would give him an advantage. There was over an hour before the fireworks were due to start. A lot could be achieved in an hour.

She wrote quickly, trying not to make it appear obvious that she was carefully choosing her words. They would read her missive and she worried about the rather obvious clue she’d left.

“What’s this?” Martell bashed the paper with the back of his hand. “This business about keeping his boots dry.”

“It’s a signal that I wish him to make love to me,” she said, smiling sweetly. “A secret way we have of communicating. When he reads that phrase, he will know the note isn’t a forgery.”

“And he is so keen to experience your
charms
that he would come to you in the middle of a ball?”

“Oh, yes,” Leah said with absolute confidence.

The two men exchanged a brief glance and nodded.

“Very well.” They opened the door and passed her note to someone waiting outside. “Deliver this to the gatehouse at once,” Martell said in French.

Damn, Leah hadn’t stopped to think there might be more of them. She fervently hoped Hal wouldn’t come alone, wondering what she could do to even up the odds if he did. She eyed a heavy vase on the table close to her. If she could divert their attention now, perhaps she’d manage to bash at least one of them over the head with it.

As though reading her thoughts, Martell produced a strong length of rope and bound her hands behind the back of the chair, hurting her shoulders as he yanked her arms back with unnecessary force. He then smirked as he lifted her skirts and secured her ankles to the legs of the chair. The ropes were so tight that she was afraid they’d cut off her circulation. Not that it really mattered. Unless Hal got here in time to rescue her, she would soon be dead anyway.