Love Inspired Historical January 2015 Box Set: Wolf Creek Father\Cowboy Seeks a Bride\Falling for the Enemy\Accidental Fiancee (92 page)

Brandon just stared into the fire.

“We have discussed many important things, Brandon. Things I probably should have discussed with you long ago. But I cannot stop the uneasiness you feel about the emeralds. I cannot give you the reason she is choosing this moment to end the betrothal. All I need to know for now is—do you love her?”

After a long pause Brandon looked into the eyes of his...friend. “I do not know. I suppose it is why I must try and make her stay, why I want her to stay. I just do not know.”

But he wanted to.

* * *

A week later, Grace and her father were waiting in the drawing room for Lydia. They were attending a ball at the home of Lord and Lady Dorchester.

Grace's thoughts were in chaos and her nerves were raw. She had told Brandon days ago that they must argue publicly, that she needed to go home tomorrow when her father went. But Brandon had thwarted her. He had canceled each outing they had planned, every drive in the park, and had backed away even from accompanying her to the orphanage, giving her no outlet for the quarrel she'd intended to stage. She did not understand. Terminating the betrothal had been planned from the beginning, so why was he being so stubborn?

In theory, she could set it all in motion without him. They had not been seen together for days; the whole town must be wondering at it. That would certainly pass as a public display of the change in their relationship. She could send the notice to the
Gazette
herself and still leave tomorrow. But she would not do that to him, despite his dismissal of her.

She could not worry about that tonight, however. She would be meeting the blackmailer with the paste emeralds. And she was scared. She knew she was being followed everywhere. What if they mistook some simple action on her part as suspicious behavior? It could endanger Lydia or Brandon. She wished so much that she could share this burden with him, but she could not risk it. So she would go alone.

She had been unable to find out anything about who was behind the blackmail. The man who had threatened her early in the week had not contacted her again. She only knew they watched her. But if she could be brave enough, she hoped to get more information out of him once he was in happy possession of the emeralds. If Mr. Brownlow was the one behind the scheme, she could go to Brandon about the blackmail and they should be able to imprison him right away.

She had tried to keep her courage up all week, but it was quickly waning. She left a letter for Lydia and one for Brandon in the event something happened to her.

Father, please replace my fear with Your strength. Protect and deliver me and those I love from harm this night.

She could not think about it anymore.

Lord Pennington was reading the newspaper and she had to call his name twice to get his attention. “Papa, you
will
be back for Lydia's wedding, right? You will not hide in your library and forget?” She knew he would do no such thing, and even if he did, she would be home by then and able to drag him away.

“No, no. Believe it or not, it has been good to be in London a little this Season. I may have avoided it for too long,” he said, turning a page.

“What's this?” Grace asked with a painted-on smile. “Perhaps you have come to appreciate the advantages of being an eligible earl in Town. Have you been fawned over and petted?”

His face turned red and he sputtered, “Do not be impertinent, my girl. Everyone has been everything that is polite, but I am too set in my ways to be thinking of marriage again.”

She kissed him on the cheek and said softly, “I only tease you, dear.”

He became thoughtful and carelessly tapped his chin. “There is one woman, now that I think on it, who seems to latch on to me each time we meet although we have absolutely nothing in common. Beauty, though, I will say that.” And he began reading his paper again.

“I do not think having anything in common is a requirement these days, Father. If one wants to be an earl's wife, beauty alone can sometimes make that happen.”

“The strange thing is,” he said, putting down his paper once again, “all she wishes to do is talk about you and Lord Weston.”

Grace almost dropped her fan. Were the blackmailers letting her know just how close they could get to her family? “That
is
quite odd. Did you get her name?”

“Grace, you know how I am with names. I think it begins with a
W,
like Winthrop or Windsor? Something like that, but I am not sure at all.”

Oh, dear! This could make things so much worse. “Could it be Winslow, Father? Lady Patrice Winslow?” she asked.

“My dear, I think that is it! Do you know her?”

“I believe she had some hope of bringing Brandon up to scratch. She is no friend to me.”

“By Jove, that explains it, then. She wanted to hear the details of how you met and how quickly the match developed. She even asked when the boy came to ask for your hand. I thought it just the normal gossip some women take to, but if it is out of jealousy then that explains it.”

She tried to speak calmly. “What did you tell her, Father?”

“What could I tell her? I don't remember it myself. I told her to ask you. But I understand now why she did not want to do that! Perhaps you will see her at the ball tonight.”

Chapter Sixteen

A
s Grace rode in the hackney, heading to the Whitefriars Stairs, fear overrode every other feeling. She did not think she could take much more. All she could do was rely on God.

She could no longer think straight. Was Mr. Brownlow the one behind the blackmail, after all? Or was someone else involved? She supposed she could mention different names to see if the blackmailer would reveal any indication that she could use as proof.

She couldn't think about it anymore. She had to be prepared to survive whoever was trying to hurt her and her loved ones.

The hackney stopped and the driver jumped down to open the door. “You catchin' a boat, lady?”

“No, I have to meet with someone. Will you wait, please? It should only take a moment and I will pay you for your time.” Grace was pleading with him. It seemed safer, somehow, knowing there was someone close by, even if just to whisk her away from this scene.

“Sorry, lady, this ain't no place to be loiterin' after dark. Might be you ought to think twice about gettin' out of this 'ere cab.”

“No, I must go,” she said, her voice sounding small, even to herself. “Will I be able to get another to take me home?”

“Lady,” he said, frustrated, “there ain't no 'ackneys jest sittin' 'ere waitin' for fares. It's too dangerous, I tell you.” She looked at him with pleading eyes. “I'll wait 'ere 'alf an 'our—no more. If there's trouble, it'll be less than that. You'd be smart to send a note to your 'ome now and have 'em pick you up 'ere straight away.”

“No, if you will wait, that won't be necessary.” She thanked him profusely and gave him a one-pound note. “Please wait if you can. I will pay you double that when I return.” She turned and walked into the darkness. She would be brave from here on. No more shaking with fear. She had given it to God and she would trust Him.

She suspected her foe already knew she was here, but wanted her far enough away from the hackney before he approached. She heard ribald laughter as she walked by the Black Lion Inn, and tried to imagine Max at her side to ward off any evils. But he looked uncommonly like Brandon.

She was getting closer to the river; she could smell the foul garbage and wet wood. The sound of the lapping water against the wall sounded like a death knell to her. She had no idea how far she would have to walk; then, suddenly, he was behind her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the stairs, at the bottom of which barges rocked in the water.

“Very good, my lady, right on time and alone as instructed,” he hissed in her ear. “Do not rely on the hackney driver you had waiting. He has gone.”

“Let me go,” she said quietly, and wrenched her arm from his grasp. “Did Mr. Brownlow promise you a share in the jewels? I am sure it will be paltry compared to the total worth.”

“What are you talking about? Shut up,” he said, louder than he meant to. He softened his voice. “Just give me the emeralds.”

“You might want to know that the law has already been apprised of Mr. Brownlow's nefarious schemes. You will never see your share if you must wait for him to find a buyer. He hasn't enough time.”

“Woman, you are becoming tedious. I don't know who you speak of, but my share will be paid by...” She was surprised; he had almost let slip who would be paying him. “Give me the emeralds. Now.” He said each word very slowly. She had never heard anything so sinister.

“I have them here.” She tried to be brave, but knew her voice trembled. As she reached into her reticule, she wanted to be sure she had a grip on the pistol she had
not
forgotten this time.

She had to find out if he knew anything of Lady Winslow. The woman was clearly up to something, otherwise she would not have nagged Grace's father for information. She could not let Brandon be hurt by that lady's idle gossip.

“Hurry up,” the blackmailer demanded.

“And what of Lady Winslow? What do you intend to do about her?”

His head shot up and he grasped her arm. The blackmailer
did
know Lady Winslow!

He began to stammer, realizing he had implicated the lady. “I d-don't know these p-people you keep talking about, and I am weary of it.” He ripped the reticule off her wrist and dug into it for the gems. She hid her hand, and the pistol that was in it, in the folds of her skirt. It gave her courage to keep trying for answers.

His response seemed to indicate he knew nothing of Mr. Brownlow. Not if his reaction to Lady Winslow's name was any indication...

Her mind began to race. Oh, how could she have been so stupid?

She had tried and tried to determine how Mr. Brownlow could know about their fake betrothal. It never made any sense, but suddenly, everything became clear. Mr. Brownlow had no known associates within the world of the
ton.
It was much more likely that Lady Winslow might have learned about it, not Mr. Brownlow! Grace had heard from her father only hours ago that the woman had been asking questions of him about their betrothal.

Could she be the one behind this? Was she in dire financial straits? Or...she could not be so malicious to do all this to discredit Grace with Brandon,
could
she? It was easier to believe it had come from the underworld of Mr. Brownlow. But if it was true, Lady Winslow would never have harmed Brandon. Grace had wasted so much precious time thinking it was the orphanage caretaker. Now, she had to be sure. God had given her the courage she'd prayed for!

“Lady Winslow will not be able to give you a portion of the money...ever.” Grace hurried on. “She knows that the Weston emeralds are too widely known for her to try and sell them. And if she asked you to do that, as well, the outcome would be no different. None of
your
intimates would be able to pay you even half of what they are worth. She duped you!”

“You lie! You have no idea what you are talking about.” He raised his arm, pointed his gun at Grace and cocked it. The sound was deafening.

She cocked her own much more quietly.

* * *

Brandon had arrived shortly behind the blackmailer and was shocked at what he heard.

She was being blackmailed for the emeralds! Brandon crouched behind a large cargo of barrels, listening to her quietly goading the man with the gun. This was no game. She was only making a dangerous man angry at her. Did she never know fear?

Brandon had had her followed since the day she had made the copies of the emeralds. It was the only way he could keep her safe. He realized she was going to give the man the paste copies, and for a moment understood the lengths she had gone to for him. But understanding gave way to anger at the risks she had taken. Why would she do this alone? She could have kept her promise to him and not entered into something like this again, without him. He could not think about it now, about how much it hurt that she did not trust him to help her.

Brandon would make himself known the minute she might be harmed, but for now he listened as she tried to make the man admit he had an accomplice. If she were a man, he would think her pluck to the backbone, be proud of her. But she was his Grace and she was putting herself in danger for a set of fake gems.

He had been concerned when she did not put in an appearance at the ball. It was then he received word from his under groom that she had hired a hackney, and Brandon followed her to Whitefriars. His heart lurched at the thought that someone was doing this to her for
his
property. Did she actually think he would rate the emeralds higher than her life? He did not know, because she had taken it upon herself to deal with this man.

His attention was jolted back to the present.

“Hurry up!” the blackmailer declared. Then the man pulled her reticule from her wrist.

Brandon had his own gun ready to intervene when Grace spoke again. She was playing fast and loose with her life each moment she lingered, and he could not wait any longer.

But he stopped abruptly at her next words.

“And what of Lady Winslow? What do you intend to do about her?” Brandon heard the man's gasp. What on earth...?

“You never would have killed Lord Weston. She would not harm him. Yet that was the threat you held over my head.”

Brandon rose from where he crouched and began to walk toward them, outside their peripheral vision. He might have to shoot quickly.

As the blackmailer started backing away from her, Brandon knew the man was buying time, trying to get into the darkness before he resorted to shooting her. He would have to disappear quickly.

Grace looked confused at the sound of a second gun cocking, and then saw Brandon come up behind the blackmailer and put his gun against the man's head.

Brandon thought he saw her sway on her feet, and he willed her not to faint. “Grace,” he said, trying to keep her focus on him.

“Brandon,” she said breathlessly.

“Are you hurt?” At the shake of her head, his voice became ominous. “You will excuse me if I take care of this little matter before I escort you home.” He spoke through gritted teeth, anger emanating from his entire body. The gun the man was holding dropped to the ground as Brandon twisted his wrist to the breaking point. He then moved his arm up and around the blackmailer's throat, the gun still pressed against his temple.

“Lady Grace gave you more credit than you deserve, little man. I do not believe you
were
planning on seeing Lady Winslow again. She would make you give her the emeralds. No, I believe you were going to hop one of those barges and ferry to the first ship leaving London.” Brandon growled low as he squeezed the man's neck tighter. “You will be leaving, but not on the ship that you hoped for.”

Brandon asked again if Grace was safe, and at her nod, relaxed inside just a bit. Only God would know how scared he had been at the thought of losing her. “Would you please stay over by those casks for a moment? I realize I cannot count on you to remain there very long, but I hope to have my business done swiftly.” He had the luxury of being fully and unremittingly angry with her, now that he knew she was safe.

He dragged the cloaked man several yards to a mooring that was attached to a large freight boat at the bottom of the steps. Brandon thought he recognized the man in a beard leaning up against it.

“Evenin', me lord. I thought that was you, but you ain't been round these parts of late.”

“Good to see you again, Captain. You are just the man I need. Still doing your runs to the colonies? Perhaps you are interested in those who would bring a good price as indentured servants?”

The blackmailer began to shake and tried to break away from him. When Brandon tightened his grip on the man's collar, it was all he could do not to choke the life out of him. “Little man, if you struggle too much, you will take a fall that will end badly for you. Whether you die here with a broken neck or from scurvy in the hull of a ship is of little importance to me.”

“No, let me go. I will not hurt you or your lady, I promise. I will just disappear. Please let me go.” The man pleaded like a child.

“As you were going to let my lady go?” Brandon asked, so angry his teeth were clenched and his jaw muscle twitched. “You
are
about to disappear, my friend, where no one dear to me will ever be threatened by you again.” He threw the captain a bag of coins and the sailor snapped his fingers. Four dirty seamen appeared out of the darkness and dragged the crying man down the stairs to the Thames and the barge waiting there. Something was stuffed inside the man's mouth to stifle his cries.

The captain tossed the bag of coins up and down in his hands a few times and said, “Always a pleasure doin' business with ye, my lord.” And he, too, disappeared.

Brandon walked to the casks, but did not say a word to Grace. He took her by the hand, only to realize she once again had a gun in it. He removed it and pulled her down several side alleys to where his carriage waited. He was a little surprised she did not utter a sound, but perhaps she understood his mood.

When they entered the carriage and it started to move, she began to speak quietly. “Brandon, I can explain everything. They were not your emeralds. I never would have given them the real emeralds.”

“Grace,” he said, in just as menacing a tone as he had used with the blackmailer, “do not say a word. Not one word. I could hear your conversation, so there is no need for your explanation.”

“But you could not have known from that conversation that the emeralds were copies.”

“I
should
have known from you telling me yourself, long before this. You promised me, Grace.”

“I had to break my promise. I had to go alone. They threatened—”

“Stop! You promised me never to do this again. You have known my overall impression of women as a whole as untrustworthy and false, but I thought you were different.”

He heard her crying yet he was too hurt to feel for her. He could not think about Patrice and the havoc she had played with their lives. There would be time to address that; right now all he could see was red. “You all resort to tears, thinking we dread the sight of them and will want to make you feel better. Well, I do not.”

“Can I at least explain...?”

“No.” His voice was dangerously quiet. “You lost my trust tonight, Grace.”

He wanted to get one last thing off his chest, then he would be finished. “Where was all your talk about not being able to tell a lie, Grace? Does your God not frown upon using His rules indiscriminately? Or is it just me you lie to? I trusted you, because I saw all of your actions match your words. I will not trust you again, you can be sure of that.”

“No, Brandon, please do not say that, please...”

“Blast! Grace, in the event you are not aware, I am angrier than I have ever been. If you do not stay quiet, I cannot answer for what I might say. Just
do not talk
.”