More Than a Stranger: A Sealed With a Kiss Novel (32 page)

He froze, his stomach churning as he crouched with his hand on the handle of the pistol and listened for any sound of alarm. Nothing.

After a beat, he reached his jacket-shrouded hand through the hole in the windowpane and lifted the latch. Extracting his arm, he swung the casing outward. The opening was smaller than he had hoped, but he hopped up and worked his way through anyhow, only just refraining from uttering the curse words that sprang to his lips in the struggle. At last he was in, and he paused once more with an ear cocked toward the closed door that led to the house at large. The sounds of movement deep within the lodge filtered into the room—it was probably the servant he had spied in the kitchen.

Before opening the door, he reached around and retrieved his pistol from his waistband. He had no intention of using it, but there were few things that put the fear of God into a man quite like staring down the barrel of a cocked gun. Holding the weapon in his right hand, he slowly turned the doorknob, which was resistant to the movement thanks to two decades’ ill use. He held his breath and, with infinite care and by millimeters at a time, began to pull the door open.

Suddenly, the door crashed in on him, throwing him to the floor. His body, already injured from the ride through the woods with Barney yesterday, screamed in pain as his right hip hit first, followed by his shoulders before his head crashed to the floor with a bone-jarring thump.

As a tall figure stepped over him, Benedict kicked out hard, catching the man in the back of the knees and throwing him off balance. Benedict rolled swiftly onto his belly and jumped to his feet. His attacker, whom Benedict recognized as his brother’s footman, Nigel, regained his footing and came at him, swinging with a wide left hook.

Benedict blocked the punch, sending it glancing off his shoulder while he struck out with a solid jab to his opponent’s belly. Nigel gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, and he automatically doubled over. Benedict took advantage of the position and threw his arms around Nigel’s neck, effectively securing him in a headlock. He squeezed the footman’s throat with all of his strength.

Click
.

At the sound of a gun cocking behind him, Benedict froze, his blood turning cold within his veins.

Bloody hell
.

* * *

Evie listened to the chiming of the clock in the hall. One, two, three, four, five . . . What was she still doing up at this hour? The sudden absence of sound made the quiet even more pronounced. Was it possible for the quiet to be loud? In the complete darkness, her attention strayed to the sound of her own breathing.

In and out, in and out.

She put her hand to her forehead, squeezing her temple with her thumb and middle finger. She was going mad.

It was the middle of the night, and here she sat, staring into the blackness and latching onto the sounds of the grandfather clock. As the day had worn on, she had become more and more anxious—anxious about her future, anxious about her healing body, but also anxious about the man responsible for injuring both.

She had tried—oh, had she tried—to simply push Benedict from her mind and wash her hands of him. She had certainly refused to read the blasted letter as he suggested. But almost immediately, his solemn face and smooth chocolate eyes would materialize in her mind, and she found herself contemplating what he was doing, as he faced his demons all alone. The haunted look in his eyes when he left stayed with her, along with the pricking sense of foreboding that she could not seem to shake.

People were trying to harm him, and he had gone off in search of them alone.

A sound from the corridor caught her attention. The faint shuffling noise, whisper quiet, seemed to originate just on the other side of her door. She sat up swiftly, ignoring the twinge of pain in her shoulder and side as her nerves kicked in, and threw aside the covers. She paused, her feet hovering above the floor, and listened for the sound again.

There it was!

What if Benedict had returned? She hopped to the ground and rushed to the door, but she just managed to stop herself from throwing the door open when the thought entered her head that it could be an intruder. What if someone else had come looking for Benedict?

She shivered and stepped back from the door, her gaze flickering around the room more on memory than actual sight. What could she use as a weapon? Her eyes fell to the hearth beside the fireplace—the poker! She darted over to retrieve the iron rod, tested its solidness in her hand, then with a nod of satisfaction returned to the door. Her heartbeat had picked up pace, and she could hear the thrumming of her blood in her ears when she hesitated again with her hand on the doorknob.

The noises were still there, and what was more, she was sure now they were coming from just on the other side of the door. She steeled herself, took a few bracing breaths, and pulled open the door, simultaneously brandishing the poker in front of her while demanding, “Who goes there?”

She heard a gasp, saw a large shadow, and struck out with the poker. The weapon connected solidly with the target, eliciting a pained grunt that matched her own as the maneuver jarred her body.

“Evie! What in God’s name are you doing? You could have killed me!”

“Richard?” She dropped the poker and reached out to him in the darkness. “Oh my goodness, are you quite all right? I’m so sorry! Wait a second, no I’m not! What do you mean what am
I
doing? What are
you
doing skulking around this time of night? Even you must agree I have the right to be a little skittish after the recent events.” Her chest heaved as her lungs tried to remember how to breathe.

“For heaven’s sake, let us get out of the corridor—we are bound to wake someone up with all this racket.” He grabbed the fallen poker before guiding her back into her room.

Evie retrieved her wrapper and draped it over her shoulders while Richard went to the fireplace and lit a candle by the dying embers. With it, he brought to life several more tapers in the candelabra before sitting in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. He rubbed at his shoulder with a grimace and motioned for her to take the other chair, which she did without argument.

“So, what have you to say for yourself? Why were you shuffling around outside my door, scaring the daylights out of me?” Evie tucked her cold feet beneath her and waited for his answer. Frightening her as he had, he had best have a good one.

Richard was fully dressed, even wearing his boots and gloves. Releasing his shoulder, he leaned forward and traced his finger over the sling on her left arm. His eyes lingered there as he took a deep breath and said softly, “I was leaving. I was trying to decide whether I should tell you or not.”

“Leaving? Where would you go—back to London? Richard, we don’t blame you, not really. You have no need to leave this house.”

He raised his eyes to her, the firelight hiding how red and bloodshot she knew them to be. “Please don’t be angry with me, Bit. You, and the rest of the family of course, you all mean everything to me. I feel terrible about what has happened, and I will do what I can to make it up to you. But the truth is . . .” Richard’s voice trailed off, and his gaze flickered back to his hands, which were now resting in his lap.

“Yes?”

“The truth is, Benedict is in a horrible situation. Really unimaginable. I know I should hate him, and I even told him he would never be welcome here again, but in all honesty, I cannot hate him. He is one of my oldest friends, and I can’t even fathom the stress of the situation he found himself in.

“He made a bad choice in hiding the extent of it from me when he asked for my help. He made an enormous mistake by dragging us, the whole family, into it with him. But I also know it was never his intention. He is a good man, and I find I simply cannot abandon him when he needs help the most.” Richard pressed his lips together and continued to stare at his lap.

“Oh, thank God,” Evie muttered.

Richard’s eyes jerked up to hers in surprise, and she shrugged a little helplessly. “Well, he has wreaked total and utter havoc in my life, but I don’t want to see him dead. The blackguard has been on my mind all day it seems, and if I’m to shake him out of it, I’m going to need to know that he is all right.”

Richard’s eyes were sharp, but he held his tongue. She took a deep breath and continued. “I really hate him right now, but . . .” She raised her right shoulder in a half shrug and let it drop limply. “I doubt I will get a good night’s sleep until I at least know the man is alive. A little beaten up would be good, if you can manage it,” she couldn’t help but add.

“So you are not outraged that I want to help him?” Richard asked incredulously. His brow was furrowed, and he didn’t seem at all moved by her dry attempt at levity. He had never seemed more serious in his life.

Evie reached out with her right hand and squeezed his forearm. “I suppose I should be, but truthfully, I’m more than a little relieved. As I recall, you may ride like a beef-wit, but you shoot like a cavalryman.”

He smiled briefly and leaned back in the chair. He stared into the flickering candlelight a moment, looking heavyhearted. Turning his head to look her in the eye, he said, “His brother sent that madman after him.”

What?
“I beg your pardon?” Evie sat up straight at the unexpected statement.

“Benedict discovered his brother was working with a band of smugglers.” The words poured forth in a rush, and she struggled to keep up. “Afterward, he needed some time to come to grips with having to turn his own brother in as a traitor. Unfortunately, Dennington decided to take matters into his own hands, and he hired that assassin to hunt Benedict down like some sort of wild game.” Richard was shaking his head, a look of lingering disbelief on his face.

Shocked did not even begin to describe how Evie felt. With her brows pinched together and her mouth agape, she sat there, trying to digest what Richard was saying. Slowly she shook her head. No wonder Benedict had looked so hurt when she had dismissed his mention of his brother’s involvement in the whole thing. What must he think of her?

She met Richard’s eyes, sadness tugging down the corners of her mouth. “His own brother, his own flesh and blood. How, how could that be? How could anyone ever try to harm his own sibling? Iron pokers to the shoulder notwithstanding, of course. But really, I would die for any one of you.” Her heart squeezed painfully with empathy for how Benedict must have felt at the realization that danger lay within his own family.

The love she had for her family was strong and unbreakable. Trying to imagine one of them betraying her to that magnitude was like trying to imagine the feel of the falling snow after having only ever lived in the desert. One knew the phenomenon existed, but it was simply beyond one’s ability to envision.

Suddenly, her brain made a disturbing connection. “Wait a moment. Did you not tell me he was going to find his brother? And now you are telling me this is the very man who tried to have him
killed
?”

Richard nodded jerkily.

Good Lord!

If it came down to a fight between the brothers, Dennington would apparently have no qualms about aiming a gun at Benedict, but Evie just couldn’t imagine that Benedict could do the same. She didn’t doubt Benedict could take care of himself with anyone else, but . . . when it came down to it, what if Benedict couldn’t defend himself against his flesh and blood?

“You must stop him! He should go straight to the authorities. Richard, you have to stop him!” She could not push back the feeling of rising panic. She restlessly rose to her feet.

Richard stood as well. “It is too late to stop him, Bit. He left over a day and a half ago, and according to the man who was interrogated, Dennington is holed up at an old hunting lodge on his estate about halfway from here to London, a few miles south of Amersham. I know I am too late to be much use to him, but I simply must try. I let him walk out of here, knowing he was going into a dangerous situation, and I will never forgive myself if I do not at least attempt to help him.”

Evie stared at her brother’s haggard expression. Looking at him now, she found it hard to recall his jovial countenance of just two days ago. The candlelight played across his features, highlighting his drawn mouth and adding depth to the shadows beneath his eyes. She couldn’t recall another time when he had looked so troubled.

“I think it is the right thing to do, Richard.” She reached out with her hand and placed it on his sleeve. “I—I hope you know I don’t blame you. I was angry earlier, and I spoke rashly. You couldn’t have known; after all, he was your friend, and you trusted him.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“And there is one more thing.” Heat flooded her cheeks at what she was about to admit, but she needed him to know. “Benedict doesn’t have as big a head start as you think. He . . . came to see me last night. He said he couldn’t leave without ensuring that I was all right. So he’s little more than a day ahead of you.”

Richard’s brows rose halfway up his forehead, but there was no condemnation in his eyes. “Thank you, Bit. I’m glad you told me.”

As he turned to head for the door, she asked, “When will I hear from you?”

He swiveled back around and gave a little shrug. “After whatever happens, happens, I will head on to London. I will send a note when I know something.”

She tried to ignore the knot of anxiety that had formed like a brick in her stomach. “It’s going to kill me to sit here and wait.” She glared impotently at the sling cradling her wounded arm.

“I know,” he said, patting her right shoulder. “I promise to send word as soon as I can.”

Blast it all. She would do just about anything to go with Richard, to try to help in any way she could, but riding a horse in her condition would be foolish. She stood and gave him a tight, one-armed hug, ignoring the twinge of protest from her shoulder when he squeezed her back.

“Be careful,” she whispered fiercely. As she watched him leave, she tried not to think of what might happen if her brother didn’t arrive in time to help.