Rapture Becomes Her (46 page)
Read Rapture Becomes Her Online
Authors: Shirlee Busbee
Seeing that Barnaby and the others had reached the door, Lamb circled back, thinking to launch a rear attack: Barnaby and Mathew, pistols readied, whirled to confront the danger. The sole lantern still lit was at the front of the barn but with the light behind them, beyond height and breadth the three men rushing toward Mathew and Barnaby were unrecognizable.
Already knowing who they were, Barnaby easily identified Tom by his height and Nolles by his shortness. Of medium stature, Peckham was in the middle of the other two men, Tom in the lead, Nolles hanging back—of the other two smugglers there was no sign. Peckham’s arm flew up, getting off a shot at them, and Barnaby fired back. The butler crumpled to the ground. Tom halted and loosed another shot in their direction.
A bullet whistled by Mathew’s head and, throwing himself to one side, he returned fire. His target cried out and clutching his chest fell facedown onto the barn floor.
After one terrified look at his fallen comrades, Nolles scampered to his horse. Lamb stormed after him, but he was too late. Catching a glimpse of Lamb bearing down on him, Nolles squeaked, threw himself on his horse and spurred the animal out of the barn.
“I nearly had the strutting, little rooster,” he said disgustedly as Barnaby came to stand beside him. “One more minute . . .”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Barnaby. “We’ve pulled his fangs tonight. He’ll grow another pair, but I’ll wager he’ll never be as dangerous as he was.”
Emily hurtled back inside the barn, running to her husband. Barnaby’s arm closed around her, pulling her tightly to his side. Brushing a kiss across her forehead, he said, “You very likely saved my life tonight, my love. Thank you.”
She should be furious with him, she told herself, but he was alive and safe and she was too happy to hold a grudge. Besides, she was woefully aware, had positions been reversed, she wouldn’t have been able to resist the lure of the tunnel either. Remembering the night he’d rescued her from Ainsworth, she hugged him back and smiled up at him. “I think we’re even.”
Sitting on a bundle of hay, Mathew stared dazedly around him. He understood the art of dueling, he understood the manners of war but the sort of violence he’d faced tonight was beyond his ken and he was shaken by his part in it. He looked at the two unmoving forms on the floor of the barn, knowing they were both dead, knowing he’d killed one of them. He’d killed a man tonight, he thought stupefied. He looked down at the pistol in his hand, appalled and awed by its lethal power.
Lamb walked over and sat down beside him. “First time?” he asked gently.
Mathew glanced at him, startled. He swallowed and nodded. “I’ve acted as second in a few duels, and have fought one or two myself, but no one ever died.” He forced a smile. “Killing someone isn’t easy, is it?”
“Not for a man of honor.”
Mathew’s gaze slid again to the bodies on the barn floor. “Do we know who they are?”
“We know,” said Barnaby. With Emily locked at his side, he walked over to where Mathew and Lamb sat. “One of them is the man who has been trying to kill me—the other is my butler, Peckham.”
“Peckham!” Mathew cried, diverted. “Your butler? But Tom hired him. He swore to me that Peckham was above reproach. My word, this is—!” He shook his head. “This is just simply too incredible. And the other man?”
Barnaby and Lamb looked at each other. The muscle in Barnaby’s jaw bunched and he said in a voice that felt like he’d swallowed rusty nails, “I’m sorry, but it’s Tom.”
Mathew stared at him. “Tom?” he echoed, starting to his feet. “My brother, Tom?”
Emily gasped, looking in horrified dismay at the body on the floor of the barn.
Full of angry disbelief, Mathew snapped, “I don’t know what sort of a game you’re playing, but it’s a damned cruel one.”
“No game,” Barnaby said.
“I don’t believe you!”
Mathew brushed past Barnaby and Emily and stalked over to where the taller body lay. Kneeling, he hesitated and then, breathing deeply, he gently turned the still form over and stared down into his dead brother’s face.
With Barnaby and Lamb astride the saddle horses from inside the barn, it was a silent, somber quartet that rode away from the scene of death. There’d been little talk between them, but it was decided that Lamb would tell Luc and Simon of tonight’s events and have them join the others at Windmere. At a divide in the lane, Lamb left them, heading for the Dower House.
Arriving at Windmere, the subdued trio dismounted and after a low-voiced exchange with Tilden by Barnaby, they retired to Barnaby’s study. Notified by Tilden of their return, Cornelia joined them. Shortly, Lamb, Luc and Simon walked into the room, their faces grave.
Simon went immediately to where Mathew sat like a stone-faced statue. His hand was gentle when he placed it on his brother’s shoulder. Mathew jerked and looking up at him, said thickly, “I killed him, Simon. I killed Tom. I killed my own brother.”
Simon nodded, anguish for Mathew knifing through him. He was unsure of his own emotions about Tom’s death. They’d never been close, had actively disliked each other, but the man had been his brother. . . . And a smuggler, he reminded himself savagely. A would-be murderer. If not stopped, Tom would have cold-bloodedly killed Barnaby and Lamb to protect his smuggling activities. Mathew had killed Tom, but unknowingly, and to protect his own life and that of the others. To Simon’s mind, Mathew was a hero and bore no blame for Tom’s death.
Simon knew that the days ahead were not going to be easy for any of them, Mathew most of all. His heart ached for him. In a short span, Matt had seen the title and fortune he’d assume he’d inherit stripped away from him, and now he had to live with the terrible burden of having killed their brother—and the ugly scandal that was about to erupt.
Looking over at Barnaby slumped on the sofa, next to Emily, Simon asked, “When will you notify Deering?”
“Within the hour,” Barnaby said flatly. Picking up a snifter of brandy from the table at the end of the sofa, he took a hefty swallow. Setting down the snifter with a thud, he added, “Lamb and I will ride into the village and explain to Deering precisely what happened.” His eyes on Mathew’s face, he said slowly, “Deering will learn from us how it was that Tom came to me late this afternoon with the news that he had discovered that the smugglers were using the tunnels beneath Windmere to warehouse their contraband.” Barnaby paused, frowning. “I think”—he began, putting it together as he spoke—“that I asked Tom to inspect the old barn for me to see if he agreed with me that it should be destroyed.” Barnaby straightened. “Yes, that would work . . . and it was while he was there . . . remembering from childhood, the tunnels, he decided to see if the hidden entrance was still usable. He was horrified when he found the contraband.”
Mathew stiffened, staring hard at Barnaby. Barnaby’s gaze never wavering from his, he said, “Of course, once we were over our astonishment at his news, we thought it was most exciting and like the blundering amateurs we are, we had to see it for ourselves. Peckham, uh, accompanied us. Unfortunately, we stumbled into the smugglers moving their contraband. We were fired upon and in the exchange that followed, tragically your brother and my butler were killed.”
There was silence when Barnaby finished speaking, but Lamb and Luc were nodding their heads in agreement and Emily and Cornelia were staring at Barnaby with awed respect.
Cornelia thumped her cane on the floor and exclaimed admiringly, “You’re a very good liar. I like it!”
Looking at Mathew, Simon said quietly, “Matt, I think it would be best if we allowed Barnaby and Lamb to explain to Deering what happened.”
“I’m to hide behind a pack of lies?” Mathew cried.
“No,” said Barnaby coolly. “We’re
all
hiding behind a pack of lies, but I would remind you that this pack of lies will protect the family from scandal and allow the public to think that your brother died a hero. We know the truth. There is no reason to wash our dirty linen in public.”
all
hiding behind a pack of lies, but I would remind you that this pack of lies will protect the family from scandal and allow the public to think that your brother died a hero. We know the truth. There is no reason to wash our dirty linen in public.”
“What of Nolles?” Emily asked. “Won’t he refute your story?”
Barnaby smiled grimly. “Nolles dare not say a word, else his part would be exposed.”
No one had anything else to say and after a moment, Barnaby rose to his feet. “Unless there are objections, Lamb and I shall be off to see Lieutenant Deering.”
Barnaby’s eyes met Mathew’s. They stared at each other a long moment and then slowly, almost imperceptibly, Mathew nodded.
When Barnaby and Lamb’s tale of the events at the old barn became public it created a nine days’ wonder in the neighborhood. Deering was delighted by the amount of contraband recovered from the tunnel and, as Barnaby had predicted, Tom was hailed as a hero. With his grieving relatives standing at his graveside, Tom was buried at Monks Abbey. Nolles, unfortunately, escaped unscathed, appearing as he swaggered around The Ram’s Head to be amazed as anybody by the discovery of a huge store of contraband in the tunnel.
All in all, Barnaby was satisfied with the outcome, but there was one last task he needed to complete before he could put the matter behind him. A week after Tom was laid to rest, Barnaby oversaw the dismantling of the barn and the filling in of the tunnel entrance with boulders brought in by estate carts.
Emily stood at his side as the last cart rolled up and the boulders were muscled into place. Where the barn had once stood, there was only an open space, a mound of rock and boulders marking the spot where the entrance to the tunnels had been.
“I’m a little sad to see it destroyed,” Emily said, her hand resting on Barnaby’s arm, “but at least Nolles won’t be using it anymore.”
Barnaby nodded. “We’ll have to do something about him eventually . . .” He grinned down at her. “But not for now. For now I’d like to live a rather mundane existence. No more smugglers underfoot . . .” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Your little band as well as the Nolles’s gang, and no more attempts on my life.”
She dimpled up at him. “Won’t you be terribly bored?” Barnaby laughed and, heedless of the workmen still about, swung her into his arms and kissed her. Emily responded sweetly and he was breathing hard when he finally lifted his lips from hers. “Bored?” he asked smiling at her, his heart overflowing with love. “Married to an Amazon? I sincerely doubt it.”
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2011 by Shirlee Busbee
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-2436-1
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