Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1) (9 page)

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Raile turned his dark, riveting gaze on Lavinia. “I’m saying, Madame, that if Miss Maragon will have your son, he is going to become her husband.”

The room fell silent but for the steady ticking of the mantel clock.

The amused smile had been wiped from Hugh’s face, and a look of indignation took its place. “I only admitted the baby could be mine.”

Raile’s voice was even, his tone deep. “Then you will marry her. And you will also recognize the baby as yours.”

“I don’t think so, Raile.”

“You have no say in the matter. You will marry the girl and give the baby your name.”

Lavinia became the protective mother and flew across the room to stand before Raile, her chest heaving. “You cannot do this to my son. I will see you dead before you force Hugh to marry some slut with a crying brat.”

Raile looked from mother to son. “True, I cannot force you to marry the girl, Hugh. But if you don’t, you and your mother will vacate Ravenworth Castle at once. I will not allow you to live on any of my properties, nor will I provide you with living expenses. You will both be on your own.”

Lavinia gasped and stepped backward. Raile was asserting his authority over them, and they would have no recourse but to comply. Hatred burned in her heart. Raile had all the power, the money, the means to bend them to his will, and he knew it.

“On the other hand, Hugh,” Raile continued, “if you marry Miss Maragon, I will allow the both of you to live in the London house, and I will give you a generous allowance. Will you agree to the marriage?”

“Have I any choice?”

“Only the ones I have pointed out to you.”

“What about me?” Lavinia asked.

“You, madame, will remain here at Ravenworth Castle for a time. It is my belief that newlyweds should live alone for the first year of their marriage.”

Hugh laughed without humor. “Ah, well, there you have it, Mother. It seems I will be a bridegroom at last. She was a pretty little thing, so it might not be too unpleasant.”

“No!” Lavinia screamed, running at Raile and clawing at his face. “You will not do this to us. You are trying to separate me from my son.”

Raile caught her hands and held them in a firm grip. “Don’t ever try that again, Lavinia.”

She jerked free, barely able to control her rage.

“Hugh will decide what to do by Monday next. If by that time, Lavinia, you have given your blessing to the match, I will be generous with you also. On the other hand, if you decide against welcoming Miss Maragon into the family, I will consider my duty to you both discharged.”

Without another word, Raile moved out of the room, his long strides taking him down the hall and up the stairs. He no longer wished to be in their company.

His mind went back to his meeting with Miss Maragon. At that time, he had thought she was accusing him of fathering the child—but, no, she had merely been insisting that he was answerable for his brother’s actions. And she was right, of course. Someone had to take a firm hand with Hugh, and it would have to be he. Perhaps with guidance, Hugh could be saved from his mother’s destructive influence.

The young lady who had faced him today had not been the timid innocent Hugh had described. She had appeared to be more than capable. She had known what she wanted and how to get it.

Raile smiled at her daring. It must have taken enormous courage to face him with her accusations. Her defiant green eyes had been most arresting. It could be that Miss Maragon would be the one to save Hugh from his mother.

Raile somehow envied Hugh the challenge of conquering the hot-tempered miss.

10

Lavinia turned furiously on Hugh. “My God, what have you brought down on our heads? I warned you that your preoccupation with women would be your undoing—but you wouldn’t listen. Are you such a slave to that thing between your legs that you would sacrifice your future and mine?”

Hugh shrugged, an annoying habit that was beginning to aggravate his mother.

“It’s time you looked around you, Hugh. How long are you willing to live in Raile’s shadow? When will you be a man and do something about our plight? We are but dust beneath his feet.”

“There is little I can do, Mother. You heard Raile—I am to become a husband and father. I see no way we can avoid the inevitable.”

“I’ll never allow you to marry beneath you. Don’t you know, that with my help, you will one day be duke of Ravenworth, and you must marry well. When the time comes, I’ll help you pick a wife worthy of you.”

Hugh looked at his mother with a bemused smile. “Haven’t you forgotten my brother holds that title? I have my doubts he will relinquish it to me. Besides, it pains me to admit it to you, and I couldn’t admit it to Raile, but I already married Abigail Maragon.”

“You what!” Lavinia shrieked. “You fool! You will ruin us both.”

“It was a moment of weakness. I married her, thinking it was what I wanted at the time. I was sorry later on. I found wedded bliss intolerable.” He was quiet for a while. “I must admit that she almost tamed me.”

Lavinia stared at Hugh as if he’d lost his mind. Then her eyes narrowed speculatively. “I wonder why she didn’t confess that to Raile? Surely it would have been to her advantage to tell him about the marriage.”

“I can’t guess, Mother. Perhaps she grew weary of waiting for me to return. Or perhaps she has no wish to remain my wife. I did, in her eyes, desert her.”

“Fool!”

Hugh did not even hear his mother. “I never knew she was with child.” He smiled. “I have a daughter.” His eyes gleamed with mischief. “I cannot see you as a grandmother.”

“Shut up, Hugh. I’ll not tolerate insolence from you. We have a dilemma, and you can only jest about it. You were almost in possession of Raile’s title and fortune. How could we have known that Raile still lived and would stand between us and our hearts’ desire?”

“What do you mean, Mother?”

She pressed her cheek against his, and said with passion, “I have committed my soul to the devil so you could inherit. I will not stop now.”

“I never imagined that I would stand in Raile’s place—not even when I thought he was dead. I’m not sure I want to ... or that I can.”

Lavinia wanted to churn the fires of ambition within her son, but first she would have to deal with his admiration for Raile. She would deal with Raile himself when the time came.

“When I married your father, I would never have aspired so high as the dukedom—too many were before you. But when your uncle was dying, and we heard that Raile had died in Belgium, only John was in our way.” Her eyes gleamed with sudden hatred. “Now, there’s not only Raile to deny you the dukedom, but this damned Maragon chit trying to force her whelp on you.”

Hugh was stunned by his mother’s malevolence. “I see nothing to do but admit to Raile that I’m not the rogue he believes me to be, and that the baby in the nursery is my legitimate daughter.”

“You’re crazed if you think I’ll let you do that. Now, listen to me. First,” she said with a dark expression on her face, “we must deal with the woman. Do you think money would satisfy her?”

“I don’t think so. Abigail has honor, which I fear you and I do not, Mother.”

She patted his hand. “You just leave that to me. Raile cannot thrust this woman and her brat on you if he can’t locate her. If it takes everything your father left me, I’ll be rid of her.”

Hugh looked worried for a moment. “I wouldn’t like it if anything happened to Abigail. I spent six months with her, which is longer than any woman ever held my interest. Since I left her, I have often felt pangs of guilt—don’t you think that strange, Mother?” He looked almost apologetic. “Stranger still, I believe I love her.”

Lavinia smiled at him with indulgence. “You have loved many women, Hugh. It always passes.”

Hugh had left Abigail only when he had received word that Raile and John were dead. Otherwise he might be with her still. Upon reflection, he did not find the notion of returning to her abhorrent—to the contrary, he had missed her quiet gentleness and her soft beauty.

“I would not mind if Raile knew about the marriage. I believe I could be happy with Abigail.”

Lavinia’s face whitened with repressed rage. “I have spawned a fool for a son. Why are you doing this to me?”

“She is an enchanting creature. I’m sure you would like her.”

Lavinia shook her head so violently her hair came loose and fell down her shoulders. “Is she of a wealthy family, Hugh?”

“Her brother is warm in the pocket, but it’s my understanding he will not settle anything on Abigail. We lived very simply in a cottage, and only on what money I had.”

“Then there you have it—you must marry where it will join two great houses and two great fortunes.”

He was suddenly the devoted son. He always gave in to her in the end because she seemed to know what was best for him. “I would do anything to make you happy, Mother. But it is dangerous to defy Raile. You know how determined he can be. And his threat was not an idle one. He could make our lives hell if he so desired.”

Lavinia’s eyes took on a reflective glow. “My foolish boy—don’t overestimate Raile or underestimate me.”

Lavinia entered the darkened nursery. The light of the moon illuminated the cradle that had held untold generations of DeWinters.

She moved across the room and stood staring down at the sleeping infant. The sight of the child stirred no feelings of warmth in her.

She refused to be a grandmother. At least not to a girl, and certainly not to this one. A grandson might not be so bad, someone she could mold as she had her son. Lately Hugh had not been so easy to control, and she could feel him pulling away from her. But she knew what had to be done.

How fragile the child was, and how easy it would be to end its life. All she would have to do was cover its face and wait until it stopped breathing. There would be no cries, no marks on the body, and no sign of a struggle. No one would ever know the death had not been natural.

Of course, she would still have to dispose of the mother since Hugh had been such a fool and married her.

She reached into the cradle, and cried out in pain as her wrist was grabbed and pulled behind her back.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Lavinia.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to break his hold on her arm.

“I knew you would come, and I wanted to be here when you did. I didn’t have to wait long.”

He released her arm, and she spun around to face him with forged indignation. “I hope you aren’t implying that I would harm the child.”

“I’m just here to see that you don’t.”

The soft moonlight cast his face half in shadow. Lavinia felt his magnetism. There was something dangerous about him that excited her. She had always felt it, but had never admitted it to herself until now. She wondered what it would feel like to be crushed in Raile’s arms when he was aroused by desire.

She saw the disgust in his eyes when he looked at her, and she knew she would have only his contempt. They were bitter enemies—they would be until one of them was dead.

“I have little interest in this child, Raile. I was curious about her, nothing more.”

“In there lies the pity, madame. She is of your flesh.”

“Don’t keep on with this, Raile. You play a precarious game.”

“I have been considering your request, Lavinia. You will go to London and remain there until I decide otherwise.”

Her eyes burned, and the anger inside her was so deep, she ached to give it voice. “You have control of my life for now, Raile, but the time will come when I will turn the cards in my favor.”

“Until that day, Lavinia, pack your belongings and be ready to leave for London by noon tomorrow.”

She wanted to scream at him, to run at him and claw his face, but the look in his eyes frightened her. She turned, her back stiff, her breathing tight, and walked out of the room.

Raile looked down at the sleeping infant and stroked her soft skin. He felt a strong kinship with her. He knew what it was like to have no one care. This little girl was not going to suffer as he had as a child.

Adjusting the blanket that covered her, he walked out of the room.

Raile knocked on the door next to the nursery, which was answered by Mrs. Gibbins. “Keep the child with you tonight, and don’t leave her for any reason.”

If the wet nurse thought his request was a strange one, she did not say so. She watched him move away, and then went to the nursery and gathered the child in her arms.

11

Kassidy stood in the upstairs bedroom of the cottage where Abigail had lived. She avoided looking at the bed where her sister had writhed in pain and finally died in agony.

How sad it was that the man Abigail had loved—the man who had wronged her—denied even knowing her.

Aunt Mary was coming today, and the two of them would be closing up the cottage and packing Abigail’s belongings. Afterward, Kassidy would have to return to her brother’s house and face his anger.

The future seemed bleak and sad without her sister beside her. Sweet, kindhearted Abigail who was dead because of the hateful man who had seduced her and stolen her innocence, then deserted her in the end.

Kassidy’s heart ached for the baby she had left in the duke’s keeping. Was the child being properly cared for? What would that little girl’s life be like with such a cold, unfeeling man? It had been wrong to leave the baby with him. If Abigail had seen the man’s reaction when she had placed his daughter in his arms, surely her sister would expect her to reclaim the child.

Yes, she thought, that was what she would do. If she had the child with her, she could still hold on to a little part of Abigail.

With determined steps, she rushed out of the room and down the stairs. She would go back to Ravenworth Castle and take the child away with her!

Kassidy’s mind was racing ahead to what she would say when she again stood before the arrogant duke. He had been so uncaring about her sister, never once inquiring about Abigail. This time, she would let him know it was his fault that Abigail had died.

She glanced at the cloudless sky as she moved down the steps. The sun was shining, and the birds were singing in the nearby oak tree. The Thames ran high to its banks. The pleasant smell of cut grass permeated the air she breathed. It would have been a glorious day if only Abigail had been there to share it with her.

She walked to the back of the house and down a well-worn path that led to the woods. Perhaps Aunt Mary would go with her to Ravenworth Castle so she wouldn’t have to face the duke alone.

The brothers, Jack and Gorden Beale, had been born and grew up on Whitechapel Road, a place of poverty and crime.

Jack, the elder, was proficient at his chosen profession. As a lad he’d become a pickpocket—now he would employ any means necessary to line his own pockets.

Gorden Beale was cowardly and not as adept as his brother, but he was easily led by strong-willed Jack.

The two of them had been watching the cottage by the Thames for two days, waiting for a chance to catch Miss Maragon alone.

“What do we know about that woman who hired us, Jack? I was suspicious of her from the first when she sent word that we was to meet her at the Red Dragon Inn. Even though she tried to stay in the shadows with her face hidden behind that flimsy veil, I knew she was dressed too grand to be ‘Mrs. Harper from Billingsgate Street’ like she said.”

“All you need to know about her is that she has the means to hire us,” Jack reminded him, his eyes growing intense with speculation. “I never told you that I followed the woman to find out who she was. I waited until she came out of the inn and followed her coach to Mayfair, where she went into one of them fancy shops where they sell ladies’ hats.” A smile twisted Jack’s thin lips. “The shopkeeper greeted her as Mrs. DeWinter. It appears our mysterious woman is related to the duke of Ravenworth. The shopkeeper thought our woman is the duke’s stepma. We have here someone of great importance.”

“Did you find out anything else about her? Why does she hate this young girl so?”

“What do we care?

“I don’t like this, Jack. This ain’t just nobody we’re dealing with. The duke is a very powerful man. What if he don’t know what his stepma’s doing? I didn’t shrink from sticking a blade between that fancy toff’s ribs, when the woman paid us to do it, and it was easy making it look like footpads done it. But when she wants us to do in a high-born young lady, I don’t like it,” Gorden said. “I’m glad you decided against killing her.”

Jack stared at his brother with piercing, relentless eyes. “So, you’re turning squeamish on me, are you? I never thought you’d balk at any means of collecting a fee, be it foul or fair. Besides, if truth be known, what the girl will face might be far worse than death. You leave all the worrying to me. And you don’t have to like it, little brother. We get paid by DeWinter and we get paid by Tom Branson when we turn the Maragon girl over to him.”

“What does he want with her?”

“I suspect he’ll sell her to a brothel, but what do we care? Where she’s going, no one ever leaves. I thought it rather clever of me to get two prices for her,” Jack boasted.

“I hope DeWinter don’t find out we didn’t do what she hired us to do.”

“Will you stop grumbling? We’ll tell DeWinter the deed is done and she’ll believe us.”

“You did tell Brunson there must be no record of the girl. No one must know her whereabouts. You did make that known to him, didn’t you?”

“I’m not a fool, Gorden. Now shut up, and keep an eye out for the girl.”

“I still don’t like it. The girl’s family’s bound to start a hue and cry when they find out she’s missing. If they find her, it’ll go hard on us.”

“You fret like some old woman. I’m beginning to regret I brought you into this with me.”

Suddenly Jack saw movement at the edge of the woods, and he pulled Gorden behind a tree.

“Well, I’ll be damned. She’s coming straight at us.”

Kassidy was unaware that hostile eyes followed her movements. She did not see the two men who were crouched low behind the dense thicket along the footpath.

“It can’t be this easy,” Jack whispered, his gaze fastened on the girl. “Like a sheep being led to the slaughter, she falls into our hands.”

Kassidy had not realized she had come so deeply into the woods. She turned, with the intention of returning to the cottage, when a man stepped into her path.

At first she was startled by his sudden appearance, but she decided he must be from the village. There was nothing menacing in his eyes as he smiled at her.

The man removed his cap. “Morning, miss. Nice weather for a stroll,” he said respectfully.

She smiled and moved to step around him, but he barred her way.

“You Miss Maragon?” he asked, his manner suddenly changing.

“How did you know my name?” She watched his eyes dart behind her. With sudden fear in her heart, she spun around to see a second man move into the path, blocking her between them.

“What do you want?” Kassidy asked, moving to her left, only to find he moved with her.

The man behind her took her arm and held it in a viselike grip. “You can come with us peaceable, or you can make it hard on yourself.”

She stared from one man to the other, fear pounding in her heart. “W ... what do you want with me?”

The stranger’s laughter was so menacing that shivers of fear danced across her spine.

“It ain’t so much what we want, miss. It seems there’s someone who don’t want you around no more. We’re just here to oblige ‘em.”

Kassidy’s eyes widened with terror, and she tried to wrench her arm free.

“Now don’t struggle, miss. I’m stronger than you, and you’ll just make me hurt you.”

Kassidy felt a scream building up in her throat, but it was smothered by the rough hand that clamped painfully over her mouth, constricting her breathing.

“I warned you, but you didn’t listen,” the man hissed in her ear. “You just made it hard on yourself.”

Kassidy felt pain explode in her head when the man struck her with a heavy instrument. Blackness enveloped her, and she fell limply to the ground.

“You killed her, Jack,” Gorden accused, as he went down on his knees to examine the girl, stroking her long blond hair. “She’s such a pretty one. Why would anyone want to harm her?”

Jack felt the girl’s strong pulse and lifted her in his arms. “That’s not for the likes of us to worry about. We better hurry before she’s missed,” he added, moving toward the river and the waiting boat they had secured there earlier. Placing Kassidy in the bottom of the boat, they pushed off in the direction of London.

Kassidy regained consciousness in total darkness. Her head ached, and when she tried to move, she found her feet and wrists were bound. Fear screamed through her mind when she remembered the two strangers she had encountered in the woods. Apparently they had made good their threat and were taking her away. But who had hired them to abduct her? And why? She closed her eyes, trying to hold onto her sanity. Her body trembled when she realized she was lying in the bottom of a small boat. Where were they taking her?

As she fought her way out of the thick haze of fear, Kassidy realized the men were talking in quiet whispers. They must think she was still unconscious, she thought.

“Jack,” Gorden said, plying the oars to the murky black water, “why do you suppose this DeWinter wants the girl out of the way?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that’s no concern of ours?” He sounded angry. “We just do what we’re told, and don’t ask why.”

A sob was building deep inside Kassidy. So the duke of Ravenworth had struck swiftly. She had not even entertained the notion that he might retaliate against her. What kind of monster was he?

“The girl’s awake, Jack. I saw her move. What’11 we do?”

One of the men laid his oars aside and knelt over her. He was only a vague outline against a pale moon. Kassidy tensed when he pushed her head over the side of the boat until she was almost touching the water.

“Did you hear anything we said?” There was a threat in his voice. “Speak girl—did you?”

She realized it would mean her death if this man knew she had overheard him. “Where am I?” she asked in a small voice, deliberately acting vague. “Why have you done this to me?”

He released her and she fell back, landing hard against the bottom of the boat. Kassidy felt as if she were bruised all over, and her head throbbed painfully. Terror was so strong it pushed every thought except survival out of her mind. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Jack remarked with a smirk. “Someone wants you to disappear, never to be heard from again.” His laughter was evil and had a grating tone. “I have thought of a way so you’ll never be trouble to no one again. My brother, he’s been wondering what you did to stir up so much hate against you.” He laughed. “Never mind the reason. You just angered the wrong person, Miss Maragon.”

Kassidy huddled in the corner of the boat, frantically wondering what they were going to do to her. If they had wanted to kill her, surely they would have drowned her while she was unconscious. Where were they taking her?

It seemed like an eternity that they skimmed across the Thames. At one point Kassidy saw bright lights in the distance and knew they were nearing London.

As the docks came within sight, a heavy fog shrouded the city. When the boat bumped against the pier, one of the men gripped her arm and held her fast. When she struggled, he growled in her ear.

“Remember what happened to you before. You don’t want me to hurt you again, do you?”

She shook her head, too frightened to speak. Suddenly he shoved a flask at her and urged her to drink. When she shook her head, he grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her.

“Drink—now!”

Too frightened to refuse again, Kassidy took the bitter liquid in her mouth and swallowed it with a painful gulp. Before she could protest, she was lifted in the man’s arms and carried ashore.

As he walked along, she felt her head swimming and knew she had either been drugged or poisoned. If it was poison, she hoped it would work fast. At the moment, she prayed for death, as she felt an unspeakable horror awaited her.

She thought of the defenseless baby she had placed in the duke’s keeping. She hoped fate would deal more kindly with the child than it had with her or her sister.

Her last conscious thought was hatred toward the duke. Someday he would get what he deserved, and she hoped it could be she who unmasked his evil. She could still see his face, and it was as if he were mocking her—then she was lost in oblivion.

Kassidy had been blindfolded, and the inky darkness was terrifying. She did not know how long she had been unconscious, and even now her mind was still groggy. She could tell she was being carried over one of the men’s shoulders, and it was horrifying not to know where they were taking her. She tried to cry out, but because of the drug they had forced on her, her throat was dry and her tongue felt thick.

She heard the grating of an iron door swing open on rusty hinges, and she tried to fight off the heavy weariness that pressed in on her, but her eyes fluttered and closed, and she was lost in a world where fear could not follow.

She was unaware of the money that exchanged hands between her two captors and another man, or that the other man took possession of her limp body.

When Kassidy again regained consciousness, her blindfold had been removed and someone was carrying her down a long dark passageway.