The Kidnapped Bride (31 page)

“Hush, Erebus.” Sarah went closer, and he moved aside, inviting her to inspect his discovery. “Merciful heavens!” she exclaimed. The dog had been pawing at a pair of wooden doors set at an angle into the ground behind the boulder. “Move over, dog.” She pushed him out of the way and, finding a metal handle on one of the doors, managed to pull it open. Yawning blackness met her gaze. Without a light it was impossible to tell how deep it was, but Sarah was certain she had found a secret entrance to the Dower House cellars.

“That devil,” she breathed. Then she chuckled. Swift calculation told her that she was between fifty and seventy-five feet from the house, and she doubted that Colin, even with the aid of his light, would cover that distance through an unfamiliar tunnel very quickly. “Stay, Erebus,” she ordered sharply. “Guard!” The big dog plumped down with a long-suffering sigh that clearly expressed his opinion of human vagaries, but Sarah, her eyes alight with mischief, was already hastening back toward the house.

She found candlestick and flint just inside the front door where they were always kept, and once the candle was lit, lost no time hurrying to the kitchen passage. Just as she had hoped, the bricks were gone, the doorway completely accessible. She would give Colin the shock of his young life!

The door opened easily, showing that the workmen had even soaped the hinges, and a flight of stone steps presented itself. She had feared she might have to contend with a rickety, wooden staircase, but unless the stones were damp—and they did not seem so—she would be perfectly safe.

She had half-expected to see the glow of a lantern or another candle, but the lower portion of the cellar was in total darkness. Delighted to have beaten him but rather hoping he would arrive soon, she slowly descended the stairs, ears pricked for any sound, half-fearing to hear the rustle and scuttle of rats. But there was only silence. She continued down the steps until she reached the bottom. Then, holding her candle high, she looked around, but the cellar seemed totally barren. She could see no sign of dampness and, though she wasn’t perfectly certain what it was, no sign of dry rot either.

Frowning, she moved forward across the stone floor. Where was Colin? Surely, she hadn’t been wrong about the tunnel. Surely, it led straight to this cellar. A shadow of something solid caught her eye, when the candlelight reflected off a low, solid shape near the opposite wall. Sarah moved closer. It seemed to be some sort of trunk or chest. A chill shot up her spine, and she was aware of sudden gooseflesh as she remembered Colin’s suspicions of buried treasure. Could it truly be a treasure chest?

She hurried forward, holding the candle ahead so that its light would give the answer as quickly as possible. There were two trunks! But they were not rounded, nor banded in shining brass, as one might properly expect a treasure chest to be. They were not even locked! Probably nothing more than forgotten storage chests, she told herself firmly.

Kneeling beside the nearer of the two, Sarah brushed away a twig that had attached itself to her dressing gown and, with a shiver, noticed the chill in the cellar for the first time. Well, she would just peep inside the chest and then go back upstairs. If Erebus still waited by the entry she would know Colin had not returned, that something had happened to him. And, if she couldn’t find him herself, she would—God forbid—just have to fetch his lordship. It occurred to her that she had noticed no door that might be the cellar entrance to the tunnel. Maybe it, too, had been bricked up. At any rate, she hoped Colin was all right. She would rather not have another uncomfortable midnight scene, since, besides chastising Colin, Nicholas would most likely disapprove loudly and at length of her own visit to the cellar. But she tossed her head in defiance at the thought and reached to open the trunk.

The heavy lid stuck, and she could not manage it one-handed, so she set her candlestick down carefully, then bent to her task with a will. There was a satisfying creak, and the lid came up. She couldn’t see the contents properly until she had retrieved her candle, but then she let her breath out in a long sigh of amazement. She had indeed discovered treasure!

Diamonds reflected fire from the candle. Rubies glistened, emeralds sparkled; indeed, there seemed to be jewels of every color and hue! There were likewise two small strongboxes minus their locks, and both contained gold and silver coins as well as paper money. Sarah simply stared. The Ashton family treasure! But then, she looked more closely at one of the notes, and George III stared back at her. Family treasure or not, it had certainly not been resting here or anywhere else since Cromwell’s day!

So intent was she upon her discovery that she didn’t hear the whispering hush of sound as a section of the wall on her left slid open. But a draft caught her candle, causing it to flicker. The brief, resulting dimness was offset by a stronger light penetrating the cellar, and it was this plus the draft that warned her. She turned with a cheerful grin.

“I thought you’d never … good God! Beck!”

“My lady.” Darcy’s erstwhile valet nodded with icy poise, his chilly gray eyes colder than ever. “May I ask how you come to be here?” Stepping into the cellar, he slid the panel nearly but not quite shut behind him and held his lantern high.

“We’ve been refurbishing,” Sarah said quickly, watching him closely. “I ordered the cellars opened again.”

“I see.” He glanced around as though to make sure she was unaccompanied, then hung the lantern from a jutting nail. Sarah stifled another shiver, this time caused by the chill of fear. “Is it not a trifle late to be exploring?” he asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she retorted. “Of course it is, but I saw you from my window and thought you were Lord Moreland’s nephew, Colin.”

“That is unfortunate.” Beck stepped forward into the full light of the lantern, and his long, thin face and prominent, square jaw were thrown into strong relief. Sarah gasped, gazing with dismay now at the neatly tied neckcloth and paradoxical duffel coat.

“It was you!”

Beck sighed. “I was afraid of that. I had no notion, you see, until Jerry had already stopped the coach. Wouldn’t have done it otherwise. Surprised his bloody lordship didn’t recognize me, for that matter, but sure you would, my lady. ’Tis a pity, still and all.”

Sarah caught her breath again at the look in his eye. “What do you mean?”

“You or me,” he replied simply. “Got to be one or the other. Surely, you can see my side of it. Much rather it be you.”

“I don’t understand you! You talk gibberish!”

“They would hang me.”

She stared at him, swallowing with difficulty. “It might only be transportation, unless you’ve robbed the Mail, of course.”

Beck shrugged. “All the same, no sense in taking the risk, my lady, when it’s such a simple thing to avoid it. Shame to waste such a delicious bit o’ skirt though,” he added, reverting to the dialect of his associates. “His lordship always showed excellent taste.” He moved slowly toward her.

Sarah backed away, still holding her candle. “Why, Beck? You could have made an excellent wage as a gentleman’s valet.”

“No wage can equal them boxes, my pretty one.” He leered. “What a body you’ve got! To think he never had the proper use of it. Told me himself. Said he was going to make up for it though, that you had gone too far at last. Shouldn’t have knocked him down, my lady. Made him mad as fire.” He continued steadily toward her, purpose strong in his eye.

Sarah gasped. “You were in London! How could you possibly know about that?”

Beck allowed himself a sardonic smile. “Now you understand why there would be no question of transportation. I’ve nothing to lose, my lady, and all to gain. It will do you no good to keep backing away, you know. The wall is but two feet behind you.”

“You killed him,” Sarah whispered. “Why?”

Beck gestured toward the trunks. “That’s why. Whole business was my notion from start to finish. Not that he didn’t go along willingly enough at the beginning, mind you. But then, he got cold feet. He was of a mind to turn respectable, thanks to your damned fortune, but I wasn’t to get any of that. He wanted out, and when I suggested that I could make trouble for him, he threatened to turn me in if I didn’t keep a still tongue in my head. Said the busies would be more like to listen to him than to me. Right about that, I expect.”

Sarah grasped his meaning with difficulty. “Then Darcy … he was … and you said ‘Jerry’ … that would be Jeremy Oakes, I expect. But you and Darcy must have tried to double-cross him, for he doesn’t seem to have known where you hid the booty.” Evidently her surmises were correct, for he did not deny them. Indeed, he seemed only amused, laughing softly as he closed the distance between them.

“Enough of this. Think of me as a romantic knight of the road. Everyone knows what great lovers highwaymen are, how daring we are. Think of yourself as the heroine of a romantic tale with but a few moments of life yet to cherish. You nearly drove me mad when I lived in the same house with you, wench. Now it can’t make any difference. Come here.” Smiling wickedly, he reached toward her.

“No!” And with a lunge, Sarah threw her candle full in his face and darted past him toward the stone steps, screaming, hoping Penny or someone might hear her. But Beck was too quick. Dodging the flying candle easily, he stretched out his hand and grabbed her by the arm, whirling her around, pulling her to him. Desperately, Sarah tried to wrench away from him and kicked angrily at his shin, but her slippers were little protection, and she only bruised her toes. Meanwhile, her struggles resulted in very little advantage to herself. If anything, they aided Beck as he attempted to tear her dressing gown from her body.

Despite her initial lack of success, Sarah continued to struggle madly, but she managed to keep sheer panic at bay, and somehow a small part of her mind managed to take in the fact that they had turned so that Beck now had his back to the treasure trunks. She had been trying desperately to pull away from him, so that when she suddenly propelled herself forward with all her might, she caught him completely off guard and off balance. Catching his heel on one of the trunks, he went crashing backward, his hands involuntarily releasing Sarah as he made a futile attempt to save himself.

She had lost her dressing gown, but without giving it a thought, she snatched up the skirts of her nightdress in order to keep from tripping over them, and scrambled away toward the stone steps. However, despite his thunderous fall, Beck’s desperation to stop her seemed to overcome any of the pain he must have felt. He got to his feet somehow and, snarling, lunged after her.

The lantern light barely pierced the gloom ahead, and Sarah moved more by instinct than anything else. She could hear him coming, but she had to feel for the steps, fearing to stumble lest he catch her again. She knew there would be no mercy. He would no doubt kill her at once, and though she realized that she had very likely succeeded in defending her virtue, it would be of little use to her dead.

Her foot kicked against the lowest step, but at the same moment, Beck reached out and grabbed the back of her nightdress. Sarah struggled, crying out, and heard the gown rip, just as she was roughly shoved aside by a dark shape hurtling down the steps. After a resounding and, under the circumstances, quite satisfactory crack of bone against bone, Beck collapsed, and the lantern cast its faint glow across the familiar features of her rescuer.

“Nicholas! Oh, Nicholas!” And, bursting into tears, she cast herself into his arms. It seemed perfectly natural that those strong arms should gather her close to that broad chest, holding her tightly, keeping her safe.

Nicholas let her sob for a moment or two, doing nothing more than stroking her hair and muttering such intelligent stuff as “There, there,” and “It’s all right, Countess,” and so forth. But finally, her sobs began to diminish, and she became aware of her state of near-undress. Her first thought was that she ought to cover herself, but she was oddly reluctant to remove herself from the safety of his embrace.

“How is she, my lord?” Sarah stiffened at the unfamiliar voice coming from behind her.

“Well enough, considering everything.” Nicholas spoke grimly, but he must have felt her reaction, for there were definite overtones of amusement. Hesitantly, she looked over her shoulder. Mr. Jeremy Oakes stood there gazing at her with undisguised admiration. Two other men, both wearing dark blue jackets, red waistcoats, and black hats moved from the tunnel entrance, through the circle of lantern light, toward the unconscious Beck.

“Lady Moreland,” Nicholas pronounced in formal tones, “I should like to present Mr. Jeremy Oakes of Bow Street. Mr. Oakes, would you be so kind as to pass Lady Moreland that dressing gown at your feet?”

Bow Street! And considering the very thin material of her nightdress, she might just as well be standing there naked! Sarah felt heat rush to her face, then a curious lightheadedness. But that was all she felt before she fainted dead away in his lordship’s arms.

L
ATE THE FOLLOWING MORNING
Sarah awoke with vague memories of being carried up the stairs, of a grim and dangerous look in his lordship’s eye before she had resolutely shut hers again, and of Miss Penistone’s calm voice and gentle hands tucking her into her own bed. There was a moment or two of disorientation before she remembered everything, but then her first thought was of Jeremy Oakes. Who would ever have suspected him to be a Bow Street Runner? Just wait until Colin heard about that! And Nicholas must have known all along.

But just thinking of Nicholas unleashed a flood of tumbled thoughts. How safe she had felt in his arms! How glad she had been to see him! And, how angry he must be with her now. This last thought was a bit daunting. Looking back with the usual clarity afforded by hindsight, she could see how imprudent she had been. And it wasn’t as though he hadn’t warned her, because he’d done so in no uncertain terms the night of Colin’s ghostwalk.

Sighing, Sarah snuggled deeper under her covers, hoping no one would come to see how she did. The longer they thought her asleep, the longer it would be before she must face him. She wondered what he would do, remembering that he had threatened to return her to her aunt’s protection if she didn’t behave. But that had been a matter of her safety, and surely she was safe enough now that Mr. Oakes and his patrol had taken Beck into custody.