The Scarlet Bride (40 page)

A footman appeared in the doorway. Henry threw the empty gun aside and pulled a knife from beneath his coat. He pointed it toward Laura. “I’ll kill her.”

The footman stepped back and retreated. Henry rushed over and locked the door.

Deep gasps did little to fill her lungs. She knew he was capable of murder and would harm anyone foolish enough to try and stop him.

“If you kill me, Simon will kill you.” Her heart squeezed. She loved Simon with everything in her. It terrified her to know that she might never again see his beloved face.

“He’ll not live long enough to kill me.”

Laura flinched. “You are a coward. You’ll not face him as a man. You’ll wait until he’s alone and shoot him in the back.”

His face turned red. “I grow weary of your insults. Come with me or die. Your choice.”

Desperate, she said in a rush, “All your plotting will
now come to naught. The footman has seen you. Witnesses will gather as we leave the house. You have lost. Flee now or be hanged.”

His face burned red. He knew he was trapped. “You bitch. You ruined everything.”

He lifted the knife as a rustle sounded in the open doorway to the library. Both of them spun around. Expecting a footman with the guards, Laura’s eyes widened in terror as she recognized the sweet face.

“I heard a pistol shot.” Aunt Bernie stood steps away, wearing a dressing gown and robe, hands on her hips, glaring at Henry through red eyes. “Who are you?”

Without thinking, Laura launched herself at his back. “Run!” she screamed as he pitched forward, taking her down with him. He grunted and hit the floor. The knife flew from his hand and clattered away.

“Run!” she shouted again. Aunt Bernie vanished.

Laura had no time to waste. He rolled over, throwing her off, and lunged for her leg as she scrambled free. She turned onto her back and kicked him in the jaw. His head snapped back. But he wasn’t finished with her. With an outraged growl, he launched himself on her, oblivious of her pummeling fists.

With a free hand, he backhanded her across the face. She cried out and brought her knee up between his legs.

He arched back and clutched his damaged cock. But her reprieve was short lived. Spitting in rage, he dove for her neck, wrapping his hands around her throat.

“I’ll kill you.” He squeezed. Laura clawed his hands. She fought for her life as her throat narrowed, cutting off her breath. The room dimmed. She was dying.

From a far-off place she thought she caught a glimpse of Simon’s face. She felt Henry’s weight lift from her. Rolling to her side, she coughed and clutched her throat.

It took several deep, welcoming breaths to clear her mind and observe what was happening around her. She pushed to her knees, realizing that Simon wasn’t a vision and was locked in battle with her attacker.

The fight was violent and brutal. The men were well matched in their determination to kill the other. Laura suspected that Henry had learned to fight while in the foundling hospital and on the brutal London streets.

She darted a glance around and spotted Aunt Bernie in the doorway, clutching a cooking pot as upraised voices sounded in the hallway. Laura raced across the room and grabbed the handled pot. “Get help!”

Laura spun and ran toward the men. Simon had the advantage, but only for a moment as he backed Henry against the wall and gave him two quick jabs to the stomach. But Henry leveraged his body and pushed Simon off. Laura took the opportunity and raised the pot. She hit him with a glancing blow to the shoulder.

He grunted and turned on her with a fist to the jaw. Laura jerked back and heard Simon’s outraged bellow.

S
imon watched Laura strike the edge of a chair and crumple. He had no time to tend her. He lunged forward and knocked Henry sideways. They landed hard.

All he could see was the bastard’s face as he hit him in the nose, the jaw, anywhere he could find a target. The man was a street fighter and tougher than he’d anticipated. But Simon had two women to protect and wouldn’t falter.

However, Henry wasn’t finished. He managed to get Simon off balance and pushed him away. They rolled to their feet as shouts filled the house.

Fists upraised, they faced each other.

“I’ll take pleasure in killing you,” Simon growled.

Spitting out blood, Henry smirked. “You will not kill me unarmed. You noblemen have too much honor. It will be me who takes pleasure showing your beautiful lover every depraved way there is to please a man.”

Simon grinned evilly. “Give me your best, you bastard, for you’ll never live to take her.”

Henry grinned through bloody teeth and reached to lift his pant leg. He jerked a thin blade from his stocking. He
bent for an attack but never got the chance to take a step. The bark of a pistol echoed through the room. His eyes widened and he pitched forward on his face.

Simon looked down at the man, then back up. Behind the dead man, smoking pistol clutched in her two hands, stood Laura, her angry eyes flashing. “I’m weary of men controlling my life. It was time I take charge of myself.” She dropped the spent pistol. Taking a shaky step forward, she wobbled toward Simon. He stepped over the body and caught her in his arms.

“Is he dead?” she asked, her words muffled by his chest.

Simon looked down. The large bloody hole in the bastard’s back confirmed what he suspected. “He’s dead.”

Laura sighed and held tight. “I could not let him murder anyone today.”

Relieved and pleased she was largely unharmed, he leaned back and stared into her face. “I take insult. I had no plans to let him kill me.”

She pressed her hands to his chest. “Oh, I am well aware that you would have won the fight. My concern was that you’d bleed to death after. Your face is quite damaged.”

Reaching up, he found his lip split and his nose bleeding. Wiping the blood off on his cravat, he knew that neither was potentially fatal. He looked in her eyes and realized she was teasing him.

“So you came to my rescue,” he said and wrapped his hands around her waist. He glimpsed the library doorway filling with guards and footmen. They all stood frozen, staring at Henry’s prone form.

“I had to. And no, I was not rescuing you. The fight had to end before Aunt Bernie returned with another pot and endangered herself. I saved
her
life.”

Chuckling, Simon led her away from the body, through the library, and into the hallway. The crowed parted.

“I never thought of my aunt as a fighter.” He escorted Laura to the drawing room and pulled her inside. Closing the door, he eased her back against the panel. “You, on the other hand, I would want guarding my back in a fight. You are well trained in the use of both pot and pistol.”

“I had to live.” Laura pulled him close. “I have a title and estate to collect.”

Simon’s brow when up. “What is this?”

“Kiss me first and I’ll tell you my news.” She rose onto her tiptoes as he willingly complied.

I
t was a little more than an hour later when the rest of the Harringtons arrived home. They were stunned to find Bow Street Runners in their parlor, questioning their son, Laura, and the servants.

Crawford quickly explained the matter to the family. Simon had sent for him first, before the Runners, knowing he could help sort out and explain the situation. Everything.

Kathleen went first to her son and then to Laura. Lady Seymour took her into her arms. “Thank goodness Simon returned home early. He couldn’t settle his fear that you were in trouble.” She pulled back and darted a glance to the covered body. “Though it looks like you had the situation well in hand.”

Laura peered at Simon. He was telling the Runners the entire story. For Laura to be truly free, Sabine had to be cleared of the crime and buried in the past. The two Runners didn’t seem willing to end Laura’s rule as their suspect, but with the evidence turning toward the dead man as the murderer, and the viscount vouching for her character, they were willing to listen.

“I’d hoped to end the case with an arrest. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be,” Laura said as the countess released her and took her hands. “Thankfully, your husband keeps a loaded pair of pistols behind a set of books by Huntley. I’d found them just yesterday morning.”

The countess lifted a brow.

Laura smiled and pulled a second pistol from her pocket. She placed it on a table. “They are lovely pieces, and quite accurate. My father would be proud to know I remembered his training and managed to vanquish Henry before he could harm others.”

Kathleen nodded. “My husband does like his weaponry. Thankfully, you managed to get to them in time.”

The women shared a smile before returning their attention to the activity around them. A pair of footmen gathered up the body after rolling it up in the expensive, and bloodstained, Oriental rug on which it lay.

“We shall look through this new evidence and make a determination of guilt.” The shorter of the two Runners sent Laura a warning frown. “Stay in London until this matter is concluded.” They followed the body out.

Once the household was left to the family once again, they all gathered in the library.

“Will someone please tell us everything that happened here?” Miss Eva said. She and the duke had arrived late. “We return from the funeral to a household in upheaval and a dead man in the parlor.”

“Laura shot the man,” Simon informed them.

His Grace settled his wife in a chair. “I assume he was our missing murderer?”

All eyes turned to Laura. She sat on a settee, her hand in Simon’s. “Yes, he was Westwick’s killer and boastfully admitted such. Henry came to kidnap and wed me, hoping to steal Westwick’s fortune.”

“How odd,” Brenna said.

“At first I thought he was mad,” Laura said. “Now it appears my marriage to Westwick was official after all. The false ceremony had been part of an elaborate ruse.” She quickly explained everything Henry had told her.

“Then you are Lady Westwick?” Brenna asked and darted a glance between Laura and Simon. A small smile tugged her mouth. “You never were a courtesan. Imagine the implications of that news?”

Laura didn’t take offense. “It’s true, though it changes nothing about my life with Westwick. He was still a vile man.”

“True, but now Simon can wed you,” Brenna pressed. There was a wicked glint in her eyes.

Simon leaned forward to scowl at his sister. “What
Laura and I do is none of your concern. And it does not change my wish to see you marry Chester Abbot. He will open many doors for our family.”

Brenna’s mouth turned downward. She glared at her brother. “Then I am off to the docks. I understand that an entire fleet of pirates has just landed on these shores. Surely one of them has the virility to get me with child.”

“Brenna!” the countess gasped. She stood as her daughter strode from the room, and frowned at her son. “Did you have to get her riled? The last time you fought about this, it took me two days to convince her not to row a boat out into the channel in search of a Jolly Roger. Pirates indeed.”

She walked quickly after Brenna while the duke, the earl, and Simon all chuckled in her wake.

Laura frowned. “You are horrible, Simon.” She indicated Miss Eva. “You have a duke and duchess to polish up the family reputation. You do not need Chester Abbot. Certainly you can allow Brenna to choose a man for love.”

He grinned. “Perhaps. I’ll give it some consideration.”

The conversation turned back to Laura, with the men commenting on her skill with pistols and the women just happy that Laura and Aunt Bernie were safe.

Finally, the duchess turned to her husband. “I am very tired. I think it is time to return home.”

Walter rose and helped Miss Eva to her feet. The duke walked to her and took her arm. He led his wife away.

“I think I shall post a footman outside Brenna’s door,” Walter said. “That girl is far too headstrong for my comfort.”

“You might also set a guard in the bushes below her window,” Laura offered lightly. “I do not know her well, but she is most determined to thwart a marriage with Lord Abbot. She may use the window to make her escape.”

The earl nodded, his eyes filled with humor. “Too true. That girl is the reason my hair is sporting gray.”

The family dispersed, leaving Simon and Laura alone. He stood, pulled her up from her seat beside him, and then eased her down into his lap.

“Simon, this is entirely inappropriate. Someone could return and catch us.” She pushed against his shoulder. It was no use. He already had his hands locked tightly around her. She stopped struggling. “You are impossible.”

“Taking into consideration my promise to keep my hands to myself, I will forgo seduction and be the first man to steal a kiss from the new Lady Westwick.”

Laura’s lids narrowed. “I will allow one kiss. However, if you call me Lady Westwick again, I shall rearrange your nose.”

“Such a violent nature you have.” He nuzzled her neck. “Now that we are free of the shadow of Westwick and his evil brother, I intend to marry and compromise you for the rest of your life.”

Marry her? Laura’s stomach flipped. She put her hand between them as he leaned in for the kiss. “Oh, Simon. You are only proposing because I am no longer a courtesan.”

His eyes darkened. “Is that what you think?” He slid her off his lap and stood. “You think my feelings for you have changed because you’re titled?”

Laura didn’t know what to believe. He’d mentioned a future together, but she’d assumed as lovers. Any thoughts of marriage had been just that, fanciful thoughts. Now he was proposing marriage on the same day they’d finally rid her of the terror of arrest?

The proposal was ill-timed and suspicious.

She crossed her arms. “Your entire focus since I’ve known you has been to marry well. You’ve never spoken seriously of marriage to me until now. Suddenly, my position has altered and you cannot wait to wed me. What am I to think?”

With angry strides, he walked several steps away. She saw his anger in his posture, felt it in his carriage.

When he finally turned back to her, there was resignation in his face. “I’ve been falling in love with you since the morning after I left you at the courtesan school. You were standing at the window with such sadness in your eyes that it tugged at my heart. I felt drawn to you as I’d never been
drawn to any woman. I couldn’t stay away.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. Leaning, he placed it on the sofa table. “I never saw you as a courtesan, a whore. You have always been so much more to me.”