His Dark Enchantress (Books We Love Regency Romance) (35 page)

He had been here
twice before, but on those occasions he had arrived and departed in daylight in the company of others and so had not paid much attention to what was around him.

Looking up at tall, narrow windows, he stopped by a doorway and peered at it. It was somewhat familiar. He thought back. Closed his eyes. Remembered the brassware. A curved knocker with an ornamental cluster of oak leaves and acorns. He opened his eyes. Yes, it was the same. He breathed a sigh of relief and reached up.

At this time of night the sound of the knocker echoed along the whole street. He waited.

Nothing. No lights, no sound.

A frown creased his face. What the hell? Where was du Lully?

He stepped back and looked up. Each window was a black, soulless eye that stared down at him. He lifted the knocker again but before he could let it go, the door opened a fraction.

“Who’s there?” The voice was cracked and dry.

This was not du Lully. Peregrine pushed the door hard and stepped over the sill. As soon as he did he felt the muzzle of a pistol under his chin. He stopped, stiffened.

“Not another step,” the old voice warned him. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“I have business with Raoul du Lully,” Peregrine hissed. “Where is he?”

“Dead.” The pistol didn’t waver.

“Dead?” The word itself was a question. This could not be. “But I have a package for him.”

“Won’t mean anything to him now, will it?” rasped the voice.

“And what about my payment?” Peregrine persisted.

“No one to help you with that either. It’s your loss. Now get out of here.”

The pistol nudged harder against his neck and Peregrine stepped back, stumbling on the door sill, his face suffused with anger. The door closed as quickly and silently as it had been opened. He raised his hand but held back, aware that too much commotion might bring unwanted attention.

He turned and hurried back down the street. Now what was he to do with that bitch? He’d have her anyway and then sell her to a house of ill repute. There was little left in the purse his aunt had given him. His only recourse was to find a card game, and quickly. He reached the railings where he left his horse and quickly mounted it.

***

Straw rustled as the cows, sensing her presence, moved restlessly. Emmaline could hear their breathing and soft snorts. She let her eyes adjust to the gloom, put out her hand and found the framework of the stalls. Steadily making her way along them, she shushed the large black and white animals as she did so.

Her brow puckered in a frown. She had expected to find a horse or two, but there were none. Where, then, were the stables? She reached the end of the byre and found nothing but a solid wall. Resting against it, she gathered her wits.

Turn around, Emmaline, she told herself. You are not going to be caught here.

Following her own advice she retraced her steps, found an opening in the opposite wall and stepped through it. Now she could smell the warm scent of horses and hay and moved forward. The stalls were all empty save one. She ran her hands over the surprised beast and talked softly to it until it relaxed.

She searched about the stall and its neighbour but could find no saddle or bridle. Feeling along the wall she found nothing but brooms, rakes and a stack of wooden buckets. A saddle she could do without but she needed a bridle. She found the door and risked looking out. She gasped as a horseman came in to view and quickly darted back in to the depths of the stable.

She listened, heard muffled voices, then the soft thud of hooves as the horse was brought into the stable.

“Here now, my lad,” the groom said as he led the horse into an empty stall.

She ducked down beside the partition, listened as the groom stripped off the saddle and bridle. Took note of his footsteps as they went away from the stall, stopped and came back. She heard the rustle of hay and the chomp of teeth as the horse tore into it. The groom patted the animal’s hindquarters and left.

Emmaline slowly emerged from her hiding place and turned to her right. The groom hadn’t gone far and she quickly found a set of pegs bearing saddles and bridles. She simply had not gone far enough in her first search. Taking a bridle down
, she returned to the fresh horse. It made no fuss as she slipped the bridle over its head.

Now to get it out of the stable without disturbing anyone. She backed it out of its stall and opened the door. All was dark, all was quiet. She opened the door all the way and stepped out.

She didn’t see Peregrine, or his fist as it shot up and landed on her jaw. She simply dropped where she stood and fell into another kind of darkness.

***

Her head and face ached abominably and she couldn’t move her arms and legs. It took a moment for her to realize that she was tied to the bed. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes and escaped her lids.

This could not be. It simply could not.

She tugged against her bonds but quickly realized the more she pulled, the tighter they became. Her heart felt as though it would burst with helplessness and she stifled a sob.

Now she would have to suffer Peregrine’s intentions and Raoul du Lully’s deprivations. Or would she? Surely there would come a moment when she could bargain or break free. She would just have to wait for it, pray for it. She would not give in.

Turning her head against the coarse pillow, she scuffed her cheek against it. Peregrine would no doubt enjoy her tears, but she would not give him that satisfaction.

She took deep calming breaths.

Closed her eyes and grimly awaited his return.

CHAPTER 31

The card game he had indulged in had indeed replenished his pockets, and now Peregrine sat in the tap room contemplating a tankard of ale. It was sheer luck that he had returned to the stable yard in time to see her peek out of the byre door. Had he stayed for one more round of cards, Miss Devereux may well have been on her way back to Boulogne by now instead of trussed up like an oven ready fowl in the chamber on the third floor.

He finished his ale and left the tap room
only to find himself face to face with the Earl of Avondale.

With a snarl he spun around and headed for the stairs, Lucius fast behind him.

Their footsteps drummed like thunder on each step as they pounded up the narrow flights, but Peregrine had the advantage of being slightly lighter in build and knowing where he was going.

He’d unlocked the door, entered the room, slammed and relocked the door all before Lucius could reach him.

Lucius glared at the solid panels and lifted his fist to batter on them, but Edward caught his arm.

“Allow me, sir.”

With grim determination Edward lifted his pistol and fired at the lock, shattering it. He kicked the door with such force that it flew open and banged back against the wall.

Slightly deafened from the sound, Lucius stepped into the room and stopped.

Styles, his back to the window, held Emmaline close with his left arm. In his right hand he held a knife, the point of its blade at her throat.

“You’re not getting her back,” he snarled.

“Am I not?” Lucius looked at Emmaline. Her eyes were wide and her face pale, but he could detect no panic, could see no tremor in her limbs. Admiration for her mettle swelled in him. “You are a fortunate man to have got her thus far, for my wife is a most resourceful woman. Has she swooned?”

“No.” A frown buckled Peregrine’s face.

In the moment he took for that thought, Lucius cocked his pistol and levelled it.

Peregrine’s frown changed to a sneer.

“Ah, a duelling pistol.” Peregrine pressed the knife harder into Emmaline’s neck. “But this is not a duel.”

“No, it is not,” Lucius said. His voice was soft
but full of menace.

His blood ran cold as he saw the ruby drop of blood appear at the tip of the blade, heard Emmaline’s shar
p intake of breath. Capturing her glance with his, he briefly slid his eyes sideways, saw the answering flicker of comprehension at what he wanted her to do in the downward sweep of her lashes.

Lucius pin-pointed his focus as he sighted down the barrel, saw fear swell in Peregrine’s eyes as he realized Lucius’ intent.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Peregrine hissed between clenched teeth. His eyes were wild and he backed even closer to the window, still maintaining his hold on Emmaline, the knife point still at her neck.

Damn Peregrine Styles to hell
.

Lucius’ breath stilled. His eyes narrowed.

“Would I not?” His tone was lower now and cold as ice.

He pulled the trigger.

The explosion filled the small room with reverberating sound and reeking smoke.

Emmaline screamed.

Peregrine’s arm fell away from her body.

She threw herself to one side, catching the window ledge to steady herself. She heard the thump as Peregrine’s body slumped to the floor. Took one look, saw the bullet hole in the centre of his forehead then launched herself into Lucius’ arms
, not hearing the commotion of feet on the stairs and shouts of concern as he cradled her, his face in her hair.

Edward immediately took charge, demanding two fellows remove the body and sending everyone else away.

Lucius reached for Emmaline’s cloak and threw it over her.

“Bear up a little longer, my love,” he
soothed. “You are safe now.”

The night swirled around them as Lucius hurried her away from the inn, keeping his arm tight around her waist, supporting her as he guided her to a waiting carriage.

“Where are we going?” Emmaline gasped as Lucius swung her up and onto the seat.

“A different, far superior accommodation to any of your
previous lodgings,” Lucius told her as he joined her.

She collapsed against his shoulder and immediately relaxed into the comfort of his arm as he drew her close to him and laid his head against hers.

Time was of no consequence. Where she was being taken did not matter. She was with Lucius.

She was safe.

When the carriage rocked to a halt she sat up, saw the bright gleam of lights at the windows of a small hotel, its entrance door already open in welcome.

Lucius lifted her down and hurried her inside. Relief flooded through her and made her head spin, made her feel weak.

“I feel faint,” she murmured and passed out.

***

She was curled up in his lap. The soft cotton of his shirt pillowed her cheek as she rested her head on his chest and listened to the slow, steady thud of Lucius’ heart against her ear. A warm, heavy weight lay about her shoulders and waist.

An elated smile spread across her face
as she realized she was in his arms. She had not thought to have moved, but Lucius shifted in the chair and kissed the top of her head.

“Where are we?” She looked about her.

“My room at the Golden Lion.”

Emmaline sat up and took his face in her hands.

“You doubted I would find you,” he said patiently, accurately assessing the questing look in her eyes.

She shook her head. “I doubted you would find me before we embarked, but then the storm blew in and I hoped beyond hope that you would reach Folkestone in time.”

“You have your one-eyed Ned to thank for that.” Lucius gently stroked her cheek.

“Did he tell you he was of my father’s network of spies?”

“No, but I guessed he may have been when I saw his face.”

She leaned in and kissed him, then wound her arms around his neck.
A shuddering sob shook her slight frame and her tears on were hot his cheek.

“I was so frightened,” she wept. “I couldn’t bear to think I might not see you again, but I couldn’t let Peregrine see, I couldn’t. . . “

“Hush.” Lucius held her tight, stroked her hair and let her cry. “Styles got what he deserved and we handed Hooper over to the Watch. He’ll be sent to Newgate where he will stand trial for his part in your abduction.”

When her sobs slowed to hiccupping sighs he reached into a pocket and withdrew a handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes dry and sniffed hard.

“I beg pardon, my Lord,” she said, “for soaking your fine linen.”

She felt weak and very tired but would not give in to such emotions.

“What’s this?” Lucius quirked an eyebrow. “My Lord? Not Lucius?”

“It’s by way of an apology,” Emmaline said stiffly. “Take it or leave it.”

A broad smile lightened Lucius’ face. “That’s the girl I know and love.”

Emmaline climbed off his lap.

“I’m starving, Lucius,” she said as she shook out her skirts. “Could you please arrange some water for me to freshen up and then something to eat?”