Highest Stakes (64 page)

  "I have no time to mince words with you, Philip." She again attempted to pull away.

  "Wait, Charlotte. What has you so agitated and your family in an uproar?"

  "
Your brother
," she hissed, "has sought to amuse himself by brutalizing his wife, the same woman, I might add, who has just birthed
your
daughter. Now release me!"

  Stunned, he replied emotionlessly, "I see," and reflexively let go.

  Charlotte spun toward the west wing. Philip did not follow, but with single-minded determination, he set out in search of his quarry, the perpetrator of violence on a helpless woman. Although he had long suspected Edmund's deviant nature, he would have credited him with more sense than to expose his vice in such an overt way, under his father's roof, no less. The act reeked of desperation and cowardice. Philip recalled the terms of

his father's will.

  He stalked from room to room, sending servants scuttling, until he arrived at the earl's private apartments, where Edmund had gone to make his excuses while his valet packed for London.

  Remarking the voices within, Philip passed Grayson and unheedingly threw open the doors. Striding fiercely through the private parlor into the bedchamber, he noticeably startled Edmund and his father, who lay pale and wan in his bed.

  "What is this intrusion?" the earl croaked. "Where is Grayson to allow it? The man will be sacked!" Not immediately recognizing his younger son, he addressed the elder. "Edmund, throw this scoundrel out!"

  "'Twould be my greatest pleasure, my lord," he replied, recognizing the intruder as Philip.

  "My dear father," Philip interjected, "I might remark that the only scoundrel is your perfidious eldest son."

  Edmund sneered. "Indeed? This is the outside of enough, Philip,
your
attempt to defame
me
. I might even call it laughable."

  "Although you have long attributed such crimes to me, Edmund, in the end 'tis
you
who would discredit, dishonor, and vilify the family name."

  "Such accusations are insupportable! I insist you explain yourself at once!" Lord Hastings's eyes blazed from his gaunt face.

  "I had come here, my lord, on a mission from the Crown, but now I discover my brother's pusillanimous conduct toward his wife by far supersedes his treachery."

  "Treachery?" The earl's eyes narrowed.

  "I greatly fear the role of conquering hero has gone to Philip's head, my lord," Edmund jeered.

  "Only my regard for my family honor forces me to disclose the mounting suspicion of treason from the house of Hastings, my lord. If proven, such would attaint the earldom and forever tarnish

our name."

  The Earl of Hastings looked to his eldest son. "Edmund, what is this about?" he demanded.

  Edmund smirked with a dismissive gesture. "Nothing, my lord. Much ado about nothing. The crime of treason may be ascribed only to those who correspond or provide assistance afte
r
the first of May 1744. While 'tis true I have lent some manner of support to the Jacobites, this very Act of Parliament with which they would attempt to indict me,
by my very design, provides m
y immunity. There is none who can produce any proof of my so-called treason
following
the passage of the Act of Parliament prohibiting aid to the Young Pretender," he replied with total self-possession.

  "One must at the least applaud your preservation instincts, Edmund, without which, one cannot survive in Parliament. Mayhap you are ready to assume your place as Earl of Hastings, after all."

  Philip was stunned that his father looked upon Edmund's confession with a thin smile of approbation. "You would condone treason, my lord?"

  "I fail to see how any such crime can be imputed," Lord Hastings replied matter-of-factly.

  "But what of honor? And what say you of a man who brutalizes the woman who is, by law, under his protection?"

  The earl scoffed. "Being under his protection, Edmund's wife is no one else's concern."

  "On the contrary, my lord, the welfare of any woman, under
his
brand of protection
, is very much my concern."

  Edmund interjected, "Pray let us forgo the melodrama, Philip. Beatrix had a misapprehension regarding her duty to obey me, and I dealt with her accordingly. She got no more than she deserved, the shameless whore. To my misfortune, however, I made the discovery only after the nuptials that she came to the marriage bed already

increasing with child."

  "Is this the version you would tell, Edmund? Having a decided preference for the truth, I find I am at odds with it. I submit, rather, that you wed her in full knowledge she was breeding, perceiving it the most expeditious manner to get an heir. You, however, had no contingency when she delivered you a girl, and now, realizing what a bad bargain you've made, she and the child are to suffer for it."

  "Until I divorce the slut, she and the child are mine to do with as I will."

  Fingering his sword hilt menacingly, Philip instinctively drew it halfway from its sheath.

  "Are you bent on playing knight-errant, Philip? My lord's apartments are hardly an appropriate venue for a duel; moreover, I have yet to fathom your preoccupation with the notion. Pray take your sword, brother mine, and go back to playing soldier with Cumberland."

  "You really do not comprehend it, do you? To uphold one's name, one's honor as a gentleman. But why should this surprise me? I should be doing the world a favor to rid it of such a perfidious, craven bastard."

  "Perfidious, craven bastard?" Lord Uxeter repeated, savoring the bitter words. "Are there no further calumnies, no added denigrations you wish to cast against my character, Philip?"

  Another voice spoke from behind. "I might add… misogynistic sodomite."

  With these words, Charles Wallace stepped forward and discharged his pistol.

T he
report of pistol fire reverberated as a thunderclap through the corridors of stone. Chores forgotten and serving trays crashing to the floor, the servants raced breathlessly to the earl's quarters, but only Grayson, after a lifetime in the earl's employ, dared to actually enter his bedchamber.

  Charles Wallace's aim had struck true. Shot in the chest, Edmund directed his pain-stricken gaze to his assassin before staggering to the earl and crumpling.

  "Edmund, my son! They have murdered my son!" Lord Hastings roared. The earl rose from his bed, pushing Philip away, but without his cane, his weak side failed him. He fell upon his son's body, only to watch Edmund gurgle his last breath.

  The vision proved too much for his weakened condition. With his hand clutched to his chest, the earl collapsed with an anguished cry beside Edmund's body. Voiceless and paralyzed, he now lay in his son's spreading puddle of blood.

  Grayson miraculously appeared to help Philip carry the fallen earl back to his bed, while Charles stood dumbly over Edmund's body, the smoking pistol still in his hand. With full realization of what he had done, he dropped the pistol, and it fell, thudding to the floor like a lead weight.

  Charles stumbled to a chair, where he commenced to shake so violently his teeth chattered. He hid his face in his hands, and his entire body convulsed, giving full vent to its state of shock.

  Sir Garfield, the next to arrive, took in the blood, the dead body, and his son's quaking form. He exploded. "What the devil?"

  Grayson interjected before Philip could reply. "A tragic accident," the old retainer replied. "I had come to bring his lordship's sleeping tonic, only to overhear shouting. My Lord Hastings was acutely distressed and hardly in his right mind. He must have mistaken Lord Uxeter for an intruder. By the time I entered the chamber, he had been shot!"

  He boldly continued his outrageous prevarication. "Master Philip and Lieutenant Wallace appeared almost instantly, but 'twas already too late. Lord Uxeter is dead, and the earl has suffered another apoplectic seizure."

  Absolutely confounded, Philip gawked at Grayson.

  The housekeeper, Mrs. Baker, chimed in, taking up the blatantly false alibi. "I heard it meself, I did, as I was passing down the hall. Such a profound tragedy!" She fled his lordship's chambers with a muffled sob.

  Philip was incredulous at the brazenness of the lies spoken by these lifelong servants. Although he had not pulled the trigger, he had the most to gain from his brother's demise, but with the earl at death's door, Grayson had not hesitated to fabricate a web of deception for Philip's protection.

  Though he was not the killer, in truth it was only because Charles had beaten him to it. Philip's conscience tugged faintly, but with no one in the household willing to contradict the tale and the earl unable to do so, he stifled his scruples.

  Setting about the task of supervising the aftermath, he mused that should he become the new Earl of Hastings, his first priority would be to raise the wages of his staff.

Two days following the joint funerals of the Earl of Hastings and his firstborn son, Major Drake advised Charles Wallace to play "least in sight." Wisely heeding the advice, Charles promptly departed for Ghent to join his regiment. Sir Garfield and Lady Felicia followed, taking the newly widowed Beatrix and baby Sophie back to Yorkshire.

  Charlotte, desiring only peace and tranquility, also could not depart soon enough for her liking. She was shocked by the chain of events following on the heels of Philip's arrival. Was it an omen of what he would bring to her life? She prayed it was not. She had spent the past six months trying to regain her equilibrium and desired none of his presence or influence in her life. Only propriety had made her stay for the funeral and brief inquest.

  Now packed, she was anxious to return to Cheveley. She had just sent Letty with word of readiness to the coachman, when she heard a light rap on her chamber door.

  "Yes? You may enter," she replied absently. She was startled to see Philip.

  "Good morning, Charlotte," he offered in brusque greeting.

  "Philip," she said tersely. As she closed and latched her trunk, her eyes flickered briefly over him. "I had thought you the footman, come to collect my things."

  "I regret to disappoint you," he said with a smirk. "No doubt it slipped your mind to inform me you were taking your leave today?"

  "The need to inform you had not occurred to me."

  "Indeed? So my
own wife
would depart without so much as a by-your-leave?"

  "Your wife?" Charlotte scoffed. "Since we no longer have an audience for whom to perform, may we not now desist in this preposterous charade?"

  Philip grasped her gently by the shoulders. "Charlotte," he began earnestly, "neither you nor I would have chosen this course, had we a choice. You were estranged from your family, with no visible means of support, and I had desperate need to be independent from mine. Nonetheless, I swore to support and protect you. I am yet willing to stand by those vows if you will now show only the slightest inclination to conduct yourself as my wife."

  "That was not our agreement." Her voice was pure ice.

  "Circumstances have changed. The inquest has absolved me of any wrongdoing, and with this pronouncement, I am to be named Earl of Hastings. With this change of fortune, I have hope of restoring my family estate to a more respectable condition."

  "How precisely should this concern me?"