Duke of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy) (29 page)

D
erek led Ahote off the path and into the woods, and tied him to a tree out of sight. The tracks he’d followed proved Lucy had been thrown and another rider had carried her from that spot to the cottage, the same cottage where the shooter had tied his horse during the race. He realized who that other rider was when he approached the structure.

Stephen’s horse was tied to the post.

A bitter, foul anger rose in his throat like acrid bile, and he fought the jealousy that followed. His emotions warring, he told himself again that he must trust Lucy, he
would
trust Lucy, no matter how incriminating circumstances might look.

Keeping low to the ground, he made it to an uncovered window and peeked inside. That quick glimpse sent his mind reeling. He could see only part of Lucy. She was lying on a cot, and Stephen was sitting beside her, blocking his view. But he could see enough to know she wasn’t completely dressed—there was a flash of bare leg—and Stephen appeared to be kissing her.

He sank to a squat and staved off his emotions, determined to use logic, as he would in any confusing situation which didn’t involve Lucy. If he trusted Lucy—
and he did
—then what he saw was not what it seemed, and he prayed he was right, because it
seemed
as though the two had planned a tryst, knowing he would be on his way to London after reading Stephen’s note. So, if things weren’t as they seemed, how were they?

Lucy took a fall. That much he knew.

And Stephen carried her to the cottage. If they hadn’t planned a tryst, then what was Stephen doing in the woods? Had he lured Lucy there, followed her there, or was their meeting perfectly innocent with Stephen passing by in time to rescue her?

He discounted the latter immediately. The messenger said his note came from Stephen in London, yet Derek followed on the man’s heels and never ran into Stephen on the only road of travel. That meant Stephen was already here when the note was delivered. And Stephen had evidently known the location of the cottage. Every nerve in Derek’s body came alive as he realized the implications.

He crept around to the front door of the cottage and slowly turned the knob. It was unlocked, and he flung the door open, standing in the doorway, his body rigid with contained fury.

Stephen jerked to a sitting position and whipped around to face the door, jaw hanging and eyes wide. “It’s not what it looks like,” he said quickly.

“What is it then?” Derek asked, his voice deceptively soft. His heart thumped with such force he thought it might burst from his chest. Stephen was only half dressed, and Derek took a couple of steps into the room to see around him to Lucy. Her face was bloodless and her expression was a frightening mixture of terror and overwhelming relief, confirming his fear that Stephen was up to no good.

“My shirt—I was taking it off to bind her leg,” Stephen said. “She was injured when that blasted horse threw her. The fool thing went crazy over a gunshot, just like before.”

Just like before.
Stephen’s words echoed through Derek’s mind. He hadn’t told Stephen about the other incident and he doubted very much that Lucy had. That meant . . . But that was insane, wasn’t it? And if Stephen was the shooter during the race, then who was shooting this time? Or did Stephen shoot from a distance today and then come conveniently to Lucy’s rescue?

He took another step toward the cot and Stephen’s body stiffened.

“Where were
you
while all this was happening?” Derek asked.

“We were chatting on the lane. I took off after her, of course, but her fool horse threw her before I could get close enough to do anything.” Stephen leaned back on the cot, bracing his body with his arm nonchalantly, but Derek saw Lucy’s gaze drop to the cot behind Stephen’s back.

Stephen was hiding something, and it had to be a weapon. Seeing the cut material on the floor, he deduced it was Stephen’s hunting knife. He took a step closer. “Get up,” he said to Stephen.

A loud click came from the doorway. Derek recognized the intruder’s flowery scent without turning around, and everything fell into place.

“Tell me, Lady Foxworth, how long have you been a French operative?” he asked before turning to face her.

For a moment, the only sound was that of Lucy’s astonished cry, and then Isabelle Foxworth glided fully into the room, looking every inch the respectable lady of London society, except for the pistols she held, one in each hand.

“You are very quick to grasp a situation, Captain. Or should I say
your Grace?
You will not mind if I ask you to move aside? I am afraid you are obstructing my view.”

Derek took two steps backward without moving much to the side. He needed to stay as close as possible to the knife.

“Mes amies were disappointed to lose those lovely muskets, but they were even more distressed to lose your ship. We heard such glowing reports of your design, obviously all true. Three ships against one, and still you escaped. You have proved to be a worthy opponent, your Grace, but I tire of the game. We have wasted much time searching for the incriminating paper your father gave to Philip Barrick, when it has become obvious it no longer exists.”

“What happened to my father?” Lucy asked. “Was he truly murdered by a highwayman?”

“Ah, Lucy,” said Isabelle with a sad smile. “Your father was so like you. Always ready to think the best of people. He did not believe the duke’s suspicions about members of London society committing treason, of course, especially when the duke said Nathan was involved. Philip sent a message straight to Nathan with the story and showed him the incriminating proof Dorrington supplied. That was your father’s mistake. The poor, trusting fool.”

“His mistake . . . w-w-hat do you mean?”

“Once we learned of their suspicions, and the proof, both Dorrington and your father had to die. If only your father had not been so honorable, so willing to turn his own brother over to the law.” She shrugged. “Your uncle was not involved in the smuggling, of course. That would have constituted actual work. Nathan’s forté is blackmail, and he is quite useful when we need magistrates to look the other way.

“Unfortunately, my man did not find that simple scrap of paper after he shot your father, and neither did Nathan, though he searched Stonecrest many times. I hoped that would be the end of the matter, but I could not be certain.”

She nodded toward Derek. “I knew you would return to England upon your father’s death, and there was the possibility you would find something amongst his papers. I needed someone within your circle of family and friends, someone you might talk to. Stephen was easy to seduce, and his jealousy made him perfect for the part. I did not even need to trick him. He was more than eager to help.”

“Jealousy?” Derek asked, looking at Stephen. “What did you ever have to be jealous of?”

Stephen sneered, his eyes seething. “Your title, your money, your business, your wife, the muck in your goddamned stable. You’ve lived your life exactly as you pleased, everything falling into your lap. Want to parade about as a privateer? How nice that you have the finest ship in the world at your disposal. Get caught in a compromising situation? Lucky for you it turns out to be with Lady Louisa, a woman with everything a man could want in a wife, including a fortune of her own. You disgust me. Always so sure of yourself. Always able to handle every situation. It’s not enough that you had everything else going for you; you had to have looks and appeal too. Even my own father preferred you to me.”

The bitterness and hatred in Stephen’s voice shook Derek. How could he have not guessed Stephen’s true feelings? How well Stephen had hidden himself behind manners and charm.

Isabelle chuckled mirthlessly. “
Jealousy.
Such a powerful emotion, n’cest pas, your Grace? Even I am not above it. I must admit I was jealous when you turned down my offer at the ball, especially since my plan was to seduce you and become your confidante. It was not necessary since I had Stephen on my side, but I did so look forward to the seduction. I was disappointed when you said no, but I rallied well, did I not? Coming up with that nonsense about being attracted to Lucy, suggesting we enjoy her together?”

Lucy gasped.

“Really, it was such fun toying with you that I could not resist. It did cause you a recurring worry, did it not? At the Bellingham country estate, for instance, when I spilled wine on Lucy’s gown?”

Derek said nothing as he realized his jealousy had made him an easy target for manipulation. In fact, what with his jealousy, Stephen’s, and that of his own father, the carefully plotted masquerade hadn’t stood a chance.

That was the past. He must deal with the present. He must come up with a plan to get away safely with Lucy. If only he could get his hands on that knife. He needed to keep Isabelle busy talking so that he could consider his options. It did not seem a difficult task. She was more arrogant than he’d realized; she enjoyed boasting about her manipulations.

“I knew I must plant the idea of marriage by telling you that Nathan could be bought,” she continued. “How perfectly it all worked out, with you and Lucy together at Stonecrest, and both Nathan and Stephen reporting to me,” she went on.

Maybe her arrogance was the way out. She had not planned on Stephen’s betrayal, had she? Recalling the fury in her eyes when she first entered the cottage and took in Stephen’s appearance, he thought not. He took a deep breath, praying he was not making a mistake. He turned his head to look at Stephen.

“You’ve been involved all along?”

“You really are surprised, aren’t you?” Stephen’s expression was smug.

“But you wanted me to go to the authorities. You argued with me for half an hour.”

“And got nowhere, just as I expected. The more I argued, the more stubbornly you refused. Further proof of your arrogance, as if I needed any.” Stephen smirked. “I’d planned to have that conversation with you at some point, just in case you were suspicious of my eagerness to be involved in your scheme, but I knew I had to be careful. If I suggested that you go to the authorities at the wrong time, you might actually consider it. As soon as you mentioned the maps I knew it was the perfect time. You’d never give over the investigation after uncovering such an exciting new clue.”

“And the smuggled goods in the crates? I suppose you planned in advance which ones to check.”

“Of course. I couldn’t take the chance you’d check on your own. By leading the inspection, I had control.”

“You also got to criticize the fact that I hadn’t thought to inspect the goods, though I did plan to inspect crates once they were aboard and out of sight of strangers.”

“Yes, I rather enjoyed taking jabs at you. I get to do so but rarely. But you didn’t check the crates after they were aboard, did you? Because you had checked them with me. You see? I had it all figured out. If you happened to escape the French and later found the smuggled cargo, which you did, unfortunately, you’d be less likely to suspect me of any wrongdoing.
Careful planning
. . . isn’t that what you so constantly brag about? The trait that makes each of your enterprises a success?”

“That and flexibility,” Derek said, seeing the way into the conversation. “Flexible, like Isabelle, who was forced to change her plans when you betrayed her.”

Stephen’s face went a pasty white, and he jumped up, giving Derek a clear view of the cot behind him and the knife that lay there.

“Me betray Isabelle? I did no such thing,” he said, but sweat broke out on his upper lip.

“You fool,” Isabelle said, giving Stephen a withering look. “There was no reason to worry anymore. They do not have the paper, the map, or we would have found it by now. We could have just gone away, but now you have ruined everything. Your escapade today tells him you cannot be trusted, and you spoke of the other shooting, attempted shooting, something only the shooter would have knowledge of.”

“You
shot at Lucy?” Derek asked.

“Not Lucy,” Stephen said. “I was shooting at you. It wasn’t my choice, but I was outvoted.”

“No, your choice was to rape your friend’s wife first,” Isabelle said, “make sure he knew about it, and then have him killed.”

Lucy sat as still as a statue, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Her pulse was racing, panic urging it on, but she knew she must keep her wits. Derek had seen the knife, of that she was certain, and she recalled their conversation about his knife-throwing skills. She must get the knife to him, though she could not think how. But this was the best time, while Isabelle and Stephen were arguing with each other.

“That’s ridiculous,” Stephen said.

Lucy sat up straighter, hoping her movement would draw Derek’s eye, and was rewarded when it did. She slid her gaze toward the knife and back again, and saw his almost-imperceptible nod, but exactly what did his nod mean? That he saw the knife, that he planned to lunge for the knife, or that he wanted her to get it to him? If she made the wrong choice, she could end both their lives. She licked her lips but no moisture wet them. Her mouth was so dry she could not swallow. She looked to Isabelle, hoping the woman’s expression would offer the answer to her dilemma.

“Is it ridiculous?” Isabelle’s eyes glittered. “You talk in your sleep, Stephen. You really should do something about that. No lady wants to hear her lover call out the name of another woman, even if he does wake up randy and eager to pleasure her. After that, I began keeping a closer eye on you. Imagine my surprise to find the note you left for your
friend
this morning. Shall I deliver it to him or shall I just read it aloud?”

“It isn’t what you think, Isabelle. That note was a joke.” Stephen glanced down at himself and began to quickly button his shirt. “I was going to use my shirt to bind her wound.”

“Shut up!” Isabelle’s eyes narrowed as she looked Stephen over. When she glanced at Lucy, her expression softened. “I know you had nothing to do with any of this, dear, and I regret our friendship must end this way. The sad thing is, Stephen did not want you for yourself at all. He wanted to destroy your husband. Men and their petty feelings,” said Isabelle, her voice thick with disgust. “One would think their sole purpose was to sate their every desire. They care not whom they destroy by marrying a young girl off to a lecher, by forcing her to take other men to her bed, by stealing an innocent young boy so that men like Lord Harlech can have their way with him.”