A Bride by Moonlight (38 page)

After retracing his steps back to the entrance hall, he went out and down the terrace, scarcely noticing the wind had picked up to whip at his cravat. At the edge of the parterre, one of the gardeners was shoveling pea-gravel from a wheelbarrow, his blade grating rhythmically into the stone.

“Have Miss Colburne or Miss Jeffers come this way?” asked Napier bluntly.

The gardener tugged at his cap. “Miss Colburne, m’lord,” he said, gesturing downhill. “Saw her just as I come out.”

“Thank you,” said Napier, hastening on. Along the path, wind thrashed the topiaried yews. Below, he could see no one, but as he scanned the lake’s shore, he caught a flash of movement in the tree line beyond. Someone was going up the wooded path to the folly.

It wouldn’t be Lisette, he thought. She wasn’t foolish enough; not in this stiffening wind.

But she was looking for Diana.

Quickening his pace, Napier set off down the hill.

L
isette had climbed the dratted tower for nothing. No voice answered her call up the steps save the whistle of the wind. But after heaving one last breath, she pulled herself onto the parapet with the iron handrail and stepped up into a bold, blue sky that seemed for an instant to wheel about her head.

Later, looking back on it, she wondered if she’d known even then something was terribly wrong. Something—an awful sound—caused her to turn abruptly. In that instant, her hair whipped back to reveal the terrified face of Felicity Willet. Blood trickled from her temple as she crouched, whimpering against the crumbling wall.

For an instant, Lisette couldn’t grasp the horror. Then her brain jerked into motion.

“
Diana, no!
” she screamed, leaping forward.

Diana’s head whipped around but an instant, her eyes alight with an unholy glow, a twelve-inch kitchen knife glittering in her hand. Lisette stopped herself, almost too late.

“You mustn’t come any closer, Lisette,” Diana suggested in her sweet, breathless voice. “There’s about to be a tragic accident.”

“Diana.” Lisette kept her hand out. “Diana, for God’s sake, think what you do!”

“I’ve been trying,” she said, sounding mystified. “I
am
trying. But why did he bring her here?
Why
—? He lied to me, Lisette.”

“Diana, let her up!
”
said Lisette in a low voice. “That parapet—it’s crumbling.”

“I know,” said Diana gently. “But if she would just jump—why, it wouldn’t hurt. It would break her neck. And she wouldn’t even feel the rocks. Oh, Felicity, I’m so sorry.”

Miss Willet whimpered again.

“Diana!” Lisette choked back panic.

“
P-Please
just let me up. Let me go.” Miss Willet’s hand curled in to the rubble, sending down a hail of pebbles and mortar.

“Miss Willet, do hold still.” Inching forward, Lisette forced herself to be calm. “This is a misunderstanding. Diana, give me the knife.”

“No,” said Diana, her voice suddenly cold. “I want her to
jump!
”

Lisette’s eyes swept over the scene. A six-foot stretch of the waist-high wall had crumbled into a swag. Even the flagstone’s mortar beneath the girl’s feet had riven. She’d crouched so far back into the rubble, attempting to avoid the knife, a mere flinch might send her over in an avalanche.

She began to sob in earnest. “Oh,
please
. I—I don’t want him.” Her eyes shot wild toward Lisette. “Please, I
swear
it.”

Diana went rigid. “I don’t believe you!” she cried, jabbing the knife until Miss Willet jerked. Behind her shoulder, a large stone rumbled ominously then tumbled over the edge.

“Oh, God!” Terror sketched over the girl’s face. “I don’t want to die! Take him!”

“Diana,” Lisette repeated, “
give me the knife.
”

Diana seemed not to hear. “But he’s too honorable, Felicity,” she said as if addressing a child. “Don’t you see? A gentleman can’t break an engagement. So I must help him. Because he loves me. He always has.”

“Yes, h-he adores you!” Frantically, Miss Willet nodded. “He told me. And I j-just want to go
home
. To London.
Please.
”

But Diana was leaning inexorably forward, watching the trickle of blood as if mesmerized. Lisette crept an inch nearer, leaning hard into the wind.

“Diana,” she said, reaching out her hand. “Tony will never forgive you. He does not want this.”

Diana jerked as if she might turn around, then thought better of it. “
Tony doesn’t know what he wants,
” she screamed, “
until his bitch of a mother tells him!
”

“So you mean to kill Felicity?” asked Lisette softly. “You want revenge. I sympathize. But then what? Will you try to kill me, too?”

The reality was sinking in on Diana, but she tried to hold fast. “If I must,” she snarled, “then, yes.”

“That’s regrettable,” said Lisette, inching forward, “because you’ll find, Diana, that I don’t cower.”

“You’ll see!” Diana’s knife trembled like a snake anxious to strike. “When I’ve my knife in your face, you’ll see!”

Balanced on the edge of the cracking flagstone, Lisette kept her hand out. “Diana, I don’t wish you ill,” she said coolly. “But trust me, you haven’t a chance. If you hurt her, only one of us will walk away. And it won’t be you.”

“Just hush!” Diana barked, her eyes cutting back wildly. “It’s not your concern! I
won’t listen!
”

Lisette was fast; she knew she could lunge for the knife. Possibly send Diana over if she had to. But would Miss Willet hold? Would she panic? Or would the flagstone give beneath all of them, and go sliding over the edge?

She softened her tone, and said the only thing she could think of. The only thing that might get through.

“Diana,” she said quietly, “have you ever watched someone die?”

“Hush
up!
” she screeched.

“I have,” said Lisette, her own voice trembling. “I killed a man once. Because I was angry. Because I wanted revenge for what he’d taken from me. So I held a gun to his head. I made him get on his knees—yes, just like Felicity—and I told him to pray. I told him I meant to kill him. And I did, at first. I wanted, with my whole heart, to watch him die.”

“If he took something you loved,” Diana snapped over her shoulder, “then he deserved it.”

“He took
everything
I loved.” Lisette tried to steady her voice. “He took my whole life. And revenge seems such a comfort—such a
necessity
—until one has it. Then it becomes like a cancer, Diana. And it eats straight into the heart of you. It destroys you utterly.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you will,” Lisette answered, “but not a day goes by I don’t regret yanking that pistol from my reticule. And if you kill her, Diana, you will lose
everything
. You will lose things you never dreamt of wanting. But by then, it’s too late. And assuredly you will lose Tony.”

“
You
didn’t lose anything!” Diana screeched. “
You
still have Napier!”

“Only because he doesn’t know,” said Lisette. “Not with certainty. Are you prepared to lose what you love?”

“No.” A tear traced down Diana’s cheek. “No, and I won’t,” she whispered. “I can’t. He’s the only person who ever wanted me.”

“Tony will never want you again,” said Lisette gently. “No man will. To have a murderess in his bed? In his heart? Just think about that, Diana. Think how this will ruin everything.”

“But I can’t let
her
have him!” Diana was sobbing now. “He’s mine! He’s told me over and over. That we’d marry. That no one would ever stop us. And then he brings
her
here? I won’t have it! I won’t!”

“But Felicity understands now,” said Diana. “She
wants
to go home. Let her. Then talk to Tony. You can fix this.”

Diana still wouldn’t look at her. “I can’t!” she sobbed. “His mother—she—she turned him against me! Good God, can’t you see? I’ve waited and waited. I’ve been
so good
. I’ve licked her boots and kissed her arse ’til I’m choking on it.”

“No, it’s all right,” said Lisette fervently. “Anne said so. Just this morning. Why, she told me Cordelia knew you’d marry Tony. That she’d accepted it.”

Diana lowered the knife an inch and licked her lips uncertainly. “She—she did say it, yes. But she changed her mind. Long ago. She talked to Lord Hepplewood. Then he spoke to Tony. It was poison! All of it!
Everything
changed.”

“But Lord Hepplewood is dead now,” said Lisette, the wind still in her face.

At that, Diana sobbed and grasped her abdomen. “
I know, I know, I know!
” she wailed, bending over as if she’d been kicked, one hand still fisted about the knife. “I didn’t mean it! I
loved
him. I . . . I just wanted him to need me! And I wanted us to go
home
! If he were ill, she’d have to let us go.
Wouldn’t she—?
But Gwen—stupid, stupid cow!—she killed him!”

Dear heaven. Diana had known?

All along, she had known? The pierced kettle, the poisoned footmen, could it all be of a piece . . . ?

But Diana was sobbing hysterically now, and inching up on Felicity with the knife pointed at her throat. Just then, Lisette caught a flash of motion. Flicked a glance over her shoulder.

Napier
. He stood on the top step, his eyes hard, his face gone white. Relief rushed through Lisette—and on its heels, alarm. She gave a tight, swift shake of her head. Another inch right, and Diana would see him. She might panic.

The wind had risen to a howl now, and clouds were rolling in. “Talk to me, Diana,” Lisette begged, throwing up a hand to stay Napier. “I’m your friend. I can help you.”

“It’s too late,” Diana sobbed. “Gwen already killed half the people I love.”

“But it was an accident,” said Lisette. “She didn’t understand. You need to go back, Diana. To tell Gwen what she did was dangerous. To make things right with Tony.”

The knife lowered an inch. “I can’t,” she whispered, hunching further. “I can’t. Something’s gone all wrong. And they . . . they won’t tell me
what
. . .”

She gave a mechanical jerk—a sort of start toward the collapsing corner of the tower. Suddenly, Lisette saw her intent.
She meant to jump.

Everything happened at once then. Napier lunged, seizing Diana about the waist. She let out an agonizing scream. Hacked downward with the knife—short, brutal stabs.

Napier barked a curse. Lisette glanced back but an instant. Diana was clawing wildly. He was dragging her to the stairwell.

Lisette turned. She thrust a hand at Miss Willet. “Give me your hand,” she shouted.

Behind her, Lisette heard the knife clatter onto the flagstone.

“Lisette, watch your step!” Napier barked.

It was precarious. She edged onto the cracking flagstone. Miss Willet was sobbing, frozen, her arms wrapped around her head as if to shield it.

“Give me your hand!” Lisette ordered.

At last she did so, unfurling one arm to reach out. Lisette yanked her from the wall and flung her away.

Suddenly, there came an awful, cracking sound. The sagging wall crumbled in a roar. Flagstone splintered. Began sliding beneath her feet. Lisette scrabbled for purchase. She landed on her knees. Felt herself going over the edge. Something caught her wrist, yanking her arm from its socket and snapping her neck.

When the roar receded, she was looking up through a cloud of gray ash.

Napier had his hand locked around her wrist. “Hold still,” he said through clenched teeth.

Lisette blinked away the ash. She lay at a precarious angle, lower legs dangling. The back of her hand felt warm. Wet. She struggled to make sense of it. Blood was gushing down Napier’s arm.

“You’re hurt,” she shouted.

On a fierce grunt, Napier hauled on her arm. But Diana’s knife had sliced down Napier’s right forearm, ripping both flesh and sleeve.
Dear God, he was going to go over with her.
Lisette dug her hand into the rubble.

“Push,” he gritted, hauling harder.

Napier did not relent. Lisette fought down panic. The stone was going to give. But she’d begun to inch up. Acting on instinct, she dug her knees and then her soft slippers into the scree. Clawed into it with her other hand.

Inch by ruthless inch, Napier hauled her back up, Lisette digging at the stone. It had sheered, thank God, at an angle, giving opportunity for purchase. But it was Napier’s unbridled strength that hauled her up until finally, with one last heave, he dragged her over the edge.

Lisette found solid flagstone, crawled forward, then Napier’s strength dragged her to her feet. He caught her tight against him but an instant. Then he seized her around the waist, hauling her bodily into the stairwell. And then the tower wall gave way again, another two feet vanishing in a roar and clatter of rock.

Lisette blinked, and the very floor on which they’d stood was gone.

CHAPTER 15

In Which Jane Is Revealed

M
rs. Boothe, it was widely allowed, could not have chosen a more convenient morning to conk her innkeeper husband soundly across the sconce, nor a more efficient weapon with which to do the job.

“Postal scales,” Dr. Underwood grunted, throwing open his black bag. “Solid brass, drilled into a slab of oak. Took eight stitches to the back of the head. But the accident put me near to hand, eh? Even my catgut’s strung.”

Napier sat stoically in his grandfather’s black, dragon-armed chair by the hearth, never flinching as Underwood sliced away his coat sleeve and Lisette watched, her heart still in her throat.

A quarter hour earlier, she had practically forced Napier in through the gun room, the first door she saw open, to find young Hoxton cleaning an old pepperbox pistol, its parts laid neatly out upon a blanket.

The gamekeeper had gone at a run to set the footmen off after Diana Jeffers, fortuitously flying past the doctor in the entrance hall where he was trading gossip with Duncaster.

“A nasty bit of work,” grunted Underwood, tossing the fabric aside and setting Napier’s elbow into a basin of hot water. “I’m going to irrigate it, my lord. Unnecessary, perhaps, but it’s becoming the done thing nowadays.”

Napier set his jaw hard as the painful process was begun. Lisette had drawn a small chair to his side. She was still shaking with relief.

“Dreadful!” Duncaster himself was pacing back and forth by the row of French windows. “Dreadful business, Royden! Good God, you might have been killed! Then where would we be?”

“You’d do better to concern yourself with Lisette, sir,” said Napier, his eyes cutting a glance at her. “She very nearly
was
killed. And for that, I would never have forgiven myself.”

“Indeed, the two of you must set up your nursery at once!” Visibly shaken, the old man was talking almost to himself. “No time to waste. None whatever.”

“No, not if the family means to go round stabbing one another,” said Napier coolly.

Duncaster turned about at once. “That infernal woman is not our blood,” he replied. “She is nothing but Hep’s distant cousin.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” said Napier—just before he hissed through his teeth.

Diana’s knife had gone deep into the muscle of Napier’s forearm, then drawn two long but blessedly shallow slices down its length. Never squeamish, Lisette nonetheless felt herself begin to swoon as Underwood’s needle pierced the first flap of flesh.

Indeed, it might as well have
been
her flesh, so much did the man seem a part of her. As if, in some deep, unfathomable way, they had become one, joined together by a thousand bits of bone and sinew.

And if she had lost him? Dear God . . .

Her vision began to darken a trifle at the edges.

“Duncaster—?” Underwood jerked his head in Lisette’s direction.

The old man leapt with surprising vigor. “My dear girl,” he said, kneeling by her chair, “do bend forward. Here, rest your forehead in my hand. Yes, all the way down.”

“But I never faint!” Lisette whispered into her skirt, which was now bloodied and shredded.

Duncaster’s hand was blessedly cool. “I blame myself for this,” he muttered.

“If anyone”—Napier paused to grunt as the next stitch was pulled—“is to be blamed for dragging her into this, it’s me.”

Her head still set against Duncaster’s hand, Lisette drew a deep breath. It brought with it the scent of dried blood and mortar dust, reminding her of what they had survived. And if she could survive that, surely she could watch Napier’s arm stitched up. Bracing her hands on the chair’s arms, she pushed herself up again.

“I’m all right now, sir,” she managed. “Truly.”

Duncaster rose reluctantly, and Napier’s good hand crept over Lisette’s, giving it a hard, reassuring squeeze. Heedless of the doctor, she lifted it to her lips, and pressed a fervent kiss to the back of his knuckles.

Just then, the massive oaken door flew open, and Tony rushed into the room. “Good God!” he cried. “Where is she?”

“Gone upstairs,” said Lisette. “She’s frightened, but fine. I’ve sent Fanny to tend her.”

“No—the devil!—not
Felicity
.” Tony strode fully into the room. “
Diana
. They—dear heaven!—they won’t hurt her, will they?”

“I beg your pardon,” said Lisette hotly, “but it’s Napier here who’s cut well near to ribbons.”

Tony jerked to a halt. “Gad!” He looked at the partially stitched wound, stricken. “Napier, my good fellow. That’s frightful. But Diana—good Lord—she didn’t mean it! Wouldn’t hurt a fly, the poor girl.”

“I begin to wonder how well you knew her,” Lisette muttered grimly.

“Oh, this is all my fault!” choked Tony, dragging both hands through his hair. “I should have seen—might have guessed—oh, bugger all! I must go after her.”

“Language, my boy!” boomed Duncaster.

Underwood looked around in irritation. “I could do with some silence, if you please.”

“Sit down, Tony, and hush,” Duncaster commanded. “The servants will find Diana.”

The viscount had gone to a table by the windows, and was filling a tray of brandy glasses. It was very odd to see the grand old man himself carry the tray about, pressing one into Napier’s good hand, and then into Lisette’s and even Tony’s.

The handsome young man had fallen into a chair opposite Lisette, his face bloodless, his full, faintly petulant mouth drawn into an uncharacteristically thin line. At his grandfather’s appearance, he flicked a quick glance up, took the brandy with a nod of thanks, and downed it in one swallow.

They sat thus, the three of them, watching as Underwood worked his way down the arm, Napier wincing but otherwise stoic. By the time the doctor’s work was nearing an end, Lady Hepplewood had clacked into the room on her black stick, followed five minutes later by Gwyneth. At Duncaster’s warning glare, they sat silently together on the sofa opposite the hearth.

“Well, that’s that,” Underwood finally said, giving his surgical scissors a little tap on the basin, dislodging the last bit of bloody thread. “Twelve stitches to close the worst of it. But clean cuts, my lord, and only the one gone deep into the muscle. Still, I’m going to wrap it and put it in a sling.”

“No sling,” said Napier grimly. “Just bandage it, thank you. We’ve important business to settle—and settle it we surely will, before someone else gets hurt. Someone besides that poor Willet girl, who’s likely traumatized for life.”

Only then did Lady Hepplewood burst into tears, her shoulders hunching forward on an awful cry, her head falling into her hands. Surprisingly, no one moved. Not even Tony, whom Lisette would have expected to go to his mother’s side. For once, Lisette hadn’t the strength.

Instead, it was Gwyneth who consoled her aunt, patting her lightly on the back as she sobbed. “There, there now!” she gently chided. “It’s not as bad as all that.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” said Tony, his voice deep with anguish.

Gwyneth flicked a glance around the room. “By the way, they caught Diana,” she said in satisfaction. “Marsh told me as I was coming down. Hoxton found her huddled in one of the box stalls.”

“In the
stables
?” said Tony, his expression horrified. “Where is she now? What will they do to her?”

“Probably not what she deserves,” said Gwyneth mordantly. “Now, can someone kindly tell us what’s happened? There are all manner of wild rumors upstairs.”

Napier exchanged knowing glances with Lisette.

“I’m not perfectly sure,” she said. “Nor am I sure we ought to discuss it here.”

“Discuss it!” Tony leapt to his feet. “Damn and blast, I’m tired of keeping secrets.”

“
Tony—!
” said his mother on a sharp, pitiful cry.

“No!” He spun on his heel to face her, his face ashen. “No, Mamma, with all respect, you caused this! It’s you and your damned secrets—your overweening pride—that’s driven the poor girl half mad.”

“More than half,” said Gwyneth evenly. “After all, she tried to kill poor Felicity.”

“At the end, I think not.” Napier’s authoritative voice silenced the room. “I suspect she meant to throw herself over the parapet. That, at least, was my assessment.” He turned a steady gaze upon Lisette. “My dear? You were nearer than I.”

“Yes, without a doubt,” said Lisette decisively. “You’re right, I think, Lord Hepplewood. Diana hadn’t the will to kill Felicity. But had Diana jumped, she’d surely have taken part of that collapsing wall with her. And that would have sealed Felicity’s fate.”

“And yours,” Napier grimly reminded her. “It is easy, perhaps, for me to be magnanimous, Hepplewood. My bride has been spared. But you—I greatly fear you’ve lost yours. Miss Willet means to leave. This afternoon, she says. And I do not think you will be seeing her again.”

Tony lifted one shoulder. “Felicity must do what she thinks best.”

“Anne is already packing their things,” said Gwyneth a little ghoulishly. “Unless, that is, Felicity is needed as a witness?”

Napier appeared to consider it but an instant. “I fear we’ve a hard decision to make, sir,” he said glancing up at his grandfather, who now stood behind Lady Hepplewood. “The gossip cannot be entirely stopped. Rumor of Miss Willet’s canceled wedding will have gone round Mayfair before tomorrow’s out.”

“Yes,” said Duncaster solemnly. “I daresay you’re right. But what else is there to decide?”

Napier cast a glance around the room. “A few family matters,” he said darkly. “Specifically, how did Diana Jeffers come to imagine herself secretly betrothed to Hepplewood? And what must we now do with her?”

“Send her to jail, won’t we?” said Gwyneth.

Napier tilted his head almost warningly. “I should be very slow in deciding that,” he said, “though I’ve little doubt I can get her convicted, if that’s what you wish.”

“Well, why shouldn’t we?” Duncaster blustered. “She’s no kin of ours. Not really.”

Lisette watched Napier’s gaze turned wary. “I believe, sir, you’d best ask your sister about that. Or better still, ask your nephew the question I just put to him. How did that poor, mad creature come to think herself engaged to marry him?”

“Because he’s been tossing up her skirts for years, I don’t doubt.” Gwyneth thrust a finger at her cousin. “Go on, Tony! Tell them! It’s why you wouldn’t do what Grandpapa told you to do—to marry Anne, as you were intended, isn’t it?”

“Good God, Gwen, you disgust me!” cried Tony, leaping to his feet. “Does no one care about poor Diana? Yes, I once said I’d marry her! She seemed to want it so desperately, and—why, she was
dear
to me. And she’s fragile, always has been. Can none of you understand that? Or are you so unfeeling you cannot care?”

“I care,” said Lisette softly. “But you have been Lord Hepplewood some months now. If you wished to marry Diana, why didn’t you simply do it?”

At that, Lady Hepplewood rose from the sofa, and hobbled to the French windows. Setting one hand on the door frame, she stood on the threshold as if she wished to flee. Then quietly she bent her head and began to sob in earnest.

“
Mamma—!
” Tony warned. “Don’t start. It won’t work again. I’m sorry; I’ve no wish to see you humiliated. But Diana cannot bear the brunt of this! She’s not strong; you know that. She’s not like you.”

At that, Lady Hepplewood spun about, her face a mask of rage beneath the tracks of her tears. “No, she’s not like me!” she retorted. “She’s fanciful—and
spineless
. But go ahead; if you’re willing to throw your poor mother to the gossip hounds to be slavered over and ripped to bits, I cannot stop you.”

“Perhaps I should go,” murmured Underwood, half rising.

Napier caught his arm. “No,” he said warningly. “You’ll be needed.”

But Tony was still staring at his mother. “This is
our family
, Mamma,” he said quietly. “Underwood is our
physician
. Duncaster is
your
brother
.”

“It sounds as if something’s gone on too long,” said the viscount a little grimly. “And secrets kept, Cordelia, simply fester. What have you done to Diana?”

Lady Hepplewood drew herself up stiffly. “How can you, of all people, suggest I meant that girl ill?” she said sharply. “I brought her up cheek by jowl with my own son after her mother died. And to thank me, she decided to fancy herself in love with him! Of course, I’d feared it for years; she idolized the boy.”

“Yes, yes,” said Duncaster impatiently. “That’s why Hep wanted a match between Tony and Anne. To discourage the chit. And I supported it.”

“And it’s why he sent Tony off to school,” said Lady Hepplewood, “and then off to London. But you, Tony—you just kept giving in to her wheedling, didn’t you, and coming back home again? You could never refuse her manipulations. But I did as well by Diana as I could. I will not be blamed for thinking her not good enough for you, for she wasn’t. Still, I did my duty. I brought her up, and brought her out, too—and in a high style.”

At that, Lisette’s memory stirred. “You did better than bring her out,” she said. “Your husband settled twenty thousand pounds on her.”

“A decision I opposed,” said Lady Hepplewood bitterly. “But my husband scraped it up—and it should have made marrying her off a simple task. Yet Diana cast aside every suitor until . . .” She stopped, and shook her head.

“Until one day, Anne explained what she’d seen?” Lisette pressed. “That’s right, isn’t it? Anne told you she’d caught Diana kissing Tony.”

“Kissing him?” Lady Hepplewood tossed a derisive glance at her son. “If that’s what Anne called it, then she’s a lady indeed.”

“Mamma, don’t listen to Gwen’s vile mouth,” said Tony darkly. “I never did anything more than kiss her.”

“But she kept throwing herself at you in secret,” his mother snapped. “She kept playing upon your guilt until, in the end, you told me
it was Diana, or it was no one.
”

Tony turned his palms up, and gave the faintest of shrugs.

“So I did what you asked, didn’t I?” his mother continued. “I went to your father. I told him the business with Anne—with anyone else—was at an end. That only Diana would do, and I meant to announce your betrothal at once. I gave up and gave in—and look what it cost me!”