A Brother's Honor (32 page)

“Yes.” Brienne put her hands on her stomach as if to embrace her unborn baby.

“It seems that he did not die in Paris when the
duc
was beheaded on the guillotine. The little boy's nurse was a St. Clair from the village outside the château, if I recall correctly.” She laughed. “Just as your nurse was a LeClerc,
ma petite
. I believe this Dominic is your lost brother, Brienne.”

Abigail glanced from one face to another. Mme. LeClerc was still staring at the ring. The Somersets wore identical expressions of shock.

“I'll be damned,” Evan said as a smile stole his amazement. “Dominic is a
duc
's heir? I daresay the residents of Château Tonnere du Grêlon are in for a shock when they meet their new
duc.
”

“My brother,” Brienne breathed. “My brother is alive.”

Abigail hated having to ruin their happiness, but she said, “Dominic shall not be alive much longer if a way is not found to free him from that prison. Once I am married—”

“Married?” Evan asked sharply. “I thought you and Dominic are lovers.”

“It is not that simple.” She sighed. “Please listen to what else I have to tell you, and then mayhap you can help me find a way to help him soon. If not, he will die.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Abigail rushed into Dominic's cell, then paused, looking back to be certain Pritchard had closed the door behind her and left. He
must
not be privy to what she had to share with Dominic. She slid the panel closed and leaned against the door, glad to be here. Her fears that she would not find a way to sneak away from the house had been for naught. Sir Harlan had returned home and immediately gotten into an argument with Captain Fitzgerald. That had given her the chance to come here.

Dominic swept her into his arms. His lips, eager for love, claimed hers. She clung to him, for just touching him helped her believe the nightmare was over.

When he raised his head, he whispered, “I missed you,
chérie.
”

“I missed you, too.” She brought his mouth back to hers.

His kiss was swift before he drew back to ask, “Did you talk to Red?”

“Yes.”

“And?” he prompted when Abigail added nothing else.

“He sent me to your friend Evan Somerset.”

“Evan is in London?”

She smiled. “He told me to tell you that you would not recognize him now that he is a happily married man with a child on the way.”

“Married?” Dominic chuckled. “He was right. I cannot imagine him giving up his vagabond ways.”

Abigail gripped his fingers more tightly. “Dominic, that is not all. We believe his wife, Brienne, is your sister.” She drew off the ring and pressed it into his hand. “The symbol on this ring belongs to the
duc
who held Château Tonnere du Grêlon. Brienne Somerset is his older daughter. There was another sister, who may be alive somewhere in France.” She closed his fingers over the ring. “And a son. You, Dominic.”

“I have a sister?”

“Two.” Putting her hand over his, she said, “Brienne believes that your father gave you to the care of your nurse, as she was given into the care of hers when your father died during the Terror. Your mother fled with your other sister, who was only a baby.”

He slowly opened his fingers and stared at the ring. “I never guessed.”

“That you had two sisters or that you are the heir of a
duc.
” She laughed. “
Duc
Dominic Levesque.”

“Levesque?”

“Your father's name. Your name, Dominic, when you claim Château Tonnere du Grêlon.”

“It matters not.” He handed her back the ring.

“What?” She frowned. This was not the excitement she had anticipated.

He sat her on the edge of the straw-topped bed. “
Chérie
, while you were in London, my long-delayed trial was held.” He gave her an ironic smile. “You would have been furious at the quick disposal of my case which will lead to the quick disposal of me.”

“Dominic! Why are you jesting about this?”

“What other choice do I have?”

Abigail closed her eyes as her shoulders sagged beneath the weight that had been lifted so briefly by the glad tidings she was bringing to him. She could not answer his question.

“When?” she whispered.

“By week's end. I had thought Fitzgerald would have me dragged from the trial to the gallows, but he did not protest the delay.”

She bit her lip to keep from speaking the truth. Dominic's trial must have been the last detail before the wedding that Sir Harlan had mentioned. No wonder he had been so eager to take her to London. Not only could he court the Sudleys' favor, but he kept her away during the trial.

And the reason the hanging was being delayed was just as simple to understand. Sir Harlan knew she would not marry Clive unless he had this threat to hold over her head.

A pulse of hope burst through her. Mayhap Sir Harlan would be willing to bargain with her instead of Captain Fitzgerald. If he would let Dominic go, she would not only marry Clive but help him obtain the Sudleys' investments in his business. She recoiled at the very idea, but as she looked up into Dominic's eyes, she knew she would pay any price to grant this man his life and his freedom upon the sea.

His finger beneath her chin steered her lips to his. Slowly, thoroughly, he kissed her, exploring each slippery surface of her mouth. With a moan, he pulled her into his arms. She gasped as his fingers found the curve of her breast. Pleasure scorched her, burning away all other thoughts.

She grasped his shoulders as the untamable tempest burst forth within her. She answered his hungry desire with her own craving. His legs pressed against hers as his arm tightened around her. When his tongue teased her lips, she combed her fingers through his hair. Each strand clung to her hands, enmeshing her in the bewitchment, as his tongue delved again into her mouth. Its touch sparked against her, setting her aflame with madness.

“My love, my Abigail,” he whispered between fevered kisses.

Bringing her to her feet, he turned her so her back was to him. He slowly began to undo the long line of hooks along her back. He bent to place his lips against the warmth of her neck. When she sighed with eager delight, his fingers slipped beneath the loosened gown to stroke her breast.

She gave a soft cry of yearning as he placed a line of fiery kisses on her shoulder. His hands on her waist brought her to face him. As she raised her fingers to sift through his hair again, she jerked away and shrieked, “No!”

Dominic whirled at her cry of terror to see Fitzgerald standing in the doorway to the cell. Pritchard and two other men he did not know stood in the cell. Before he could do more, hands wrenched him away from Abigail. She screamed again as one of the men struck Dominic viciously. He careened backward into the wall. With an expression of surprise, he balanced there a moment before he slid down to the floor.

“Dominic!” The rest of her words were swallowed by her scream as she clawed at the men reaching for her. Ducking beneath their hands, she rushed to him. She took his face in her hands and whispered his name.

“I am all right,
chérie,
” he mumbled. Wiping blood from his mouth, he rose. He took her hand and helped her to her feet so they could face Fitzgerald and his men together.

Abigail shivered so hard that he drew her even closer. He stared at the four men. Fitzgerald was obviously in command here. Dominic ignored the others as he met Fitzgerald's triumphant eyes. Fitzgerald's henchmen would not attack without an order from their master.

“Captain Fitzgerald—” Abigail began.

“No!” snarled Dominic. “Do not negotiate with him.”

Fitzgerald laughed. “Listen to your lover, Abigail.” His laugh echoed through the cell. “Sir Harlan will not be pleased with your whorish ways. I could have told him you would be just like your mother. Yet he is eager to have you marry his son.”

“She is not going to marry that idiot!” Dominic exclaimed.

“No?” Fitzgerald's smile grew even more superior. “Ask her if you do not believe me.”

Dominic whirled Abigail to look at him. He gripped her face and saw it had no more color than her drooping gown. “Tell me he is lying.”

Abigail could not meet Dominic's eyes as she whispered, “I do not want to marry him, but—”

“Fitzgerald, you bastard! You would consign her—”

“No, Dominic!” she cried as he leaped forward, his fingers on Fitzgerald's throat.

The guards swarmed over Dominic, pulling him away from Fitzgerald. As they pressed him up against the wall, Fitzgerald crossed the cell. “You are even more idiotic than I thought, St. Clair.”

“The name is Levesque.”

“I do not care if it is the Prince Regent.” Captain Fitzgerald snickered. “You are a fool to think you could have my daughter.”

Abigail could not read the thoughts hidden behind Dominic's blank face, for he did not look at her. He must be hurt that she had not been honest with him, but surely he would understand that she had not wanted him to suffer more.

Captain Fitzgerald continued, “Now that we both know the truth about Abigail's future, I shall take my daughter and leave.”

“You will not marry her to that beast!” He pulled away from his captors and started to lunge toward Fitzgerald. He halted when the hammers on four pistols drew back at the same time.

“No!” cried Abigail. “Don't shoot him!”

“Come here,” ordered Captain Fitzgerald. “Obey, or I will let you watch as I deny the hangman his prey.”

Forcing her feet forward, she shook off Dominic's hand that reached out to stop her. She could not let him die to protect her. As long as he lived, there was a chance he might escape.

Captain Fitzgerald grasped her arm. He smiled and placed his gun back under his coat. The other men kept theirs aimed at Dominic.

“Fitzgerald, don't marry her to Sir Harlan's son,” Dominic said quietly. “You will have your vengeance on me. Do not make her suffer more.”

“My vengeance on
you?
” Captain Fitzgerald laughed sharply. “You value yourself too highly. That you are dying is just a bonus. Abigail is all I have thought of.” He flicked at the lace on her dress. “Her and the ten thousand pounds I will receive when she gives Sir Harlan's son a child.”

Dominic shouted a curse as he jumped again toward Fitzgerald. Abigail's scream drowned out Dominic's groan as he fell to the floor beneath the hard butt of Pritchard's gun. He did not move.

Captain Fitzgerald pulled her out of the cell before she could be certain if Dominic lived or not. She clawed at him, but he struck her hard. Her head spun, and she nearly collapsed. He dragged her out of the prison and toward a carriage waiting on the road beyond it.

He shoved her into the carriage. She grasped the straps on the side as it started wildly along the street. Hiding her face in her hands, she tried to stop her head from careening about as crazily.

Her head was tilted up to face Captain Fitzgerald's fury. She tried to push away his hands, but he spat, “You fool!”

“You are the fool! If you think I will cooperate now, you—”

He chortled. “You will, daughter. If you do not do everything as I say, he shall be sent to the gallows posthaste.”

Abigail started to retort, then recalled how she wanted to negotiate with Sir Harlan. Captain Fitzgerald could see only the sparkle of gold and his chance to have his final revenge on the woman who loved his brother more.

“I should have guessed this was where you were slinking off to when your maid said you were being fitted for your wedding gown,” Captain Fitzgerald growled.

“Tessie believed what I told her.” She must not let her sole ally in the house be punished or banished.

“Sir Harlan will not be happy that you have been playing the whore for that pirate.” He leaned his arm on the window. “I do believe I shall suggest that, instead of delaying the wedding again because of your lusts, he lock you in your room to keep you chaste.”

If she had not been so fearful for Dominic, she would have laughed at this odd conversation. Captain Fitzgerald knew as she did that Sir Harlan did not care what she had done before she became betrothed to his son. All he wanted was to be sure no one questioned that the child she would be forced to conceive was his legitimate grandson.

“I love Dominic,” she said simply.

“Be silent!”

Abigail folded her hands in her lap, obeying only because she did not want anything she said or did to cause Dominic to be sent to the gallows more quickly.

The assertive knock on Abigail's bedchamber door identified the caller as Sir Harlan even before Tessie went to open it Abigail turned on the chair by her dressing table where she had been getting ready for bed to see Sir Harlan waddle into her bedroom.

He carried something in his hands, but she ignored it as he said, “Good evening.”

She nodded.

His bulbous face lengthened with a frown. “I hope you will be more gracious when we dine tomorrow evening. The minister is calling to meet you before the wedding.”

She nodded.

“Do you have no curiosity when the wedding will be held?”

She simply stared at him. She would not let him use her words as weapons against her. Her attempt this afternoon to get him to listen to reason and free Dominic in exchange for what she could offer had failed utterly, and she had nothing left to say him.

“It shall be at the end of this week.”

It took every bit of strength Abigail had not to react. Hearing Tessie's hushed sob, a sound that was quickly masked when Sir Harlan scowled at the maid, Abigail picked up her brush and continued to work on her hair as if nothing else concerned her.

“I want you to wear these tomorrow evening,” ordered Sir Harlan as he dropped a jewelry box on the table.