A Brother's Honor (33 page)

Abigail again stiffened her shoulders so she would not flinch. She recognized the box, for she had taken it from the safe herself. Not daring to look at Tessie, she picked up the box. She kept her fingers from shaking as she raised the lid. “Oh, how lovely! But, Sir Harlan, I—”

“No arguments! You will wear the necklace and earrings.”

“Necklace?” she asked, hoping her astonishment sounded unfeigned. “What necklace?”

He ripped the box from her hand and stared at the earbobs next to the indentation where the emerald necklace should have been. Slowly he closed the lid and placed it on the dressing table. “Tessie, leave us.”

“Sir Harlan, it is late. I must help Miss—”

“Leave us, I said.”

The very serenity of his words frightened Abigail, who added, “I will call you when I need you, Tessie. Thank you.”

“Yes, Miss Abigail.” She dropped to a quick curtsy that Sir Harlan expected from the servants, then left the room.

Knowing Tessie would not go far but was helpless to assist, Abigail rose. “Why do you want to speak to me alone?”

He stuck his nose close to hers. “Where is it?”

“It? If you mean the necklace, I have no idea.” That was the truth. Although she was sure Red had sold the stones immediately, she did not know where they were now.

He shoved her back onto the chair. “You are the only other person who knows where I kept the key to the jewelry case.”

“Someone else must possess that knowledge. Mayhap someone else in your family?”

“Are you suggesting Clive?” He laughed icily.

“Clive is not as witless as you pretend he is. If you would—”

“Be silent! We are not talking about your betrothed. We are talking about this necklace. Where is it?”

“I told you. I don't know.”

“Did you take it?”

Abigail laughed as sharply as he had. “Why would
I
take what would be mine when I marry Clive?”

He put his hand on her shoulder. Slowly his fingers drilled into her until she winced. “Mayhap you had some need for the money you could get for it. Captain Fitzgerald let me know that you have been visiting St. Clair in his prison.”

“Dominic's name is Dominic Levesque.” She wanted to add that Dominic could claim the title of
duc
, but Tessie had warned her that Sir Harlan would be furious to learn Dominic possessed a higher rank than he did.

“St. Clair or Levesque—I do not care what his name is. I want to know why you stole the necklace. Did you try to bribe the guards to get him out of prison?”

“No.”

“You didn't?” His malicious laugh filled the room. “Are you certain?”

“I am not lying.”

“We shall have to see about that.”

Abigail frowned as he went to the door. Sir Harlan ordered her not to move, but she slowly stood. His glare warned her to disobey no more of his commands.

Hearing his shout along the corridor, she cried, “No! Tessie knows nothing of any of this.”

She watched in horror as Fuller herded Tessie into the room. She had not guessed the burly guard did more than keep Clive out of sight. When she saw what he carried in his hand, she moaned in horror. He handed the cudgel to Sir Harlan, who stroked it.

“Tell me when you wish to speak the truth, my dear,” the baronet said. “If you do so quickly, you will save your maid a great deal of pain.”

Before she could answer, he motioned to Fuller, who shoved Tessie to the floor. Sir Harlan raised the cudgel.

“All right!” Abigail cried.

“No, Miss Abigail!” shouted Tessie.

Sir Harlan asked quietly, “All right what, my dear?”

“I did take the necklace! Don't hurt her!” She lowered her eyes away from his triumphant smile. “I told you the truth. Let Tessie go.”

He waved to Fuller to let Tessie stand.

The guard grumbled, unhappy that he had been denied the chance to beat Tessie into submission. When Tessie tried to rush to Abigail, he shoved her out of the room.

“Don't let him hurt her,” Abigail whispered.

Sir Harlan tossed the stick onto the bed. “He will not, if you do as you should. Where is the necklace?”

“I don't know.” She added quickly when he reached for the door to call Tessie back, “Honestly, Sir Harlan, I don't know where it is. I … I gave it away.”

“You
gave away
a necklace worth hundreds of pounds?” he choked. His face became a choleric red as he ranted about her stupidity which made her no better than his witless son. When she did not react, he stopped his pacing and asked, “And whom did you give it to?”

“A man who did me a favor.”

“Which was?”

“Delivering a message.”

He growled, “It must have been a very important message.”

“It was.”

“Damn you!” he shouted. “I gave that necklace to my wife the day we were wed. You were to wear it when you marry Clive. Instead you used it to carry tales for a French pirate.” Suddenly his rage became laughter. Patting her shoulder, he picked up the box. “In the long run, it matters little. Your attempt failed. By this time tomorrow, your gallant lover will be raven's meat on the gallows.”

“Tomorrow?” She sat on the chair. “Tomorrow? I thought—that is, I was sure that—”

“That I would let your pirate live until you married Clive?” He smiled. “That had been my plan, my dear, until you were so stupid as to let me give you another to bring you to heel.”

“Tessie,” she whispered. Looking up at him, she knew she had underestimated his determination to get his son a bride. “You put her here as my maid, knowing she would help me because of her sister's death.”

“Exactly.”

The sound of his laughter remained when he walked out of the room. It taunted her with knowing that all she had done had been for naught. Now Dominic would die because he had tried to save her, and she was not sure how to halt the execution.

She put her head down on the dressing table and wept.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Dominic leaned his arm against the wall by the slit that let in the moonlight. He had been standing here since the sun vanished beyond the hills. The blood on his face had dried to a crust that tore each time he spoke. His last words had been fired at Pritchard when his supper had been brought and he had refused it with a curse.

The only reason he was still here instead of in the hellish pens below was the view out of this slit. He knew that Fitzgerald wanted Dominic to spend his final night alive staring at the house where Abigail would be forced into Sir Harlan's son's bed by week's end.

Pritchard had been glad to share every disgusting detail with him. Dominic had heard the rumors during his short time in London about the witless son of the pompous man who was hated by the French for betraying them as Fitzgerald had betrayed the Americans. He should have guessed that Sir Harlan would pay highly for a bride for his son, and that someone like Fitzgerald would be eager to obtain that money no matter the pain it caused.

His fingers curled into a fist. Curse Fitzgerald! Why hadn't he cut the cur's throat when he had the chance? If he had slain Fitzgerald when the
Republic
was captured, Abigail would not be facing this horror now.

Nor would she have ever forgiven Dominic for executing a man she then had believed was her father, a man who wanted to give her the chance she never had to know him. Now Abigail had learned the truth along with its cost.

There must be someone who would put a stop to this wedding. Evan Somerset! If he could contact his old partner, mayhap Evan would come to her rescue.

With a sigh, Dominic continued to stare at the house that was brightly lit against the night sky. He had no way to contact Evan. His father's ring would be more than enough to pay for the message to be carried to London, but he did not trust Pritchard.

A key rattled in the door, but Dominic did not turn. When it opened, he said, “Take the food away. I am not hungry.”

“I guess there is a first time for everything.”

Dominic spun at the laughter in the voice from his past. He grasped Evan by the shoulders, then pushed past him and closed the door.

“Don't worry about anyone discovering I am here,
mon ami
,” Evan said with another chuckle. He held up a ring of keys.

“How did you get those?” Dominic walked back to his friend. “If I recall correctly, your skills as a pickpocket are much lacking.”

“But my wife's skills as a cook are not.”

Dominic frowned, puzzled. “Do you want to explain that? I thought your wife was the daughter of a
duc.
”

“Brienne's life has been as unlike the child of a
duc
as yours has been. She grew up working in the kitchen of the LeClercs' salon in London.” He patted his stomach. “I can assure you she is an excellent cook. She made some of her delicious chicken soup for the guards in this prison. She added a bit of something extra to it before I delivered it to the kitchen. Nothing too dangerous. Just a healthy serving of opium.”

“I think you made a wise choice in a wife, my friend.”

“She is very anxious to meet you.” Evan arched a golden brow. “Who would have guessed I would end up as your brother-in-law?”

“Not I.” Looking down at the ring he wore when he saw Evan staring at it, he added, “It seems as if there is much to be said between all of us. Can we talk about old times on our way out of here?”

Evan nodded, abruptly serious. “I have sent word to
La Chanson
that I planned to come here tonight, and your ship should be offshore to pick you up around midnight. Apparently, your first mate has been loitering near the English coast waiting for your message. I suspect the news of how the
Republic
met her end has been shared in every seamen's haven.”

“You should know that I will not leave England without Abigail.”

“You may need to.” He reached under his dark coat and drew out a piece of paper. “This is the message your friend Red delivered to me at my wife's salon just before I left this morning.”

“Red? I thought he sent Abigail to you.” Dominic frowned. “Why would he do more than that?”

“It seems, from what little he was willing to tell me, that she was generous in her payment to him, so he felt obligated to contact Ogier on
La Chanson.
”

Dominic banked his curiosity about what Abigail had given the tavernkeeper to bring out this unexpected generosity. He ripped open the page and scanned the short message. “
Merde!
” Crumbling it into a ball, he threw it at the far wall. It bounced back at him like a taunt.

“What is it?” Evan asked.

“
La Chanson
is needed to be part of a raid on an English convoy of ships that is about to set sail from Plymouth. I am ordered to return to my ship and resume command as soon as I receive these orders. No excuse for any delay, for this may be the most important sea encounter since the horrible losses the French fleet suffered at Trafalgar.”

“Dominic, if we steal her out of the house—”

“No delay, it reads. How can I disobey orders I have vowed to follow?” He swore again, even more viciously. “But if I do not free her from that house, Abigail will be forced to wed a monster.”

“If you want, I can—”

Dominic held up his hands. “No, my friend. I cannot let you risk yourself. You are now a married man with a wife and a child about to be born. This is my battle alone.” His smile became sad. “I do not wish my legacy to my sister to be that she is made a widow because of me.”

“I was not planning on dying.” Evan's grin reminded Dominic of other times when they had been in harrowing situations. But then, he had thought only of himself and of his ship. Then, his heart had not been pleading with him to forget everything but the woman within it, although he knew without hesitation that Abigail would have urged him to go and do his duty.

He went back to the window and looked up at the house. Mayhap he had done too good a job of persuading her that he cared most for his life upon the sea. She had come to believe what he no longer did. Now he knew that even the salt air would be flavorless if she were not there beside him to breathe it.

“Let's get out of here.” He pounded his fist against the wall, then pushed himself away from it. “While we are doing that, mayhap I will have some inspiration that will allow me to follow orders and save Abigail, too.”

Evan put his hand on Dominic's arm. “You know that is impossible.”

“
Oui
, but I must hope.” Walking to the door, he opened it. Then he looked down at his legs and cursed. He had become so accustomed to the rattle of his chains that he had forgotten the manacles. “These will alert every man to my passage.”

Holding up a ring of keys, his friend laughed. “Do you have any idea which among the guard's keys goes with those manacles?”

Dominic snatched Pritchard's ring and flipped through the keys. “Here it is.” He smiled and held up a long one. He could not forget it, for he had promised himself when the manacles were placed about his ankles that he would find a way to escape. His smile fell into a frown. That pledge he had kept, as he must keep the one to serve France. How easy it had been to make that promise when he had not guessed the cost it would demand of him.

He twisted the key in one manacle, then the other. Picking them up, he tossed them into the hay. “Where is Pritchard sleeping?”

“Just outside your door.”

“That is convenient for us.”

“Very.” Evan rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

Hoping his friend would be as enthusiastic at the end of this night's escapade as he was at the beginning, Dominic peered out the door. He saw Pritchard curled up by the wall. Motioning with his head, he had Evan grab the guard's arms as Dominic lifted the man by his legs. They quickly deposited Pritchard in the cell. Few things had ever been as satisfying for Dominic as locking the door, leaving Pritchard a prisoner in his own prison.