Barely a Lady (29 page)

And he’d been wearing a French uniform.

He began rubbing at his head again. It seemed the headache never left anymore. “In Paris. And at the shore waiting for someone.”

“And there’s nothing else you remember?”

“Mimi. I saw her die in front of me. Poor girl…”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Jack actually found himself smiling. The duchess didn’t look as if she cared at all. “You might at least express regret at the passing of a soul.”

A laughing girl who pulled him away from despair. Who told him… told him what?

The duchess didn’t seem impressed. “You’ll understand that our first consideration must be for Livvie. And until you can remember just what you were doing in a country we were at war with, and how you managed to appear on a battlefield in a French uniform carrying French dispatches—”

His head shot up so fast, he thought it might snap off. “What do you mean?”

Her face folded into chagrin. “Oh, blast. And I was going to be so careful.”

“What dispatches?”

“To General Grouchy. Does that ring a bell?”

“Yes. He commanded reserve troops on the right flank.”

“The left flank, Jack,” she said. “If you were looking from the British lines. And General Grouchy isn’t that well-known.”

He felt the blood seep out of his face. “Are you telling me I’m a traitor?”

“I’m telling you we don’t know. Well, Livvie doesn’t believe it, but she has been a bit prejudiced when it comes to you. But until we’re sure, we cannot let you out of this house. And until we can let you leave, Livvie will continue to be miserable. So we’ve asked Kit Braxton to return tonight.”

Jack wasn’t sure what it was that caught his attention out the window. He’d been thinking that the duchess had bats in her cockloft to think he could possibly betray his country, when he turned to instinctively check on Livvie.

But she wasn’t there.

“She must have gone in,” he said inconsequentially. “Call Marcus Belden.”

The duchess frowned. “Earl Drake? Whatever for?”

But Jack wasn’t attending. He couldn’t seem to look away from the empty garden. It was all shadows and half-light down there. How could you really see anything amid those flowers?

But he did.

Suddenly he was on his feet. Livvie
was
still down there. She was struggling with someone, a man, and Jack could see the moon glint off something in his hand.

“Get help!” he snapped, jumping to his feet. “Livvie’s being attacked.”

Before the duchess could even get to her feet, he was running out the door.

“Goddamn you,” he hissed in her ear. “Where is it?”

Olivia frantically pulled at the arm that was wrapped around her throat. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t get away. He had a knife in his other hand, and he had it pointed right at her eye as he dragged her backward through the flowers.

She heard the scrabble of her slippered feet on the gravel path and smelled tobacco on his breath. She smelled something else… something… Sweet Jesus. He was aroused. The first bite of terror sank into her chest.

“Where.
Is
. It?”

He’d eaten onions. What an odd thing to think when struggling for air. Shouldn’t her life flash before her eyes?

The only thing she saw was Jack. And Jamie.

Dear God. Jamie.

“I can’t…”

Her attacker must have understood. He loosened his hold just enough to give her air. They had reached the far corner, deep in the thickest shadows. He still had the knife. He lifted it just to remind her.

Sucking in a desperate breath, she tried to get her feet under her. “Where is what?”

She felt so stupid. Even after the fire, she really hadn’t expected this. She’d been certain that it would be Mrs. Drummond-Burrell’s tongue that would destroy her. Not a bully with a knife.

“Don’t play games, Countess,” he cooed, tightening his grip on her throat until she saw stars. “I know you sent for Braxton. So you must have found it. Now, I know you don’t want that handsome husband of yours to be hanged for a traitor, and he will be if they find it before we do. But if you give it over to me, I’ll have no reason to stay.”

She struggled to stay calm. Her heart was thundering, and she couldn’t get a good breath. “He didn’t have anything. Just a message for General Grouchy. That was it. I swear!”

“He had a list!”

Desperately, she shook her head. “No. No list.”

She had to make him believe her. The minute he didn’t, he would lose his use for her. Except maybe as a threat. A well-placed corpse with her throat gaping from ear to ear to let the others know the price of intransigence.

She couldn’t let that happen. She had to get back home. She’d never said good-bye. She’d told them she’d be back.

She’d promised.

Oh, why hadn’t she told Jack already? What if she died and left Georgie alone to fend off Gervaise? Would Gervaise still go after them if she were dead?

She couldn’t take that chance.

“Where do you… think… the list is?” she asked, fighting for breath. “I can look.”

“And why would you do that?”

She knew her laughter sounded desperate. She was clutching at his arm, trying to ease the pressure on her throat. “I don’t want him to… hang. Please.”

Instead he shook her like a terrier taking a rat. “I don’t think I believe you, Countess. I think you want me to convince you to tell me the truth. I think you want me to let my knives speak for me.” Pulling her as close as a lover, he whispered in her ear, “And they so love to speak.”

She shook with revulsion at the sensual tone of his voice. She struggled against his implacable hold.

“Yes, do,” he murmured, resting the edge of his knife along the side of her throat. “Fight me. It makes such better sport.”

And before she could answer, she felt a slice of pain open up along her neck.

It was like a fuse being lit. Suddenly, rage flooded through her. That white-hot fury she’d spent the afternoon trying to quell spilled through her, and she welcomed it. She felt it rekindle her resolve. Her energy. She knew, finally, what she could do with all the resentment and hurt and indignation she’d been storing up.

She would get away from this madman. She would warn the others. She would tell Jack the whole truth, and then she’d walk away.

For the first time, she thought she could do it.

Focus, Livvie,
she said to herself.
Assess
.

“I’ll look for it,” she whimpered, trying to sound more vulnerable than she was, even as she felt blood seep down her neck. “I promise.”

She had had to protect herself before. She could do it now. Her eye on the lethal sweep of moonlight that reflected off that knife, she let herself sag, as if frozen in panic. She measured the distance from that deadly blade to her hands.

Please, God. Don’t let me fail.

“And just why would I want to believe you?” he asked.

She wanted to gouge his eyes out. But she had to get to that knife before he could use it. She had to stay calm. Taking short breaths, she slid her feet under her.

Oh, Jack…

“I don’t want to die,” she pleaded.

Wrapping a hand around his forearm, she let her knees buckle. She curled her other hand just out of his sight and sought her balance. That blade was so close. If she could only surprise him. If she could at least knock the knife away.

Light winked to life in the library windows. Her captor turned to look. It was Olivia’s chance. Giving a huge push straight up, she slammed the top of her head right into his nose. Ignoring the crack of pain, she grabbed his hand and bit down hard. He howled. She stomped down on his foot and whirled to slam her knee into his crotch.

“You
bitch!
”

Livvie heard the bushes rustle. She heard footsteps. Her saviors were coming. “Here!” she yelled. “Help!”

She turned to run.

She never got the chance. Her captor grabbed her by the hair and yanked her against him. “Bad choice, Countess.”

He still had the knife, and he was laughing.

“Livvie!” she heard Jack yell. He was calling to other people, directing them. She had to gain them time.

“Here, Jack!” she cried.

She fought and scratched and pushed, but her attacker was too strong. He clubbed her on the side of the head, which stole her legs.

He laid his mouth right next to her ear. “You should have listened to me, sweetheart.”

She could hear people coming. She saw the knife glint. She raised her arms to protect her neck. He started dragging her toward the back gate.

“Just kill her,” she heard behind her, and thought she knew that voice.

“There are two of them!” she tried to shriek.

Her attacker punched her hard in the mouth. She fought to regain her balance. Her ears were ringing, and her jaw screeched with pain. It seemed to take so long for Jack to reach her.

She saw the knife rise and thought that Jack would be too late, and oh, God, she hadn’t told him. She hadn’t kept the most important promise she’d ever made.

Suddenly the moon was blotted out. She heard a primal roar, and her attacker stiffened. The knife began its descent to her throat, when Jack ran full tilt into them and she was slammed to the ground.

She vaguely saw the knife lift again and then sail, a bright, glinting arc into the night. She felt a searing heat against her throat and then a jarring impact as her head slammed hard against the stone wall.

But she was free. She could get away. She heard feet pounding through the garden. She vaguely saw lights wobble toward her, carried at a run. She heard hollow thuds nearby and the awful crunch of bone against bone. She was kicked a couple of times as her attacker struggled to get free. She could hear his frantic panting and Jack’s curses. And just for a moment, she thought she saw the man by the back gate.

Desperate to get away, she scrabbled to her hands and knees. She wondered why she felt rain on her hands. She thought the sky had been clear.

“The other one’s getting away,” she warned, but wasn’t sure anyone heard her.

“Not for long,” Jack answered, and she thought she’d never heard such a steel-hard sound before. “Go after him!” he yelled to someone. “And find out what happened to Braxton’s guards.”

Was it Harper who bent over her? No, Finney. Harper was next to Jack.

“Time to lay off now, y’r lordship,” he was saying. “You want him alive to question, now, don’t ya?”

“Not… necessarily.”

“Jack?” she whispered, terrified he’d be hurt again.

“I’m here, Liv.” Then his hands were on her, and they were shaking. “Are you hurt?”

She let herself briefly lean against him. “I’m all right,” she whispered, tears burning her eyes.

Her knees hurt from where she’d fallen. Her face hurt. Her head hurt. She was dizzy and nauseous, and she couldn’t seem to get to her feet. There were suddenly many hands helping her up.

“Get that bastard into the house,” Jack snapped to somebody. “I want to question him.”

“Not for a while yet,” Finney said. “You proper milled him down.”

“Hey!” she heard Thrasher cry. “That there’s the Surgeon!”

“We’ll take care of him,” Harper said. “See to your lady.”

Jack seemed to be back in command. “Send someone for the Earl Drake. He’ll know what to do with our surprise guest.” And then he was gently lifting Livvie into his arms. “Come on, love. Let’s get you inside.”

She knew she should correct him. She should shake him off. But she was so cold. She was feeling light-headed and wobbly. And his arms were so comforting.

She couldn’t seem to keep a thought in her head except that he sounded so different, so certain. And that she needed to tell him after all. He would know, she thought, what to do to protect them from Gervaise.

“I have you now, Livvie,” he said. “I won’t let you go.”

“No, Jack,” she begged, searching his face. “You’re hurt.”

He didn’t even look down at her. “I’m better.”

She’d thought she would be too drained to weep. But the front of her dress was wet, so she must have been wrong. Then Jack carried her into the library, and Olivia realized that she didn’t have rain on her arm. She had blood.

She looked at it distractedly, wondering what it meant. “Jack?”

For some reason, that made him look down. “Oh, my God. Liv.”

She looked up to see stark distress in his eyes. “What?”

“Oh, hell,” the duchess said from the doorway. “Get her to the couch. Grace, send someone for Dr. Hardwell. Bea, get us some brandy.”

“A round for the house,” the old woman announced.

They were all moving so fast, but it seemed to take forever.

“What’s wrong?” Olivia asked, seeing how upset everyone looked.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Jack demanded as he settled her on the brown leather sofa and yanked off his neck cloth.