Highest Stakes (61 page)

  "Very kind of you, my lord. 'Twould greatly ease my mind," Sir Garfield confessed.

  "Consider it done, sir. If you will excuse me, I shall attend to the matter at once." Edmund finished his drink in another swallow, relieved to have some excuse to part company from his insufferable father-in-law. He went to his rooms where he could brood his next move in peace.

  Edmund had formed some powerful connections in the Upper House of Parliament, Lords Gower and Cobham among others. The House of Lords frequently presided over civil issues, including acts of divorcement; surely they could also overturn a will.

  Surely, he might yet manipulate matters to his advantage. He'd be damned to let the despot rule him from the grave as he had in life. It was time he departed for London.

"What do you mean I am to remain at Hastings?" Beatrix wailed. "You can't keep me here! I have been months in this wretched place with not a soul for company aside from Mama. You said I should stay for my confinement. I have done as you wished. 'Twas no fault of mine it was a girl, but the child is legally yours, and you promised to honor and protect us. You cannot punish me by leaving us here!" She choked on her words.

  "You will not leave until you have fulfilled your one duty in this marriage, that of producing an heir."

  "Marriage? This is no marriage. What manner of husband have you been? I've scarce laid eyes on you in four months. Tell me the truth, Edmund," she demanded, "did you want me only because Philip did? Was it jealousy because you knew I was his?"

  He erupted with a mocking laugh. "You vain, insipid cow! I never
wanted you
to begin with. You were nothing more than a means to an end, but since you have failed, here you shall remain."

  "But you can't keep me prisoner. If you won't take me back to London with you, then I shall go to Wortley with Mama. Indeed, I shall. Then you will be sorry." She stilled her weeping as realization dawned. "If I go to Wortley, then what of your precious heir?"

  With his barely discernible wince, Edmund betrayed himself. He had revealed the chink in his armor.

  She spoke her thoughts aloud. "You need me, Edmund, don't you? You need me in order to become the earl. You need me, or you shall lose everything!" She laughed aloud at her epiphany. "I am not nearly as stupid as you think!"

  Edmund's eyes narrowed in an icy and penetrating stare.

  Beatrix advanced seductively toward her husband, boldly pressing her abundant breasts to him. She whispered tauntingly, "You need me, Edmund. You must have an heir to become the earl, but you have yet to come to my bed."

  Edmund shuddered involuntarily, turning white about the mouth as she breathed these last words into his ear. He tensed when she moved against him, speaking in her breathless whisper, "How can you possibly get an heir and your earldom if you are in London and I am wasting away here?"

  Edmund's only betrayal of emotion was a telltale muscle twitching in the left side of his jaw. Did she actually think to manipulate and control him?

  "You ignorant, bovine slut!" His blow sent her sprawling onto the bed. He pounced on top of her, muffling her cries with his mouth.

  Pinned helplessly, Beatrix utilized the only weapon at her disposal. Biting as hard as she could, she viciously tore at his flesh.

  "Stupid bitch." He struck her again and wrestled her onto her stomach, pinning one arm beneath her body while twisting the other agonizingly behind her back. Drowning her efforts to scream, he shoved a thick feather pillow under her face.

  It seemed he meant to suffocate her, until he tore at her dressing gown and exposed her from behind. He forced her legs apart with his bony knee. "So, you pine for my attentions, do you? I'll give you what you want." As he fought her exertions, his breath was hot and moist on her neck.

  Beatrix bucked and twisted in hysterical expectation of his imminent and degrading invasion. But it never came. He cursed vilely and threw her to the floor.

  Beatrix sized him up contemptuously, growing braver with the knowledge that he could not violate her, though he had tried. "I begin to think the getting of an heir might present quite a dilemma for
you
, my lord. Mayhap you should have Philip take care of the matter for you? But you had already thought of that, hadn't you? Philip shall produce the only heir in the end. You shall see, and Philip will inherit all." She laughed in his face, realizing too late that her final taunt had pushed him over the edge.

  Edmund ignited. Seizing her white shoulders in a biting grip, he lifted and thrust her against the corner of the bed frame. Twisting her hair around his hand, he snapped her head back. As her skull cracked against the wooden frame, Beatrix gasped with a flash of white. His sinewy frame held her captive. Her spine bore into the post, and he growled in her ear, "You would conspire with Philip against me, you treacherous whore!"

  His hand closed like a vise about her windpipe.

  She twisted and writhed frantically in a vain attempt to free herself. Struggling for what may have been seconds but seemed eternity, her body, quickly exhausted from its futile exertions, went limp. Blackness closed in.

  She had nearly given herself completely up to the darkness when the iron-like grasp gave way. She slumped, clutching at the post, gasping, choking, and sucking in air, precious air, while Edmund regarded her with a speculative gleam, perhaps realizing just how near to death he had actually taken her.

  Wild-eyed, confounded, and speechless, Beatrix stared back at him, as with cool composure he buttoned the flap of his breeches, straightened his waistcoat, and smoothed back his hair. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he dabbed at his torn, bloody lower lip and strode abruptly past Charlotte, who stood dumbly in the hall.

Having fulfilled her obligation to stay for the christening, Charlotte was anxious to return to her quiet life at Cheveley. After notifying Letty of their morning departure, Charlotte finished packing and headed to Beatrix's rooms for a parting word.

  Approaching the door, she prepared to knock, but her hand was stayed by raised voices. She froze at her cousin's distinct tone of distress, but silence ensued. Charlotte turned to go, but Lord Uxeter barged out of the room, brushing by her without a word, a bloody handkerchief pressed to his lip.

  Wide-eyed, Charlotte entered her cousin's rooms, finding Beatrix lying on the floor, shaken and disheveled. Red bands surrounded her throat, blood trickled from her nose, and a welt covered the entire right side of her face.

  "Good God, Beatrix! What has that beast done to you?" Charlotte exclaimed in horror. "I heard you arguing. If only I had interrupted…"

  "I r-refused to obey, to stay at H-hastings. I d-despise this wr-wretched place, and he…" She inhaled deeply with a cough. "He never w-wanted me, Charlotte." Her voice quavered.

  "Shhh. Hush now. Don't try to talk anymore."

  "He only w-wanted an heir, and I wanted to be a countess," Beatrix continued softly, as if to herself. "But I am nothing to him, less than nothing, now I failed to give him a son. He loathes and abhors me, but it has taken me a beating to see it. I have been so very stupid!" She hiccoughed, and her tears began anew.

  "You are not stupid! You were deceived, as any woman might have been. I will get Aunt and Uncle at once! They must take you away from here and back to Wortley."

  "But he is my husband! What can they do?"

  "No man, not even your husband, has a right to abuse you. You must tell your father. He is the only one who might make it right. You must tell him everything."

  "You are right." Beatrix nodded. "I shall tell all I have suffered, and they will take me back home, where I need never set eyes on that vile creature again! I am going home, Charlotte." She sniffed and gently blew her nose.

  Charlotte helped her trembling cousin to her bed and set out in purposeful strides to locate her aunt and uncle.

  If only she were a man, she would have surely dealt Edmund Drake his comeuppance.

  For the second time in her life, first with Philip and now with his brother, Charlotte was emotionally charged enough to commit murder.

T h
e firstborn of Lord and Lady Uxeter, Anna Sophie Drake, was christened on a rainy and chill October day in the Hastings's family chapel, with few attending to celebrate the birth. The child's maternal grandfather, Sir Garfield Wallace, had come down from London for the joyous occasion, but notably absent was the Earl of Hastings.

  Grimly going through the motions, Lord Uxeter distastefully held the screeching infant, impatiently handing it off the instant the sacraments were completed. Beatrix, determined to play the doting mother, at least whilst in company, received the babe with smiles and coos. As the godmother, Charlotte looked anxiously on, wondering what the poor child's future would hold.

  Returning to the great house, the family dispersed, the women taking the babe to the nursery while Lord Uxeter and Sir Garfield retired to the library. Sir Garfield helped himself to a brandy and raised his glass cheerfully. "Congratulations, m'boy, on the first of the brood!" Sir Garfield waited expectantly. He cleared his throat and prompted again, "A toast to little Sophie, Lord Uxeter."

  "The devil you say!" Edmund replied contemptuously. "The earl requires a
male
heir." He snatched the bottle and filled his glass.

  "'Tis not the end of the world," his father-in-law consoled. "Beatrix was our firstborn, and is to this day the apple of my eye. Charles came along soon enough, and I must say, I appreciated the boy all the more for his late arrival." He paused with a frown. "Speaking of Charles, I wonder what the blazes has held him up? Indeed, I had thought he travelled down here with you. He left a note to that effect. 'Tis strange indeed for him to miss the christening. Most unlike Charles."

  "Perhaps he had intended to depart London with me, Sir Garfield, but I quit the city in such haste that we must have missed one another in passing. Pity. I should have much enjoyed his company." He took a long drink of his brandy.

  "Even so, he surely should have arrived long since," Sir Garfield repeated. "I begin to fear he was beset by highwaymen."

  "He is a young man, and young men are easily distracted. No doubt some harmless diversion has delayed him, but if it lessens your apprehension, I shall send an express to inquire whether he remains in London."

  "Very kind of you, my lord. 'Twould greatly ease my mind," Sir Garfield confessed.