La Flamme (Historical Romance) (4 page)

4

Eugenia Meredith was becoming more agitated by the moment. She had been waiting beside her disabled coach all afternoon. She was chilled, dusty, and hungry for that matter, but she would not leave until she had accomplished her objective. She must get inside Woodbridge Castle.

No little chit was going to take Garreth away from her. And if she could not have him, no one else would.

Her scheme to gain admittance to the castle was ingenious. She had instructed her driver to stop within sight of the estate and remove a wheel from her coach in such a manner that it would appear they'd had an accident. Of course, when someone from the castle recognized her plight, she would be invited to rest there until her coach was repaired.

Once a man on horseback stopped to lend assistance, but when Eugenia discovered that he was merely a traveler on his way to London, she refused his help.

It would soon be dark and she was becoming desperate. Eugenia had decided to send her footman to ask for assistance, when she noticed a girl walking across the meadow and assumed she was a servant. She had her footman attract the girl's attention.

"You there, girl," he called out through cupped hands, "come here at once."

Sabine stopped, undecided as to what to do. After a moment, she limped toward the coach. When she reached the road, Eugenia motioned her closer.

"Are you from that castle?"

Sabine immediately saw the broken wheel. "Yes, madame, I am. It appears that you need help."

"Then hasten to your master and beg his aid. Hurry, girl, it'll soon be dark, and I am weary and in need of nourishment."

Sabine agreed with a nod. "If it is your wish, you may accompany me across the meadow to my home—it is but a short distance. Or, if you prefer, I can send someone to fetch you."

The girl's cultured speech caused Eugenia to give her a closer look. She wore a brown woolen gown with a wide lace-trimmed collar and elaborate lacework on the cuffs and hem. Her red hair was pulled away from her face and secured with pearl-studded combs. Her brown boots were of the finest leather. This was no servant girl as she'd first thought; perhaps she was a member of the family.

"Are you mayhap a relative of the earl of Woodbridge?" Eugenia asked in a more courteous manner.

Sabine had been admiring the woman's yellow gown with its gold trim. It was a most elegant creation, and the woman herself had the kind of beauty anyone would admire.

"I do have the honor of being Lord Woodbridge's daughter, madame."

Eugenia gave her a tight smile. "How fortunate for me that my coach broke down near your home. I would be delighted to accompany you across the meadow, although my shoes were not meant for walking."

"Do not be concerned, madame. I shall hasten to my father and he will send a coach for you."

"I know little of your family," Eugenia said slyly. "But I thought Lord Woodbridge had only one daughter, and she was much older. Was I misinformed?"

"You were not misinformed, madame. I am my father's only daughter."

Eugenia stared at the girl long and hard. Was this some kind of jest? She was only a child; how could she possibly be Garreth's wife? And she was certainly no beauty. Eugenia tried to see her as Garreth might. There was nothing outstanding about her. She was such a tiny little thing, and so childlike. And as for her hair, men didn't like females with red hair. No, Garreth would not have taken such a child for his wife.

"You must think me rude, but may I ask your name?"

"Forgive me, madame, I should have introduced myself right away. I am Sabine Blackthorn."

Eugenia clamped her mouth together, trying unsuccessfully to bring her sudden rage under control. "Garreth's wife!" she shouted. "That cannot be! He would never marry someone like you. You are not even passingly pretty."

Sabine blinked at the unkind words that had been spoken with such venom. "Nevertheless, madame, I am the duchess of Balmarough. Garreth Blackthorn is my husband."

For a moment Eugenia could not speak as her glacial gaze fastened on the ring the girl wore. There was no mistaking the coat of arms; it was Garreth's. There arose in Eugenia a compulsive need to punish the girl that had taken her love from her. "I can see why Garreth has not taken you to reside at Wolfeton Keep," she said spitefully. "He could hardly show you off to his friends, could he?"

Raising her head and staring squarely into the woman's eyes, Sabine realized this had to be the woman Garreth loved. "Lady Meredith?" she asked, already guessing her identity.

"So you have heard of me?" Eugenia replied with satisfaction. "I hope it will not take long to repair my coach," she sighed, plucking at the lace on the cuff of her gown and giving Sabine a sidelong glance. "Garreth always worries so if I am detained." Then she reached out and placed a cold hand on Sabine's arm. "Perhaps I shouldn't have said that."

Sabine hardly knew how to answer such viciousness. "I will not keep you waiting," she said with quiet dignity. "You will understand if I retract the invitation to my home. I will, however, send someone to assist you."

Eugenia's voice was shrill. "Insolent brat!"

"Good day, My Lady," Sabine said, fighting back tears. She turned toward home and limped away, wishing she could close out the malicious laughter that followed her.

"Garreth could never love you!" Eugenia cried. "He loves me!"

Sabine paused and turned back to her, now more angry than hurt. "If you believe that, why did you take such drastic means to make my acquaintance? If you had wanted an invitation to my home, you need not have troubled to disable your coach. You could have come to the front door."

Sabine walked with her head high, and her eyes on her home in the distance. She resisted the impulse to clasp her hands over her ears to shut out the hurtful words that followed her.

"You are nothing but a cripple. Garreth must loath the sight of you." Eugenia fell quiet, suddenly realizing that she had lost. Sabine Blackthorn might be young and she might not be a beauty, but she was Garreth's duchess.

Sabine was still shaking when she was in sight of the castle. Rather than going inside, she made her way to the stable, where she found the head groom.

"Go at once to the outer road where you will find a coach in need of repair and lend what assistance you can. And whatever you do, do not invite the lady to Woodbridge. She is not welcome here."

The groom nodded in obedience although he found her request rather odd. "I will see to it at once, Your Grace."

Cortland Blackthorn sat in the common room of the Duck and Fox Inn, his feet extended toward the warmth of the hearth. He raised a tankard of ale to his lips as he watched the door, waiting. An hour passed and then another. He had drunk too much and he raised his voice, demanding more ale.

The brawny innkeeper moved with purpose toward the objectionable gentleman. If the man continued to be belligerent and quarrelsome, he was prepared to toss him out,

"Do you know who I am?" Cortland demanded.

"I've no knowledge of you, sir," the landlord replied.

"What's your name, landlord?" Cortland asked.

"Harold Ludlow, sir."

"Well, Mr. Ludlow, mark this well. I'm the man who's going to destroy my cousin, the duke of Balmarough. I'm sure you've heard of him. Everyone's heard of him."

Harold Ludlow was not impressed by the boasts of a man who'd had too much to drink—he'd seen it all too often. Braggarts rarely acted on their threats once they were sober. "Of course, sir, I've heard of his grace. He married Lord Woodbridge's daughter."

Cortland took another drink. "He's a stone around my neck. He has to die!"

"Of course, sir," the landlord said, absentmindedly humoring the drunken man. "Of course."

At that moment, the door opened and a woman entered. Harold Ludlow could only stare at her. His inn seldom entertained such a fine lady. She wore an elaborate yellow gown, and her face was hidden behind a heavy veil, but he could tell that she was a lady nonetheless.

Eugenia Meredith looked about the nearly empty taproom, and when her gaze rested on Cortland, she moved in his direction and sat down on a bench across from him.

"I thought you weren't coming," he said.

Her voice sounded irritated. "You're drunk."

"Damned right, and I'll be a lot drunker before I'm finished."

"I don't talk to men in their cups." She started to rise, but he reached out and clasped her hand.

"I do my best thinking with a tankard of ale in my hand."

"Lower your voice," she warned. "The ale has loosened your tongue. You asked me to meet you to talk about Garreth."

"Ah, yes, the man of my loathing and your affections. I live to see him suffer—I dream of him crying out in agony and pain. He's always had everything—wealth, power, the king's favor. You've been at Court and noticed the women vying for his attention. Then the ripest prize in all England falls into his lap. He marries Lord Woodbridge's only daughter, who brings to the marriage great power and wealth."

"I just saw his wife," Eugenia said grimly. "That's why I'm late."

"She's just a child, but she reminds me of someone I once cared for. Garreth's little wife is delicate of face, and when she is older, she may be a beauty—her mother is."

Eugenia looked at Cortland distastefully. Another drink and he would probably tell everyone their plan. "I don't want to hear about her virtues. What I must know is how Garreth feels about her."

"How should I know?" Cortland bit out venomously. "I was not even presented to her, although I was at the wedding. I was not even considered important enough to sit with the family members at the banquet."

"Garreth could not want her with him or she would not still abide with her father and mother," Eugenia speculated.

"There was an agreement that Garreth's little duchess would remain with her family until she was older."

Lady Meredith looked at Cortland through her veil, trying to see into his black heart. "I know my reasons for wanting to punish Garreth, but why do you hate him?"

"Many are his sins against me, though there was a time when 1 actually admired him. When we were only lads, my father would always compare me to Garreth in an unfavorable light, stressing Garreth's accomplishments and reprimanding me because I was not more like my clever cousin." Cortland laughed evilly. "He even saved me from drowning once. I'll never forget that day—he was proclaimed a hero, by his father and mine, while I was sent to my room and admonished for being a fool."

Eugenia leaned forward so she could hear his whispered words. It was rumored that Cortland was deeply in debt and that his estates were in disarray—still he continued to live well, and she wondered how he managed that, if not with Garreth's assistance.

"You haven't the power to touch him without my help," she said.

Cortland stroked his well-trimmed beard. "Together we will be formidable, My Lady. And the best part of this plan is that no one will ever suspect us." He looked pleased with himself. "The plan is ingenious."

"Don't be so pompous. You are acting out of anger, and if we are to succeed, we must use caution."

"I'll see Garreth dead, along with everything he cherishes. But I'll need money."

"Lower your voice, fool! The ale has gone to your head, and people are beginning to stare. You will have the money, but you must promise me that Garreth will not be harmed. I still have hopes of one day becoming his duchess. And you, Cortland, will be well rewarded when that day comes."

Cortland looked at her through blurry eyes. His plan differed from Eugenia Meredith's, although she would not know it until it was too late. He would be satisfied with nothing less than the death and dishonor of his cousin. First he would see Garreth imprisoned in the Tower, and then beheaded for the crime of slaying Lord Woodbridge's family.

"When will I have the money?" he asked.

"I'll let you know. I had hoped to be invited into Woodbridge Castle today so I could gauge their defenses for myself. But Garreth's little bride spoiled my plans."

"Make it soon."

Eugenia still wondered if she could trust Cortland Blackthorn. "You have not told me the real reason you became my ally in this."

Cortland's hand balled into a fist. "Her name was Anna. She was beautiful and from a good family—Lord Timothy Dryson's youngest daughter."

"I've never heard of her."

"That's because she's been dead for three years. I loved her as I've never loved another woman. I wanted to marry her, but she wouldn't have me."

"Why?"

"Because she was so smitten with my cousin, and the bloody bastard hardly knew she existed." Rage blazed in Cortland's eyes. "Do you hear me? She killed herself— just walked right into the river that ran through her father's estate. They found a note saying she didn't want to live if Garreth didn't love her."

Eugenia did not admire weakness in anyone. "It sounds as if her mind was unhinged."

Cortland's eyes narrowed. "Do not speak of Anna that way. When I told my cousin about the tragedy, he looked blank and informed me that he knew of no one by the name of Anna Dryson."