Lord Deverill's Heir (38 page)

She forced herself not to move, counting down long seconds, until he was out of her sight. She jumped to her feet and ran to the stables. When she drew up, winded, at the lighted stable door, she found herself facing a bewildered groom, who seemed unable to do anything but stare openmouthed at her.

“Ah, er, milady?”

Arabella drew two more panting breaths, took in the patent uncertainty on the groom’s face, and said with all the arrogant haughtiness of her sire,

“What is your name?”

“Allen, milady.”

“Quickly, Allen, I want you to saddle Miss Talgarth’s mare, Bluebell, this very instant.” The groom faltered. Arabella said, still more haughty, “Do as I tell you or Lord Talgarth will see to you.” That did it. Allen moved probably more quickly than he had in many a long day.

She grinned at his back. She wanted to ask him if the earl had already come and gone, but she guessed the groom wouldn’t tell her the truth. She had to admit that Justin could terrify a servant more effectively than she probably could.

Arabella eyed the gentle Bluebell, and wished she had Lucifer. Well, there was no hope for it. She ignored the groom, after he’d given her a foot up, and dug her heels into Bluebell’s fat sides.

Her elegant hairstyle became tangles of flying hair even before Bluebell gained the main road. She pressed the mare to a steady gallop, promising her a large pail of oats when they reached Evesham Abbey. Yes, she thought, without a doubt Gervaise was riding to Evesham Abbey. It was about the only thing she was certain of at the moment.

She knew that what she was doing was perfectly outrageous. She also knew that Justin would be furious. So be it. She was very much a part of all this and it was only fair that she see it to the end. She really had no clear idea at the moment of what she was going to do after she found out what he was up to. She wanted to kill him. Yes, that was what she would do. That would save Elsbeth from ever learning the truth. She lowered her head and kept her eyes steady on the road in front of her. The wind was cold against her face.

As she turned Bluebell onto the graveled drive in front of Evesham Abbey, Arabella was not at all surprised to see Gervaise’s horse tethered to a bush just to the side of the front steps. He must have taken his horse to Talgarth Hall earlier in the day and hidden it. She reined in the panting Bluebell and slid from the saddle. Everything was eerily quiet. Only a few candles were shining from the first-floor windows. There was but one light glowing from the second floor—it was from the earl’s bedchamber.

She raced up the front steps and pushed the great doors open. The entrance hall was empty. She frowned. Where were the servants?

She thought of her small pistol, safely placed in the night table beside her bed. Well, it was simply impossible to think of fetching it, with Gervaise either in or near the earl’s bedchamber. She ran silently through the entrance hall, past the Velvet Room, and quietly slipped into the library. Her father’s favorite brace of pistols lay in their velvet case atop the mantelpiece. She gingerly grasped the butt of one of the pistols and drew it down. She felt again tingly with excitement as she probed the barrel with the loading rod. Finally the pistol was loaded and primed.

Slowly she mounted the staircase, the gun tucked in the folds of her skirt. It was Gervaise who had chosen the time and place where she would confront him. She wondered if she were not trying to prove something to Justin. Probably so. She devoutly prayed that Justin was close by. He had to be. He’d been watching Gervaise as closely as she had.

The door to the earl’s bedchamber stood slightly ajar. She saw the flicker of a single candle weave itself into bizarre shapes and dancing patterns on the opposite wall. Slowly she pressed against the door.

The earl’s eyes swept the crowded room as they had at regular short intervals throughout the evening. He soon spotted Lucinda Rutherford, standing quite alone, looking for the world like a homely friendless little pug. “Damn,” he said under his breath. But a short time ago—just moments ago, it seemed—he had seen Gervaise leading Miss Rutherford into a quadrille. Satisfied, he had left the large ballroom with Lord Talgarth leaning heavily on his arm to help his gouty lordship into his library.

“Thank you, lad. I’ve had quite enough of this nonsense.” He had been gone but a moment. He looked down distractedly into Miss Talgarth’s upturned face. Where had she come from? “Do forgive me, Suzanne, but I must take you to your mama.” She wanted to know what was going on, but to her credit, she just pouted a bit, patted his arm, and let him lead her to her mother.

The earl offered Lady Talgarth and Suzanne a perfunctory bow before retreating quickly to the ballroom entrance. His eyes searched the room once again for Gervaise. He was not there. He had taken the bait, and Justin knew that if he did not hurry, he would lose all, through naught but his own carelessness. But he had only been with Lord Talgarth for no more than five minutes. Damnation.

“Justin.” He whirled about at the sound of his name. He saw Dr. Branyon beckoning to him. He was loath to waste a precious minute. “Arabella was searching for you,” Lady Ann called. “I thought she intended to go to the balcony, but now I cannot find her. Have you seen her, Justin?”

“No, I have not. You must excuse me—when you see Arabella, tell her that I will return shortly.”

“But where are you going?”

He didn’t turn at Dr. Branyon’s question, just kept going through the crowd of chattering guests from the ballroom. It was only when he stepped out into the clear moonlight that the force of Lady Ann’s words broke upon him. Arabella had left, followed the comte.

He would strangle her. He would thrash her. He would burn her ears until she was whimpering. His damned wife, she had gone after Gervaise. Oh God, it could be dangerous. Gervaise had absolutely nothing to lose. He would do anything to gain what he wanted. And now that Justin knew exactly what he was after, he knew Arabella would be in grave danger if she happened to confront him.

He gained the stables in a trice. The groom stood in the doorway, fidgeting nervously. He was not certain whether he should have sent a message to Lord Talgarth that the Countess of Strafford had taken Miss Talgarth’s horse.

The earl bust in upon the groom. “My horse is the bay stallion already saddled in the far stall. Bring him to me at once.” The gentleman had brought his horse over early in the day. What was going on here? Was his wife running away with that young man who had first come to the stables? Oh goodness, but this was exciting. He couldn’t wait to tell all the other lads.

Maybe his lordship didn’t know, maybe—“My lord, her ladyship, your wife—” The words died in the still night, for the Earl of Strafford was already plunging down the drive astride his stallion. He did not look back.

When but a few moments later another young lady came to the stables and begged him to drive her to Evesham Abbey, Allen didn’t hesitate. It was a drama worthy of London and he wanted to see every bit of it. Then he would tell the other lads.

* * *

Arabella stood motionless in the open doorway of the earl’s bedchamber, the heavy pistol held firmly at her side, hidden in the folds of her skirt.

She watched Gervaise as he stood before The Dance of Death panel, a candle raised high in his hand. The image of Josette flashed through her mind. The old servant had stood just as Gervaise stood now, her eyes searching the macabre carving.

She saw him carefully probe with his left hand into the slight hollow recess just beneath the skeleton’s raised shield. She thought his fingers closed over something, perhaps a small knob. As if by magic, the lower edge of the skeleton’s heavy dark wooden shield suddenly slid away and exposed a hidden compartment, no wider than a hand’s width.

So Justin had guessed something. This was why he’d had the carpenter in here supposedly to fix loose floorboards. He didn’t want Gervaise in here. She was smiling as she said, “It is a very clever hiding place, monsieur. Perhaps Josette would have found it if I had not interrupted her. But I’m not certain. As I remember, she wasn’t feeling close to the skeleton’s shield. Perhaps her wits were clouded and she didn’t remember.” She started to bring up the gun and level it at him, but decided there was no reason to, not yet. She said easily, “Do move aside, Gervaise.” He was staring at her, saying nothing, just staring. “Oh yes, I watched you closely all evening. Both Justin and I knew you would have to make your move. Did you not wonder where all the servants were? Justin told them to remain in the kitchen. He wanted you to be able to come uninterrupted to this room. And you did.

“You are a despicable animal, comte.”

Gervaise very slowly took a step away from the panel. He looked surprised, then furious. Now there was no expression at all on his too-handsome face. He looked past her then. He thought Justin should be here, not she. Well, he would be soon. There was no doubt in his mind that the damned earl would be here soon.

“You are looking for the earl. He will be here very soon now.” So she had no idea where the earl was. She was praying out loud, trying to convince him. He was more certain that she was, the little fool. No, she was quite alone. He smiled pleasantly at her. His hand relaxed away from the pistol at his belt and fell to his side. “Arabella, you have surprised me, I will admit it. Would it be foolish of me to ask why you are here?”

“I followed you. Like my husband, I have watched you all evening, Gervaise. I was on the balcony and saw you going to the stables. I followed you.”

“A wild moonlight ride,” he said, still smiling at her. “And in your ball gown. How very enterprising of you, chère madame. But now the time for games, the time for gallantry, is well over. I beg you won’t faint. I won’t hurt you.”

Then he laughed.

Arabella looked down at her fingernails, a look of utter boredom on her face, until he stopped his laughter. “Ah, you’re finished? Good. No, you’re right. You won’t hurt me this time, comte, but my incarceration at the abbey was a bit too close for my liking, but I believe you were by far the more enterprising. Do not let me disturb your search.” He paused a moment, then shrugged, that damned Gaelic shrug that meant everything and nothing, yet it was always insulting. “Very well. You can witness my legacy.” He slipped his fingers into the small compartment. A bellow of fury erupted from his throat. “They are gone! No, it is not possible. No one knew, save Magdalaine, no one.” He was feeling in the small compartment frantically now, but there was nothing there, nothing at all. He was gasping with rage and disbelief.

Arabella drew back from his sudden rage. “What is gone, monsieur? What did Magdalaine hide in the compartment?” He seemed almost unaware of her presence. He was staring blankly at that empty compartment. “The Trécassis emeralds. Worth a king’s ransom. Gone, gone.”

For a fleeting instant Arabella pictured the smudged lines of Magdalaine’s letter to her lover that she had not been able to decipher.

She felt a sudden knot of anguish in her stomach. Her father had sent Magdalaine to France, in the midst of the dangerous revolution, to bring him back the emeralds. That was what Magdalaine must have meant in her letter to her lover about their becoming rich from her husband’s greed.

Magdalaine and her lover sought to escape Arabella’s father. Had Magdalaine been fleeing from Evesham Abbey, with perhaps Elsbeth in her arms, to meet her lover at the old abbey ruins? Had her husband caught them? Murdered Magdalaine’s lover? In his fury, had he also murdered Magdalaine?

She felt nauseous with the horror of what her father had done.

Gervaise had regained control of himself. He said in a more calm voice now, “My dear Arabella, I find it very curious that you are so superbly apprised of my affairs. Perhaps it is you who found the emeralds?” He took a step toward her.

“No, monsieur, I did not find your emeralds,” she said quietly, her thoughts still on her father and the violent deaths of so long ago.

“Somehow I do not quite believe you.” His hand shot out to grab her arm.

Arabella jumped back and drew the gun from the folds of her skirt. She looked at him with all the contempt she felt. “I am not such a fool, monsieur, as to face a murderer without protecting myself.” He eyed the gun, then stepped back. He splayed his fingers in front of him. He looked bewildered. “I promised you I wouldn’t hurt you. What is this about murder? Murder, madame? I, a murderer? It is absurd. Come, you are weaving this all together in your girl’s fantasies.”

“Oh no, Gervaise, I know that you helped poor Josette to her death. It was obvious. Why should she be wandering about Evesham Abbey in the middle of the night without any light to guide her? It was careless of you not to have left a candle near her. Why did you kill her, Gervaise?

Was it because I caught her in the earl’s bedchamber, her hands roving over The Dance of Death? You were afraid she would tell me about the emeralds?”

He made no answer. She added in a still-cool, precise voice, “Or perhaps she threatened to expose you, monsieur, to tell everyone that you were a bastard, that you were Magdalaine’s son? Did she tell you that your seduction of Elsbeth violated the very laws of nature? I only pray that Elsbeth does not ever discover that you are her half-brother. It would destroy her.”

His face had gone chalk white in the dim candlelight, his dark eyes blind with bitterness and anger. His voice was harsh and grating. “No, damn you, Elsbeth does not know. I did not realize I was Magdalaine’s son myself until that wretched old woman told me. Were it not for your damned interference, madame, and that of your wretched husband, I should be away now, free, with what is rightfully mine. None of it is my fault, none of it. I came here only to retrieve what is mine. Mine, do you hear?”

“What is rightfully yours, Gervaise? Most assuredly you’re not a comte of anything. You are not even a Trécassis. You are a bastard, nothing more, nothing less. If the emeralds do exist, they would belong to Elsbeth, for she is legitimate. Nothing here belongs to you.” He stood staring at her, his mouth working, his pain and rage so deep that he could find no words.