Reese's Bride (27 page)

For an instant, Reese’s hard blue gaze softened. He reached out and gently cupped her cheek. “I should have done this long ago. It’s the only way we can keep our son safe. You know I’m right, Elizabeth.”

She swallowed past the thick lump in her throat. “You’re…you’re going to call him out?”

“He’s left me no choice.”

“But dueling…dueling is against the law. If you kill him, you’ll hang.”

“My brother is a duke. The authorities have been known to close their eyes to such matters on more than one occasion.”

Perhaps
. But if the magistrates discovered what Reese planned, he could be sentenced to three years’ hard labor or transportation for fifteen years, just for making the attempt.

“What about the reports we’ve filed?” she pressed, desperate for some other solution. “The opium Mason and Frances gave me, the shooting at Briarwood, the threats he made against Jared, the attempted abduction?”

“The reports will certainly be a factor in whatever occurs. It doesn’t change what has to happen.”

Her hands were shaking. “Mason is a crack shot.”

The edge of Reese’s mouth grimly curved. “So am I.”

She watched him turn and start for the door, found her courage and ran after him. She caught him before he could leave.

“Please, Reese…I just found you again. I don’t want to lose you. Jared needs a father who loves him. And I need you, Reese.” She didn’t realize there were tears in her eyes until they slipped onto her cheeks.

Reese gently kissed her. “I need you, too, Beth. And I’m not going to let a coward like Holloway ruin our lives.”

She watched as he turned away, her heart pounding in her throat. Mason was a cruel, vicious man with entirely no scruples. He would not duel with honor. He would do whatever it took to win.

Dear God
, she prayed,
don’t let Mason destroy my family
.

But she had prayed to God before and He hadn’t heard her. Lately, she had begun to believe that had changed. One thing she knew—the Lord helped those who helped themselves. Elizabeth didn’t intend to stand by and do nothing.

She glanced up at the clock. If Reese had his way, at dawn on the morrow, he and Mason would face each other on Green’s Hill, pistols drawn. In minutes, one of them would be dead.

Her throat ached. There had to be a way to change the dangerous course Reese was taking, to protect him and their son.

Elizabeth intended to find it.

L
ifting her heavy skirts out of the way, Elizabeth hurried out of the drawing room toward the stairs. She would go to Royal, see if there was a way the duke could stop his brother from challenging Mason and, instead, help him find another way to protect their son.

She had just reached the entry when a knock at the door brought her to a jarring halt.

Standing guard along the wall, Jack Montague sauntered over and pulled open the door.

“My name is Chase Morgan,” the man on the front porch said. “I’m here to see Lord Reese Dewar.”

Chase Morgan
. Elizabeth knew the name. He was the investigator Reese had hired.

“I’m afraid his lordship isn’t in,” the guard replied. “If you’d like to come back—”

“It’s all right, Mr. Montague,” Elizabeth interrupted. “I’ll speak to Mr. Morgan.”

The man strode in, lean and hard, dark hair and rugged features.

Elizabeth managed a smile. “I’m Lord Reese’s wife. My husband has told me a great deal about you. If you will please follow me…”

She didn’t give him time to argue, just turned and led him down the hall into the drawing room. Once inside, Elizabeth closed the door.

“I think it would be better if I came back when your husband is home,” Morgan said.

“I think it would be better if you told me why you are here. Then we can both decide what is best.”

A faint smile curved his lips. He gave a curt nod of his head. “As you wish, my lady.”

Morgan waited for her to be seated, then settled his tall frame in a chair across from her. “How much do you know about the murder investigation we’ve been conducting in the death of Ansel Van Meer?”

“My husband has kept me informed. From what I understand, it is likely my brother-in-law, Mason Holloway, was involved in the murder.”

“Highly likely. In fact, that is the reason I am here. You see, I’ve uncovered information that suggests Van Meer’s son, Bartel, was a witness to the murder. I think another man may have also been there that night, a close friend of Bartel’s. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find out the second man’s name or convince Van Meer to come forward. I was hoping your husband might be willing to talk to him.”

“I’m sure he will be eager to do just that. Since he isn’t here and I am not certain exactly when to expect him, why don’t you give me the pertinent details and I’ll see that my husband gets them. Where does the younger Van Meer live?”

Morgan hesitated as if he weren’t sure a woman should be entrusted with such valuable information. Elizabeth lifted her head and eyed him directly. “Mr. Morgan?”

His lips curved with a hint of admiration. “Bartel Van Meer lives in Lambeth, just off Kennington Lane. Number 8 Worring Street. His wife’s name is Elsie. They have two children, one eight and one ten. Van Meer takes great pride in his reputation as a cargo broker. His father’s activities were an embarrassment he would like to forget. And perhaps he is afraid of Mason Holloway.”

“As well he should be.”

Morgan handed her a note with the information written down on it. “Speak to your husband. Convince him to speak to Van Meer. If the son will testify as to what happened that night and if there was indeed a second witness, it would go a long way in convincing the authorities that Mason committed the murder.”

“I’ll talk to Reese as soon as he returns. I’m certain he’ll wish to follow up on the matter as quickly as possible.” Elizabeth rose from her chair and Morgan did the same.

“Thank you, Countess.”

“You are the one, Mr. Morgan, who deserves the thanks. I’m sure my husband will be in touch in a day or two.”

If he is still alive.

Elizabeth’s chest felt tight as she stood at the window and watched Chase Morgan leave the house. Reese would be busy speaking to his brothers, asking them to act as his seconds. He would be going to the Aldridge town house to confront Mason Holloway and challenge him to a bloody duel in the morning.

But Morgan had brought news that might stop him.

If Van Meer could be convinced to stand witness against Mason.

Elizabeth paced in front of the fire, praying desperately that Reese would return. There wasn’t much time. Someone had to speak to Bartel Van Meer this very night.

She glanced at the clock. Time was running out for all of them.

Mason strode into the blue drawing room of the Aldridge town house, his jaw set, his expression grim. “The bloody court denied Dewar’s petition.”

Frances shot up from the sofa. “What!” She moved toward him, her narrow face contorted by lines of anger.

“You heard me. The boy retains the title.”

“That isn’t possible.”

“I’m afraid, my dear, it is.”

Frances paced over to the hearth, but she didn’t feel the warmth. She was cold inside, and angry. She and Mason had worked too hard, gone through too much to be denied the power and wealth they deserved.

“We have to get rid of the boy,” she said flatly. “We don’t have any other choice.”

He nodded grimly. “It gets worse.”

She turned to face him. “Worse? What could possibly be worse than losing everything we’ve worked for?”

“We could lose our lives, Frances. Apparently, Dewar hired an investigator when all of this started. A man named Morgan. He’s good, Frannie. Very good. He’s been asking around, trying to find out what happened to Ansel Van Meer.”

Her face paled. “My God.”

“Exactly. We can’t afford to let him discover the truth.”

Frances paced away from him then back to where he stood. “You’re talking about Van Meer’s son…Barton or Burton or whatever his name is.”

“Bartel. I thought I heard something in the back room that night. I figured it could have been Van Meer’s son, but I wasn’t sure. When he didn’t come forward, I thought we were safe. It looks like I was wrong.”

“Even if Van Meer’s son was there, he’s kept silent for years. What makes you think he’ll talk now?”

“I don’t know that he will. But Morgan has been dogging him relentlessly, and Dewar is sure to be after him, as well. We can’t afford to take the chance.”

“What do you propose we do?”

“Silence Van Meer.”

Frances took a breath and let it out slowly. “We must do whatever we must.”

Mason’s lips curled. “You always were a sensible woman, Frances.”

Frances just smiled.

Reese stood across from his brother in the study of the Bransford town house.

“Are you mad! Have you completely and utterly lost your senses?” Royal stalked out from behind his desk like a big golden lion. “If you kill him, they’ll hang you, sure as bloody hell. Being a Dewar won’t protect you. Dueling is clearly unlawful and the authorities are ruthlessly enforcing the law.” He cocked a blond eyebrow. “Of course, Holloway might kill you, instead. Then he would be the one to hang—which would also solve your problem.”

Reese just grunted. “Can’t you see, I have to do this.
I don’t have any other choice. My boy won’t be safe until Holloway is dead.” And he would have seen to it long ago, except he’d had enough of killing, enough of bleeding and dying.

And he couldn’t just shoot the man in cold blood. He wasn’t a murderer and never would be. A duel was his only option.

Royal’s hard look softened. “I can only begin to imagine how you must feel.” He smiled slightly. “I’m about to become a father myself, you know.”

Reese nodded. “Elizabeth told me. Congratulations.”

“I’m excited, I can tell you. And as I said, I can only imagine how frightening it must be to have your child’s life in danger.” A lengthy breath whispered out. “But maybe there’s another way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Chase Morgan dropped by to see me. He left just before you arrived. Apparently, he stopped by your place first. You weren’t home so he spoke to your wife.”

“My wife?”

Royal grinned. “Apparently, she gave him no choice.”

Imagining his small wife confronting the hardened investigator, Reese almost smiled. “What did Morgan have to say?”

“He’s found Van Meer’s son. He thinks Bartel Van Meer may have witnessed the murder. There is even a chance he was in the back room of the office with a friend when it happened. Morgan wants you to talk to him, convince him to tell the authorities what he saw the night his father was killed. He left the information with Elizabeth.”

“He must have arrived just after I left. I’ve been gone
a while. I had some errands to run. And I stopped by to see Rule, but he wasn’t at home.” His younger brother had moved into the town house their grandfather had left to him. Instead of a country manor like Briarwood, the town house was perfect for a city dweller like Rule.

“Our brother’s out carousing, no doubt,” Royal said with a hint of irritation. “It’s never too early to begin the night for Rule.”

“He’s got a good head on his shoulders. Eventually he’ll change.”

Royal just scoffed, not completely sure. “The point is, there may be another way to stop Holloway. Hold off on the duel—at least until you talk to Van Meer, see what he knows. If he was witness to the crime, see if you can convince him to come forward.”

Reese nodded. It was a last desperate hope, but one he would grasp. “I’ll talk to Van Meer tonight.” He stared hard at his brother. “If the conversation leads nowhere, will you second me?”

Royal glanced down for a moment, then looked back up at Reese. “You know I will. So will Rule. Let’s just pray it doesn’t come to that.”

And so Reese left his brother’s house praying Bartel Van Meer would have the answers that would save his son’s life.

Elizabeth wasn’t sure how much time passed. She only knew that dusk had begun to fall and she couldn’t wait for Reese any longer. She had to do something before it was too late.

As she moved toward the drawing room door, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the fire
place. Pausing for an instant, she noticed the straight set of her shoulders, the firm tilt of her chin.

She was a woman now, with a child to care for and a husband she loved. Over the years, she had changed, become the strong, independent woman she was today.

Resolve filtered through her, strengthening her spine and filling her with courage. As the clock struck the hour, she hurried out of the drawing room and walked down the hall toward the staircase in the entry.

“I shall be gone for a while,” she said to Jack Montague. “You and Mr. Gillespie will make certain my son is safe?”

“Of course, my lady.” The beefy guard, a powerfully built man Reese trusted, straightened to his full height. “You needn’t worry about the boy.”

She nodded. “When my husband returns, please give him this.” She handed the folded piece of paper to Montague. If something should happen, at least Reese would know where to find her.

Lifting her skirts, she hurried up the stairs. “Gilda!” she called out to her maid as she walked into her bedroom. “Have my carriage brought round front, then come back and help me change.”

“Aye, milady.” Gilda curtseyed and raced away.

Elizabeth hurried toward the armoire in the corner and threw open the doors. Searching for more simple garments, she pulled out a soft gray woolen gown and a warm woolen pelisse and began to change. Outside the window, the sky had darkened to a pinkish purple. Soon it would be dark, but the hour didn’t matter.

She was on her way to number eight Worring Street, on her way to see Bartel Van Meer and convince him to tell the truth about the night of his father’s murder.

Determined to see Mason arrested and avert the duel that might get her husband killed.

Reese made a quick search of the town house, but found no sign of Elizabeth. “Have you seen my wife?” he asked the guard who stood in the entry.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but your wife isn’t here.”

“What do you mean she isn’t here? It’s nearly time for supper. Where the bloody hell did she go?”

Montague shifted away from the wall. “She left this for you.”

Reese scanned the note. Inside were written the names
Bartel
and
Elsie Van Meer
and an address in Worring Street, Lambeth.

“This is where she went?” His voice climbed an octave. Surely Elizabeth wouldn’t go to Van Meer by herself.

“She didn’t make a point of it, but I believe it is. I would have gone with her, but she wanted me to stay and watch after the boy.”

Of course she would. She loved their son. And the threat was greater to Jared than ever before. “How long ago did she leave?”

“Not more than half an hour. She did take one of the footmen.”

Reese felt little more than mild relief. He had no idea whether or not Bartel Van Meer had witnessed a murder or even the sort of man he might be. He only knew his instincts were screaming that something might go wrong and Elizabeth could be in danger.

He set his jaw as he stalked down the hall to the study and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. Ignoring the heavy Adams revolver he had carried when he was in the
army, he took out a small, five-shot pocket pistol and shoved it into his pocket.

Instead of returning to his carriage, still parked in front, he headed for the stables at the rear of the house. He could make better time traveling on horseback. His leg felt stronger every day, and though there was a certain amount of risk, he believed his best option was to ride.

“Saddle a horse,” he told the groom as he reached the stable. “Whichever one is the least cantankerous.” There were carriage horses, of course, but also a couple of saddle horses, there for the servants’ use.

“Yes, my lord.” The groom took off to do his bidding and a few minutes later, returned with a placid-looking sorrel gelding. Reese took a leg up from the groom and settled himself in the saddle.

Damn, it felt good to be astride a horse again. He flexed his leg, felt his thigh muscles respond, felt a sense of control that had been missing when he had tried to ride the first time. Ducking his head as he rode out through the stable door, he urged the horse a little faster and the animal clattered onto the cobbled path.

He took every shortcut he knew to cut down the distance from Mayfair to Vauxhall Bridge, the route that would carry him to Lambeth and ultimately the house in Worring Street that belonged to Bartel Van Meer. Still, the place was a goodly distance away and Elizabeth had a considerable head start.