Reese's Bride (28 page)

His heart beat dully as he thought of her. By now she might have reached Van Meer and there was no telling what sort of man he was.

He worried what the Dutchman would do when his foolhardy, brave little wife appeared at his front door.

W
ith the coachman losing his way for a bit, it took longer to reach Lambeth than Elizabeth had expected, but finally she was arrived.

Some of the area along the route was run-down and a bit worrisome, but the houses in Worring Street were well-cared for, built mostly of brick and tidily kept. The carriage rolled to a halt in front of a two-story residence with lamplight spilling out through the mullioned window, and the footman at the rear of the coach jumped down and opened the door.

“Wait for me here,” Elizabeth instructed as she departed the carriage. “If I am not returned within half an hour, go back and fetch his lordship.”

The young blond footman eagerly nodded. “As you wish, my lady.”

She left him there, grateful to know he and the coach waited outside the house yet uncertain what good they might be if trouble actually arose.

Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and knocked
firmly on the front door. A few moments later, a matronly, mob-capped housekeeper pulled the door open and stared down at her from inside the house.

“May I help you?”

“My name is Elizabeth Dewar,” she said, not wanting her title to intimidate the man she had come to see. “I should like to speak to Mr. Van Meer.”

The housekeeper eyed her top to bottom, taking in the expensive garments that were simply cut but made of the finest quality fabric. The silver fox trim at the neck of her woolen cloak seemed to convince her.

“I’ll see if he is in.” The stout woman left her standing on the stoop and went hurrying off to speak to Van Meer.

Through the crack in the door, Elizabeth spotted two young children, a boy and a girl, laughing as they darted up the staircase. A petite woman, apparently their mother, smiled as she trailed along behind them.

Elizabeth’s heart pinched. Jared was almost the same age as the boy, who seemed to have none of the cares her own son had suffered.

The housekeeper returned just then. “Mr. Van Meer will see you in the parlor.” The woman stepped back to let her pass then began to guide her in that direction.

Elizabeth flicked a last glance up the stairs, but the threesome had disappeared behind one of the doors. They were a happy family, she thought, for contentment seemed to shine in the children’s faces.

They reached the parlor, which was modestly done in shades of deep blue fabric and heavy oak furniture. It was cluttered with bric-a-brac: small hand-painted ceramic pieces of a variety of animals and birds, silhouette por
traits of the children, a pair of small knitted stockings, items that made her even more certain that this wasn’t just a house but truly a home.

Van Meer rose as Elizabeth walked in, a small man perhaps in his late thirties, with sandy hair and warm hazel eyes. A nondescript sort of man, except for the intelligence stamped into his features and the wariness he exuded as she walked toward him.

“You wished to see me, Mrs. Dewar?”

She didn’t correct him. She was Reese’s wife and Jared’s mother and that was all that mattered. “I came to speak to you about your father.”

The warmth faded from his face, making him look older and harder.

“My father is a subject I do not discuss.”

“You have a son of your own. He is nearly the same age as my own boy. I am here to ask you to help save my son’s life.”

The hard lines faded. Clearly, he was a man who loved children.

He motioned her toward the sofa. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me why you are here.”

“Thank you.” She took the offered seat gratefully. She had only so much courage and she needed to conserve every ounce she possessed. “Mason Holloway is my brother-in-law. Or at least, he was before my husband died. I believe you may know him.”

Van Meer made no reply.

“Mason believes he should have been the one to inherit the Aldridge title when his brother died. He is willing to go to any lengths to get it—even if it means murdering my son.”

Van Meer hissed in a breath. “You’re the Countess of Aldridge?”

“I retain the position, but I am remarried. Now I am merely a mother trying to protect her child.”

“I see. Holloway is next in line for the title, then, after your son?”

“Yes.”

“And you believe he would go as far as murder to get it?”

“Do you?”

Van Meer’s shoulders sagged. He walked over and sank down in the chair across from her, his features pale and strained. “I know he will. He and his wife will do anything for money. Murder included.”

Elizabeth’s heart filled with hope. “You saw him that night, didn’t you? You saw him kill your father. Will you come forward and speak the truth?”

Van Meer shook his head. “That I cannot do. I have my family to consider. You, more than anyone, ought to understand that.”

“I do understand. But I believe if we stand together, we can see justice done. The Duke of Bransford is my husband’s brother. He and my husband have very powerful friends. If you will tell the truth, we can put Mason Holloway where he belongs and save the life of my boy.”

Van Meer drew an uneasy breath. “It’s taken me years to build the life I share with my wife and children. I don’t want what my father did dragged out in the open again. I don’t want the scandal to harm my family’s future.”

“What exactly did your father do?”

He hesitated for several long moments, deciding how much to reveal. Then a sigh of resignation whispered past his lips. “My father made a mistake. An awful,
dreadful mistake. He was a good man, but he let the Holloways convince him to take the easy road. Just one time, they said, and he would make enough money to provide his family with all the things they deserved. But the Holloways were greedy. They didn’t want to share the unholy profits their swindle earned. My father is dead because Mason wanted it all.”

Elizabeth’s heart was pounding, thudding wildly inside her chest. “Will you tell the authorities the truth about the murder? Tell them you saw Mason Holloway kill your father that night? It’s the only chance I have to save my son.”

Van Meer’s expression turned bleak. He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Mason Holloway didn’t kill my father. Frances Holloway murdered him.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in shock. Of all the things she might have expected Van Meer to say, this wasn’t one of them.

Her mind spun. If Mason didn’t kill Van Meer, the law could not save them from him. She was trying to form some sort of reply when the window shattered at the rear of the parlor and the sound of a gunshot exploded in the air. Van Meer slammed back in his chair, groaning softly and clutching his shoulder, which blossomed red with blood.

Elizabeth leapt to her feet as the parlor door slid open and Van Meer’s petite wife rushed in. “Bartel!”

“He’s been shot!”

Elsie Van Meer raced to her husband’s side and Elizabeth ran to the window to see if the man was still outside the house. On the ground below, two men struggled in hand-to-hand combat, fighting for control of the weapon that had fired the shot.

“Dear God!” One of the men was Mason Holloway. The other man was Reese.

Elizabeth bolted for the door. Behind her, Elsie Van Meer worked madly to staunch the flow of blood from the wound in her husband’s shoulder.

Elizabeth raced down the hall and out the back door, desperate to help Reese before Mason managed to kill him.

“Reese!”

The sound of Elizabeth’s voice, high-pitched and filled with fear, distracted him. For an instant, Reese’s gaze darted in her direction and Holloway seized the moment to land a blow to Reese’s jaw, knocking him backward. The gun they fought for went flying into the air and landed in the grass a few feet away.

Reese cursed himself as another solid blow landed, stepped back and threw a vicious right to Holloway’s middle, doubling him over, then punched him squarely in the face. Reese glanced round for the weapon. His own pistol had flown from out of his pocket when he had slammed his full weight against Holloway to prevent a second shot through the window.

Reese punched Mason again and blood spouted from his nose. The instant before he hit the ground, Mason’s beefy hand snaked around and grabbed Reese’s weak leg, twisted, and jerked him onto the grass. Reese bit back a hiss of pain as Holloway’s heavy body slammed down on top of him. Rising up, Mason swung a series of blows; some of them landing, some Reese avoided.

Lurching upward, Reese threw Holloway off balance, knocking him over then coming up above the
heavier man, jabbing blow after blow into Holloway’s face. The men fought back and forth, first one on top and then the other.

From the corner of his eye, Reese saw Elizabeth moving closer. “Stay back!” he shouted, praying she wouldn’t put herself in danger.

“You bastard, I’ll kill you!” Holloway rolled on top a second time, frantically searching the ground beside Reese’s head until his blunt fingers closed over the grip of his pistol. Reese locked a hand around Holloway’s thick wrist and the struggle began anew.

Mason cocked the hammer and tried to turn the barrel toward Reese. He was strong as a bull and Reese felt his hold begin to slip. In that instant, he spotted Elizabeth rushing toward Mason, and his heart squeezed so hard he couldn’t breathe. He saw her swing her reticule back, watched it fly through the air and slam into Holloway’s hand, changing the direction of the barrel, and the gun went off with a roar that echoed across the backyard.

Reese looked down to see blood on his coat and for a moment he thought he had been hit. Rolling Holloway’s heavy weight off him, he gazed down to see the lead ball had torn into Mason’s body, instead, directly into his heart. Holloway’s eyes were open and staring up at the black night sky, but his lifeless form saw nothing.

“Reese!” Elizabeth raced toward him. Swaying a little on his feet, his leg fiercely throbbing, he caught her as she hurled herself into his arms. “Reese!”

He cradled her cheek in his hand. “I’m all right. Holloway’s dead, but I am fine.”

“He—he shot Van Meer. He was going…going to kill you.”

His arms tightened around her. “He might have done it, my love, if it hadn’t been for you.”

“Montague gave you my note?”

He nodded.

“H-how did you know Mason was here?”

“I spotted him ahead of me on the road. I saw him ride into the alley behind the house and I followed him. I didn’t catch up with him fast enough to prevent the shot.” He felt her body shaking with the remnants of fear and held her even closer.

“Everything’s going to be all right,” he soothed, not wanting to let her go. He needed her there, needed to be sure she was safe.

He took a deep breath and eased her a little away. “Everything is all right, but we need to see about Van Meer.”

She nodded. Reese looked down to see tears on her lovely pale cheeks.

“I was so frightened. I—I was afraid he would kill you.” A fresh tear rolled toward her trembling chin. “I love you, Reese.”

The chest contracted so sharply it felt like pain. His heart throbbed fiercely and for an instant, he pulled her back into his arms. He had ached to hear those words. He wanted to say those same words to her.

He knew they were true.

The moment he had seen her standing mere inches from the barrel of Holloway’s pistol, as he had watched her risk herself to save him, he had known the truth.

He loved her. Just as he always had.

But his battered heart refused to open and the words remained locked in his throat. Instead, he leaned down and very softly kissed her.

“Everything is going to be all right, love, I promise you.” Ignoring the disappointment he read in her face, he guided her toward the porch and into a house full of chaos.

Elizabeth’s gaze lit on the two crying children, the housekeeper, the cook, and a chambermaid who stood outside the parlor.

“I’ll send the footman to fetch the authorities,” she said, turning toward the front door while Reese made his way toward Van Meer.

The man still sat in his chair, his wife hovering over him, but his shirt was off and there were bandages round his torso.

“How is he?” Reese asked, striding toward them.

“The ball went all the way through,” Elsie Van Meer said. “That is good, right?”

“That’s very good,” Reese answered.

“I have sent for a physician.”

Reese nodded.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Reese Dewar. Your husband was talking to my wife when Mason Holloway shot him.”

Bartel Van Meer roused himself a little. “Where is Holloway now?”

“He’s dead. We’ve sent for the police.”

“He’s dead? Are you sure?”

Reese’s mouth edged up. “Holloway managed to find justice on his own. My wife deflected the gun he was pointing at me and it killed him instead.”

Van Meer slumped back in his chair.

Elizabeth walked into the parlor, over to Van Meer’s chair. “Now will you tell the police the truth when they
get here, tell them Frances is the one who killed your father?”

Reese’s head came up. He had arrived in time to stop Holloway but he had no idea what Van Meer had told Elizabeth about the night of the murder.

“Perhaps, as your husband says, it is time justice was served. I’ll tell the truth about the murder. And my friend, Christian Brinkman, will also come forward. He was there that night, as well. Holloway was with his wife. I don’t think either of them actually saw us, but he must have been afraid I would speak out against him.”

“He must have found out Morgan was trying to convince you to talk to the police.”

Van Meer smiled. “It was your wife, sir, who convinced me.”

Reese slid an arm around Elizabeth’s waist. “You shouldn’t have come but I’m glad you did. Soon this will all be over and our son will at last be safe.”

She gave him a weary smile, then returned her attention to the Dutchman. “Thank you, Mr. Van Meer. Thank you for everything. If you ever need help of any kind, I hope you will come to us.”

“My wife is right. If you ever need anything at all, come to us at Briarwood. You can count on our help.”

“Rest now, dearest,” the man’s wife said. “The doctor should be here any moment.”