Rule's Bride (28 page)

“So let me get this straight.” Violet shifted on the sofa. “You sent a note to Montgomery supposedly from Bates,
demanding five thousand pounds in exchange for his silence in the matter of the murder of Charles Whitney.”

“That's right,” Royal said. “He's been staying at the Trafalgar Hotel. The note we sent instructs him to bring the money and meet Bates at midnight in the alley behind the White Bull Tavern.”

“And you think he'll come?”

“We think he will,” Reese said. “Either to pay Bates off or more likely to kill him. Unfortunately for Montgomery, the police will be waiting.”

“As well as the three of you,” she added, certain Rule and his brothers would want to be there.

Royal nodded. “We'll be there. In the meantime, we have a few things to do to get ready.” The men rose from their places in the drawing room. “Tell Rule to meet us at the rendezvous point no later than eleven o'clock.”

That didn't give them much time. Violet watched anxiously as the men departed, on their way to arm themselves and make final preparations. She couldn't help being nervous. Montgomery was a killer. One could never tell what might happen with a man like that.

Violet shivered.

 

Jeffrey rapped on the door to J. P. Montgomery's suite at the Trafalgar. A few moments later, the brawny Southerner pulled it open. His neck cloth was untied and hanging around his thick neck and his jacket was missing, draped over the back of a chair.

“I'm glad you're here,” Montgomery said, stepping back to let him pass. “Somethin's come up. We need to talk.”

“What's happened? I thought Wrigby was taking the new offer in to Griffin tomorrow.”

“Yes, well, that's all well and good.” Montgomery
turned his powerful frame around and headed in the direction of his bedroom. “The two of you can handle the details. Just get the offer accepted. As soon as the deal is closed and the company is ours, you can go home.”

Trailing Montgomery into the other room, Jeffrey glanced at the bed, where Montgomery's steamer trunk sat open and nearly packed.

“Where are you going?”

“Like I said, somethin's come up. I'm leaving tonight. The
Redoubt
sails with the tide.” A fine sheen of perspiration appeared on Montgomery's forehead. His anxiety hung in the air like a heavy perfume.

Jeffrey's senses went on alert. “Why the sudden urgency? What's happened, J.P.?”

The big man stared at Jeffrey for several long moments, then reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a note. He handed it over to Jeffrey, who read it and looked up.

“This man is trying to extort you. He says he wants five thousand pounds to keep his silence. He is accusing you of killing Charles Whitney.”

Montgomery finished folding a shirt and set it in the trunk. “That's right.”

“Why would he believe you murdered Whitney?”

Montgomery stopped folding and looked at him hard. “The purchase was set to close. The chance to buy the company would have been lost to us for good. We need arms if we're going to fight. We need that plant and the one in Boston.”

Jeffrey struggled to hide his shock. “You…you killed him?”

J.P. shrugged his thick shoulders. “We're going to war, man. A soldier does what he has to.”

“We aren't at war yet. There's a chance it won't come
to that. Maybe the North will let us go our separate way. Nothing is certain.”

“We have to be prepared.”

Jeffrey didn't argue. The deed was done. It couldn't be undone. “So you will just sail for home.”

“That's right. You and Wrigby can handle the purchase. You don't really need me.”

Jeffrey fought to keep his voice even. “No, I suppose not.”

As if the matter were settled, Montgomery folded a last shirt, stacked it on top of the others and closed the lid of the trunk. “Keep me posted, will you?”

“Of course. Smooth sailing, Montgomery.”

“You, as well, Burnett.”

Jeffrey left the hotel, his stomach tied in knots.

It was one thing to fight a war. Another to commit cold-blooded murder.

And another thing altogether to let an innocent man hang for the crime.

Even if that man was Rule Dewar.

V
iolet stood in the entry watching her husband descend the sweeping staircase. Dressed in riding breeches, high black boots and a white lawn shirt, Rule shrugged into a jacket as he reached the bottom and hurriedly strode toward her.

“I think I liked you with a beard,” she teased.

Rule rubbed his clean-shaven jaw. “I have plans for you later.” He grinned wickedly. “I don't want to leave whisker burns on your pretty little thighs.”

Violets eyes widened and her cheeks turned scarlet. “Rule Dewar!”

“Sorry.” He gave her a devilish grin, not the least repentant.

Violet fought not to smile. “Your brothers said to meet them at eleven o'clock at the rendezvous point. Mr. Bellows has your carriage waiting out in front.”

Rule nodded.

“I don't suppose you would consider letting me go with you. I'm a very good shot, you know.”

“There will be a small army waiting for Montgomery.”
He caught her chin and settled his mouth very softly over hers. “I want you here waiting for me when I get home.”

The heat in those blue, blue eyes left no doubt as to his intentions and her heart gave a ragged jerk.

“I'll be waiting,” she said breathlessly.

Rule strode off down the hall to retrieve his weapons and disappeared inside his study. Glancing at the clock, Violet fidgeted anxiously.

What if something happened?

Montgomery was a murderer. No matter how many people lay in wait for him, something could go wrong. She couldn't relax until Rule was home and safe.

A book lay open on the sofa in the drawing room, but she was far too nervous to read. She wished she could go with the men, but no amount of arguing was going to make that happen. She started down the hall toward the study to see if there was anything else Rule might need, when she heard the rap of the heavy brass knocker. Hatfield opened the door and surprise rolled through her as Jeffrey walked into the house.

The moment he saw her, he shoved past the butler and strode down the hall, not stopping until he reached her.

“I need to speak to you, Violet. The matter is urgent.”

“Jeffrey, I don't know why you are here at this hour of the night but I don't think—”

“It concerns your husband.”

Something was wrong. She knew Jeffrey well enough to recognize the worry on his face. “Come into the drawing room.” She quickly led him inside, leaving the door open so that Rule could join them. “What is it, Jeffrey?”

He took a deep breath. “I believed your husband was guilty of murder. I thought he had killed Charles Whitney to gain more profit from the sale of the company. Tonight I discovered Dewar is innocent of the crime.”

She frowned. “I don't understand. How could you find out something like that?”

“You remember the American, Montgomery, the man who made the offer on your company?”

“Yes, I know him.” She didn't say that very soon, if all went as planned, he was going to be arrested for murder.

“We are…we are business associates, Violet.”

Her head came up. “Business associates?”

“Montgomery and I…we formed a partnership of sorts in order to purchase Griffin.” The news shocked her. Jeffrey was aligned with Montgomery? She glanced toward the door, anxious for Rule to appear.

“You were involved in making the offer?” she asked, but now that she thought of it, she knew Jeffrey was raised in Virginia. The Southern cause was a topic they rarely discussed. “We turned Montgomery's offer down.”

“I know. It's all very complicated. But tonight when I stopped by J.P.'s hotel room, I found him packing. He admitted he killed Charles Whitney in order to stop him from buying the company.”

Her gaze slid back to the doorway. Rule stood stiffly in the doorway, listening to every word.

Her mind spun. “Montgomery killed Whitney.”

“That's right.”

“But…but why would he try to make it appear as though Rule did it?”

“Perhaps he hoped you would turn to me once your husband was gone. Or maybe he thought you would be more easily convinced to sell than Dewar. It's hard to say for certain.”

She looked to the doorway. Rule's jaw was set, his expression hard. The handle of a pistol shoved into the waistband of his riding breeches flashed beneath his coat as he
strode into the drawing room. His eyes were dark as they lit on Jeffrey's face.

“You said Montgomery was packing,” Rule said, grabbing Jeffrey's attention. “Where is he going?”

“I thought you were in jail.”

“Is that why you came here? You thought I was gone and you wanted to see my wife?”

“I came because I don't condone murder, no matter the pretext.”

Rule studied Jeffrey's face. “What exactly did Montgomery say?”

“J.P. showed me a note. He was being extorted by a man named Bates who knew about the murder. J.P.'s leaving England tonight, sailing with the tide aboard the
Redoubt
.”

“Great heavens.” Violet's voice shook.

Rule's jaw clenched. “I've got to stop him.”

“You'll need help,” Violet said. “You can't possibly go after him alone.”

“I'll go with you,” Jeffrey offered.

Rule eyed him with suspicion, clearly unwilling to accept the help of a man involved with a murderer. “Someone needs to find my brothers, bring them and the police to the harbor.”

“I'll go,” Violet said, glad she had worn her simple navy cambric after all.

Rule shook his head. “The area around the White Bull isn't safe for a woman.” He turned to Jeffrey. “Your carriage outside?”

“Yes.”

“My brothers will be waiting a block north of the White Bull Tavern, an alley near the corner of Childers and Holborn. They'll be there at eleven. Find them, bring them to the
Redoubt
. The harbormaster will know where to find it.”

Jeffrey nodded, apparently understanding Rule's reluctance. “If that's what you want.”

“You had better leave now,” Rule said. “It will take you a while to get there.”

Jeffrey flicked Violet a final glance and headed for the door.

The moment he was out of sight, Rule turned in her direction. “Do you trust him to do as he says?”

“Whatever you may think of him, I believe Jeffrey is a man of honor. That he came here tonight should be proof of that.”

Rule nodded his reluctant agreement.

“You can't do this alone. I'm going with you.”

He shook his head. “Not a chance in hell.”

“You need someone with you in case there is trouble. I'm not afraid to use a gun and I am an excellent shot.”

“No.” He started past her, but Violet caught his arm.

“I'm going to the
Redoubt
. I can either come with you or I can wait until you leave and follow you. Which is it going to be?”

A muscle jerked in his cheek. He released a slow, deep breath. “You are trouble, Violet Dewar. Beautiful trouble, but trouble just the same.”

“I assume that means we are going together.”

His jaw firmed but he nodded. “Get your wrap and let's go.”

Racing upstairs, she tugged open her dresser drawer, pulled out the small pocket pistol she had carried on her journey to England and stuck it into the pocket in the seam of her skirt. If they were going to capture a killer, she needed to be prepared for whatever might occur.

Rule stood impatiently waiting as she draped her shawl around her shoulders and descended the stairs. He caught
her arm and hauled her rather forcefully out the door and down the front steps to the carriage.

As she looked up at the small man in the driver's seat, she silently groaned, remembering it was Bellows' night off. They would get no help there. Guiding her up the iron steps into the carriage, Rule told the coachman to head for the harbor, then followed her inside and settled himself on the seat across from her, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

He eyed her darkly. “I don't like being blackmailed, sweetheart.”

Violet arched a brow. “And I don't like my husband putting himself in danger with no one to help him.”

His hard look softened. He studied her a moment then his lips faintly curved. “You are the most amazing woman.”

Amazing enough for him to love? Violet made no reply.

Instead, her thoughts returned to Montgomery and the task of catching a murderer.

And making certain her husband remained a free man.

T
he night was ink-black, no moon to light the way. The Thames was as murky as the sky, marked only by the reflection of a few scattered lamps on the ships bobbing along the quay.

Rule's tension mounted as the carriage pulled up in front of the harbormaster's office. The hour was late enough the office was dark and no one remained inside. Fortunately, the list he hoped to find was posted beside the door, giving the location of every ship in the harbor and their scheduled date of departure.

“Jeffrey was right,” Rule told Violet as he climbed back inside the coach. “The
Redoubt
sails with the tide. If Montgomery is planning to leave, he should be aboard by now.”

It took another quarter hour to find the space where the
Redoubt
was berthed. A big, three-masted sailing ship with a long, pointed bowsprit and sleekly built hull. Lanterns hung from the rigging and a few crew members roamed the deck, finishing last-minute chores and making ready to leave. Several lamps burned in the main salon and glowed through portholes in the side of the ship. Most of the pas
sengers would be asleep at this hour but apparently a few were still up and about.

“I'm going to speak to the captain,” Rule said, “find out if Montgomery is aboard and if he is, get his cabin number and find him.”

“Shouldn't you wait for your brothers and the police?”

“There isn't time. The tide is almost up. The ship could be sailing very soon.”

“You think the captain will tell you where to find Montgomery?”

“He'll tell me.” He smiled darkly. “You know how persuasive I can be.” And he was, after all, the brother of a duke. Sometimes a title could come in handy. He leaned over and opened the carriage door.

“If Montgomery finds out you are looking for him, he might try to run,” Violet said. “He might find a way to get past you.”

Rule hesitated a moment at the truth of her words, then continued out to the street.

“Let me help you,” Violet pleaded through the open carriage window. “Surely there is something I can do.”

The ship creaked eerily as it rocked against its lines. Rule glanced over at the gangway leading up to the deck. If Montgomery slipped past him, he might escape. Rule couldn't allow that to happen.

“All right, come on.” Taking Violet's hand, he helped her down from the carriage. Thank God she wasn't wearing one of those damned metal cages that were all the vogue. “I presume you have brought your pistol.”

He knew she wouldn't have left the house without it. Not under the circumstances. Montgomery was a murderer and she had always been proud of her ability to shoot.

She patted the pocket of her skirt. “I have it.”

He took her hand and led her into the darkness. “I want you to stay out of sight over here by the gangway. If Montgomery gets past me, he'll have to leave the ship this way. If you see him, fire a shot into the air, then duck back out of sight. I'll hear the shot and come running.”

“All right.”

“I don't want you taking any chances. Promise me you will stay here where it is safe.”

“I'll stay right here and keep watch.”

Rule led her to a hiding place among a stack of wooden crates where she wouldn't be seen and yet could watch the gangway. He tucked her safely into the shadows, pulled her shawl a little closer around her shoulders, leaned down and kissed her.

“Remember what I said. Don't take any chances.”

She nodded. “Be careful.”

Rule's jaw went hard. He couldn't wait to get his hands on J. P. Montgomery. He told himself he wouldn't do anything but hold him until the police arrived, but thinking of the days he had spent in that miserable prison, it would take a will of iron.

Rule stood in the darkness at the bottom of the gangway, waited until the deck was empty, then silently made his way aboard the ship. Lamplight blazed through the portholes in the main salon. He peeked into one of them, searching for Montgomery, but saw no sign of him.

Descending a short ladder, he opened a wooden door and entered the salon, lavishly appointed, paneled in teak and curtained in red velvet. Two men sat in front of a chessboard. One of them looked up as he entered the room.

“I'm looking for the captain,” Rule said. “Do you know where I can find him?”

A rusty voice came from behind him. “I'm Captain Hale. How may I help you, sir?”

Rule turned to see a short, stout man with a heavy white beard, pretty much the standard image of a sea captain.

“I'm Lord Rule Dewar. I'm looking for a man named J. P. Montgomery. I believe he's a passenger aboard your ship.”

The captain nodded. “Montgomery…yes, I believe he is.”

“Can you give me his cabin number so that I may speak to him?”

The captain frowned, his bushy white eyebrows nearly forming a single line. “I'm afraid that information is privileged. Can you tell me what this is about?”

“Montgomery is wanted in connection to a murder. The police should be arriving at any moment. Until they get here, I need to detain Mr. Montgomery.”

“I say. This is highly irregular.”

“The man is a killer. Do you want that sort among your passengers and crew?”

“No, no, of course not.”

“As I said, the police will be arriving any moment. I merely need to be certain Montgomery is here when they get here.”

“Dewar, you say? Any relation to the duke?”

“He's my brother.”

“I see. Well, all right, then, myself and some of my crew will accompany you to Mr. Montgomery's cabin. We shall see what he has to say about all of this.”

He would rather have had a few minutes alone with Montgomery, but perhaps this was for the best. “Very well.”

Rule followed Captain Hale out of the salon, up the ladder to the deck, then anxiously waited as he summoned his first officer and two of his crewmen. The group followed Hale below deck down a long corridor lined with cabins.

The captain knocked on a door marked B 66 in brass letters. No one answered.

“Mr. Montgomery? Mr. Montgomery, this is Captain Hale. I'd like a word with you, sir, if you please.”

Rule waited tensely for the door to open. When it didn't, an unwelcome tingle began to creep down his spine.

 

Standing in the darkness smoking a thick cigar, J.P. noticed the captain and another man coming out of the salon. They were joined by the first mate and two other crewmen and the group descended the ladder leading down to the passenger decks.

He tossed his unfinished cigar away and ground his back teeth together. One of the men, taller than the rest, broad-shouldered and handsome, was, he realized, Rule Dewar.

So the bastard had managed to wheedle his way out of prison, had somehow convinced the authorities to release him.

Bates,
he thought. So the idiot had done as his note had threatened and gone to the authorities. Now Dewar had discovered his plans and followed him to the ship.

But how?

His stomach lurched, curdled with fury.
Jeffrey!
No one else knew his plans. No one but his partner, Jeffrey Burnett. Livid with himself for trusting the traitor, he turned away from the rail and headed for the gangway. They hadn't caught him yet and with any luck at all, they weren't going to.

Once he was safe, he would deal with Jeffrey Burnett.

Checking to be sure no one saw him, he made his way silently across the deck to the gangway. It swayed as his heavy weight descended toward the bottom, but he saw no sign of anyone following. He had just stepped onto the dock when a woman's voice called out.

“Stop right where you are, Montgomery.” He knew that voice. He heard the ominous click of a pistol and caught the faint flash of the barrel in the light of a distant lantern. “If you don't, I'll have to shoot you.”

Violet Dewar.
He might have laughed if he wasn't so furious. Did she actually think she could stop him?

“Put the gun down, little lady, before you hurt yourself.” He started forward, determined to make his escape. The petite woman stepped out of the shadows into the lantern light, her fiery copper hair blazing like a halo around her pretty face.

For an instant, he almost admired her. Then he saw that her pistol was pointed straight at his heart.

“I told you to stay where you were,” she said.

His jaw clenched as a fresh round of fury swept through him. “I have places to go and both of us know you're not really going to shoot me.”

“My father manufactured guns. He taught me how to shoot and not to be afraid to pull the trigger. This pistol shoots twice, Mr. Montgomery. That's more than enough to kill you where you stand.”

She looked small and feminine, holding that little gun in her hand, and not the least bit frightening. “You're a woman, a nurturer. You aren't going to kill me.”

He started forward, thought to walk right past her.

Violet pulled the trigger.

Montgomery shrieked and went down. Bleeding profusely, his knee was shattered and no longer able to hold him up. “You little bitch, you shot me!”

“I warned you not to move. And if you don't stay right where you are, I'll shoot you again.”

A commotion on deck drew her attention, men running helter-skelter toward the gangway, Rule in the lead.

“Violet!” He raced down the gangway, jolted to a stop when he reached Montgomery and stared at her with wide blue eyes. “You shot him?”

“He was trying to escape.”

“I'll probably get gangrene and lose my leg!” Montgomery wailed.

“You thought it was all right for my husband to lose his life,” Violet countered.

Rule reached toward her, gently took the gun from her hand. “It's all right, love. I've got it.” The minute he took control of the weapon, she started shaking. It was, after all, the first—and hopefully the last—time she'd ever shot someone.

Rule drew her against his side, an arm wrapped protectively around her. The captain stopped next to Montgomery, knelt to attend the man's bleeding leg, but his arrival was lost amid the swarm of men descending on the scene, a group that included Rule's brothers, Jeffrey Burnett and half a dozen policemen.

The duke strode toward them. “Are you two all right?”

Rule shoved Violet's pistol into the pocket of his coat and his hold tightened around her. “My brave little wife captured Whitney's murderer.” He cast her a dark look, but his eyes glinted with pride. “I thought I told you to fire a warning shot.”

Violet just smiled. “I did. It just happened to go into Mr. Montgomery's leg. You know what a poor shot I am.”

Rule's lips twitched. “Yes, sweetheart, that is among the growing number of things I am beginning to know about you.”

Violet relaxed against him, his warmth and possessive hold calming the tremors racing through her.

It took a while to straighten out the details of what had occurred, but ultimately the police arrested J. P. Mont
gomery and hauled him away in the police wagon. Reese and Royal congratulated Rule and Violet on a job well done and departed for their respective homes.

Violet and Rule climbed wearily into their waiting carriage. Rule settled himself on the seat beside her, his arm going around her.

“You were marvelous tonight, sweetheart. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you holding that gun on Montgomery.”

She gave him an exhausted smile. “The main thing is you are safe. The police will sort all of this out and your innocence will no longer be suspect.”

“Thanks in great part to you.” He bent his head and very softly kissed her.

Violet slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back. “I love you, Rule.” Unable to stop them, the words slipped past her lips. She found herself praying, now that he was safe, he would say them in return.

Instead, he bent his head and tenderly kissed her.

Violet turned away.

“What is it?”

She lifted her head, forced herself to meet his searching gaze. “I need to know, Rule. I love you. I have for a very long time. I need to know if you love me in return.”

In the glow of the carriage lamps, he moistened his lips, glanced down and back up, then started to speak.

“Don't lie to me, Rule. I'll know if you do.”

Time stretched between them. The air in the carriage seemed to slowly disappear until she began to feel light-headed.

Rule blew out a breath, raked a hand through his heavy black hair. “You are precious to me, Violet. I am unbelievably grateful that you are my wife. I want children
with you. I want us to be happy. But
love?
Love isn't something I know how to give.”

Her eyes welled and she had to look away.

“You mean everything to me, Violet. I hope you understand.”

She only nodded. Her throat was too tight to speak. He cared for her. He desired her. He wanted her to be the mother of his children. It was enough, she told herself—more than most couples shared. But the tears brimmed in her eyes and slid down her cheeks. Violet wiped them away with the tip of her finger.

When they reached the house, she pled a headache and started up the stairs. Rule caught up with her easily. He walked her to the door of her room. Catching her hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed the back.

“The night has been difficult for both of us. We don't have to make love. Just let me sleep beside you. Let me hold you.”

She wanted to say no, that she couldn't bear his presence tonight, but when she looked at him there was something in his eyes that made her ache for him and she found herself nodding instead. “All right.”

He followed her into the bedroom, sent Mary off to her room and played ladies' maid himself, methodically dispensing with her garments, helping her into a soft cotton nightgown, pulling the pins from her hair then running her bristle brush through it. All the while, his movements remained businesslike, making no attempt at seduction.