Scandal's Child (13 page)

“Oh, Kathryn, he kissed me,” Caroline whispered, touching her lips with trembling fingers. “He’s never done it before. It was quite wonderful.”

Kat’s eyes lifted from Caroline’s enraptured countenance to Jules’s face.

“Kathryn, what is it?” he asked quickly.

Shaking her head, Kat was already moving across the floor. “See Caroline back into the ballroom. I must find Jacko!”

Where was he? Frantic, Kat scanned the gathering for his blond head, but couldn’t find him anywhere. She caught Sir Percy skulking around in the hallway.

“Have you seen Jacko?” she demanded.

“No … no,” he stammered, stepping back a pace. “Looking for your husband, myself.”

“He’s just returning to the ballroom,” she replied quickly, dismissing him to survey the foyer. No Jacko. Perhaps he had gone to his old room to be alone. There was definitely something wrong; something in his eyes that Kat didn’t understand, but that struck her cold with fear. Willy had been right. She shouldn’t have so readily discounted her godmother’s fears, but she had been preoccupied with Jules.

Even in the upper hallway the merrymaking from the ball could be plainly heard. Only as she neared Jacko’s room did it fade. She pushed open the door and gasped.

With his back to her, a man stood before the oak cabinet beside the bed. It was not her twin.

“Glady, what are you doing?” she asked, shutting the door loudly.

Startled, he dropped the box he held upon the bed. Quickly, he grabbed it up and thrust it behind his back, but not before Kat had seen what it was.

“Kat, what are you doing here?” he croaked, his eyes shifting about, looking for escape.

“Why have you got Jacko’s dueling pistols? And where is he?” she demanded, rushing to wrest the box away. “What is going on? You will not leave this room without telling me.”

“Jacko left the ball so you couldn’t find him,” Glady admitted, stepping toward her. “You must give me the pistols! With his own pistols Jacko might have a chance,” he continued, half under his breath.

“A chance?” she breathed, before sinking onto the bed, understanding making her knees give way. “A duel. With whom?”

“Trigge!” Glady growled, whisking the box from her suddenly numb fingers. “I’ve said too much. Stay out of it, Kat. And pray,” he stated firmly, making his escape out the door.

Like a child, Kat had thought all her problems gone forever in the face of her love for Jules. Now all that happiness vanished to be replaced with deadly terror for Jacko.

“Whatever am I going to do?” She moaned, burying her face in her hands.

“We are going to stop him, of course.”

Kat sprang to her feet, blinking several times, hardly believing her eyes. Hannah rose from a chair that had been turned to face the fireplace.

“Hannah, you heard!” Kat cried.

“Yes, dear. I came here to read and escape the noise from below. I must have dozed off and didn’t awaken until you slammed the door. Then I thought it best to remain silent.”

Kat was trembling, and Hannah drew her close in a gentle, lavender-scented embrace.

“What are we going to do, Hannah?” Kat whispered.

Pushing Kat to arm’s length, Hannah’s usually placid face was stern. “Your brother cannot be allowed to duel. You are the only person he ever listens to, so you must talk to him. If you cannot reason with him you must give him this.” Reaching in her deep skirt pocket, she pulled out a small bottle of laudanum.

“Drug him?” Kat gasped.

Hannah shrugged. “Just enough so he misses the duel at dawn. Isn’t that when these wretched men do their foolishness?”

“Yes, but if he does not appear, Trigge will just seek him out again,” Kat said slowly, “or try to besmirch his honor.” A seed of a terrifying idea was taking root in her appalled brain. She would never endanger Jules by asking for his help in this, for she would take care of Trigge herself.

“It buys us time,” Hannah stated matter-of-factly. “Trigge is such a beast someone else might very likely do away with him before he can harm Jacko!”

Jules glanced into Lady Tutwilliger’s library and, finding it empty, motioned an agitated Sir Percy in, closing the door firmly behind them. The young man had been uncharacteristically persistent to have a word alone.

“Well, what is it, Allendale?” Jules drawled, leaning one shoulder against the mantelpiece. He really had more important things on his mind this evening.

“It is Jacko,” he stated baldly.

“Jacko!” Jules straightened, remembering Kat’s frightened face as she went after him. “What has he gotten himself into?”

“Know you think me a sad rattle, Saville. True, of course.” Sir Percy shrugged, shaking his head. “Can’t seem to stop myself. Been like this since I was in short pants. But Jacko’s my friend in spite of everything. He would kill me if he knew I was talking to you. But no where else to turn.”

“Allendale, tell me! At once!” Jules commanded.

Nodding, Sir Percy took a deep breath. “We were playing faro at Mrs. Cathage’s when Trigge came in. He had been drinking. Maybe even brawling somewhere. He’s sporting a black eye and a cut lip. Soon as he sets sight on Jacko he joins our table and starts taunting him. Glady and I tried to drag Jacko away, but you know how stubborn he can be.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Just tell me what occurred,” Jules urged, impatient with Sir Percy’s lengthy explanation.

“Said he wouldn’t be driven off by that bounder!”

“Percy, cut line!”

“The short of it, Saville, is Trigge insulted Kat and Miss Strange. Jacko landed him a facer, and Trigge called him out.”

“When and where is it to be?” Jules asked with cold rage.

“Dawn tomorrow. The road to Scotland. The clearing just beyond the Four Feathers Inn.”

“I know the place.” Jules caught Sir Percy’s heart-sick look and gave him a brief smile. “You have done the right thing. Never fear, Trigge will not be meeting Jacko in the morning. I shall take care of him myself.”

“Understand, Saville.” Sir Percy nodded, relief flooding his face. “Knew Jacko could count on you. Now I’m going to my rooms and lock myself in for fear my damn tongue will get everyone even deeper in the suds.”

“Excellent idea, Allendale.” Jules stood in the foyer as Sir Percy beat a hasty retreat out the door. He himself must not be far behind. Knowing Trigge, it might take all night to unearth the bounder. But he would find him and rid the world once and for all of that canaille. Trigge would not survive until dawn to harm Jacko.

Jules turned to see Kat walking slowly down the stairs. She looked pale and frightened. At all costs he must keep this from her.

“My dear, you look tired. Come, sit in the library.” He led her back into the quiet room, again closing the door.

Helping her to a chair, he knelt before her, taking her cool hands between his palms.

“Kathryn, I must leave you for a few hours,” he said gently and saw her dull eyes widen.

“Why?” she whispered, and Jules could see she was having difficulty focusing her thoughts.

“I have something I must do. I will arrange for someone to see you and
Grandmère
home.”

“If you don’t mind, Jules, I shall stay here tonight. I … I was just upstairs with Hannah. She … she isn’t well. I would like to stay with her tonight.”

Icy dread stilled his hands where they slowly massaged her fingers. “This has nothing to do with your looking for Jacko, does it?” he asked carefully.

“I couldn’t find him.” She smiled weakly. “If you see him would you tell him I demand he attend me.”

“Of course. Now I must be off.” Rising, he pulled her slowly to her feet. He stroked her cheek with his fingertip. “I regret this interruption to our evening. Tonight, after all, shall not be ours.” He pressed a gentle kiss on her cool lips before starting toward the door.

“Jules!”

At her anguished cry he swung around and she ran into his embrace, throwing her arms around his neck. Startled, Jules pulled her tightly to him as she lifted her face.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

Responding to her urgency, Jules crushed her to him. Her lips parted, drawing him into her sweetness.

At last, Jules slowly pulled away, gazing with longing into Kat’s upturned face, her aquamarine eyes wide with commitment.

“Tomorrow shall be ours, Jules, I promise.”

Within a very few minutes she was let down at Jacko’s rooms. She peered around, very much as if she were a housebreaker, but this was a mission of the utmost delicacy. Her knocks echoed into the quiet corridor, again making her look nervously about. It would not do to raise an alarm or to wake Jacko’s valet. She knocked again, a bit louder. Surely her twin was here, preparing himself for the duel. Dawn was not that far away she realized, fresh fear making her pound harder.

“By gad, what—” Jacko bellowed and opened the door. She pushed her way in. “Kat! What the devil are you doing here?”

He had been lying down, she could see that by his mussed curls and flushed face, but he was fully dressed in buckskins and a lawn shirt, open at the throat.

Dropping her cloak over a chair, she turned to him. “I have come to talk some sense into you!” Their identical eyes met in complete understanding and, slowly, he shut the door, leaning against it.

“Which one of my
friends
was fool enough to tell you?” he questioned, cold anger paling his cheeks.

“No one
told
me, Jacko. I discovered Glady sneaking out of your room with the dueling pistols. I doubt they are for target practice!” She folded her arms across her breasts as she glared at him. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Because I am not allowing you to duel!”

Pushing away from the door, he strolled past her to a small table that held a decanter and glasses. He poured a glass of brandy and quickly tipped it down his throat. “I am past the age where you can lead me around on a string, Kat,” he said wearily, turning to her. “I know you think you must be my keeper. Cover up my pranks and mind my scraped knees when I fall. But you cannot fix this, twin. This is something for me alone.”

The very fact that he was deadly quiet and uncharacteristically serious coiled fingers of terror through every fiber of her body. No mere words of hers would dissuade him this time. She had no choice but to carry out the daring plan that had been flourishing in her mind since talking with Hannah. She refused to think about the possible consequences. It was the only way she could save her brother.

“I see,” she said quietly, dropping down upon the edge of his mussed bed. “Can I at least stay until Glady comes for you?”

“I’m meeting him there.” A ghost of a smile twitched his firm mouth. “Refuse to listen to him ring a peal over me all the way to the Scotland Road.”

“Scotland! The duel is in Scotland?” she exclaimed, momentarily at a loss. She didn’t even know how to get to Scotland.

“Of course it isn’t in Scotland!” he scoffed in a more normal tone. “The Four Feathers is only … no, you don’t, Kat! I’m not telling you where the duel will take place!”

“Of course you’re not,” she soothed, patting the bed beside her. “Come sit beside me so I can weep all over your chest.”

With a rueful smile he sat down, sliding his arm around her shoulders. “Glad you’re not having hysterics or being a watering pot,” he murmured, resting his cheek on her hair. “Couldn’t take that on top of everything else.”

“Which is precisely why I am using such restraint. I’ve always understood you, haven’t I, Jacko?”

“Always,” he grinned, pinching her cheek. “That’s why I stayed away from you at the ball, Kat. Knew you’d sense something was up.”

“Yes, well, now I must just help you get ready for this.” She sprang to her feet, taking his glass from where it dangled in his fingers. “Let me pour you another brandy, Jacko. And if you don’t mind, I’ll have one myself.”

“A brandy for you? Saville teach you the pleasure of a good tipple, Kat?” Jacko essayed a smile.

“Yes, Jules has taught me much … Did you hear something in the hall, Jacko? I hope Jules has not followed me here,” she feigned alarm.

Her twin went to the door to peer out into the hall. In that moment Kat poured the entire vial of laudanum into his brandy.

“No one there,” he said, turning back to take the glass from her fingers and sit down again beside her.

Kat held her breath, taking one small sip of brandy. It burned all the way down. How could men tip it down their throats so easily as Jacko was doing?

“Will you promise me to remember everything I’ve told you about firing,” Kat asked, carefully watching his flushed face.

“I’ve thought of nothing else all night,” he admitted ruefully, taking another deep drink, draining the glass. “I’m not really that bad a shot, am I, Kat?”

“Well, I…” she began in a slightly lower tone, but stopped when he yawned, blinking his eyes.

“What was I saying?” he inquired, a funny little frown on his face. “Mind wandering. Thinking about our target practice in France. Caroline saying it didn’t matter…”

“What about Caroline?” Kat dropped her voice to a whisper, her heart thumping as his lids began to droop over his eyes.

“Funny about Caroline … somehow always thinking about the minx…” Shaking his head, he shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Don’t know what…”

Forcing his lids open, he stared at her and she saw understanding radically alter his face into a hard incredulous mask. “Kat … what have…?” Unable to keep himself upright, Jacko suddenly crumpled to the bed behind him.

Kat bit hard on her lower lip to stop it trembling as hot aching tears burned her eyes. Brushing his curls back, she pressed a kiss on his forehead. “I’m sorry, Jacko, but I couldn’t let you be killed. At least I will have a chance,” she whispered.

Drying her tears with an edge of the coverlet, she scrambled to her feet and began to unbutton her dress. She must hurry. The Scotland Road was on the other side of the city and she had no idea how far north the Four Feathers was located, but somehow she would find it.

Twenty minutes later, Kat stood in front of the mirror, twisting every which way. Jacko’s buckskins were tight, but they would do. She slipped a vest over the lawn shirt before pulling on his coat. She’d have to keep the vest on during the duel to conceal the swell of her breasts. She had to pull this deception off. No one could ever know.

There was only one last thing that must be done. She pulled the pins from her hair and it fell heavily about her shoulders.

She hoped Jules would not mind, too much, having a wife who resembled a boy. Oh Jules! Would they ever have their night of love that he had so sweetly promised?

Steadfastly, she pushed all thoughts of Jules away. If he knew about the duel he might challenge Trigge himself. There was a nagging worry of doubt in the back of her mind that his sudden and urgent business might have something to do with this duel. But how could he know?

She mustn’t think about that now. She must concentrate on protecting Jacko and Jules, by getting rid of Sir Edmund. Jacko was sure to be killed in any confrontation with that monster, and Jules’s blind eye would surely hamper him in a duel. She couldn’t take any chance that harm might come to either one of them. She loved her twin as if he were an extension of herself. But her feelings for Jules were entirely different—that love was so newly discovered, so precious, she could hardly bear to think of it, to think of all she was risking. With a sinking heart, she only hoped he would be able to understand.

Taking a bunch of her hair, she lifted the scissors, closed her eyes and snipped. In a surprisingly short time blond curls covered the floor at her feet. Running her fingers through what was left of her hair, she fluffed it around her face. This was the best she could do. Snatching up Jacko’s hat she rammed it on her head and looked.

Her brother’s countenance stared back at her from the mirror.

Quickly she let herself out before she could change her mind. She must hurry if she was to find the Four Feathers in time.

The clock was ticking down and Jules had not unearthed Trigge. He had prowled through every faro house, gaming hell, and bagnio he could think of, but no Trigge. Discreet questioning had added not a clue. Mrs. Cathage had been ingratiating, but no assistance; after challenging Jacko, she said Trigge had simply disappeared.

But he would have to surface in the field beyond the Four Feathers at dawn to meet Jacko. However, unbeknownst to Trigge there would be a change of plans. Jules would face him at dawn, not Kat’s impetuous twin.

He must protect Kat from all this. If she knew Jacko was in danger she would be sick with worry.

She need never know, he consoled himself. He would dispatch Trigge in a few hours. He couldn’t conceive there would be one cry of protest to the crown; this earth would be better off without the blighter.

Then he would return to Kat and sweep her off for their night of love. It didn’t matter if their night began before breakfast. Funny, even through his outrage he ached for her.

Jacko refused to answer Jules’s knocks that steadily escalated into noisy banging. He couldn’t be gone already, Jules hoped. He took two steps back, preparing to break down the damn door when Jacko’s valet appeared at the end of the hall.

Holding a candle before him, he hurried forward. “Monsieur le Comte, is something wrong?”

“Yes! Open Lord Thistlewait’s door. I must see him on urgent family business,” Jules commanded and was immediately obeyed. The room was lit by a single guttering candle, showing Jacko sprawled across the bed.

“Leave us!” Jules ordered and the door was immediately closed.

“Good god, Jacko, how can you sleep at a time like this!” Jules stormed, stalking to the bed. He bent to shake his shoulder. The moment he saw how deeply Jacko slept he knew something was very wrong.

He glanced around the room. The cloak and dress neatly draped over the chair stopped his heart, his blood running cold through every fiber of his body. Surely not! Kat wouldn’t—

Taking a long breath into his strained lungs, he walked forward, touched the gown, and forced himself to accept the outrageous idea that had struck him. Kat’s perfume still clung to the fabric.

“No,” he growled, shaking his head, rejecting his thoughts. Then he saw her beautiful long hair littering the floor in front of the mirror. That discovery drove all doubt away. Kat would!

Once he had believed no pain could ever be greater than the night his mother, in her drunkenness, mistook him for his late father and drove Charles Crawford to murder and suicide. That night he had lost his eye. The aftermath had shattered his life, Dominic’s world. It had taken more than ten years to heal those wounds. But, finally, the brothers had come to understand and accept that they bore no blame.

That pain was as nothing to the icy fear that washed over him, drowning him in terror for Kat. She was taking her twin’s place on the dueling field. His Kat would be facing a murderer and a cheat across forty paces of mist-shrouded earth.

“No!” he raged, striding to the door to fling it open. Jacko’s valet hovered nervously in the hallway.

“Wake Lord Thistlewait as soon as you can. Tell him all is well, but he must get to Culter House as soon as possible,” Jules ordered.

Fortunately Noir was fresh and eager, as always, for a gallop. The horse surged forward under Jules’s heels, clattering loudly through the sleeping London streets. The Four Feathers was well north on the Scotland Road, Jules knew, and, already, the sky was more gray than black.

Icy terror drove him forward, numbing his mind and his heart. He had only just found true contentment—love and joy with Kat. If anything happened to her, his life would, again, be meaningless.

The postboy at the second inn she stopped at knew the Four Feathers and gave her directions. Kat arrived in the yard just as the sun was sending its first feeble rays through the early morning mist.

Sliding off Jacko’s horse, she threw the reins to a postboy, and gazed around. Surely a duel couldn’t be conducted in the Four Feathers stableyard?

Movement in the field north of the inn drew her attention. Slowly striding forward, taking exaggerated steps, trying to walk as much like Jacko as possible—although it was difficult in his Hessians even stuffed with stockings—she saw two groups waiting. No one paid her any notice.

Trigge was standing with a man she didn’t recognize. His second, obviously not a gentleman.

Nearby, Glady talked with an older man who carried a black bag. A physician, Kat realized. The enormity of her situation, which she had ruthlessly banished, seeped back into her mind. Her insides were churning. Fear might mean discovery. Besides she couldn’t disgrace her twin. She thrust up her chin. She must remain calm and aim as if at a target. Although she had no intention of killing Trigge, she did mean to aim at his shooting hand so it would be a long time, if ever, before he could issue another challenge.

Spying her, Glady rushed forward. Quickly, she turned her head as if surveying the field.

“Jacko, we’ve been waiting for you. Are you all right?”

Glancing out of the corner of her eye, Kat could see Glady looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot and his face haggard.

“You look like the devil,” Kat mumbled gruffly and moved away.

“I know,” Glady gasped, keeping up with her. “Got drunk as a skunk worrying about you. My valet pulled me together and put me on a horse. Still a bit blurry-eyed, Jacko.” Suddenly, he grabbed Kat’s arm, but she pulled away as unobtrusively as possible.

“Jacko, don’t do this, old boy!” Glady pleaded, desperation filling his young face. “Give the word and I’ll stop it somehow.”

Tempted almost beyond reason, Kat paused and looked over at Sir Edmund Trigge. He appeared coolly comfortable. He had already shed his coat and stood waiting in his lawn shirt. His face sported a smug smile.

This man had promised to get even with her and Jacko and Jules. She knew his threats were not idle. This might be her only chance to keep them all from further harm. She shook her head in a final denial and moved to her spot, slipping out of her coat.

“Here is your pistol. Me and Trigge’s second have already checked them,” Glady said dully. “I’m to count off the paces. But be careful Jacko, I don’t trust the man. If he tries to take advantage I’ll yell—and you, dammit, will drop to the ground to protect yourself.”

Kat nodded absently as she weighed the pistol in her hand, checking its balance. These were the pistols she and Jacko had learned to shoot with. An odd pastime for a girl, perhaps, but as children the Thistlewait offspring had had to find their own diversions. They had been shunned by their peers until Willy sailed into their lives, informing their father she would take them all in hand. And she had! Dearest Willy. If Kat survived this she would tell Willy how much she loved her, how well she had stood as mother to them all.