Tangled (50 page)

Will I ever teach Charles to be a gentleman, do you suppose?"

But the thought sobered her. She would not have a chance to teach Charles much of anything. Unless . . . But Julian's suggestion was unthinkable. And she would not think of it, though she had promised him that she would do just that. Not this afternoon. This afternoon was purely for pleasure. She had decided that before they had left the house.

"Perhaps as soon as I teach Katie to be a lady," Louisa said with a sigh. "And to think I am about to inflict another little monster on the world. Are we women mad, Rebecca?"

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But finally there seemed to be a moment of peace. Katie who had won the argument over the doll, had promptly lost interest in it and was now playing with the other. Charles had convinced himself that there was something of great interest beneath the blankets and was trying to worm his way beneath the one on which Louisa sat.

"Ah, bliss," Louisa said, closing her eyes and lifting her face to the sun. "I wonder for how many minutes or seconds it will last? Should I count?" She laughed.

It was unlikely that they would be able to do much relaxing with the children present, Rebecca thought, but it was bliss anyway. Next week she would no longer have Charles, and perhaps it would be months before she saw him again. But she ruthlessly blocked the thought and set herself to enjoy the afternoon to the full. But something caught her eye at the edge of the trees through which they had walked just ten minutes or so before.

"Oh, no," she said. "Who told him we were going to be here, I wonder."

Louisa glanced over her shoulder to where Rebecca was looking and pulled a face when she turned back again. "What a strange man he is," she said. "I know he came down to Craybourne because he had found out Julian was alive and wanted to pay his respects. And he was all amiability when he called. But I could not like him. You too, Rebecca?"

But there was no time for further speech. Sir George Scherer was upon them and greeting them effusively and commenting on the perfection of the day and the beauty of the lake. Louisa smiled politely at him. Rebecca looked up at him, tight-lipped.

"My pardon for trespassing, ma'am," he said, bowing to Louisa.

"But fresh air and the beauty of the countryside called to me."

"I can understand that, sir," Louisa said. "This is a beautiful part of the world. But you did not bring Lady Scherer out with you?"

"Cynthia is tied up with other concerns, ma'am," he said, rubbing his hands and looking about him.

Rebecca felt uneasy. Sir George Scherer, she suspected, did nothing out of a love of beauty or fresh air.
He had known that they were at the lake having a picnic, just as he seemed to know so much about their movements—hers and David's and Julian's. He had known and so he had come to spoil the afternoon for her. It seemed strange to see him without his wife. When he answered Louisa's question, Rebecca formed a literal image of his words. It sounded almost as if he meant them literally.

She wondered if he meant to kill Julian or if he merely meant to torment Julian's family.

"Won't you sit down on the blanket, sir?" Louisa suggested politely. "Our picnic tea should be arriving soon."

"That is very civil of you, ma'am," he said, "but I would not wish to intrude on a scene of such domestic bliss. I shall continue my walk and leave you ladies to enjoy a little peace and quiet."

But he did not move on immediately. Instead, he went down on his haunches to laugh at Charles, who was hauling himself to his feet, using Louisa's arm as a prop, and then sitting down in a rush again when he lost his balance.

"You have a handsome little man here, ma'am," he said, patting Charles on the cheek with one finger. "He will be walking and leading you a merry dance before you know it.''

Rebecca felt a shiver claw down her back as he touched her son and told herself not to be silly. But she wished people would not announce that they were leaving unless they meant what they said.

She was angry with the man. How dare he intrude, especially when he was trespassing.

"Oh, Charles is Rebecca's," Louisa said. "Katie is my child." She indicated her daughter, who was playing quietly with the rag doll a short distance away.

"But of course," Sir George said. "I should have remembered that Major Tavistock's child was a son. And this little lad has Lady Cardwell's golden hair. How proud you must be of him, ma'am." He turned his head to smile at Rebecca.

"Yes," she said stiffly.

"It is my one regret in an otherwise perfect mar-Tangled 363

riage," he said, "that Cynthia has never been able to present me with little ones. I dote on them, ma'am." He addressed himself to Louisa.

Go away,
Rebecca told him silently and wished she had the courage that David must have had to ask him to leave Stedwell on two occasions. And then her heart leapt right into her throat and she reached out with both arms. Sir George Scherer had taken Charles's hands and drawn him to his feet and was moving backward on his knees while Charles toddled toward him. Sir George was chuckling.

"That's my little man," he said.

Rebecca lowered her arms. Hatred was a dreadful thing. It made one mindless and unreasonable. She had almost expected for a moment that Sir George was about to whip her son up and make off with him. She deliberately looked about her and reminded herself that she was on Craybourne land during a lovely spring day in the middle of the nineteenth century. But she wished Louisa had not mentioned tea. Surely he would not invite himself to stay after all, would he?

Her stomach lurched suddenly as Sir George did just what she had been expecting him to do a few moments before—or part of it anyway. He straightened up to a standing position, taking Charles with him. His smile broadened as he looked off in the direction of the trees.

"Oh, do set him down," Rebecca said. "He does not like to be held. I'm afraid he has too much energy." She glanced over her shoulder. Julian was walking toward them rather slowly, his eyes fixed on Sir George. Oh, now they were in for trouble, she thought. "Do set him down.'' Charles was already beginning to wriggle.

"Ah, Cardwell," Sir George said, raising his voice, "I was fortunate enough to run into the ladies and their children during my afternoon walk. Come for tea, have you?"

"Please set him down." Rebecca had got to her feet and reached out her arms to take Charles, but Sir George took a step back, not taking his eyes off Julian.

"Well met, Scherer," Julian said pleasantly. "I called on you at the inn but there was no one there. Now I can see why. It is a lovely day, isn't it? Let's take a walk

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around the lake, shall we? Set the boy down." He chuckled. "He is not averse to biting if held against his will, and the last time I held him I ended up with a wet arm and chest. I was not amused at the time, was I, Becka?"

Julian had never held Charles. Rebecca was frightened suddenly.

No longer just annoyed or uneasy, but definitely frightened. Sir George was walking slowly backward, a smile fixed on his face. He still held Charles in his arms, though the child was wailing a protest now.

"Do have a care," Rebecca said, one hand creeping to her throat.

"The lake is behind you, sir." He was getting perilously close to it.

"Please put Charles down."

"I say," Louisa said, sounding both puzzled and annoyed. "This is not courteous, sir. Please give the baby back to Rebecca."

"Let's walk," Julian said, his tone a little tauter than it had been before. "We have matters to discuss."

"No, Cardwell," Sir George said. "We have nothing to discuss. An eye for an eye is, I believe, what the Bible permits. You sullied my wife and destroyed my marriage. I must do something similar to you.

It is only fair, I think you would agree. The fairest thing might be for me to take your wife before your very eyes. Don't think I have not been tempted. She is a luscious morsel. But unlike you, Cardwell, I don't believe in adultery. A man must have his scruples, you know.

Besides, I don't particularly fancy a woman who whored with another man while you were away."

"Oh, my dear God." Louisa's voice was shaking. She had snatched up Katie in her arms.

He was not going to let Charles go. Rebecca held off the panic that threatened to engulf her by a sheer effort of will.

"This is between you and me," Julian said coldly. "Let's go somewhere where we can settle it man to man. Put the child down.

You are very close to the bank."

One step, two steps more . . . There was no air to breathe suddenly.

Charles was protesting loudly. Sir George lifted one hand and swatted him hard across the

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bottom. The protests come to an indignant halt and then renewed themselves at a louder volume.

"I had to ask myself," Sir George said, having to raise his voice to be heard above Charles's complaints, "what was more important to your wife than anything else, Cardwell. What could most effectively destroy your marriage and bring hatred into it as you brought hatred into mine? I did not have to look very far to find my answer."

"Dear God," Louisa said.

Rebecca could not react at all.

Julian took two determined steps forward and then came to an abrupt halt. Sir George Scherer, still smiling, held Charles with one arm, and whipped a pistol from his pocket with his free hand. It was pointed directly at Julian's heart.

"I wouldn't if I were you," he said.

The thought struck Rebecca that she must be in the middle of a particularly bizarre and nasty nightmare. But she knew she was not.

She hardly dared breathe. Charles's attention was caught by a new toy and he stopped his bawling to reach for the gun. He was jerked back and bawled anew.

"What do you want?" Julian's voice was clipped but curiously calm.

"I thought I had already made that clear," Sir George said. "I want you to suffer as I have suffered, Cardwell. I want your wife to hate you as no one has ever hated."

He was going to kill Charles. Rebecca gasped for air.

"Shoot me, then," Julian said, contempt in his voice. "Kill me and get it over with. But let the child go. He is not even mine. Why should I care what happens to him? You can't get to me by harming him."

Sir George laughed. "That was not even a decent try, was it, Cardwell?" he said. "You will all stand exactly where you are or there will be more than one death this afternoon."

"You are insane," Louisa shrieked. "Put the gun down this instant.

Put Charles down. Get away from here. Get off my husband's land."

There was a shout—more than one—from the direction

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of the trees, but they did not register in Rebecca's mind. She heard only the next words and saw only what happened next before screaming and screaming and screaming.

"Put the brat down?" Sir George said, laughing. "Certainly, ma'am." He swung his arm back and flung Charles out into the water and among the reeds.

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Julian saw the gun and knew very well that it was going to be used to hold off anyone who might try to save the child's life. He knew that the child was intended to drown before their eyes. He did not hesitate. He dived low, beneath the gun and into the water. He felt heat in his right shoulder and knew he had been hit, though curiously he had not heard the shot. But he ignored the pain and the welling of blood into the water.

The child had not been flung far. He was spluttering and gasping and trying to cry as Julian grasped him and lifted his head free of the water. At any moment he expected to feel another shot or to see the baby jerk as it was hit. He turned to set his body between the child's and the bank, well aware that when he was killed he would drag the child under with him.

And then Becka's screams penetrated his mind—she had been screaming since her son had been tossed into the water—and a voice shouting. Dave's. He turned his head to look over his shoulder and winced. Dave was kneeling on the bank, arms outstretched to him.

Becka was standing just behind him, no longer screaming, with Father holding her tightly. Louisa was a few feet away, holding her daughter. He could not see Scherer.

"Hand him to me, Julian," David said, "and then you can get yourself disentangled. Scherer's dead."

He was lying facedown a little to David's right. And trust Dave to be sounding perfectly calm and every inch Major Lord Tavistock.

Julian almost grinned except that his shoulder was paining him like a thousand devils and both boots had become entangled in the reeds and the child was squawking in his ear.

"I can't move, Dave," he called. "Here. You'll have to catch."

It was not easy to throw a child when one's arms were

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already at chest level and one shoulder had been shattered by a pistol bullet and the child was squirming. But the distance was not great and Dave was leaning far out. The baby landed in the water, but Dave was able to fish him out in a trice and was on his feet and setting him in Becka's waiting arms.

The devil, Julian thought, these reeds were a death trap. They held his legs like the tentacles of a giant octopus. He drew a deep breath and went under to disentangle himself. And yet he had only one leg free before having to surface to suck in air again.

He glanced toward the bank, but nobody was yet taking any notice of him. They knew he was a strong swimmer and in no real danger.

All attention was focused on the child, who was crying in Becka's arms while Dave held them both tightly and Louisa was wrapping one of the blankets about the baby. Father was holding his daughter and watching. Only a few seconds had passed since Julian had tossed the baby out of the lake. Soon they would turn to him, he knew. He knew that they loved him—Becka and Dave and Father. He knew that Dave and Father had always loved him and treated him as brother and son from the moment of his arrival at Craybourne, bewildered at the strange disappearance from his life of his own mama and papa.