The Bride Wore Pearls (48 page)

“What do you want?” Leeton had stumbled to his knees and begun to burble. “
What,
for God’s sake? I don’t even know you.”

Mrs. Ashton leveled the gun squarely at the top of Leeton’s bald spot. “Oh, we met once,” she said in a voice hollow as death. “I was walking in the park, holding my father’s hand.”

“I . . . I don’t remember,” he sniveled. “I’m sorry. Do you want money? I’ve a cashbox in the house.”

“Yes, it all comes down to money to you,” she sneered. “No, Leeton, you won’t buy your way out of here. I’m Elizabeth Colburne—and all I want is your blood spilt across this floor. And I won’t be leaving till I’ve seen every drop drain from your corpse.”

The shadow returned, this time filling the door.

Elizabeth Colburne cut the merest glance up the steps, then panic shot across her face.

Calmly, Rance squatted and reached down his hand, his face serene, his every movement smooth. “Give me the pistol, Miss Colburne,” he said quietly. “You do not want this.”

Anger blazed in her eyes. “Get out, Lazonby,” she spat. “This doesn’t concern you now.”

Rance had one hand resting almost casually on the doorframe, his other still outstretched as he squatted there in his tall, black boots. “It does concern me,” he said. “It has always concerned me. And even had it not, I was nonetheless dragged into it. But Wilfred here killed Percy, I’m now guessing?”

“And a pity you couldn’t have guessed a little sooner,” Mrs. Ashton snapped. She still had a bead on Leeton’s bald spot, but her whole body was shaking now.

“Give me the gun, Miss Colburne,” Rance said again, his voice smooth as silk. “Trust me, there is no greater, more slow-grinding hell than Newgate Prison. And Leeton will rot in it.”

“
No,
” she growled. “Oh, no. Leeton’s going to bleed like a slaughtered hog on his own bloody flagstone—
exsanguination,
the doctors called it, when Papa died. It sounds better, I suppose, than saying
murdered
by his so-called friend.”

“No, no! I didn’t!” Leeton, still on his knees, waved his hands in surrender. “I didn’t touch Arthur. I
just stabbed
Percy
! And, yes, I bribed Hanging Nick and that porter chap. And fixed the blame, I suppose, on Lazonby here. But that’s it! I liked Arthur. I
did
. I—why, after I persuaded Hannah to marry me, I meant us to visit him. In France. Or wherever.”

His lip curling into a sneer, Rance let his arm fall. “Do you know what I think, Miss Colburne?”

“No,” she snarled, “and I don’t give a damn.”

“I think,” Rance softly continued, “that perhaps you
should
shoot him.”

“Lazonby!” cried Leeton. “Good God, man! Are you mad?”

“In fact,” Rance went on, his voice rich as cream now, “I think I’ll
let
you shoot him. But Miss Colburne, you have hounded me and haunted me—and quite likely delayed my uncovering Leeton’s perfidy. In short, you’ve made my life hell.”

“And what of it?” she snapped. “I’ve bigger fish to fry than you now.”

“Here’s what of it,” he said. “You
owe
me, Miss Colburne. And make no mistake—I am
letting
you hold that weapon. I’m fast—far faster than you, my dear—and you know it. Only my fear of a wild shot makes me hesitate.”

“I will shoot!” she declared. “I
will
.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it for an instant,” said Rance smoothly. “I know exactly who you are now. Would you like to lift off that mass of chestnut curls? No, I thought not. So here is what I ask, in small recompense for being hounded half to the grave: You will let me step inside and carry Lady Anisha out to safety—because, when that gun goes off, unless your aim is true, that bullet will fly wild. And if you kill
her
—if you harm so much as a hair on her head—then you will know what a true hell is.”

She flicked a guilty gaze toward the door. “V-Very well,” she said, shuffling back a step to make way. “Get down here. But be quick about it.”

His gaze locked to Anisha’s, Rance rose and came slowly down the stairs. Anisha realized she, too, was shaking now, her teeth literally chattering. Carefully and unhesitatingly, Rance passed through the line of fire, paced across the flagstone, then knelt to scoop her up. She was ashamed to hear herself burst into tears.

“Shush, love, I have you,” he said, pulling her to him.

But it was in that split second—just as Anisha threw her arms round Rance’s neck—that Leeton sprang. He launched himself at Mrs. Ashton, taking her over backward. She hitched up hard against the marble counter. The roar of gunpowder exploded. On instinct, Rance hurled himself over Anisha, attempting to cover her with his body. Deafened by the reverberation, she saw rather than heard Mrs. Ashton’s keening wail.

“Bloody hell!” Flicking a glance over his shoulder, Rance snatched Anisha up and spun on his boot heel. Wilfred Leeton lay dead at Mrs. Ashton’s feet, eyes staring into the rafters, a massive black hole square in the middle of his forehead.

“Oh!” Mrs. Ashton held up her shaking hands as if they’d been foreign, the gun clattering to the flagstones. “Oh,
God—
!”

Suddenly, Samir Belkadi swung in through the narrow door, landing below like a cat. “
Mon dieu! Qu’est-ce qui s’est passé?
”

Mrs. Ashton clasped her hands to her mouth.

“Coldwater shot the bastard,” said Rance matter-of-factly. “Here, take Anisha. She’s badly hurt.”

“
Coldwater
?” But Belkadi seized Anisha and carried her up the three steps.

“Stop,” she ordered, dashing away her tears. “Set me down.”

“
Non, madame,
” he said firmly. “You are bleeding. We are going to the tent.”

“Belkadi!” Somehow, she pounded at his shoulders. “Set me down. We must settle this.”

He crooked one dark brow, then set her down gently on an old millstone that lay near the door, surrounded by wildflowers. She gave a hysterical laugh at the contrast.

Beyond the house, a hue and cry had arisen. Rance looked shaken now, his gaze darting continually to hers as if to reassure himself she was well.

Elizabeth Colburne, however, was pacing the floor. “I’ve killed him!” she cried, clawing at her hair as if she was mad. “I’ve
killed
him.”

Rance reached out and caught her arm. She jerked, knocking the chestnut wig askew to reveal the red curls beneath. “Don’t touch me!” she cried. Then her face crumpled. “Oh, God, I did it! I
shot
him.”

Sympathy sketched across Rance’s face. He tightened his grip and drew her back. “No, Jack Coldwater killed him,” he said. “Leeton lunged. Jack fired. It was self-defense.”

Her eyes were wild. “But I meant to kill him!” she shrieked. “I
did
. Not then. Not at that second. But I wanted him to die.
Don’t you see
?”

This time Rance jerked her so hard her neck snapped. “Miss Colburne, get hold of yourself,” he ordered. “Do you hear that crowd coming? Now listen to me. Jack Coldwater—your brother—killed Leeton. There was a quarrel. Lady Anisha tried to intervene and was struck on the head. Jack shot Leeton and fled.”

“B-But I don’t have a brother!” she cried.

Anisha saw his fingers dig into her arm, watched his mind work feverishly for an instant. “Your mysterious
illegitimate
brother,” he said. “
Jack Coldwater.
He shot Leeton, having discovered the truth, and now he has fled—never to be seen again. Do you understand me?”

“I . . . yes,” she whispered. “But . . . why?”

“Why what?” said Rance tersely.

“Why do this?” Her eyes were pleading now. “—and for
me
?”

Rance cut one lingering glance at Anisha. “Because someone once told me it was better to have justice than vengeance,” he said quietly, “and this bloody well looks like justice to me.”

“A-All right.” Miss Colburne smoothed her hands down her skirts as if to calm herself. “I understand what . . . what to say.”

Rance looked round at Anisha and Belkadi. “Sam, do you understand?” he demanded.

“Oh,
oui,
perfectly!” said Belkadi smoothly. “All is obvious!”

“But I . . . I don’t understand anything,” said Anisha, whose temple still throbbed.

“Because you have taken a terrible blow to the head,” said Rance gently, “and will never remember a thing; you are not to be further involved. Samir has already sent for Napier, who will see to the rest of this business. He will
make it
go away.
”

“Ah, you think so?” asked Belkadi snidely.

Rance shrugged. “Or he can open an investigation,” he said, “and explain his father’s duplicity. That’s the choice I mean to give him. And you, Nish—you remember
nothing
. You will say not one word.”

“Oh,” said Anisha wanly. “Oh, that much I can manage . . . !”

But Rance had come to the door and reached through. His face twisted a little with grief as he set his hand to the turn of her cheek, now matted with hair and blood.

His eyes said he would never forgive himself.

But Anisha’s heart said she would ensure he did.

Epilogue

I’ll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail

Rich pearls upon thee.

William Shakespeare,
Antony and Cleopatra

T
en days after Jack Coldwater vanished from that mortal coil called London, Lord Lazonby prepared to shut up his house in Ebury Street and send all his servants on holiday. Well, all save Horsham and young Emmit. It little mattered anyway; he’d moved at once into Ruthveyn’s guest suite and had no intention of moving out anytime soon. Not until he judged Tom and Teddy ready to move on to a new life, and Lord Lucan safe to be left unsupervised.

He imagined it would be a while.

And so it was that Lazonby was sitting at his desk during one of his brief visits home, counting out the quarter-day salaries a whole fortnight early, when Horsham came in to complain about it all.

“I don’t understand,” said the valet bitterly, “why we are not to go on holiday, too.”

Rance flipped open his bankbook and looked up with a scowl. “Because you are being punished,” he said, snatching up his pen, “for letting Lady Anisha Stafford in my house.”

“For letting
her
in
your
house?” said Horsham indignantly. “But my lord, you’ve been
living
in hers! Indeed, you’ve not slept a night in your own bed in nearly two weeks!”

Rance cocked one eyebrow in warning. “Nor have I been sleeping in hers,” he said tightly. “She is a lady, I would beg you to recall. A lady with small children. And a brother to guard her virtue.”

Horsham sniffed, and flicked a piece of lint off the desk. “Much good
that
one
will do!”

“He’ll do well enough for my purposes,” said Rance, pushing away to yank open his top drawer. His eyes scanned over the contents. “Damn it, Horsham, where’s that case?”

“Case?” said the valet. “What case?”

“The case I sent you off to Garrard’s with,” Rance snapped. “And the same one you brought back again yesterday.”

Horsham sniffed again, came round to the other side, and drew open the bottom drawer, which held Lazonby’s massive cashbox. “I locked it up,” he returned. “I can’t think you want something like that just lying about.”

“Aye, you’re right. Thank you.” Lazonby unlocked the box just as the valet turned to go. “And Horsham?”

“What?”

Rance sighed and lifted out the padded velvet case. “You’re being kept because I need you. There are plans afoot.”

The valet drew himself up. “So I am indispensable?”

“Aye, and arrogant,” said Lazonby. “Don’t push your luck. I need you in Upper Grosvenor Street. And once there, you are going to make a valet out of young Emmit. Chatterjee, Lord Lucan’s man, has quit in a snit, taken himself a cottage, and bought himself a broodmare.”

“Good God!” said Horsham.

“Don’t get any ideas,” said Lazonby. “Now have my cabriolet brought round.”

Half an hour later, he found Anisha in her bedchamber, curled up against a pile of pillows with a thick book, Tom and Teddy nestled to either side of her. After a soft knock on the open door, he strolled in, grinning down at the three of them.

“Ah!” he said, “what is the subject today?”

Anisha smiled and straightened up. “Astronomy,” she said, softly closing the book. “One of the few things I’m actually qualified to teach.”

Rance smiled into her eyes, the case held discreetly behind his back. “Oh, I don’t know about that, old thing,” he said with perfect solemnity. “You’ve taught me a vast deal.”

Anisha laughed and handed Tom the book. “All right, boys, back upstairs with you,” she said. “It is time for Mr. Jeffers and Latin.”

“Oh,
veni, vidi, vici
!” said Teddy, collapsing onto the mattress with a huff. “That’s Latin, Lazonby, for
I’m so bored, I could just die
!”

“Oh, I think you shall survive it.” Rance offered down a hand to heft the boy back up. “God knows I did. Now come along, lads. Do as your mother says, and no wheedling.”

But Teddy just scowled up at him and let his arms flop back into the softness of the bed. “You aren’t really supposed to be in here, you know,” he complained, but there was no true rancor in his tone. “Not unless you are
married
.”

Rance pulled a long face. “Well, I thought perhaps I might get away with it? If I just left the door open?”

Teddy shook his head, his blonde curls scrubbing the counterpane.

Rance sighed and patted his pocket. “All right, then,” he said. “You are demanding I do the honorable thing, I collect?”

“I guess so,” said Teddy, blinking innocently up at him.

“Well, you leave me no choice,” he said, extracting a slip of paper. “Here you go, Teddy. A special license, and the ink scarcely dry.”

Teddy grinned and bounced up to look it. “Like a license to get married?”

“It seems I cannot keep visiting your mother’s bedchamber otherwise,” said Rance.

Tom laid the book down and looked solemnly up at him. “Are you going to be our father?” he asked.

Rance ruffled his gold curls, his gaze catching Anisha’s, which had gone soft. “I am going to be your mother’s husband,” he replied, “if she’ll have me. And I should very much like to be your father. But you must choose, for you’ve already had one. You mightn’t want a replacement.”

Tom looked uncharacteristically shy. “I don’t really remember him,” he said. “I think I should quite like to have a new father.”

But Teddy remained recalcitrant. “For my part,” he complained, “I should like a father who won’t make me study Latin.”

“Aye, mayhap, but that’s not the kind you get,” said Rance grimly. “Sorry about that, my boy.”

Teddy stuck his lip out, then suddenly brightened again. “Are you any good at cricket?”

Rance smiled down into Anisha’s eyes again, deeper and deeper. Straight to her heart, he prayed. “Lethally good,” he said. “Really, really good. I can play cricket, my boy, till your lungs want to burst and your legs want to collapse and your brain wishes to sleep for a se’night—all of which would serve you well, frankly, and keep you out of a vast deal of trouble, too, I daresay.”

“Well,
hmm
.” Teddy finally took Rance’s hand and clambered off the tall bed. “I shall go upstairs and think on it.”

“Excellent,” said Rance. “I trust we may come to some mutual agreement about your mother’s future. Now off you go, and right this minute. Today’s the day I’m going to get down on bended knee and beg her to become Lady Lazonby, and no man wants a witness to such mortifying prostration.”

“What’s prostration?”

“Oh, someday you will meet the perfect woman, Teddy,” said Rance, “and then you will surely know. Until then, go, and remain blithe in your ignorance.”

“My, is it really such a misery to be in love?” asked Anisha, grinning up at him when the boys were gone.

Rance set one knee to the bed and leaned over. “Humbling,” he said, lightly kissing her. “Utterly lowering.” He kissed the turn of her throat. “I am your slave, my dear, and entirely without will. Please say that you will have me, and put me out of my misery?”

Anisha ran a hand through his mane of unruly curls. “Very well, I shall have you,” she said lightly, “
if
you will get a haircut.”

“My God, you are
so
easy!” he said, settling lightly onto the bed beside her. “Fine, then. A haircut. Here, my girl, I’ve brought you something.”

He laid the green velvet case in her lap, and she gasped with pleasure. “A betrothal gift!” she cried.

He shook his head. “No, actually it was already yours,” he said. “Janet helped me steal it—and I’m glad she isn’t leaving, by the way.”

“Well, I had to double her salary,” said Anisha, “and Chatterjee’s, too, more or less. He’s going to work half days—but at least he’s back.”

Rance grinned. “Just like what’s in this case, my dear,” he said, tapping it with one finger. “Gone but briefly, now home again.”

Her perfectly arched brows snapped together. “How very odd,” she said. “And am I to open it?”

Propped up on one elbow, he lifted his other hand, palm up. “As I say, my dear, it is yours.”

Anisha flicked open the brass clasp, lifted the lid, and gasped. Her mother’s wide kundan choker blinked up at her, newly polished—and just a little different.

“Oh, my heavens!” she cried, gently lifting it out. “It’s . . . altered somehow.”

“Lift up the next layer,” Rance suggested.

“Really?” Setting the choker back in, Anisha lifted the top compartment fully out. A long strand of pearls lay nestled in the bottom of the box. “More pearls?” she said, mystified. “No, wait—that ruby clasp—why, these are Grandmamma Forsythe’s pearls!”

“Yes,” said Rance, “but different. Much shorter, in fact.”

Anisha returned her gaze to the brilliantly hued choker, which now dangled with fat, creamy pearls. Three pearls per strand, all suspended from the last row of gemstones, positioned such that they caught the deep colors of the jewels and reflected them up again in a rich rainbow of sapphire, emerald, and ruby.

At last, recognition dawned. “Oh, my God!” she cried. “You . . . you hung
Grandmamma Forsythe’s
pearls on
Mother’s
choker?”

Rance reached out and lightly brushed one with the tip of his finger, setting it ashimmer in the morning light. “I thought Saraswati might approve,” he said softly, “because you are not, my girl, a simple thing. You are deeply complex—like fine jewelry, a precious amalgam of more than one thing. And I love and embrace all that you are. I just . . . well, I guess I just wanted you to be utterly sure of that.”

“Oh, Rance—!” she whispered, eyes aglow. “How perfectly brilliant this is!”

“So now, Nish, your jewelry matches you,” he said. “For you’re perfectly brilliant just as you are—all blended together—and all the more beautiful for it.”

At that, she practically hurled the jewels aside and kissed him long and hard. “Oh!” she whispered a long moment later. “Oh, Rance! When you asked me to marry you, did I remember to say
yes
?”

“Yes.” He kissed her again, this time cradling her face in his hands. “Yes. You said
yes
—which is a good thing, since Sutherland is coming in the morning.”

She laughed, and kissed him again.

“However,” he managed to say between kisses, “
if
I were any sort of gentleman at all, I would write to your brother, plead my case, ask his permission—and his forgiveness—then wait respectfully for his answer.”

Anisha looked up, her eyes dancing—yet glinting a little dangerously, too.

“Rance Welham,” she said firmly, “you haven’t behaved respectfully in the whole of your life. And if you start now—if you postpone for one more day giving me what I want out of some misplaced sense of honor—then
I
shall respectfully wrap what is left of Grandmamma Forsythe’s pearls round your throat
and throttle you with them
!”