Trial by Desire (36 page)

Kate smiled up at him in sheer relief. Thank God; she’d goaded him into showing his true nature. She’d won. They’d won.

For the first time since they’d come into the room, Kate didn’t pitch her voice to carry. This, after all, she didn’t want overheard. “In the stories,” Kate whispered, “the heroine slays the dragon.”

A puzzled frown lit his face.

“She lops off his head and brings it to the villagers. And they build a bonfire, and everyone celebrates because darkness has been banished from the land.”

“Dragons?” Harcroft snarled. “Dragons? What the hell are dragons doing in this conversation?” He raised his hand. In another second, his fist would smash into her face. Pinned as she was against the parquet floor, there was no escape. She ought to have been frightened. Her heart should have been hammering, but instead, all she felt was a heady sense of absolute victory. He couldn’t hurt her. She smiled up at him; his eyes narrowed.

“True heroes,” she told him, “tame their dragons.”

“Harcroft.” The voice came from behind him. “You’d better stop.”

Harcroft turned, his hand arrested in midair.

It was Ned. He’d been waiting in the servants’ corridor. He came forward now, limping carefully, his crutches tapping sharply against the parquet.

“How many times must I tell you?” Ned’s voice was quiet. “Get your hands off my wife. Now.”

Harcroft didn’t move.

“Careful, Harcroft. You don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.”

“Regret?” Harcroft let out a shaky breath. “Regret? You of all people know—what have I to regret? It’s not
me.
” His hands tightened, digging into Kate’s shoulder. “I— If I had my wife back, it wouldn’t be like this.”

“Oh? You’ve never hit Louisa, then?”

“By accident.” The words were hoarse. “Never on purpose. It wasn’t my fault. Not truly.”

“It wasn’t your fault?”

“You know how it is. I get so angry—
she
makes me so angry. I can’t let it go. She
makes
me do it, damn it. They all do. I can’t stop it.”

Ned smiled. “You can’t stop it, Harcroft. But I can.”

“Unlikely. You can’t even walk properly.”

Ned took another limping step toward them. Even wounded as he obviously was, he towered over Harcroft. And then he knelt
down
on the ground. “I don’t need to.” His voice was quiet. His hand found Kate’s, curling around hers, replacing the cold of the ballroom with that tiny spot of warmth.

“What? What do you mean?”

Ned glanced behind him. “Are you satisfied,
Lord Chancellor?
”

Harcroft’s head whipped around. “Lord Chancellor? Lord Chancellor? Lyndhurst is here?”

From behind the screen came two gentlemen. One, a short bespectacled man, pressed his lips together. He was dressed in sober brown—the physician, Kate guessed. The other man she’d seen earlier in his full ceremonial garb. In the darkness, the gold stripes on the Lord Chancellor’s robe had faded to ochre.

“Lord Chancellor.” Harcroft stared up at him in disbelief and scrabbled to his feet. “I— That is, what are you doing here? I thought—”

“I’m evaluating whether we need to call an inquiry in lunacy.”

Harcroft glanced around. “But…but my wife is elsewhere. Why would you need to be here?”

“Because I’ve had two petitions brought. One by you, against your wife. And one by your wife, against you. By your own admission, these last few minutes, you pose a physical danger to those around you. One you are incapable of controlling.”

“But—”

The bespectacled man leaned forward. “There’s evidence of hallucinations, too. A potential cause. That talk of dragons.”

“This can’t be right. I took a first in Cambridge—”

“It
does
happen sometimes. Especially to intelligent men. And there’s so much this might explain, such as bringing that odd suit against your wife’s friend simply because you forgot that she went abroad. Did you truly forget, Lord Harcroft, or did you have another, more dangerous illusion?”

“But—”

“You’ll be evaluated fairly,” the Lord Chancellor promised. “The evidence will be considered by a jury of your peers. Your rights will be considered. We’ll do only what’s best for you. And if you are found incompetent, we’ll appoint a trustee to oversee your properties.”

“A trustee? You’re joking. You would give someone complete legal control over my destiny? Doubtless you think to lodge that responsibility in Carhart, here. This has all been a plot from the beginning, an attempt to get me to give up—”

“No.” The word was softly spoken. But as Louisa stepped from behind the screen, her back was straight and her shoulders unbowed. “I had rather thought they would appoint me.” She looked at him—simply looked—and Harcroft’s mouth dropped open, no doubt tracing through all the implications.

A husband had control over his wife—every husband, that was, except one who had been declared incompetent
by the courts. In that case, he controlled nothing. And his trustee…why, she might control everything.

Harcroft sat back on his heels. His eyes fluttered shut, and he put his head in his hands. He’d lost. He’d well and truly lost now.

After all that Harcroft had done, it should have been impossible to feel sorry for him. And yet Kate did, not because he deserved any such emotion from her. But perhaps because he so plainly didn’t. For a second he sat there, almost despairing. Then he stood, stiffly.

He brushed his coat into place and looked over at his wife. For one second, he seemed the old Harcroft again, the Harcroft that everyone always saw—full of charm and grace, doing nothing wrong. He was the man who took firsts at Cambridge, who never missed a point in fencing. He looked one last time at Louisa.

“Louisa,” he said, all confident assurance. “You’ve always known I loved you. You wouldn’t do this to me.”

“I want the very best for you,” she replied. “I hear there are excellent sanitariums in Switzerland.”

Harcroft’s eyes pinched closed, as if she’d spoken the final benediction over his grave. And then, oh so carefully, he adjusted his coat.

“My lord,” the physician said, “we’ll have to take you into custody before the inquiry.”

Harcroft inclined his head and walked from the room.

Kate scrambled to her knees. Ned took her hand in his. She wasn’t sure if he helped her to her feet, after that difficult ordeal, or if she helped him, with his limp.

Perhaps there wasn’t any difference any longer.

“H
ERE WE ARE
,” Ned said gaily. “We’ve arrived.”

“Yes,” Kate replied from her somewhat uncomfortable seat on the carriage, “but
where
have we arrived? You’re the one who directed the coachman, and I have been forced to wear this uncomfortable thing about my eyes.”

“It’s called a blindfold,” her husband told her, which was not helpful in the slightest. “Here. I’ll help you alight.” She reached out her hand blindly, searching for his.

His hand took hers, steady and strong even though he was leaning on crutches all the while.

They’d left the hubbub of London behind them. In the distance, she smelled burning leaves. The air was chilly, but not cold. Cattle lowed.

“Have you taken me to a farm?” she guessed.

“Good guess.” His hand found the small of her back. “But no.” He turned her. The bulk of his body radiated heat behind her. “You can take off your blindfold now.”

Kate raised her hands to her eyes and eased the cloth off her head.

She was facing a house—a large country house, gray but not uninviting. The grass around her was still damp with morning dew; little wisps of mist rose up around them, restricting her view. She thought there were trees off in the distance, but she couldn’t be sure through the fog. She could see nothing through the windows—no light, no movement.

“It’s an empty house,” she said in confusion.

“Correct,” her husband replied. “But also completely
wrong. It’s
your
empty house.” His arm came around her and he stared ahead.

Kate waited for an explanation, but he just looked ahead of him with a faint half smile on his face. “Very well, Ned. What am I supposed to do with an empty house?”

“As it happens,” he said, “I had a windfall of five thousand pounds. I promised the gentlemen of London to spend it on something for you. There’s a bit of attached land—not much, but enough for a garden.”

He didn’t say anything more, and so she turned around, looking. Behind her stood an empty paddock and barn. “Don’t tell me this is for Champion.”

Beyond the wooden structure, a lake was barely visible through the mist.

“No.” Ned grinned. “Haven’t you guessed, then? Maybe you should see the property.”

Nothing came to mind as she walked the perimeter of the paddock. He followed behind her, his steps uneven. They came to the shore of the small lake, and rocks crunched underfoot.

“I confess. I still don’t understand.”

Ned had been wearing a satchel the entire journey. He slipped it from his shoulders and fumbled the buckle open. “Here. Take this out.”

Kate glanced inside. Sitting on top of a pile of sandwiches wrapped in paper was a pistol—the same pistol she’d stolen from Ned and given to Louisa. She glanced up at him again, but he only motioned once more.

She reached in and took it. The metal was hard against her gloves.

“Over the years,” he told her, “you’ve done a great deal of good. You’ve helped people. And you’ve done it so silently, so quietly that half the
ton
has never even glanced beyond your face to see who you truly are inside. You’ve hidden yourself away.”

“I— But if people
knew
…”

“Not everyone needs to know,” he said quietly. “But more than me and Gareth and Jenny. Some of your friends. Your parents.”

She sucked in a breath. “But my father— He’ll—”

She’d had a thousand reasons to keep silent about what she’d done, and they all bombarded her now. He’d take work from her. He’d dismiss what she’d done.

But, no. He couldn’t do that any longer. If Ned approved, her father couldn’t change a thing. And so Kate examined the worst possibility of all—if he knew that she wasn’t the fragile daughter he believed her to be, he might not care for her any longer.

“Whatever it is you fear,” he said gently, “take it and toss it away.”

She drew in a shaky breath.

“I mean that literally,” he said. “Because you’re holding my fears, too—that pistol and I have been through a great deal together. Throw it as far as you can.”

The gun felt heavier in her hands. She looked up at Ned once more, and then slowly hefted the weapon. It seemed too weighty to just toss away, and yet too light to contain all her fears. Still, she heaved it.

It flew in a sailing arc over the water. For one brief second, it caught the morning sun. It glinted. And then the waters closed around it with a splash.

She felt immensely lighter.

“Now,” Ned said, “you have someplace to bring the women who need your help, which is rather better than a shepherd’s cottage. I thought you might show your parents the house, when they come down to London next Season.”

Kate swallowed. She turned around in a slow circle, looking at the house with new eyes. It was no manor house, but it was large enough for the purpose. It was not just a house; it was a statement of hope. It was a promise that he would not turn away in disgust if she proved strong. It was an invitation for her to let the people she cared about see how brilliantly she could shine.

“You know,” Ned said, “once they get over their surprise, they’ll be proud. I promise.”

“How did you know?” she asked, her voice shaky. “How did you know what I wanted, before I even wanted it?”

“That’s easy,” he said, sliding his arms about her. “It’s because I love you.”

EPILOGUE

Six months later

A
FTER A LONG WINTER,
the trees were finally sporting apple-green leaves. The dark mulch of the fields was broken up by new growth snaking up through the soil. After an arduous fight in Chancery, one that had been as short as it was only by dint of the pressure applied by the Marquess of Blakely, Louisa had finally won. As if to make up for those months of worry, spring had burst upon the scene.

As painful as those months had been, they had been bearable for Kate because Ned had been with her. Kate was walking outside, arm-in-arm with her husband, and smiling. Twenty yards distant—just outside the paddock where Champion had once resided—Jenny and Louisa sat on a rug. Beside them, their children played. With the coming of spring, Jeremy had suddenly decided it was time to scoot in earnest. Jenny’s daughter, the older, larger, much more vocal Rosa, was delighted to have a new playmate, one who would undoubtedly do her bidding.

“Did I ever tell you,” Ned mused, “how Champion saved me on the night I broke my leg?”

“No. How?”

“I was clinging to the fence rail, sure I couldn’t take
another step forward without falling on my face. I had convinced myself it was impossible for me to move. Then, Champion being Champion, he charged.”

“What? Is that why you had him sent away?”

Ned smiled. “Yes, although not for the reason you imagine. You see, I thought I couldn’t have walked any farther, but as I wanted to live, I discovered I could move. It was a good thing to know.”

He paused and plucked a dandelion from the grass. “I wanted him to improve because I wanted to believe anything could happen—that if Champion could redeem himself, so could I. But what I really needed to do was realize that I was already saved. And what Champion truly needed was not the weight of my expectations, but someone who would give him no chores, have no expectations of him except that he eat hay.” Ned smiled at Kate. “From what I’ve heard from the vicar we pensioned off a few years ago, being around a pair of old nanny goats—no other horses, no threatening humans—has been good for Champion.”

Only her husband would worry about the comfort of a horse that had threatened him. Kate smiled. “Aren’t you a little disappointed, to have tamed all your dragons? Whatever will you do with your afternoons?”