Dangerous to Hold (41 page)

“No,” she cried out. “Oh, God, no!”

She heard the report of the pistol, saw
El Grande
go
tumbling from his mount, then Excalibar plowed into David in a flurry of flashing hooves, cutting off his cry of terror.

Catherine screamed and ran for
El Grande’s
lifeless form. Then the militia came up, and it was all over.

The door opened to admit Penn, and the dowager countess turned from the window that looked out on the square. Samantha broke off what she’d been saying.

Penn addressed his mother. “Marcus wants to see you.”

“I saw the physician leave. Is everything all right?”

“Yes. The bullet was lodged in a fleshy part of his thigh. He suffered a good deal of pain when it was removed, but he’s comfortable now, or he will be as soon as he takes the laudanum the physician ordered. He won’t take it till he sees you.”

She moistened her lips, nodded, and began to follow him out. When Samantha tried to come with them, Penn shook his head. “Not yet. He’ll see you later,” he said.

He waited until they had begun to ascend the stairs before saying to the countess, “Don’t be frightened, Mother. I’m not sorry he’s found out. In fact, it comes as a great relief to me.”

She wasn’t frightened so much as stunned. She was confused and horrified by everything she had learned that morning. That David Lytton had tried to murder Marcus, and now David was dead, that Catalina had been there too, only she wasn’t Catalina, she was an English girl, and she had also escaped being murdered by David. The young man who had saved them both was seriously wounded; no one knew whether he would survive. They were in Hampstead right now, in Catalina’s house, and a very nice man, Major Carruthers, had brought Marcus home. The major had insisted on speaking to her in Penn’s presence, which was awkward since Penn had been
feeling out of sorts and had to be roused from his bed. So far they had kept the worst of it from Samantha. Marcus would decide what she must be told.

She glanced at her son; he looked like death warmed over. She was sure he’d been drinking again, but she couldn’t worry about that now. Marcus wished to speak with her, and she didn’t know how she could face him or her children.

Outside Marcus’s door, she put a hand on Penn’s sleeve, halting him. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered.

He replied gently, “I’ll be right there beside you, Mother,” and he pushed into the room.

Marcus was sitting up in bed. When they entered, two footmen withdrew. Penn led his mother to a chair on one side of the bed and seated her. He stood at the foot of the bed, leaning against the carved post on the other side so that his mother could see him at all times.

Marcus looked as though he’d been beaten by a prize fighter. His face was swollen, and there were bruises on his cheeks and temples. Sweat beaded his brow. He gave the countess a ghost of a smile. “Don’t worry, Helen,” he said. “What I found out from David Lytton makes no difference to us. You and Penn and the others are still my family. But I must know where we stand. I’ve asked Penn to explain things but he says it’s not his story to tell.”

“Yes. Penn told me.”

He said gently, “Why don’t you begin at the beginning and tell me what happened.”

She looked at Penn and he nodded. For a moment or two, she hesitated, then she swallowed and began to describe an episode in her life that was obviously very painful. She couldn’t look at Marcus. Instead she stared at the lace handkerchief that she was twisting and untwisting.

“I never wanted to marry your father,” she said. “I was in love with someone else. I was only eighteen. Your father was almost forty. I knew of him by reputation. He drank too much. He was … well, he wasn’t the kind of man any decent girl would want to marry. You know what happened. He abducted me and carried me off to Wrotham Castle. He didn’t want to marry me. I wasn’t of his class. He wanted to make me his mistress, but I would
have none of it. I might not be of his class, but I came from a decent family. My father had several shops in London. I was well educated.

“When your father saw that he could not persuade me he offered marriage, and I laughed in his face. I was so sure that my father would rescue me. Instead, my father wrote me a letter saying that if I refused to marry the earl, he would wash his hands of me.

“What could I do without money or friends to help me? So, we were married—at least, I thought we were. Your father’s young chaplain performed the service and registered the marriage. I was too naive to know that without a license, without banns called, the marriage wasn’t legal.”

For the first time, she looked directly at Marcus. “John was only eighteen. He wasn’t a priest—he had yet to take holy orders. And your father threatened him—made it clear that if he did not do as he wanted, he would never be a priest. Years later John confessed everything to me.”

“John? Do you mean John Reeves, my chaplain?” demanded Marcus. “Why didn’t anyone ever tell me? Why was John never dismissed?”

“I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want my children to bear that shame. And as for John, he was as much your father’s victim as I was. Since then, he’s always been a true friend to me.”

There was a silence and she took a moment to compose herself before going on. “For all those years I suspected nothing. It never occurred to me that a man would install his mistress in his family’s ancient seat. And your father always insisted that everyone address me as his countess. He liked nothing better than to snap his fingers in the world’s face.
Look at Wrotham
, his cronies would say.
He lives by his own rules.

“I should have known, I suppose, when he did not give me the bridal bracelet. He said it was lost, and I believed him. And when his friends came to call, and they did not bring their wives or daughters with them, your father had a glib tongue. His friends were of noble birth, he told me. They looked down on me because I was only a
tailor’s daughter. More than ten years were to pass before I learned the truth.”

Marcus looked at Penn. “But surely this wasn’t generally known? I never heard anything to suggest—” He broke off.

“Yes,” said Penn. “There were rumors, but for the most part, they were discounted. After all, we were living in Wrotham Castle, and you acknowledged us as your family. You can have no idea what a burden that was. I’m glad you know. I wanted to tell you years ago.”

“It wouldn’t have made the slightest difference,” said Marcus emphatically, “not to me. Go on, Helen. How did you learn the truth?”

She shook her head. “Suffice it to say, I discovered the truth by accident. Our marriage was a fraud. When I confronted him with what I knew, he laughed in my face. I wanted to leave him, but where could I go? He refused to let me take my children with me, and even if he’d agreed to let them go, how could I support myself? And so I stayed on.”

“I’m sorry,” said Marcus. “I’m so bitterly sorry.”

She looked down at her hands. “So you see, all this time, David Lytton was your heir. I never saw any reason to enlighten you. I assumed you would marry and have children. Then no one would ever know.”

“And if something had happened to me, what then?”

Penn said, “The truth would have come out, of course.”

“And everything would go to David,” said Marcus.

“Naturally.”

“How long have you known this, Penn?”

“Since you went off to war. Mother felt she had to tell me then, in case something happened to you. We decided not to tell Samantha or Tris. It was our secret.”

A thought occurred to Marcus, and he smiled.

“What’s so amusing?” asked Penn.

Marcus said, “All the time I was a solder, I felt cut off, thinking that my family didn’t care what happened to me. But you did care, didn’t you?”

Penn grinned. “I think I can assure you that no two people prayed more fervently for your safe return than
Mother and I.” He rose. “You need to rest, Marcus. We should leave you now.”

He took the cup with the solution of laudanum and offered it to Marcus. Marcus accepted it but did not drink from it yet. He wasn’t quite finished.

He looked at his stepmother.

“What is it, Marcus?” she asked.

“I don’t want you to worry about this, Helen. Things will go on as before, and there will be no scandal, I promise you. Penn and I have everything under control. Tristram and Samantha won’t ever have to know anything.”

She seemed dazed, but she nodded.

“Good. Now I need to speak to Penn. Why don’t you go on downstairs and wait for him there.”

When he and Penn were alone, Marcus came straight to the point. “This is an intolerable situation, Penn, this business about the succession. I could kill my father for what he has done to Helen, what he has done to you all. I meant what I said. You and I are going to take care of everything.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean that if anything happens to me, there will be no scandal. Good God! The marriage is recorded in the chapel register. All we need do is forge a marriage certificate. I don’t know why you didn’t think of it years ago, when I was away at war.”

Penn looked dumbfounded, then he began to laugh. “I did think about it. But you’re forgetting one thing. Our chaplain wasn’t a priest then. How do you propose to get around that?”

“That’s a mere detail. Let’s add some other divine’s name to all the records, someone who is dead and can’t be questioned. And it will never come to that, now that you are all established in society. Why do you look like that?”

Penn shook his head. “I thought I knew you, but now I see I was wrong. We have more in common than I thought.”

“Fine,” said Marcus, and had to clear his throat before continuing. “Let’s get onto it first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Whatever you say, Marcus,” said Penn, and they both smiled.

“Now,” said Marcus, “let’s get back to what happened tonight. You haven’t told me yet how the militia came to be involved.”

“Apparently, the militia were on their regular patrol, and
El Grande
passed them on his way to Heath House. When he found a trail of blood leading from a downstairs room on to the terrace, he turned around and called the militia in to help him find you.”

“I wonder why he came back?”

“I don’t know. But the major said he’ll return tomorrow to go over things with you.”

“So Carruthers wasn’t with the militia when they found us? I didn’t think he was, but I was pretty well out of it by that time, and couldn’t make out who was there and who wasn’t. I remember David smashing my face into the ground, then a terrible silence that was broken by
El Grande’s
unholy yell. I saw
El Grande
with the militia behind him, and that’s all I remember.”

“No, Carruthers didn’t arrive until later after Catherine sent one of the soldiers to fetch him when they were bringing you home. He pretty well took charge of things here. By the way, he wants us only to say that you and David were attacked by highwaymen. That’s what I told Samantha and what I shall tell Tris when he gets here.”

Marcus nodded. “Obviously, we must keep this whole thing quiet. I don’t want anyone asking questions about what David hoped to gain if he killed Catherine and me. Anything more on
El Grande?”

“Not yet. But he’s young and strong, and the major said he’s been in worse fixes. Now drink down that laudanum.”

“In a minute. If Catherine comes here, I don’t care whether it’s in the middle of the night, wake me up. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand, but you still have a lot of explaining to do, brother dear. However, let’s leave that till you’re on your feet.”

Marcus drank down the laudanum and handed the glass to Penn.

“Now get some sleep,” said Penn. He shut the door softly as he exited.

Halfway down the stairs, he stopped and thought about what Marcus had proposed to do about regularizing his mother’s marriage. Though he was sure that Marcus and his wife would produce the next heir, still, Marcus’s gesture touched him deeply. At the same time, his own behavior made him bitterly ashamed. He was thinking now of the previous night and his own sorry part in it.

If he had not been a drunken sot, he might have prevented what had taken place on Hampstead Heath. It had come to him during dinner that the murderer must be David, but he’d been incapable of acting on it. He’d been the butt of everyone’s amusement, and whenever he opened his mouth, they had gone off in peals of laughter. And so, while Marcus and his wife were fighting for their lives, he had been sleeping in his bed in a drunken stupor. His head was still pounding and his throat felt as though he’d swallowed the Sahara Desert. But that was the least of it. Nothing could be worse than this unrelenting sense of guilt.

Never again! Never again!

As he said the words inside his head, he tasted the conviction in them, and he felt a glimmer of hope. One day, he would ask Marcus’s forgiveness. There were a lot of people whose forgiveness he should be asking.

He went on down the stairs to look for his mother.

Upstairs, Marcus closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep, but he knew that in spite of the laudanum, sleep would not come easily. His thigh felt as if there were a fishhook embedded inside it. The last time he’d felt like this, Catherine had been there to nurse him.