His Obsession (31 page)

Once again, Sykes flicked the whip at
Richard, but this time, the earl grabbed the knotted end of the
whip and reeled himself in. If Sykes was ugly from far away, being
up close to him was appalling. The man’s jaw was covered with
several days’ growth of beard and his mouth hung down at one side.
Sykes’ hooked nose was a little twisted where it had apparently
been broken and his dark, beady little eyes glared at Richard as he
stared him down. The lord’s accomplice reeked of bad liquor and
coal dust, too. Lord Lawton must have found Sykes in a lowly tavern
somewhere, a place in which a desperate man might do anything for a
few gold coins.

Suddenly, Sykes tried to head butt Richard.
The earl attempted to duck in time, but Sykes was just too close.
The blow glanced off the left side of Richard’s face and he
staggered back, shaking his head to clear it. Behind him, he could
hear the coach racing away. The horses’ hooves striking the paving
stones thundered in Richard’s skull, drumming like an urgent
heartbeat. He couldn’t allow himself to go down. A woman’s life
might very well depend on it.

Although a small crowd was now assembling
behind him, Richard doubted any of the servants had the skills to
reach the coach in time. The unconscious woman inside had no idea
that she was in danger. If Richard couldn’t reach her soon, the
coach might very well turn over, killing her instantly in the
ensuing accident.

With new resolve, Richard narrowed the
distance between himself and Sykes. No matter what it cost him,
Richard knew he had to disable his opponent quickly and turn his
attention to stopping the runaway coach.

Something flickered in Sykes’ eyes. Whether
it was fear or something else, Richard couldn’t say, but the big
man abruptly threw down the whip and ran. The small crowd gathered
near the garden wall cheered in triumph, but Richard had no
intention of allowing Sykes to escape so easily.

Immediately, Richard gave chase. Mud
splattered the bottom of Richard’s legs and covered his shoes as he
charged through muddy puddles of water in the street, but he never
broke stride.

Sykes proceeded along the side of the manor
house to the front of the building. There, he grabbed the reins of
one of the horses and struggled into the saddle. The horse clearly
didn’t appreciate Sykes’ weight, but the beast still charged off
into the night.

Richard borrowed one of the horses tied to
the posts in front of the building. Quickly, he swung into the
saddle and followed Sykes as he attempted to catch up with the
coach. Thankfully, the brown stallion Richard obtained from the
front of the manor was a fine animal. He raced like the wind. It
wasn’t long before Richard began to narrow the distance between
himself and Sykes.

Richard watched in horror as Sykes finally
caught up to the black coach and managed to clamber onto the
conveyance. The door to the coach itself still hung open, flapping
in the breeze like some wounded sparrow.

Was the woman still inside the vehicle?
Richard couldn’t say. He prayed that somehow, the woman had managed
to remain where she was, instead of bouncing out of the racing
coach and onto the hard stones below.

Foot by agonizing foot, Richard approached
the rear of the coach. Houses and business establishments streaked
by as Richard struggled to gain a foot or hand hold on the back of
the conveyance. From his position in the driver’s seat, Sykes
swerved the coach closer to some of the buildings, attempting to
cut Richard off. Putting on a burst of sudden speed, Richard
managed to reach the right side of the coach, finally clambering
inside.

Richard tugged the burlap bag off of the
woman’s head, freeing her at last. As they rounded a corner, the
light from a passing tavern briefly illuminated Kate’s bruised
face.

“Kate!” Richard cried, shaking her to bring
her around.

Richard gritted his teeth in anger. No one
struck the woman he loved and got away with it!

That revelation brought Richard up short. He
hadn’t expected to love Kate Overton. He hadn’t expected much from
his marriage at all, really. Kate was but a pawn in the deal struck
with her father. Yet she’d emerged as a consort fit for a king. By
the grace of God, she belonged to him. If only Richard could save
both of their skins, he might have a chance of making it up to
Kate.

Richard swung out of the coach door and
clambered up the side of the slippery vehicle. It was everything
Richard could do to pull himself up onto the top of the rain
slicked coach. Quickly, he ducked an overhanging sign and crawled
toward the front of the vehicle.

Sykes saw him coming. Charles’ accomplice
wound the horses’ reins around the brake handle and stepped up onto
the seat to meet Richard. This time, Richard struck first. His
right hand ached with the force of the blow, but the big man didn’t
even waver. Sykes pursued Richard across the top of the coach, his
large dirty hands flexing rhythmically. Once Richard reached the
side of the coach, he could go no further and Sykes swung a wicked
right aimed at Richard’s jaw.

Richard promptly ducked, unknowingly avoiding
another sign hanging low over the street. However, Sykes did not
see the obstacle in time. The large piece of iron embedded itself
through Sykes’ body, skewering him like a sausage. Sykes was swept
off the top of the coach in an instant and he cried out in agony as
he dangled from the signage, his long legs kicking
spasmodically.

By the time Richard clambered onto the
coachman’s seat and managed to get the conveyance turned around,
Sykes was dead. A group of onlookers from the tavern had managed to
locate a ladder and they were attempting to get the big man back
onto the ground.

Richard drew the coach to a stop at the side
of the tavern. The horses blew up small clouds of steamy breath as
their breathing attempted to return to normal. Richard set the
brake and swiftly tied the reins to the handle.

Anxiously, Richard climbed over the side of
the vehicle and opened the coach door. There, lying amidst a sea of
green taffeta, was his wife, Kate. Although she’d nearly been
abducted and very possibly killed in a horrible carriage accident,
Kate had somehow remained unscathed. Richard smiled and wrapped his
arms around her, cradling her soft body against his chest.

“Kate? Kate, wake up,” Richard called to
her.

Insistently, Richard patted Kate’s pale
cheeks and hands, hoping that the stimuli would bring her around.
Mentally, he cursed the lord who had been attempting to abduct her.
If the fool had caused Kate any permanent injury, Richard swore he
wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.

At last, throwing caution to the winds,
Richard bent his head and kissed her. At first, Kate remained limp
in his arms, then Richard felt her respond. In a few moments, Kate
was kissing him back. Richard chuckled and pulled away enough to
grin down at her.

“Mmmmm. Richard?” Kate drowsily asked.

“Yes?”

“I love you,” Kate told him.

Richard’s heart soared at her words.

“Are you very certain, my lady?” Richard
inquired, grinning down at her.

“I am,” Kate confirmed, gently cradling the
side of his face with her hand.

“That’s a very good thing,” Richard firmly
declared.

“Why?”

“Because I love you, too.”

Kate smiled broadly, her little white teeth
shining in the carriage side lights. Richard laughed for the sheer
joy of it.

“That being the case, madam, I think we
should do something about it. Don’t you agree?” Richard
proposed.

“Definitely.”

Those standing around the coach were most
perplexed when the vehicle began to shake vigorously. It was also
some time before the earl and his countess finally emerged, looking
a little rumpled, perhaps, but unaccountably pleased with
themselves.

The dark blue carriage turned into the long
drive and Kate caught her breath at the magnificence of the Duke of
Hawksbury’s gate house. The house was a two story, gray stone
structure with impressive ten paned windows with arched lights
above. It appeared to have been there for over a hundred years or
more. Kate couldn’t help wondering if the gate house was so
opulent, what would the main house be like?

Seeing her reticence, Richard reached over
from the seat across from her and gently took her hand.

“Think positively, Kate,” Richard bid her.
“Aren’t you glad that the old duke wants to see you at last?”

“Yes. No,” Kate worried, twisting her lace
edged handkerchief into knots. “Oh, I don’t know. What if I’m not
who he thinks I am?”

“You worry too much. Despite what Charles
Lawton tried to do to you, you do owe him some thanks. At least
he’s given you an idea of who you are,” Richard assured her.

“Who I
might
be, you mean,” Kate
countered. “What if he’s wrong? What if--?”

“Stop worrying.”

Kate twisted the handkerchief she was holding
into another tight little knot. Richard agreed that she had a right
to be nervous.

After months of corresponding back and forth,
the old Duke of Hawksbury had finally agreed to see them. At first,
the old man hadn’t wanted to believe that his daughter, Brioria,
and Melanie, the Drury Lane actress, had apparently been one and
the same person. Eventually, however, Kate’s descriptions of the
signet ring won him over.

Melanie had staged an elaborate ruse in an
attempt to win over Edgar Overton and her plan had apparently
worked like a charm. Rather than being raised as the daughter of a
Drury Lane actress, Kate had grown up as the daughter of Lord and
Lady Overton.

“Kate?” Richard asked.

“Hum?”

“Stop worrying. It’s not good for the baby,”
Richard advised.

“I know, but I can’t help it,” Kate
complained.

Richard smiled warmly as Kate rested one hand
over her growing stomach. She was four months along and already
beginning to show. When Kate learned she was carrying Richard’s
child, she’d been ecstatic. It wasn’t difficult for Richard and
Kate to realize that the baby had apparently been conceived the
night of the failed kidnapping. Kate still blushed when Richard
reminded her of the scandalous things they’d both done in Lawton’s
hired coach.

It was difficult to say who was more pleased
with the announcement of the coming heir to the earldom, Richard or
Kate’s father. The upcoming birth had done much to mend some of the
ill will between the families. Since the kidnapping attempt,
Richard had been a very attentive spouse, too, watching how much
Kate ate and that she got enough sleep and exercise.

“Oh, my!” Kate suddenly gasped.

Richard’s eyes widened in alarm. For a
moment, he thought that something might be wrong with Kate and the
baby. Then he noticed Kate was staring off into the distance,
utterly captivated by what she saw there.

The ducal estate was an impressive holding,
but the castle itself was truly remarkable. The central keep was a
tall gray stone tower, with crenellations at the top and an orange
and green pennant waving in the breeze.

The structure had apparently been added onto
several times in the ensuing centuries and the house now boasted
two wings of pale yellow stone on either side of the tower. There
seemed to be a private chapel protruding from the left side of the
complex and, as they approached the castle, Kate and Richard saw
the stables and additional buildings in the distance.

By now, Kate’s heart was pounding so fast
that she was a little light headed. Becoming Richard’s countess had
given her a certain amount of esteem, but she still wasn’t certain
that she was brave enough to endure the next few moments. Was it
possible that she was really a duchess, heir to this vast and
beautiful estate? It didn’t seem possible. It was the stuff of
dreams.

“Perhaps we should go back?” Kate softly
appealed.

Richard shook his head. “No, Kate. We’re here
now. Let’s see what the old duke as to say.”

“You’ve heard that curiosity killed the cat?”
Kate asked.

“I think so. Why?”

“I think I know how the cat felt,” Kate
miserably admitted.

Richard chuckled and gently massaged Kate’s
fingers as the coach pulled up to the entryway. Immediately, a
smartly dressed lad hurried to open the carriage door. Richard
kissed Kate for luck, then descended the steps to the ground before
assisting her from the coach.

Kate stood on the fine gray gravel, staring
up at the opulent house before her. Two life sized stone statues
graced the entrance and there were more marble statues lining the
roof line. Lovely spring flowers had been planted along both sides
of the entrance and a huge fountain of sea nymphs gushed ten feet
into the air on the opposite side of the drive. The very air seemed
to crackle with anticipation as the front door of the manor finally
swung open on well-oiled hinges.

Kate and Richard had expected to be greeted
by a servant, perhaps by the duke’s head man, but they never
anticipated being received by the old duke himself. A small but
rotund gentleman with gray hair stepped through the doorway and
started down the marble steps toward them.

George Tremaine, the Duke of Hawksbury, was
dressed in a suit of blue superfine, with an elaborately tied
cravat edged in Belgian lace. The golden buckles on his shoes
gleamed brightly in the sunlight as he descended the steps one at a
time. Assisted by a footman, the duke finally stepped onto the
gravel and paused before them. He stared at Richard
expectantly.

“Your grace, I am Richard Warwick, the Earl
of Devonshire,” Richard announced.

George Tremaine bowed regally in
acknowledgement.

“And this is my wife, the Countess Katherine
Warwick,” Richard told him.