Lady Eugenia's Holiday (7 page)

She felt certain he would be much too overwhelmed
with emotion to turn her away. And it was for those few brief, stolen moments
they would spend together that she took this journey. After riding at a canter
for a good twenty minutes, she heard voices. Loud voices. Men’s voices.

Pulling her horse to a halt, she dismounted and
carefully moved into the brush to hide. Eugenia remained quiet, although she
wanted to cry out when she recognized one of the two men standing in the
dew-moistened field before her—the Duke of Rothford.

She said nothing and remained quiet. There was an
eerie stillness in the air. Eugenia began to shake, not from cold but from
something she could not name.

Perhaps it was because Rothford was not alone.
Perhaps it was because he and the other gentlemen were armed.

With the Duke was Foster, the same young man who
nearly knocked her down that afternoon a few days ago. Eugenia was certain of
it. Foster held a rifle against his shoulder, taking aim in the distance.

“If you don’t go through with this, you’ll not have
the favor returned,” the Duke ground out, sounding annoyed and impatient. “Come
on, man, on with it. You’ll never have a better shot at Claremont than this.”

Shocked into silence, Eugenia could not, would not,
dared not, even if compelled to do so, utter a sound. It was fear. The sudden
overwhelming feeling of danger pulsing through her body ordering her not to
move.

Several minutes passed when nothing happened. Then
Rothford swore and pushed the young man roughly aside. The Duke raised his own
weapon and fired without hesitation.

The crack of gunfire that echoed around them was
not loud enough to mask Eugenia’s scream. Her gelding spooked and bolted,
racing out of the bushes in front of the men before heading in the direction of
Brookhaven stables.

It was then Rothford faced her. He looked at her.
She would never forget the dark, hateful glare of those eyes.

Eugenia’s vision narrowed into blackness and her
legs gave way under her. She didn’t remember hitting the ground. She must have
fainted.

When Eugenia woke, she felt disoriented and found
herself lying in the center of a small copse of trees. This was completely
different from the knee-high, golden grasses of the field she remembered.

“Where am I?” she said, mostly rhetorically.

Someone hushed her. She sat up to see Franz rushing
to her side. His presence was totally unexpected. She could not imagine what he
was doing here. Even with his poor riding skills, he should have been halfway
to Brookhaven by now.

“I saw Rothford kill a man!” she told him, warm
tears streaked down her face.

“Quiet! You’ve got to keep quiet!” he insisted. “I
don’t know how long we can escape Thomas’ detection.”

“You don’t understand, Franz. I saw Rothford
deliberately take aim and shoot a man! It was murder!”

Male voices rose around them.

Franz clamped his hand over Eugenia’s mouth,
silencing her. Her arms flew wildly about in protest. Quite unintentionally, as
she struggled, she caught hold of his powdered monstrosity of a wig and pulled
it from his head. Eugenia gasped when she saw his head of thick, dark hair.

The pressure of his hand increased ensuring her
silence and with a whisper bade her to remain silent.

A few minutes after the voices ebbed, he eased his
hold and apologized for having to take such action. Eugenia apologized for
disheveling him.

He helped her stand. “Now’s our chance. We must
flee to safety!”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Eugenia stared
at him … stared up at him.

She was not quite sure how but she could have sworn
he stood taller. Franz, she recalled, was her height, almost exactly. But now
he showed no signs of a slouch. And there was something else decidedly
different about him.

“Where’s your accent?” she said, for it had
miraculously vanished.

This man was not the Franz Eugenia knew. This was a
stranger who had emerged from her once dear Austrian friend. One that she
thought she had known fairly well.

“This disguise.” He gestured down the length of his
torso. “I completely understand that my current appearance places me in an
undesirable light. It can be explained to your complete satisfaction, I can
assure you.”

She could not even believe her own eyes. How did he
think she would believe anything he had to say? Her once good friend stood
before her as a stranger.

“I will be more than happy to give you a full
account.” A lock of his dark hair fell across his forehead. “But it will have
to be later, once we are safe. We shall sit down and have a long discussion
over a nice pot of tea. I promise. Now let us go!”

Eugenia crossed her arms and planted her feet,
determined not to move.

“You know you can trust me, don’t you?”

She had been wrong. There was something very
familiar about him. The shape of his face, his eyes, his lips … It was then she
realized why. This man looked a great deal like the Duke of Rothford.

“How can I trust a man who hides behind the
identity of a sweet, kind musician?” she said sharply, wondering if sanity had
left the world. “One who passes himself as a genteel Austrian but who is in
fact a quivering English coward.”

“I’m Edmund,” he told her.

At least he had a name.

“Please, if we’re discovered, Thomas will have no
qualms about killing either of us as he did the Earl of Claremont.” He peered
between the bushes and hedgerow out to the clearing beyond. “I’m sure they are
looking for us—you. Please, Eugenia, we must leave.”

What this Edmund said was enough to convince her to
follow him. Rothford would be looking for her. She knew it. Eugenia couldn’t
help but glance around when she stepped beyond the sparse outcrop of foliage
that had concealed them.

Eugenia lifted the skirts of her riding habit,
which grew heavier by the minute, to trudge behind him. They spent more than
two hours on foot over hard, rocky terrain, travelling too fast to hold a
conversation.

After the first hour, Eugenia begged him to stop so
she could rest her weary feet. Edmund urged her onward, never giving her an
ounce of consideration. The man was simply horrid. She hated him.

Finally, she stopped, dropped the two handfuls of
her skirt, and refused to take another step. “Sir, I simply cannot continue.”
Eugenia blurted through labored breaths. I must stop if only for a few minutes.”

Edmund glanced around, perhaps checking for a
glimpse of their pursuers. “Look, there’s a place just up ahead where we can
rest.”

Was he headed to some secret madman’s lair? Eugenia
wasn’t sure if she could trust him any more now than when this whole wretched
business had started. Once again she moved forward trusting, perhaps foolishly,
that a place to sit did indeed lay ahead.

They continued another fifteen minutes to a modest
abode just outside a village. Edmund knocked on the door.

A moment later it opened. An old man, in keen
observation, saw they were in dire need of rest.

“Please, please, come in,” he said, pulling the
door open wide. “You must sit for a spell. Bess!” he called over his shoulder. “We
have weary travelers who are in need of—” The old man squinted, looking closer
at Eugenia’s traveling companion. “
Your
Grace? Edmund
Mallick? We thought you were dead—lost on the Continent, I heard tell.”

Edmund Mallick? Eugenia remembered Aunt Rose
telling her that Thomas had inherited his title through the misfortune of his
elder brother.

“It was all a misunderstanding,” this Franz-Edmund-person
explained.

“Pray, come in, Your Grace … your young lady as
well.” The old man smiled, motioning that they should make themselves
comfortable.

“Please, please, welcome, both of you.” The old
woman appeared with a laden tray.

He led the way into the small one-room cottage, and
it wasn’t a very large room at that. The house was small, very modest. The
occupants, obviously known to this Edmund, gladly saw to their needs.

Franz … Edmund … whatever name he wanted to use,
declined the elderly couple’s offer to put him and his female companion up for
the night, though Eugenia had never felt more weary and sorely in need of a
good rest.

They did partake in a bite to eat and some tea. He
did accept their offer of the use of their horse and cart for which Eugenia
felt most grateful.

“We must retreat to a safe place, far away,” Edmund
whispered to Eugenia when the couple had momentarily stepped away. “We need to
find a place where Thomas cannot find us. A place where we can regroup and you
can fully rest.”

Yes. Eugenia wanted to get as far away as she could
from Surrey, from Thomas, and from Edmund as soon as possible.

Franz-Edmund’s will was no match for Eugenia’s
determination that they return to Brookhaven for some of her belongings. Upon
arrival, they saw no one, not the guests, not any of the
belowstairs
servants were present.

“No matter, we must quickly gather what we need and
be off.” Franz-Edmund ran willy-nilly toward his room to fetch whatever it was
he needed to collect while they were there. Eugenia ran to her rooms to have
Katrina pack her bags.

Eugenia dashed into her aunt’s room, which was the
room before hers. No Katrina. She then ran headlong into her own shouting, “All
my clothes! Pack everything!”

Only Katrina was not to be found there either.

Only moments later did Eugenia hear approaching
footsteps. Relieved that Katrina had returned, Eugenia ran to the clothespress
and flung open the door to choose the garments she wished the maid to pack
first.

“I want to take everything!” Eugenia called out to
her aunt’s returning maid.

“An excellent idea, although not necessary.”
Thomas, Duke of Rothford sounded more amused than worried at the thought of
addressing the eyewitness to his act of murder. “You’ll be coming away with me.”

Eugenia stumbled back into the furniture, putting
as much distance as she could between them. She had no intention of going
anywhere with him. But she did not have much choice in the matter.

Thomas grabbed hold of Eugenia’s arm and drew her
toward him, causing her feet to skid across the floor. She put up a struggle as
best she could, making as much noise as possible while kicking and screaming,
but was too easily overpowered by him. The tears streaking down her face would
not stop, nor could she wipe them away.

No one came to her rescue.

Edmund, she knew, was at the far end of the house,
for that was where Franz’s room lay. More than likely he would not have heard
her pleas for help. Perhaps he had chosen not to act the hero.

Rothford could not have known that Edmund was in
the manor, nor would Eugenia give him away. If the younger saw the elder, it
would have complicated matters even further. She could not betray poor Edmund.

Rothford was none too gentle with Eugenia, dragging
her down the stairs to his awaiting coach, which whisked them away.

The coach lurched forward, plunging Eugenia back
into the squabs where she pressed into the corner to get as far away as
possible from Rothford, who sat across from her. His dark eyes were more
frightening than she ever remembered.

“Well, it seems you have become more of a problem
than you were in Brighton, my dear,” he said. His voice was not the warm,
soothing tone she had bathed in the Brookhaven library last night. His
expression was cold and harsh.

Eugenia said nothing.

“I find it difficult to believe you have no
comments to make. It seems to me you always have something to say.” He regarded
her from under arched eyebrows. “We both know what happened. I am well aware
you saw me and I, most certainly, saw you. I have no idea how you came to be
there but no matter …”

She did not wish to appear completely intimidated
and leveled a stern glance at him.

“As you observed, Mr. Foster was not truly
motivated to do what he had to in order to secure his title. I had no
alternative but to intervene.” A sneer, not a smile, crossed his face. “I
cannot allow you to bear witness against me, which leaves me with two choices.
I give you the option of choosing to marry me or die.”

“How gallant of you,” she replied. The choice was
revolting and he was even more so.

“I prefer not arranging another accident so soon
after the tragic death of the Earl of Claremont. Of course, you haven’t heard
the news, my dear, the earl was killed in a shooting accident on his own estate.”

“Is that similar to what happened to your elder
brother?” She instantly regretted her words. Eugenia could see the mixture of
anger and hatred in his eyes. She hadn’t realized until this moment he would,
as Edmund had told her, have no qualms about harming her.

“I suppose I could arrange for you to conveniently
disappear if you continue to prove problematic.” The murmured comment was a
thinly veiled threat.

“I have no wish to die,” Eugenia whispered, her
voice all but gone. She felt tears spring to her eyes but the terror inside
kept them at bay.

“I’m glad to hear that, darling.” He reached across
and patted her knee.

The touch of his hand repulsed her. Eugenia willed
herself not to react.

“I believe our marriage will be readily accepted,
especially after our very public courtship in Brighton. I suppose I should
thank you for that.” He smiled and inclined his head in a gracious nod.

Eugenia could slap Penelope for making her flirt
with the Duke in the first place. Who would have ever thought she would be
blackmailed into marrying him?

“You were quite relentless in your pursuit. I doubt
I would have made that much of an effort.” He sighed, apparently pleased with
how easily his new plan dovetailed with their recent Brighton stay. “There are
countless upstanding Society members who can attest to our attachment, making
our sudden marriage all the more believable.”

He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned
back against the squabs. The strong, confident, and smooth exterior added to
the illusion of a man who was accustomed to getting what he wanted. And in
truth, who would stop him?

Their destination, it seemed, was a small village.
No, this place was much smaller than a village. A substantial donation from the
Duke persuaded the local vicar to overlook the reading of the Banns or the need
of a special license. Two witnesses were found for the marriage ceremony, the
document was signed,
then
away Eugenia and Rothford
went to Taramore, his country estate.

Almost immediately after their arrival, Rothford
employed the services of a Mrs. Bennett. “My beautiful bride, you are now
Your
Grace, the Duchess of Rothford,” the duke announced,
holding his arm out for her at the ground floor landing. “May I introduce to
your new lady’s maid?”

The footman who stood sentry outside Eugenia’s
bedchamber door and had followed her down the stairs only minutes before was
nowhere to be seen. It occurred to Eugenia that he had been dismissed and Mrs.
Bennett employed, being far better suited as a watchdog for the new duchess.

The woman dipped into a modest curtsy but she did
not appear genteel enough for a lady’s bedchamber. Eugenia felt certain that
this lady lacked the skills to successfully employ curling tongs nor did she
know how to lift a stain from Eugenia’s favorite muslin frock. Although
stalwart and stout in appearance, Mrs. Bennett could use a few lessons from
Eugenia’s Aunt Rose regarding inconspicuous conduct.

The Duke insisted Eugenia write to her aunt and her
parents to explain her sudden absence. He dictated the events of her elopement
with the Duke of Rothford and closed the letter with the news they would see
her in Town during the upcoming Little Season.

How did he expect to present Eugenia as the happy
duchess? She would certainly announce to anyone she came in contact with that
he was a complete lying, murderous, wretch. She did not plan to cooperate with
him in any way. And if he thought he would have her completely in love with
him, acceding to his every wish by the time they had reached Town, he was very
much mistaken.

Eugenia had the freedom of the house when
accompanied by Mrs. Bennett, but the new duchess was not permitted to leave the
grounds. Taramore was very large, but not so vast she could satisfactorily
conceal herself if she should try to hide from him. She feared that Rothford
knew every nook and niche on the estate grounds. There was no doubt that he
could eventually find her, probably with great ease.

No, merely hiding from him would not suffice.
Eugenia had to wait and find a way to escape completely from Taramore and from
Rothford.

Eugenia avoided the outdoors altogether. If she
were to roam the garden she might not be able to resist the temptation to flee
and she knew exactly how that action would be rewarded. Rothford would have no
choice but to level at her the same weapon he had used for the late Earl of
Claremont.

For the most part Eugenia chose to keep to the
safety of her rooms. Rothford would occasionally request her presence and
parade her about. Such was the occasion when the new Earl of Claremont, Donald
Hamby, came for a visit. He appeared entirely in black, with a black arm band,
a pretense that he was in full mourning. He did not fool Eugenia one bit.

She had learned enough about Rothford’s conspiracy
that Hamby had “paid his dues.” by murdering one peer to advance a younger son
to their family title. That qualified Hamby to receive the courtesy in return.

He was a murderer.

By arranging these accidents, Rothford ultimately
profited and accumulated various favors long after the deeds had been done.

They were both murderers.

It was despicable, beyond anything horrible Eugenia
could ever imagine. How did she ever think this was the man of her dreams?

Rothford and Hamby spoke freely of their plans for
the upcoming assassinations, in front of her, which made Eugenia so very
uncomfortable. The more she knew, the less likely it was she would ever gain
her freedom.

This afternoon’s discussion consisted of adding a
member to their group of young bloods clamoring to ascend to their family
titles. His name, Mr. Randolph Coddington.

Randolph? Lady Penelope’s brother! He wanted to
arrange his elder
brother
Sir Terrence’s murder so he
could inherit? This was incredible … impossible … Eugenia could not believe
this was happening.

Overhearing the Duke and Hamby, Eugenia learned
that Mr. Coddington would replace the cowardly Foster, who did not have the
mettle for entree into their elite group.

How the ever-timid Randolph would fair, she could
not know. As she recalled, the just-grown boy was frightened of everyone and
nearly everything. Eugenia wished she knew of some way to warn the family. No
longer was it only her life she feared for, it was Penelope’s elder
brother’s
.

There were great stretches of time when she did not
see Rothford. The staff was instructed to tell Eugenia he was away. She knew
exactly what occupied his time while away and did not press Mrs. Bennett for
any further details.

As was her habit, Eugenia read in the conservatory
for several hours during the afternoon. This fine day she sat in her preferred,
overstuffed puce chair, for none in this residence were her favorite, and Mrs.
Bennett sat at the other end of the room plying her needle and keeping an
observant eye on the duchess.

At the hour of three, Dawson the butler brought in
their afternoon tea. While handing her a saucer and teacup, he discreetly
passed Eugenia a small, folded slip of paper.

Without a word, she slipped it into her book and
finished her tea. Taking her time, she read for an hour more to allay any
suspicion altering her routine would cause. Eugenia returned to the safety of
her rooms for privacy to open the note and read the contents.

The note explained she had not been abandoned and
that she should take care in dealing with Rothford. He could and would turn
against her at any time, no matter how amiable he might appear.

That was not news to Eugenia. She had witnessed the
Duke’s quick change of mood and an explosive temper at the slightest
dissatisfaction.

The other bit of information from the missive was
that she could depend on Dawson the butler.

Eugenia debated whether she should trust the
information in the message and decided she had no other option. But who could
have sent the note?

Her Aunt Rose? Had Eugenia’s aunt somehow
discovered her whereabouts? And was a rescue in the works?

Surely not Franz … Edmund.

Edmund was aware of her predicament. However
Eugenia could not count on his assistance. If he had any sense at all, he would
be hundreds of miles from there, safe and sound.

Rothford would make certain Edmund died a second
time if he were to discover his elder brother alive.

But he might have told someone … the authorities …
perhaps he could have left an anonymous tip! Then someone could save her from
this dreadful place.

If only someone would.

Nearly a week later, again at tea, she received
another note. It said:

I have planned your escape. Meet me in the study at 2 in the
morning.

Eugenia realized this might have been a trap. Yet
this might be her only chance to flee and she needed to warn the Coddington
family.

There was no other choice. Eugenia had to trust the
person who sent the missive.

That night Eugenia did exactly as the note instructed.
She crept down to the study after everyone had retired for the night, arriving
just before 2 in the morning. She wore a traveling dress and cloak, prepared to
make her escape.