Never Wager Against Love (Kellington Book Three) (33 page)

“A few days ago.  You told us repeatedly how clever you were
to break the code without the use of the chest.  Yet, when we told you we’d
recovered the chest, you expressed no interest in seeing it, whereas both Sir
Lawrence and Lord Willingham wanted to have a look.  That’s because you’re the
only one who knew the chest we had was a fake, since Mortimer and Cassidy had
the real one.  Or, even if they had disposed of it, you knew there was no code
in the chest.  It was all an elaborate ruse to get the Crown to steal the
sword, the chalice and the spike for you.

“I should have been suspicious when Merlin went lame – an
insult I place second only to the harm you’ve caused Vanessa – ensuring we had
to take your carriage.  That way you would know exactly where we were.

“I am curious about one thing.  Was it part of your plan
that Mortimer and Cassidy show up at the Iron Bridge Gorge?  It would have been
easier for your men to simply take the three items and deliver them to you at
whichever port you planned to depart from.   Because you are leaving England,
correct?  It’s the only way to sell the three items.”

He was rewarded with a begrudging nod from Dumbarton.  “I
shan’t miss this dreary island.  It has too little respect for men of
intelligence.”

Arthur continued.  “I speak for my countrymen in saying we
will certainly not miss you.  But back to the recent past…by the time we
returned to the carriage with an injured Sir Lawrence and supposedly having
been robbed of all three items, your men had little recourse but to deliver us
to London.”

Vanessa spoke up.  “Did you instruct your men to kill us at
the gorge?”

Dumbarton weighed his words and for a long moment it looked
like he would not reply.  “Yes.  But they were to use their discretion.  I
didn’t know that idiot Lawrence would actually accompany you to the gorge. 
Once he showed up, it was far from certain whether my men could kill the three
of you.  But I told them to look for the chance once you recovered the third
item.  If I had known Mortimer and Cassidy would bungle the job yet again by
haring off after you, I would have killed them myself.” 

“Instead of just framing us for the murders of Vanessa,
Kellington and Sir Lawrence?” asked Mortimer, sounding bored by the recitation.

“Yes,” said Dumbarton.  “But don’t act so superior
Mortimer.  Portia has blood on her hands from any number of crimes.  And you’ve
been playing both sides of the law for many years now.”

For the first time, Frederick Mortimer lost his cool
demeanor.  “I’ve heard enough from you.”

“What’s he talking about, Frederick?” asked Portia.

“Nothing.”  Mortimer looked like he wanted to use his pistol
on Dumbarton.

“Oh, but it really is something,” said Dumbarton.  “Who do
you think tipped Willingham off about Vanessa all those years ago?  It wasn’t
happenstance that allowed him to catch her picking a pocket.  It was information
from Frederick Mortimer.”

Vanessa looked at Mortimer with stunned disbelief.  “That’s
not true, is it?”

He still gripped her arm, but his voice was gentle when he
spoke.  “You were never meant for that life.  Your heart was never in the work
and you were going to be caught.  I’d been informing for Willingham for quite
some time.  He needed a female agent and promised he’d give you a better life. 
It worked out well for everyone.  Except for me.”

It had been a long time since Vanessa had seen anything
other than hatred in Frederick Mortimer’s eyes.  Or, perhaps, it had been her
long ago loss that had colored how she saw him.  Her love for him had died
years earlier.  But she still felt a connection to one of the few people who’d
shown her kindness when she’d needed it most.

“How touching,” said Portia, her voice filled with anger. 
“But I am most interested in being paid for my services.  You’d better have the
money you owe us, Dumbarton.”

“I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans,” said Dumbarton
with a smile.

The first shot rang out from behind one of the crates.  It
missed its intended target, Portia, but shattered the chalice on the table.  
As Dumbarton yelled at his men to stop firing, Frederick Mortimer ran down one
of the aisles in pursuit of the shooter.  Portia pulled Vanessa in front of her
to use as a human shield then put a small pistol to her head.  Dumbarton calmly
walked toward the table. 

Arthur grabbed the Larsen broadsword and brought the tip to
Dumbarton’s throat.

“How theatrical, Kellington,” he said with just a glimmer of
fear.  “But this is hardly Camelot.  My men are situated throughout the room. 
You’ll take a shell to the head before you can do much damage with the sword.”

“You give me too little credit and your men too much,” said Arthur. 
“Tell them to put down their weapons.  Or has Mortimer already done it for
them?”

There was a pause as Dumbarton seemed to realize the one
shot had not been followed by others.  There was a noise nearby and Dumbarton’s
coachman came staggering down one of the aisles.  His throat had been cut and
he fell to the ground dying.

“I see Frederick is making progress,” said Portia.  “Give
off Dumbarton.  If your men were going to rescue you, they would have done so
by now.” 

No sooner had she said that than they heard a man scream
from further away in the warehouse.  Dumbarton lost some of his calm demeanor. 
“We’re on the same side, dear Portia.  Tell Kellington to drop the sword or
you’ll kill his Vanessa.  That’s the only way you’ll get your blunt.”

“Do it,” said Portia as she pressed the pistol to Vanessa’s
head. 

“They’ll kill us both Arthur,” said Vanessa.  “Keep the
sword on him.”

“Don’t be a fool,” said Dumbarton to Arthur.  “You cannot
win.”

Arthur had to keep him talking to give Mortimer a chance to
dispose of the rest of Dumbarton’s men.  Even if Mortimer wasn’t an ally, he
knew Dumbarton’s men would kill them if given the chance.  There was a
possibility Mortimer would at least let Vanessa go.  “Why did you do it?” he
asked Dumbarton.

Dumbarton smirked at the question.  “For the money, of
course.  I’d grown rather tired of teaching the stupid children of the peerage,
each generation more useless than the last.  I started taking assignments from
the Home Office not for the paltry payment and certainly not out of devotion to
King and country.  I did it because it allowed me to travel extensively on the
continent.  And it also allowed me to learn the identities of England’s most
desperate villains, which is how I became acquainted with Mortimer and
Cassidy.  You see, one night I caught Cassidy trying to rob me after an
evening’s, shall we say, entertainment.  I made her write a signed confession,
which could put her in Newgate at any point, then I started using her for
personal missions here and there.  I was delighted when she agreed to implicate
Frederick Mortimer, so they both had to do my bidding.

“I’d been fascinated by the sword and the chalice for years
– the spike was just something I threw in to amuse myself.  But I knew no one
would ever be able to steal them.  However, if the Home Office were to acquire
them, I could then convince Mortimer and Cassidy to work for me one last time
in exchange for enough blunt to start anew elsewhere.

“I had a friend in France start the rumor of a renegade spy
in England, then I planted the chest in Riverton’s lake.  After that, it was
only a matter of time before Willingham sent someone to retrieve it.  All
Mortimer and Cassidy had to do was entice you to follow them.  I had complete
faith, dear Vanessa, that you would retrieve the items I very conveniently
‘deciphered.’  Well done, sweetheart.  It’s a shame you have to die.”

Suddenly a shot rang out in the warehouse.  It was the
distraction Arthur had been waiting for.  He hit Dumbarton in the head with the
flat side of the blade, knocking him unconscious.  At the same time, Vanessa
stomped on Portia’s foot, then pulled out of her grasp.   Arthur ran toward her
as Portia raised her weapon to shoot.  Time seemed to stop as Arthur threw
himself into the path of the shot.  He was hit with a blinding stab of pain and
it felt like his entire side was on fire.  He saw one of Dumbarton’s men shoot
Portia.

Vanessa ran to Arthur’s side and within a moment they were
both covered in his blood.  He was breathing heavily, consumed by pain.  He was
vaguely aware of Mortimer coming out from the aisles and going to Portia, who’d
been shot dead by the last of Dumbarton’s assassins.

As the room grew dimmer, all Arthur could think about was that
he’d done it.  He’d saved her from being shot.  Lord Arthur Kellington’s very
last thoughts were filled with love.  Love for the woman he’d tried so hard to
save.  Love for his family.  Love for the parents he’d lost so long ago.

*                    *                    *

Vanessa knelt at Arthur’s side, unaware of anything except
the still form beside her and the terrible amount of blood seeping from his
wounds.  She was praying to God to spare his life.  Her worst nightmare had
some true.

She was vaguely aware of Frederick Mortimer pushing her
forcefully aside because she did not want to leave Arthur, as if the only thing
that could bring him back was her touch.  Frederick placed a wad of fabric
against Arthur’s side, then placed her hands upon it.  Vanessa could feel
Arthur growing colder as blood continued to seep out of him.  The flow seemed
to have slowed, but that could simply be because there was so little left.  She
bit back a sob at the very thought.

Mortimer turned her cheek to face him.  “I don’t have much
time.  Willingham will be here any moment and I suspect the Kellingtons won’t
be far behind.  I’m free, love.  And I’m leaving this place.  I hope we both
find the peace which eluded us for so long.”

For a moment, it seemed like he would kiss her on the lips,
but then he simply pulled her forward and kissed her forehead.  Then he was
gone.

Moments later, shouts were heard outside, then came the
sound of several men running into the warehouse.  Lord Willingham approached
Dumbarton, who was slowly regaining consciousness.  But Vanessa didn’t care
about the others.  Only Arthur.  Her eyes were blinded by tears as she kept pressure
on his wounds, praying for him to awaken.  She heard a man swear and someone
else call for Jane.

A moment later, she was pulled aside as Jane Kellington took
her place and began calling out orders, which were swiftly obeyed by Ned, Hal
and Riverton.  Vanessa had a vague feeling of being held by someone.  Strong
arms were around her, and her cheek was pressed against a solid chest.  She
could feel the fast heartbeat of whoever was holding her.  She knew that
despite the man’s strong hold on her, he was as scared as she.

They both watched as Jane very capably tended to Arthur’s
wounds.  There was so much blood Vanessa didn’t think it was possible that he
still lived.  But as he groaned in pain, she felt a glimmer of hope. 

It seemed like hours later, but was likely only several
minutes, when Jane sat back.  “It looks much worse than it is.  The ball went
all the way through and didn’t hit any organs.  He’s lost a lot of blood, and
there’s always the risk of infection.  But the way you packed the wound likely
saved his life.”

“I…I didn’t do it,” said Vanessa, hardly able to believe
Jane’s words of hope.  “It was Frederick Mortimer.”

The man holding her spoke.  “He may have been the one to
pack the wound, Vanessa,” said the Duke of Lynwood, “but I believe you saved my
brother, just the same.”  Lynwood pulled back, then steadied her to make sure
she could stand on her own.

She wasted no time in going to Arthur, even as Ned, Hal and
Riverton were devising a way to carry him out to the carriage, disrupting him
as little as possible.

“My love,” she said, as she held his hand.  “Stay strong for
me.”

“Always, dear heart,” he said as he brought her hand to his
lips.  “Forever.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Vanessa spent the next seventy-two hours at Arthur’s
bedside.  He regained consciousness on and off, but was never lucid for long. 
A fever had set in almost immediately, and she’d spent her time wiping him down
with cool cloths.  His brothers had immersed him in a cold bath three times
when his temperature had spiked.  And it seemed to have worked.  He finally
felt close to normal.

She’d refused to leave his side.  She knew she was being
improper, since no unmarried lady would be alone with a man in his room.  But she
didn’t care, and no one else seemed to, either.  When she’d been close to
fainting from exhaustion, Lynwood had picked her up and laid her on the other
side of Arthur.  She’d been so tired she must have fallen asleep as soon as her
head hit the pillow.  When she’d awakened three hours later, someone had
covered her with blankets and Lizzie was keeping watch with Riverton by her
side.

“How is he?” Vanessa whispered to Lizzie, all the while
looking at Arthur to see for herself.

“Much improved,” said Lizzie, quietly.  “He still has a
touch of fever, but seems to be cooling off.”

“Thank God,” said Vanessa, as she brushed a strand of hair
off Arthur’s forehead. 

Arthur slowly opened his eyes and looked at her.  “This must
be heaven,” he said with a raspy voice.

Vanessa’s eyes filled with tears.  “Now that you’re back, I
believe it is.”

“And they complain about us being horribly poetic,” said
Lizzie as she rolled her eyes.  “Arthur, dear brother, welcome back to the land
of the living.  You had us quite worried.”

Arthur smiled as he weakly reached for her hand. 

“Your brothers are going to want to see you,” said Riverton,
as he rose and reached for a grinning Lizzie.  “But we’ll hold them off for at
least a little while until the two of you have a chance to talk.  Glad to see
you so well, Arthur.”  Riverton and Lizzie left the room, closing the door
behind them.