Pursued By The Viscount (15 page)

His mouth tightened. “This inflexibility of character is not an attractive trait.”

“I thought we had already decided that earlier.” She threw her cloak about her shoulders and fastened her bonnet before straightening. “I am going to the docks, with or without you.”

Lucien gritted his teeth, jaw tight and his hands clenched at his sides. If Rachel was recovered enough from her faint to issue him a challenge, then she was well enough to walk to the docks too.

He straightened. “Very well.”

He easily kept pace with Rachel as they left the inn and she marched determinedly toward the docks. But neither of them spoke again. Rachel appeared far too agitated for conversation, and Lucien was far too angry.

When Rachel spoke to Blackmoor earlier, she had dismissed him, and their intimacy, as if they were of no consequence or importance in her life. Telling Lucien he had been no more than an interlude to her. A step—misstep?—on the road to Rachel discovering who she was and what she wanted for her future life? She obviously did not want him. Whatever had been between them before today was well and truly over.

Rachel reluctantly obeyed Brooketon’s instruction of caution when they finally reached the dock, knowing that to reveal their presence would endanger William.

Nevertheless, she could not help but gasp and reach out instinctively to clutch on to the solidity of Lucien’s arm as, having reached the shelter of a storage shed, she immediately spotted Nigel Stanforth walking about the deck of his yacht. He appeared to be issuing the orders which would make the boat ready to sail. There was no sign of William.

“I have been observing for several minutes now and not seen the boy.” Blackmoor appeared suddenly at their side. “I believe he must be secured in the cabin below.”

“A distraction while I climb aboard and investigate?” Lucien came back economically.

“I believe that would be for the best.” The other man nodded. “Our main concern is to secure William. We can deal with Stanforth once we have William safely returned to his mother.”

“I will be the one to deal with Stanforth,” Lucien bit out.

“Very well.” Blackmoor turned to Rachel. “Much as I know it will gall you, you must remain here out of sight with my two grooms—”

“But—”

“If Stanforth sees you, then our element of surprise is lost,” the duke reasoned. “I intend to distract Stanforth while Lucien goes aboard and secures William.”

Quite how they intended doing that, Rachel had no idea.

Nor did she care.

All she cared about was that they brought William safely back to her.
 

Her heart felt as if it were in her mouth as she stood in the shadows of her hiding place, watching as Blackmoor made no effort to make a stealthy approach toward Stanforth’s yacht, but instead he strode down the quayside as if he were out for a leisurely stroll enjoying the sea air. He came to a halt at the bow of the yacht to call out a greeting to the other man.

Stanforth’s expression was one of surprise, his face tightening with wariness as he stepped to the side of the rail and answered the duke.

Rachel could not hear what was being said, her attention now all on Lucien as he climbed aboard the stern of the yacht before disappearing from her view.

To go inside in search of William?

Oh God, she hoped so.

She began to pray as she had never prayed before, her promises becoming wilder and wilder if only William would be safely returned to her.

I will attend church every Sunday instead of occasionally.
 

I will be kind to everyone, even those who are not kind to me.

I will never let William out of my sight again.

I will forgive my mother and father for being unable to save me from my marriage to James.

I will forgive James.

I will even forgive Stanforth if—

William!

Lucien had reappeared at the stern of the sleek craft, her much-loved son held securely in his arms.

Rachel gave a sob as her emotions overwhelmed her. She instinctively stepped out of hiding to hurry toward the yacht, her only thought the desperate need to hold her young son in her arms again. To know that William truly was unharmed.

She came to an abrupt halt as a cry went up from the front of the yacht. Stanforth stared at her in malevolent recognition for the briefest time before he turned to look frantically about the yacht. It took him but a second to see Lucien escaping at the stern with William. The malevolence returned to his expression as he pulled a pistol from the waistband of his pantaloons and hurried toward them.

A pistol.

Stanforth had a pistol and was about to use it!

On Lucien or William?

Or both?

Time seemed to stand still for several seconds as Rachel stood transfixed, knowing in that moment that to lose either of them would surely kill her.

Because she loved them both.

William was her beloved son.

Lucien was the man with whom she had fallen irrevocably in love.

That knowledge was enough to snap her out of her daze and start her running toward them. “He has a pistol, Blackmoor!” she cried out as she hurried toward the gangplank.

Even as she stepped onto it, there came the sound of a pistol being fired. Rachel’s breath was no more than sobs as she ignored Blackmoor when he reached out to grasp her arm and stop her ascent. She pushed past Stanforth’s wide-eyed crew until she reached her goal.

Lucien stood tall—and very much alive!—with a pistol in the hand that was not holding William. Her son was also very much alive, arms clinging about Brooketon’s shoulders, his face buried against that gentleman’s neck.

Sir Nigel Stanforth lay on the deck a few feet away, a bloom of rapidly growing red on the front of his gray superfine. Still alive, he grimaced in pain as he clutched at his chest.

Rachel ignored him to run to Lucien’s side. “William?” she coaxed gently. “William, darling. It is Mama, William.”

To her everlasting relief, there was not so much as a moment’s hesitation from her son. He lifted his head at the sound of her voice before launching himself into her waiting arms, clinging to her as he began to sob.

Rachel held William tightly as she turned and walked away from Lucien and the downed Stanforth, all the while talking gently to her son. Assuring William he was safe now. That she would always keep him safe.

“Escort Lady Shaw and her son back to the inn,” Blackmoor instructed his two grooms as Rachel walked past him and kept on walking. “We—” He broke off as there was the sound of a second shot being fired.

Chapter 14

One week later

“The matter feels unfinished.” Lucien scowled as he paced the drawing room of the Duke and Duchess of Blackmoor. “I would far rather have disposed of Stanforth myself, but the truth of the matter is, he used his own pistol to blow his brains out once he realized there was no way out for him.”

“No doubt the thought of being sent to prison for kidnapping young William Shaw did not appeal to him,” Blackmoor dismissed. “Nor is that the reason this situation feels unfinished,” he added softly.
 

Lucien gave the other man a sharp glance. “What do you mean?”

“Have you seen Rachel since you all returned to Town?” The duchess looked at him enquiringly.

His jaw tightened. “She sent me a brief letter the following day, thanking me for my assistance.” It was the sort of formal letter one would write to an acquaintance, not a lover one wished to see again. “There has been no reason for the two of us to correspond or meet since then.”

The authorities had accepted his own and Blackmoor’s description of what happened on Stanforth’s yacht that day. An explanation backed up by Stanforth’s own crew and Blackmoor’s two grooms. Not even Stanforth’s powerful uncle, the Duke of Banbury, had been able to find reason to excuse his nephew’s behavior. Indeed, once the situation had been explained to him fully by Lucien, the duke had preferred Society never know of his nephew’s recent and past actions. Stanforth was already buried and forgotten.

By most people.

Lucien very much doubted Rachel would ever forget having her son taken from her, or the method of his return. Or what had occurred that day.

But at least she need no longer fear her letters to Stanforth ever being exposed to Society. Lucien and Blackmoor had searched the yacht that day, found the letters, and secreted them away before the authorities arrived. Those letters had since been consigned to the flames of Lucien’s fire. Unread. Rachel had suffered enough for having been so naïve as to ever have trusted Stanforth with any of her emotions. Those letters did not need to be seen or read by anyone else.

“No?” Thea Remington arched one auburn brow.
 

It took Lucien several minutes to remember what their conversation had been about. “Seeing me again would only remind her of a situation she is no doubt trying to forget.” As she already seemed to have forgotten about him.

The four of them had traveled back to London in Blackmoor’s ducal carriage that day, Rachel’s own carriage following behind them.

She had not spoken a word to either Blackmoor or Lucien for the whole of the journey, her attention focused on comforting and reassuring her young son. Rachel’s parting, once they were at Shaw House, had been stilted as she politely thanked both gentlemen for their assistance. She had lingered long enough to talk quietly with Thea Remington for several minutes before disappearing up the stairs with her young son. Leaving Lucien and the duke and duchess with no choice but to depart. Lucien had not seen Rachel again since that day.

“Are she and William both well?” he prompted with a lightness he did not feel. This past week, with neither sight nor word from Rachel, had been excruciating when all Lucien wanted to do was hold her in his arms and never let her go.

“Very much so,” the duchess answered him. “In fact, I have invited Rachel to accompany us in our carriage to the Pruitt’s musical soiree this evening. She has accepted.”

That was something of a relief. Lucien might not have had word from Rachel personally, but he knew from Blackmoor that she had not left the house since returning from Dover.

“You should attend too, Brooketon,” the duchess added gently.

He winced. “Musical soirees are not my idea of entertainment.”

“Or mine,” Blackmoor drawled. “But when it comes to our ladies, we are sometimes required to do things we would otherwise not.”

Our ladies.

As if Rachel had ever been his lady. His lover, yes. But only briefly, and they were not even friends now. No, if Rachel had wished to see him again, Lucien would have heard something from her this past week.

“Might she not be thinking the same of you…?” Thea Remington raised a pointed brow.

Had he spoken those last words out loud? It would seem so. This past week had been such a torment to him, Lucien would not be surprised if he had taken to talking to himself.

“Is she?” He searched for some sign in the duchess’s countenance that might be the case.

“Rachel and I have not discussed the matter. It is merely a supposition on my part.”

Lucien was not known for dithering or a lack of certainty of purpose. But when it came to Rachel, he no longer had any idea how to behave. Recalling her remarks to Blackmoor, regarding there only being a friendship between them, when even that friendship had ceased to exist this past week, he did not want to push his company where it was no longer wanted.

Attending the same social engagement as Rachel could not be called that, surely?

“Very well.” He nodded decisively. “I will inform the Pruitts that I accept their invitation after all.”

Thea gave him a beaming smile. “I think that is a very wise decision, my lord.”

“Did you know he would be here?” Rachel hissed the words at Thea sitting beside her, while keeping the smile affixed to her lips and her expression one of pleasant enjoyment of the piano playing of the eldest Pruitt daughter. There were so many of them, six she believed, that she could not remember whether this was Jane or Maria.

Nor did she care when she was so aware of Brooketon standing at the back of the crowded salon with the Duke of Blackmoor. She had not seen Lucien for the past seven days, and this musical soiree was the last place she would have expected to see him again.

Unless it had been arranged for them to meet.

Not by Lucien, of course. But she believed Thea and the duke were not averse to playing matchmaker if they felt so inclined.

Merely looking at Lucien in his black evening clothes and snowy white linen was enough to take Rachel’s breath away.

Reminding her of how much she had missed him.

William had been her first concern once they returned from Dover. Rachel had needed to ensure there were no repercussions from his having been kidnapped or from that last scene on Stanforth’s yacht.

He had been understandably clingy the first couple of days they were home, and there had been a nightmare that first night too. He had also asked several times about the man who had saved him. Questions which Rachel had dismissed by saying the viscount was very busy. An excuse William accepted readily, as his father had always been “too busy” to visit the nursery.