The Sweetest Love (Sons of Worthington Series) (35 page)

With his heart pumping in an irregular beat, he jumped to his feet. “Gibbs, I must be going. Thank you very much for the talk. It helped me immensely.”

“Is something amiss, milord?”

“I have a terrible feeling…” He paused as panic jolted through him. The love of his life was in danger. He just knew it.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tristan rode his horse hard and fast toward Lady
Dashwood’s
estate. The closer he came, the more his head filled with clouds and he became lightheaded. He shook his head and blinked, trying to focus better. This didn’t make sense. He’d only had a few sips of his drink, so why was he acting in such a way?

He finally reached the stable, and dismounted. Hurrying toward the structure, the walls seemed to dance in front of him and the ground slanted as if he were walking on a ship.

Tristan stopped and squeezed his eyes closed. What the devil was happening to him? Cotton felt like it was growing in his mouth, but along with it came the stale, bitter taste of the liquor he’d consumed earlier with Gibbs. In all the years Tristan had been drinking, never had he had such a reaction.

What were the odds the rum was laced with some kind of drug that made him feel as if he were floating right out of his body?

 
Groaning, he fought against his mind trying to come alert—to snap out of this haze he’d been put under.
 
Why had he taken the vile drink in the first place? Now he cursed the spiked rum for making his head swim and his stomach twist. He vowed never to touch liquor again.

He took in a deep breath and moved into the stable. Gradually, his limbs weakened. Finding the strength, he lifted his hands and scrubbed his face, trying to get the blood flowing through him enough to bring him alert. His muscles began to ache and his body felt stiff. Indeed, someone had put some kind of drug in his drink!

He opened his eyes and tried to focus. Darkness surrounded him at first, and then a small amount of light came from the far end of the stables. Slowly he turned his head, but the movement was still too fast and his stomach lurched in protest. Closing his eyes, he gritted his teeth to keep the contents of his stomach down where it belonged.

In the silence of the room, a horse snorted and shuffled his feet. Once again, Tristan blinked open his eyes and this time things appeared slightly clearer than before, but not much.

Tristan took his time moving toward the light…only because the blasted barn wouldn’t quit spinning around him. Right here and now he made another vow…never to touch the vile drink again!

Mentally, he shook his head, remembering he’d already made that vow a few seconds ago.
The vile drink
be
deuced!
He would swear off liquor forever!

He inhaled deeply, and then exhaled slowly hoping to force his mind to be more attentive. He could overpower whatever drug he’d taken since he only had a few sips.

Taking small steps, he continued to move his feet, keeping his hand on the wall as an aide. The light he’d seen earlier had been the back door that was still open, and thankfully the moon was full tonight which helped make the pathway out of the stable brighter.

As he came closer to the stable door, he wondered why it was still open. Usually the stable hands closed it when they put the horses down for the night. He blinked a few more times, but still his eyesight wasn’t as focused as he’d wanted.

Shuffling of footsteps was heard, so he stopped…as did the footsteps. He trained his ears to listen for other sounds, but he couldn’t detect anything unusual.

Just as he took another step, a shadow appeared at the door. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to see
better
. It hadn’t worked. His vision was still blurred.

“Who goes there?” he asked in a dry throat.

The longer he stared at the shadow, the form finally took shape into a person.
A woman, actually.
His heart lifted. Was it Diana? He could only pray.

“Who are you?” he asked again as he took another step closer.

All he could tell was that the woman wore a black hooded cloak. Although the hood was over her head, the sides of the cloak were pulled back for him to see her silver and white dress. He couldn’t see her face at all. Yet she seemed too tall to be Diana. So who was this visitor?

“I demand you tell me,” he spoke louder this time.

The woman’s hand moved away from her body and she was holding something long and pointy. The moon hit the steel just enough that it shined.

He sucked in his breath. She held a knife! Worthington and Elliot were stabbed to death. Was Tristan to be next?

He came to halt and flattened himself against the wall to hold
himself
up. “I demand to know who you are and why you are here.”

“I am here to kill you, my lord.”

The woman’s voice was low, and he didn’t recognize it. Perhaps if he got her to talk to him a little more, he would be able to tell who this person was.

He swallowed the lump of fear in his throat. “You wish to kill
me
? Do you know who I am?”

“Not to worry, Lord Tristan. I have not confused you with anyone.”

“Why do you want me dead?”

She took a step closer. “Because you are getting too close to the truth, and I can’t have you turning me in to the magistrate.”

Confusion left his brain groggy. “Are you the one who killed Lord Hollingsworth and Lord Elliot?”

“Those men had to die because of their ill treatment of their servants. You, Lord Tristan, have not beaten or raped your servants as these other men have, but you still must die. I need to continue to rid the world of people like Hollingsworth and Lord Elliot.”

“You are not making any sense, madam. I beg
you,
please tell me who you are.”

The lady laughed. “I see you are feeling out of sorts. I’m happy to know my servant drugged your rum as I’d asked him to.

“Please, Madam. Tell me who you are.”

“You had thought Tabitha was the killer, but she’s not, and because you put ideas into the magistrate’s head, he had her arrested. And because you are giving the magistrate false ideas, you are in turn hurting my friend. I cannot have that at all.”

I know this lady!
Now her voice was starting to sound familiar, but because his hazy mind was not quite alert, he couldn’t pinpoint this lady’s identity.

“Then allow me to ease your mind,” he told her gently…soothingly. “I promise you I have not gone to the magistrate with any information. I had accused Tabitha, but within a few hours I realized my mistake. I assure you, I will not speak to the magistrate until I have solid proof.”

“Not if you are dead.” She came closer.

Silently, he prayed he would be strong enough to hold her off—or at least take the knife from her hand before she stabbed him. Unfortunately, the room still tilted and he couldn’t get his bearings.

“Is it money you want? Tell me how I can convince you to leave me alone?”

A low chuckle rumbled through her. “I am not in want of money, my lord.
Only revenge.”
Lifting the knife higher, she lunged toward him.

Instinctively, he raised his hand to protect his face, and at the same time scrambled to get out of her way. His limbs were too slow. The sharp blade of the knife sliced through the skin on his right arm. Burning pain ripped through him, turning his stomach quicker than alcohol had ever done.

When she pulled back and raised her hand again, he took the opportunity to move away from her. Unfortunately, he feared because of his drugged stated, she would eventually overpower him.

Oh Lord, help me!

* * * *

Diana wandered outside, unwilling to sleep. How could she when her friend was in prison?

Since the moment the magistrate hauled Tabitha away, Diana had been doing all she could to get the maid released. Both she and Claudia had been busy today, calling on people to get statements from them, and collecting anything they could that would prove Tabitha’s innocence. Most of the evening, Diana had spent talking to the magistrate, pleading with him to free Tabitha. She’d explained to him about Tabitha’s beating two nights before Ludlow had died and that she couldn’t possibly had killed him. Diana also explained how she had kidnapped Tristan and that Tabitha had been keeping watch on him the very night Lord Elliot died. So why hadn’t the magistrate believed her?

The whole day had passed in such a state of confusion and left her mind in a dither that she had forgotten to send Tristan a note. Now it was too late. But she really wanted to see him…she
needed
to see him. She needed to be in his arms while he comforted her.

She glanced toward the stable. Hopefully, Claudia wouldn’t mind if Diana took a horse. She just couldn’t wait any longer.

 
As she walked toward the stable, she wondered why a lantern had been left on. Perhaps a stable hand was still in there putting the horses down for the night. But the closer she came to the stable, voices rang out from inside. She couldn’t quite discern who was speaking, but whoever it was, they were arguing.

Perhaps she shouldn’t go in and disturb them. It would be hard, but she’d have to wait until tomorrow to see Tristan. But then Tristan’s voice rang through the air, strong and laced with panic…almost
demanding,
her heart jumped in fear.

Something was wrong. She just knew it.

Within seconds, he cried out.

Lifting her gown to her ankles, she sprinted down the grassy slope toward the back of the stables. Finally, she reached the edge of the structure. Out of breath, she quietly tried to step toward the voices as she listened intently.

“You, Madam, are mad! If you kill me,
you
would surely hurt your friend…a friend you have claimed to care so much about,” Tristan said.

Diana inhaled sharply.
Kill him?
Someone was trying to kill him?

Fear sliced through her, and she knew she must do something quickly, although running back to the house to get help was not the right thing to do. Somehow, she must interfere.

“Oh, Lord Tristan, you are certainly full of yourself tonight if you think that your death will hurt Diana.”

Stumbling, she couldn’t believe what she heard. This was about her?
Impossible!

“Contrary to what you believe, Diana loves me as much as I love her.”

Tears stung her eyes and her heart melted from his words, but panic still make her limbs shake. One way or another, she had to help him.

“Not to worry, my lord. I will be there for her and soothe her when she hears of your death. I assure you, she will forget about you soon enough.”

That voice!
Oh, good heavens. It couldn’t be…

Diana took quick steps and rushed through the back door. The woman wearing a dark, hooded cloak turned toward Diana with a knife raised in the air, ready to swipe at her.

“Claudia, no!
It is I, Diana.”

Her friend gasped and quickly brought her arm in back of her to hide the knife. The movement knocked the hood from her friend’s head, and the woman’s blonde ringlets gleamed in the moonlight.

“Diana…
Wh
—
what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to stop you from killing the man that I love.” She looked at Tristan. He stood against the wall as if he were trying to hold it up. He gazed at her through hooded eyes…as if he
were
intoxicated and he was carrying his right arm…
His
bloody
arm.
“Tristan, you’re bleeding.” She rushed past Claudia and to Tristan. With one hand, he reached out to her, pulling her beside him.

“It’s just a scratch,” he said softly.

Although it was dark and shadows danced everywhere, the moon’s light let her see that the blood on his arm was not from a little scratch. Anger filled her, and she swung toward her friend. “Claudia? Did you stab Tristan?”

“I had to,” she replied in a pleading voice. “Don’t you see?”

“No, I do not. Please enlighten me,” Diana demanded.

“Lord Tristan was telling things to the
magistrate that were
false. That’s why Tabitha was arrested. And he’s getting too close to the truth. I will
not
allow this man to damage all of the good I’ve been trying to do by helping girls like Tabitha and Sally escape their hellish nightmares. Men like Lord Tristan are thorns in my side, and do you know what I do with thorns? I
remove
them!”

“Oh, Claudia.”
Diana’s heart wrenched. “You cannot be serious. Are you the one who killed Ludlow…and Lord Elliot?”

Claudia straightened, standing her ground as she lifted her knife again. “I did, and I would gladly do it again. England is much better without monsters that enjoy tormenting women like us.”

“Like you?” Tristan asked. “Pray tell, Lady
Dashwood
, how do you fit in to all of this?”

“I lived with a father who beat me, only to marry a man who was worse. After I killed my husband, I vowed to find all the lowlife men who were like my husband, and do away with them.”