Virginia Henley (51 page)

Rupert returned to Hatton’s side. “Eaton hasn’t shown up yet.”

“It’s a ploy to try my nerves, but it won’t work!” Kit snapped, proving that indeed it was working. He began to pace back and forth across the grass, and as the darkness began to fade, he saw that the men gathered were staring at the uniform he wore. He pulled back his shoulders and lifted his head, imitating the pride of a lion and acting as he imagined Nicholas would.

As dawn began to lighten the sky, all present watched Jeremy Eaton arrive alone. Trevor Mitford approached him immediately, and they huddled together, speaking low. Then Mitford beckoned Rupert, who joined them with reluctant steps. Rupert opened the leather case that held the pistols, and after Eaton gazed down at them, he cast a worried look over his shoulder.

Christopher Hatton could wait no longer. He strode over to the trio, selected a pistol, then proceeded to load it with ball and powder. Mitford handed Eaton the other pistol, but when he made no move to load it, Mitford took it back and loaded it for him.

Rupert spoke urgently. “Gentlemen, surely you can settle your differences in a more civilized manner?”

“Absolutely not!” Hatton snarled. “Eaton has impugned my honor. I will have satisfaction.”

When Mitford spoke, his voice had risen an octave. “Gentlemen, you will stand back to back and count off ten paces; at the count of ten, you will turn and fire.”

The deadly enemies stood heel to heel. Eaton’s face was paper-white. Hatton’s was flushed a dull red. Trevor and Rupert began to count in unison, “One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven—”

Three Bow Street Mounted Patrolmen rode onto the scene. “Stop, in the name of the law!”

On what would have been the count of eight, the duelists turned. Kit Hatton fired his pistol; Jeremy Eaton fell to the ground. One patrolman went to the fallen victim, while the other two lawmen immediately closed in on the man wearing the army captain’s uniform. One confiscated his pistol; the other handcuffed him. “Nicholas Hatton, you are under arrest for the suspected murder of your father, the late Henry Hatton.”

Kit began to struggle and shouted, “You’ve got the wrong man!” His protests were in vain, as the two men flanked him and marched him off. “Rupert! Rupert! Find my brother and fetch him to me immediately!”

Rupert still stood rooted to the spot after Nicholas Hatton had been taken away.
Good God, they arrested him on suspicion of murder. Apparently, they don’t believe the shooting at Hatton was accidental!
Nick’s shouts still rang in his ears:
“Find my brother and fetch him to me immediately!”
Rupert tried to recall Nick’s exact words when he had asked him where Kit was:
He left for Hatton this afternoon. Said something about wanting to spend the evening with Alexandra.
Rupert, suddenly mobilized, strode from Green Park and hurried to Clarges Street where his mount was stabled. He was halfway to Hatton when he realized that he didn’t know if Jeremy Eaton was alive or dead.

 

Reverend Doyle had not slept well. He was an early riser who was at the Hatton church altar by six each morning, and today was no exception. He owed his living to the Hattons and seldom criticized their actions, but he had been shocked when Lord Hatton had not attended church services on Sunday when his marriage banns had been read before the congregation. Christopher’s future bride, Alexandra Sheffield, had also been conspicuous by her absence, Doyle reflected. It was his duty to chastise them, and he would have done so immediately, had it not been for the fear of losing his living.

Doyle had allowed two days to slip by, but his conscience was now pricking him so badly, he decided that he must act. With prayer book in hand as a talisman, he closed the church door and with resolution set out for Hatton Hall.

 

Nicholas Hatton lay abed. Sleep had eluded him all night as he relived the events of the last few days. They all had a surreal quality, as if they were too fantastic to be believed. Yet he actually
had
robbed His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent, and been shot in the head for his efforts. He
had
discovered Alexandra in a brothel, and he
had
carried her off to his bed in Curzon Street. He
had
stolen her innocence, but only after confessing that he was in love with her. He
had
asked her to marry him.

Nick quit the bed with a foul oath and leaned his arms on the windowsill as he watched the sunrise. All evening he had waited for her to come to Hatton. Even now, he stubbornly refused to give up hope. If she loved him, she would come.

When Mr. Burke brought him a freshly starched shirt and neckcloth, he hesitated. Should he don clothes more suitable for working with his horses at the Grange or wear his best in case Alex came? He compromised, and put on the fresh linen Burke supplied along with fawn breeches and tan leather boots. He picked up the book he had tried to read in the small hours of the night and returned it to the library. He was about to cross to the windows when a paper lying on the desk caught his eye. He walked over to investigate and again an oath fell from his lips. It was a special license to marry, made out in the name of Christopher Flynn Hatton and Alexandra Sheffield.

When he read her name, his gut knotted. His heart told him that Alex loved him and would never marry his twin. His head, however, told him that he had neither wealth nor title to offer her. He had also betrayed her trust. Why should she not marry Christopher?

 

When Alexandra awakened at dawn she reached out to touch Nicholas. One heartbeat later, everything came rushing back and she realized that she was in her own bed at Longford Manor. Alex closed her eyes against the pain of reality and blushed at how closemouthed she’d been with her grandmother, even though circumstances dictated the things she had said and the things she had left unsaid.

That’s when Alex had told her grandmother that the dress she had ordered for the wedding was not yet ready. She had said nothing to dispel the idea that she would marry Christopher. Her hurt over Nicholas had been too sharp and far too personal to share, but today she would have to find the words that would reveal the truth to Dottie. First, however, she would ride over to Hatton and speak with Kit. He and his twin had conspired to deceive her, and she felt an overwhelming need to confront him.

She put on her gray riding skirt but decided against the yellow jacket she usually wore with it. Her mood was not sunny today. Instead she slipped her arms into a matching gray jacket trimmed with black braid. As she brushed her hair, she absently noticed how long it was getting and pushed it back over her shoulders with impatient hands. She knew that food would stick in her throat, so she skipped breakfast and went to the stables to saddle Zephyr.

As she set out for Hatton Hall, she saw a rider in the distance. She stopped and shaded her eyes from the rising sun. Suddenly her heart jumped into her mouth. Only Nicholas rode at such hell-for-leather speed. As her vision focused, however, she clearly saw that it was not Nick but Rupert, of all people. Alex turned her mare and galloped to meet her brother.

“Rupert, what on earth is wrong?”

“I . . . er . . . I must get a message to Kit.”

“Something has happened! Tell me!”

“Nick just fought a duel in Green Park, and they arrested him.”

“A duel?” Alex thought he must be mistaken. “A duel with whom, for God’s sake?”

“With his cousin, Jeremy Eaton. He may be dead.”

“Nick?” Without waiting for a reply, she set her heels to her mount and galloped off.

“Stop! Wait!” Rupert thundered after her and grabbed Zephyr’s reins. “Nick isn’t dead . . . I meant Eaton.”

“I must go to Nick if they’ve arrested him for shooting Eaton.”

“They’ve arrested him on suspicion of murder.”

“That’s ridiculous! Let me go!”

“On suspicion of murdering his
father,
Alex.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief, and her face turned pale as parchment. “None of this makes sense. Where have they taken him?”

“I don’t know. Nick asked me to get Kit and fetch him to London. There’s nothing you can do, Alex; it’s a job for Christopher. He’s a Lord of the Realm.”

As they stood arguing, the black berline coach belonging to Lord Neville Staines swept past them on its way to Hatton Hall. As they stared after it, Rupert muttered, “Hasty news travels fast.” Without another word the brother and sister followed the coach.

By the time they dismounted and tied their horses’ reins to a tree, Lord Staines, Colonel Stevenson, and the man with them had entered the hall. Reverend Doyle hurried his steps to catch up with Alexandra before she and her brother went inside.

“Mistress Sheffield, I would like a word with you, if I may.”

“Please forgive me, Reverend Doyle; I’m in a dreadful hurry.”

His face was set in stern lines. “You did not attend church service on Sunday when I announced your banns!”

Clutching Rupert’s sleeve so that he would not leave her behind, Alex replied, “I was unavoidably detained in London, Reverend.”

“And Lady Longford?” he pressed.

“My grandmother was busy nursing our invalid mother. Please excuse us; we must speak with Lord Hatton.”

Mr. Burke opened the door to Neville Staines’s urgent knock and admitted the three men. “May I help you, Lord Staines?”

“Yes, Burke. This is Sergeant Norton of the Bow Street Police. Kindly announce us to Lord Hatton.”

On his guard immediately, Burke asked, “May I tell his lordship what this is about, Lord Staines?”

“Nicholas has been arrested. We will be needed in London.”

Mr. Burke knew full well that Nicholas was in the library, therefore it must be Christopher who had been arrested. “I shall inform his lordship immediately, sir.”

Burke dashed upstairs, selected an elegant coat made by Schultz, then rushed down to the library. “Lord Staines, Colonel Stevenson, and a Sergeant Norton of Bow Street are in the hall. They insist that Nicholas has been arrested, and wish to speak with Lord Hatton. Obviously they’ve mixed you up.”

Nick frowned. “Did you straighten them out?”

Burke held the coat while Nick slipped his arms into the sleeves. “They wish to speak with
Lord Hatton;
I told them I would inform his lordship immediately.”

Burke ushered the three men into the library. “Will there be anything else, my lord?”

“See that we are not disturbed, Mr. Burke.”

“Christopher, this is Sergeant Norton from the Bow Street Police. They arrested your twin this morning on serious charges.”

Norton spoke up. “At dawn we interrupted a duel in Green Park and arrested your brother on suspicion of murder.”

“A duel?”
The bloody fool! Is there no end to his folly?
“There must be some mistake. Why do you think it was Nick Hatton?”

“There is no mistake, my lord. Your brother was wearing his Royal Horse Artillery uniform.”

Nick was stunned.
Kit was deliberately impersonating me!
“He killed his opponent?”

“His opponent, Eaton, was wounded in the duel,” Norton supplied.

Christ, which Eaton? John or Jeremy?
“If his opponent is only wounded, why is he being held on suspicion of murder?”

Neville Staines cut in. “The suspicion concerns your
father’s
shooting. Apparently someone informed the police that it may not have been an accident. Since I was the coroner who signed the death certificate, and the colonel is Justice of the Peace of this county, Norton came to notify us. But before we left for London, I insisted we come here to let you know what has happened.”

“My father’s shooting was an accident.” Nick’s tone was implacable.

“Of course it was,” Lord Staines agreed. “Now, however, there will have to be an inquest to clear your twin’s name. In the meantime, they are holding Nicholas at Wood Street Compter.”

“That’s near the Guildhall, I believe. I shall leave as soon as possible, gentlemen. Thank you for bringing me the news.”

“Thank you, Lord Hatton.” Norton bowed; Staines and Stevenson nodded. When Neville opened the library door for them to leave, Alexandra and Rupert rushed in, with Mr. Burke on their heels. Reverend Doyle followed hesitantly and stood inside the door.

“I couldn’t stop them, Lord Hatton,” Burke apologized.

“There was no need to stop them, Mr. Burke.” Burke nodded and left the library to see the men out.

Nick’s hungry glance swept over Alexandra. Her hair was a riot of wildfire this morning, contrasting sharply with the sober gray riding dress. Her face was pale; her eyes full of apprehension.