Yankee Earl (45 page)

      
“A crude weapon, perfectly suited to a former pirate,” Simmons sneered at Jason as the Yankee's knife deflected a thrust aimed at his throat.

      
“No,” Beaumont grunted as they disengaged. “I would prefer to have a true pirate's cutlass, but I will settle for this Shawnee skinning knife to take your scalp.”

      
Jason knew that it was dangerous to prolong the uneven contest, and he could see Rachel from the corner of his eye, trying to find a good shot. But that was too dangerous, and his sensible wife realized it, thank the Lord. He went on the offensive. Lunging under Evelyn's foot and a half of steel, Jason nicked his foe, then retreated beyond the reach of the deadly blade. The tactic necessary for victory was difficult but not impossible, considering that he'd learned to fight aboard the pitching deck of a ship on the high seas. The problem was his thigh. The wound Rachel had stitched so carefully the day before was torn open again and bleeding.

      
If only there were some way I could help him
, Rachel thought desperately, scanning the rough wooden planks of the floor, littered with empty packing crates and other debris. Then she looked higher. Dangling from a high beam was a length of rope with a nasty grappling hook attached to the end of it. Wasting no time, she made her way around the crates, keeping out of sight of the combatants until she reached the hook.

      
It hung enticingly about ten feet above her head. How to reach it? She shoved two crates together, then piled a third on top of them and used it as a crude stepladder. Seizing hold of the hook, she gave a mighty yank, and the rotted rope gave way from its mooring at the top of the beam. Perfect. Graceful as a cat, she jumped down to the floor and approached the two men, gripping the hook.

      
Although Jason had bloodied Simmons superficially, it was his own thigh wound that now soaked his trousers with gore.
He'll begin to tire, and then his reflexes…
She refused to let her thoughts dwell on that as she inched closer to the two men, still using the crates as cover so as not to distract them. Just then Evelyn made a desperate thrust, knocking aside Jason's blade. The earl pivoted and avoided a mortal wound as the ribbon of steel sliced cleanly across the front of his shirt.

      
Unfortunately, he had been forced to turn on his injured leg and it began to buckle. Rachel could see him going down, but his blade once again engaged Simmons's, holding it in check…barely.

      
“Now...I...do believe…I have you,” Simmons gritted out, struggling to free his weapon for the killing thrust.

      
Hold on, my love!
Rachel slipped behind Evelyn. With one mighty swing, she embedded the hook in his throat, yanking backward with all her strength.

      
The rapier clattered to the floor as he raised both hands to his ruined throat, gurgling an oath as he turned murderous eyes on Rachel…eyes that quickly filmed over while he crumpled to the floor. Without sparing Simmons another glance, she knelt beside her husband, who was struggling to his hands and knees.

      
He looked up at her with a grin. “If you can use a grappling hook that efficiently, perhaps I shall take you with me next time I go privateering.” He looked down at the widening pool of blood surrounding Evelyn Simmons' dead body. “Then again, given your temper, perhaps not.”

      
“You've bled almost as much as he. Come, let me get you into the light so I can see how much damage you've done to yourself.” Rachel shuddered, deliberately ignoring the corpse and her horrible handiwork.

      
“I had a bit of help, Countess,” he replied, allowing her to place his arm about her shoulder for support. He was able to walk without it but said nothing, wanting to hold her as close as he could.

      
She looked up into his face, studying it. “Thank you for saving my life, Jason,” she said gravely.

      
“Rachel, my love, just before Mace and his brigands interrupted us, I asked you a question.”

      
“Twas devilish difficult to answer with your hand clamped over my mouth,” she replied lightly; but there was a question in her eyes. Did he mean what she hoped he did?

      
Before he could say anything more, Fox's voice rang out excitedly, “I got two of them, LaFarge!”

      
The little Frenchman walked through the open door, his keen eyes taking in the scene of carnage. Just then, before Rachel's and Jason's horrified eyes, he raised a pistol from his side and aimed it at Fox.
Oh, God, another of Garnet and Evelyn 's minions?
Neither could do anything as the boy stood frozen. The ball whizzed past him cleanly and struck its target.

      
Knife still clutched in her hand, Garnet Dalbert fell back against the stairs, landing in a most undignified heap with a small red stain widening over her black heart. While Jason and Rachel were still in shock, the little Frenchman rushed to Fox and clutched him in his arms, scolding angrily.

      
“
Mon petit
, how many times have I explained that you must never gloat until you have made certain all your enemies are buried, lest they rise up and slit your throat while you crow?”

      
Fox nodded, chastened, as Jason and Rachel approached. Neither the fight master nor the boy took note of the cutthroat who sat behind the doorway still clutching his injured knee and moaning softly. Just as Jason prepared to secure their prisoner for the watch, the ninth Marquess of Cargrave rushed through the door, breathless from his unsuccessful attempt to keep up with LaFarge. Several watchmen followed closely behind him and took charge of the lone prisoner, as well as seeing to the bodies of the others.

      
“However did you find us, m'lord?” Jason asked, not bothering to suppress his amazement.

      
“You owe it to your friend Drummond. 'Twas he who sent word from Gravesend that, although Forrestal was a bounder, he was not the assassin. He also alerted me to the danger of allowing you to gallivant about the countryside in route to Bristol while that fool Dalbert's wife and stepson remained unaccounted for.”

      
“They were going to kill both of us so that Roger could inherit,” Rachel said.

      
“But Roger never wanted the titles,” Jason murmured, perplexed.

      
“Your cousin knew nothing of what his wife and her son were doing. Ironically, Garnet cared nothing more for the titles than did her husband, since Roger could not pass them down to Evelyn. She confessed everything while she was tormenting me,” Rachel said. “They wanted the money.”

      
“Needed it quite desperately, in fact, for their business ventures,” the marquess added, having been apprised of that fact in Drum's message.

      
“Drum always was suspicious of the Dalberts, but I dismissed the idea as preposterous because I couldn't imagine Roger as a villain and Forrestal seemed so likely a candidate. I never thought about the Simmons shipping business being in trouble,” Jason said.

      
“Well, 'tis a good thing your cynical friend did,” Cargrave replied testily. Then with hearty approval, he added, “Dandy he might be and a wastrel to boot, but the Honorable Albert Francis Edward Drummond has risen sharply in my estimation over the past few days.”

      
“Didn't Garnet save Jace's life when he was given the foxglove?” Fox asked, puzzled.

      
“She explained it,” Rachel replied. “Remember when she told us how her father was afflicted with a heart condition and she tended him? She knew all about the drug. Knew that if the dosage is not sufficient to be lethal, it can cause the victim to suffer paralysis and brain damage but possibly live for months, even years. Then her hired killers would have had no chance to get close enough for another attempt on your life.”

      
“I hadn't drunk enough of the punch. She couldn't chance that I'd not oblige her by dying. Thank God good old Roger accidentally spilled most of my drink,” Jason said.

      
Rachel nodded with a grim shiver. “She used foxglove to kill her own father because he had uncovered some of her son's unsavory business dealings.”

      
“The woman was a bedlamite,” Jason replied. “Poor Roger. He will take this hard.”

      
“Then we shall not tell him.” When everyone looked at Rachel with amazement, she shrugged. “What need to hurt the poor man? We can with complete justification blame the whole thing on Evelyn and say that Garnet learned what he was doing and came here to stop him. She was accidentally killed in the confusion by one of her son's men.”

      
“Countess, you are a marvel,” Jason said with a tender smile.

      
As the watchmen were carrying the last of the bodies away, Fox tugged on the marquess' coat sleeve and whispered something that caused the old man to roar with laughter, then shake his head.

      
“No, m'boy. Must I keep reminding you that this is England.”

      
“No scalps!” Jason admonished, knowing at once what the boy had asked.

      
Everyone burst into laughter, even LaFarge. Then Cargrave turned to Jason and said, “May I have a word in private with you, Grandson?” His expression had turned suddenly somber.

      
Nodding to the others, Jason stepped outside into the chilly night air with the old man, who turned to him with what was now a wistful smile. “I have always gotten my way, Jason. Played to win. Yes—” he put up his hands with a sigh— “and I cheat when necessary. I wanted you for my heir and Hugh's daughter for your wife; but this time my scheming almost cost you both your lives, not to mention that splendid lad's. I played you false.

      
“And now I intend to make what amends I can. There is still time for you and Fox to sail with the morning tide. I will not interfere. The decision is yours…and perhaps Rachel's. All I ask is that neither of you think too ill of a conniving old bastard.” He reached out and embraced his startled grandson before Jason could utter a word, then walked slowly back toward the lighted doorway.

      
“Grandfather, wait.” When the old man turned around and faced his grandson, Jason said, “I have heard stories about you and Grandmother. That yours was the greatest love match of the last century.”

      
Cargrave nodded with what Jason would have sworn were tears gleaming in his eyes. “Aye, it was that, lad.”

      
“And you wanted the same for me with Rachel. Fox told me, but I was too blind a fool to see the truth.”

      
“As I was too stubborn to explain it to you honestly. From the time Hugh first brought her around, and she almost broke her neck trying to jump a pony over a hedge, I knew you were right for each other.”

      
“Twould seem, m'lord, that you and the viscount are far wiser than your offspring,” Jason said ruefully.

      
“We damn well should be, considering we are three times your ages!” the marquess roared, once again his old imperious self.

      
Jason hugged the old man hard, then said with a wink, “I think that in the fullness of time I shall be able to convince my bride of that fact.”

* * * *

      
They all rode in the marquess' coach to a better district of town and took lodgings in a comfortable inn. With the innkeeper's wife assisting her with warm water, medical supplies and bandages, Rachel restitched Jason's thigh by the light of a blazing fire in the common room, which was empty at that late hour.

      
When Jason was once again decently clad, Cargrave, Fox and LaFarge came in to assure themselves that the earl was all right, then bade good night to the bridal couple and retired. Jason and Rachel remained behind.

      
“You never did have the opportunity to answer the question I have asked you twice now.” He looked at her expectantly.

      
Rachel had been uncharacteristically quiet since they'd left the warehouse, but now she cleared her throat and said, “I know you and Fox can return to America if that is your wish…and I would not blame you…for you see…” She paused to swallow her tears. “I have been every bit as conniving as your grandfather.”

      
“You mean because of the need for consummation of our marriage?” he prompted, holding back a smile.

      
“That and more. Your grandfather never intended to adopt Fox as a means of forcing you to produce heirs. He loves the boy well, for I've heard him bragging to my father about how bright the child is and making plans for his education, and for seeing him established as a wealthy English gentleman, but that's all. I lied.”

      
“Just as your body lied when you came to my room on our wedding night? For a woman intent only on effecting a consummation, you went considerably beyond…hmmm, what was necessary. I seem to recall the nature of your responses on our wedding night, then at Falconridge, and twice while we were on the road to Bristol. Now, unless you have an unusually indestructible maidenhead, Countess, naught but once was required.”