“But you want her, and she wants you. I’m not going to let there be a happy ending for you, Joshua.”
“You will not threaten Miss Emerson in my presence.”
“Threaten her? I will take her, Joshua. I will have her beneath me, and I will claim her maidenhead, whether she is willing or nay, and I?—”
Gerald never finished his threat, for Joshua decked him. Surprise was on his side, and Gerald fell backward, blood spurting from his nose. He looked from the blood on his hand to Joshua, his astonishment clear.
“I advised you to refrain from threatening Miss Emerson,” Joshua said. He might have turned his back on the brother he once had known, but he saw the flash of anger in this man’s eyes and retreated a step instead. Gerald flung himself at Joshua, and Joshua saw the flash of the knife.
A little too late he understood why Mrs. Lewis had been so convinced that she would be a viscountess, and Francis would inherit the title: Gerald meant to kill Joshua.
They grappled together, fighting as they had as boys, but the stakes were higher and the struggle was fierce. This time, Joshua fought for his life.
He had always won when they fought, and he hoped his good fortune held.
The viscount did not come.
Helena sat outside with Mischief, waiting for his appearance, her agitation rising with every passing hour. It was evening when Hoskins came for the horse, though he spoke only briefly to Nixon and brought no tidings from Addersley Manor.
Helena could not contain her anxiety. She paced so that Aunt sent her to bed for the sake of silence. She was restless in her room, so concerned that Mischief watched her avidly. She knew she would never sleep without knowing whatever had happened in the forest, but there was no way to discover the truth.
Did the viscount truly believe they were so ill suited? Helena had believed him in the moment, but as the hours passed, she wondered if he had simply wanted to ensure that she left him alone. Had he been protecting her, as he had done before? Or had he truly been dismissing her forever?
She hated the uncertainty of that as much as her ignorance of his fate.
The hair prickled on the back of her neck after midnight and she knew something would happen. She heard the hoofbeats and her heart lunged to her throat. Her candle was still lit—despite many admonitions to extinguish it—and she went to the window, fearful of what she might see.
A lone rider appeared, his silhouette as familiar as the horse and his cloak. He lifted a hand, beckoning to her, but something was amiss. Helena stared at him, unable to name what detail ensured that she was filled with dread, but she would not answer his summons.
She doused the candle with a deliberate gesture, plunging the room into darkness. He stared toward the cottage for longmoments, then gave the horse his heels and raced toward the ruins of the old keep.
He was not the viscount. Helena was certain of it.
What had happened at the folly?
More importantly, what had happened to the viscount?
Joshua ached.
His eye was blackened and his ribs were bruised. Gerald had the worse end of the pummeling, and had fled after his knife had been seized by Joshua and cast into the pond. Joshua had retrieved it after his brother’s flight and knew he should not have been surprised that it was a weapon from his father’s collection in the library.
He walked home, feeling every rising bruise, and sent Hoskins to retrieve Specter from Bramble Cottage. He did not specifically forbid the sharing of any tidings, but simply did not think of sending word of his survival until the ostler was gone.
The knife made him realize that Gerald might be the thief taking items from Addersley Manor. His brother would be aware which items were of value and also the ones whose disappearance was less likely to be noticed. His thefts could be executed quickly and effectively.
And Gerald knew ways into the house. He had always been able to lift the latch on the library doors from the outside, a trick that Joshua had never mastered. A consultation with the horrified Fairfax had ensured that all would be secured that night.
Joshua retired early, partaking only of a hearty broth and a hot bath. He would hope that the duke might have arrived on the morrow so he could consult with that man about Gerald.
He had bidden Hoskins to ensure with a quiet word that the man employed at Bramble Cottage secured that house. He did not retire until Reed brought him word of Hoskins’ safe return.
Knowing that Miss Emerson was safe – for the moment – was all he needed to be able to sleep.
Helena heardthe pony cart arrive at Bramble Cottage early the next morning, and hurried to finish dressing and hasten downstairs. She could only guess that it was a delivery from town, and hoped there might be news of the viscount.
She found Aunt at breakfast, the door to the kitchen more ajar than was typical and Aunt herself in the seat closest to the door. It was not her customary place, and she waved Helena to silence as soon as she entered the room. Helena slipped into a place at the table and poured herself a cup of tea, glad that the voices carried readily from the kitchen.
Nixon was speaking to someone, a woman who Helena did not know. Evidently she and Nixon were familiar acquaintances.
