“As I said, you shall soon see.
“I’m sorry, but this havey-cavey secrecy must end,” she replied. “I demand to know where we are going, and why.”
The light was now strong enough for her to see the smile that crossed his face. It sent a chill through her very bones.
“Stop the carriage this instant!” demanded Alex.
Hammerton’s smile only turned more pronounced.
“Stop!” she cried, hoping to be heard over the clatter of the wheels.
“You need not bother yelling,” he drawled. “The coachman is my cousin and I assure you, no amount of yammering from you will cause him the least anxiety.” As he spoke, he slowly pulled a pistol from the pocket of his greatcoat. “Now kindly sit back. I would prefer not to shoot you quite yet, but if you force me, I promise you my shot will not just graze you this time.”
Comprehension dawned on her. “You!” she whispered
“Brilliant, my dear Miss Chilton,” he sneered as he pantomimed clapping his hands together. The pistol waved lazily back and forth in the air, as if mocking her lack of wits.
Alex felt a hollowness in the pit of her stomach. Hell’s bells, had she really been so bloody stupid?
And what of Justin?The bitter taste of bile rose in her throat.
As if reading her thoughts, Hammerton continued. “You asked where I am taking you. I have a small hunting box that only very few people know about. When we stopped earlier, it was to signal that everything was going according to plan. By now, a note has been delivered to your dear brother, who will nobly follow it to the letter in hopes of seeing you alive.”
“He won’t—he’s not that foolish.”
Hammerton gave a nasty laugh. “Of course he’ll come. And he’ll come alone.”
Alex’s eyes squeezed shut. To her dismay, she felt the burn of tears against her lids. Blinking rapidly, she forced it away. She wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
“Why?” she asked.
His mouth quirked in anticipation. Clearly he had been itching to reveal just how clever he was.
“Of course. You wish to know what all of this is about.” He stopped to savor the moment. “Well, there is little enough harm now in telling you the whole story.”
Alex was growing heartily sick of the look of smug satisfaction plastered on his features, but she kept her tongue in check. She needed to know the truth if she was to have any hope of devising a way out of this coil …
“First of all, I am not the Earl of Hammerton.”
Alex’s eyes must have betrayed her surprise, for he greeted her reaction with another bark of laughter.
Oh, how she wished she could plant her fist squarely on those thin, bloodless lips.
“That is,” he amended, “I am not thetrueEarl of Hammerton. That title rightfully belongs to your brother, now that your father is dead.”
Alex couldn’t repress a gasp.
“Yes,” he remarked. “We have a very odd and exasperating family, do we not, Miss Chilton. We are cousins, you know. Isn’t that charming?”
When she refused to be goaded into a reply, he merely shrugged and continued.
“I was raised by my great uncle, who took me in as a child after my parents had died during an outbreak of influenza. Despite two marriages, he never managed to produce an heir, thus it was natural that as time went on for everyone to assume that I was the relative next in line to inherit the title.”
Hammerton chuckled. “My earliest recollections were those of a rather— shall we say—hardscrabble childhood. My side of the family had no money and no prospects. I very quickly became used to my … new position in life.” He paused to flick a speck of lint from the lapel of his immaculately tailored jacket. “And all the power and privileges that come with it.”
Crossing his legs, he regarded Alex with a humorless smile. “It is quite pleasant to have enough money to indulge in one’s fancies—and enough influence to make sure any indiscretion is glossed over.” His expression grew harder. “To think the old rotter would imagine I’d willingly give it up. For he did, you know.”
Alex watched in disgust as his eyes narrowed to mere slits as he contemplated the past. “Uncle was taken quite ill, and at his advanced years it was feared he might not recover. I suppose the prospect of meeting his Maker finally brought on an attack of conscience. God knows the damn fellow showed no generosity of spirit during his lifetime—what he couldn’t manipulate or control he crushed. Except for me, of course. I was too smart forhim, even as a child. Oh, I played his game. It cost very little to pretend obedience when measured against the rewards.”
