Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
H oratio watched the countryside roll by.
His driver had been given instructions to deliver him to Wetherby house posthaste. The team of two horses that drew the carriage had been chosen from the strongest of Horatio's stables.
Presently, he sat with his hands atop the cane that he still needed due to the weakness in his legs that grew by the hour. That was to be expected, however, he had been fed a drug that was clearly addictive in nature, forcing him to rely on the doses provided by Doctor Jackton. Now, he was denying himself that drug, and his body was reacting.
It would pass.
Hall had seen men addicted to the juice of the poppy and the sickness that seemed to wash over them when they were denied it. Horatio hoped that the feeling of sickness would pass soon also. He sensed that it would be inadvisable to face whatever awaited him at Wetherby without his full strength.
He felt a curious mixture of elation and anxiety. The elation came from his newfound freedom. For so long, he had been ruled by his need to improve the name of his family, to be well-thought-of by his peers. That thinking had governed him. From the annual balls that he hated so much that he was unwilling to show his face, to allowing himself to be forced into marriage for the sake of reputation.
Now, he felt free .
He didn't care for his reputation. It had been tarnished because of the actions of others, manipulating him. If it remained tarnished for that reason, it did not matter. All that mattered was pursuing his heart's desire, not what his head told him he must do.
All that mattered was Juliet.
How much time did she have left? So much time had been wasted already.
The reason for choosing the coach with its team of four was because Horatio intended to take Juliet from Wetherby directly to Carlisle, there to find Doctor Alistair Carmichael and discover the cure.
If there was a cure.
If there was not, then Horatio's next mission was to make Juliet's remaining time in this world as blissful as he could. And regardless of what she wanted, Horatio would marry her, widower or not. He would wear that mantle with pride as it was earned by marriage to a remarkable, beautiful woman that he loved.
“Wetherby House, Your Grace!” the driver, Graeme, called out.
The coach was turning into a broad driveway of white gravel. Decorative urns of classical Greek styling bordered the drive.
Horatio looked out of the coach's window at the house approaching. It was modest in size and with a classical facade that Horatio supposed was to suggest buildings of antiquity such as the Parthenon. The effect was more pretention and vulgarity than dignity and gravitas, however. It matched his view of the Godwins perfectly.
Before the house, two men stood guard. One of them, sword on his hip, was turning to face the approaching coach. The other, also wearing a sword, held the reins of two fine white horses. Both were well dressed.
The coach came to a halt before the house and Graeme disembarked to open the door for Horatio. He alighted, instinctively knowing that he should not show weakness before the man facing him. The man had dark hair and eyes with a round face that suggested youth. But the set of his jaw and the tightness around his eyes belied that. So too did his stance. His feet were set shoulders width apart and he seemed to be poised nimbly as though prepared to move swiftly in any direction. One hand rested on the hilt of his sword.
“Good day to you, sir,” he uttered. “I am the Viscount Hemsworth. And you are?”
The title sounded familiar to Horatio’s ears, but he couldn’t place much of anything over the last month. “His Grace, the Duke of Ravenscourt,” Horatio replied instead. “Do you bar my way, Lord Hemsworth?”
“Until I know your intentions, yes, I believe I do, Your Grace,” Hemsworth declared.
Horatio stood with cane planted on the ground to one side. He locked his knees, lest they shake. He felt as though he had not eaten for a week. A breeze might blow him over.
“My intentions are my own. As is my business here at Wetherby,” Horatio muttered, “and yourself?”
“A guardian. And I cannot allow you admittance.”
“The hell you can't!” Horatio retorted sharply.
He made to walk around Hemsworth but the other man stepped in front of him. His right hand whipped to the sword hilt and bared a few inches of steel.
“The hell I can,” he replied with a tight smile, “I am sworn to protect one who resides within and believe her to be in danger.”
“ Protect ? Do you refer to Juliet?”
“I do. My good friend and fiancée,” Hemsworth finished.
That word coming from another man incensed Horatio, jealousy igniting anger already simmering from being blocked by this stranger.
“If you claim the title fiancé, then I must assume you are an enemy. I know that her wicked family would see her married off and out of their way. I have been a victim of their machinations and I’m here to bring them to an end. Juliet will not be marrying you. Leave now,” Horatio snarled between gritted teeth.
“No,” Hemsworth said calmly. “I am part of no machinations except those devised by Juliet and myself. But I have been apprised of the plans of the Godwins for their niece. She will not be forced into marriage against her will and then shut away to protect you from scandal. Oh yes, Ravenscourt , I am familiar with your name and the scandal you sought to insulate yourself against. Why not marry that strumpet Frances instead? Far more suited to a man like yourself. Leave the pure-hearted Juliet out of it.”
Horatio frowned, puzzling over Hemsworth's words. He did not speak like an ally of the Godwins—in fact, he seemed to think that Horatio was just that. He knew of the scandal brewing concerning himself and Juliet, knew of the original plan to protect the Templeton name. Whose side was this man on? How could he be anything but an ally of the Godwins if he knew so much?
Horatio raised his head. “Stand aside. There are only two sources for the information you have. One is myself. I do not know you. The other is the Godwins. My enemies. Therefore, you must also be my enemy. You ask about my intentions? It is to save Juliet from the affliction that threatens her life and then marry her.”
The sword came out of its sheath so fast, Horatio saw only a blur of motion. Then the point was directed at him, held unwaveringly. As unshakeable as the hard, dark eyes that locked onto Horatio's.
“Your words condemn you! I have been told that lies would be presented to me about Juliet's state of health. I know that you have been drugging her to keep her subdued and to enable you to have her packed off to an asylum. I will not allow you to get away with it, rogue!”
Horatio's eyes opened wide with horror. It was worse than he could possibly imagine. The Godwins were attempting the same unconscionable plan as they had with him. It was despicable. Evil .
He knocked the sword aside with his cane and strode for the door to the house. Hemsworth danced to his front with quick, graceful steps. The sword came back, this time hovering inches from his throat.
“Do not test me!” Hemsworth growled.
“You would strike down an unarmed man?” Horatio muttered. “Precisely the kind of cowardice I have come to expect from this family.”
“Nathan!” Hemsworth suddenly bellowed, his eyes never leaving Horatio's, “Your blade, man! Now!”
The man holding the horses unsheathed his blade and tossed it to Hemsworth, who shifted his own blade from right to left hand and deftly caught the flying sword without looking. With a blur of dexterous movement, he had reversed it and offered its hilt to Horatio.
“Spanish steel. Crafted by a master smith. A fine weapon. Now we are well matched.”
Memories flashed before Horatio's face of Duncan Kimberley as Horatio's pistol shot took him in the chest. It had been one of comical surprise and slowly dawning horror and fear. He'd had a brief moment to feel the terror of death. To know that his breaths could now be counted to the last.
A feeling of sick horror crept through Horatio that this man was issuing a similar challenge. A young Horatio had been unable to resist that challenge once it had been made. Had not been able to countenance the dishonor of refusal. Of being accused of cowardice.
Now, he knew the fallacy of that attitude. Now, he would have refused the challenge and accepted the moniker of coward. It would have meant nothing to him. But Juliet was inside and this man prevented him from reaching her. It was not a battle for his name. It was a battle to save Juliet.
“Very well. If you will not listen to reason,” Horatio grunted, accepting the sword and stepping back, testing its weight and balance in his hand.
At that moment, the door to Wetherby House flew open and a young woman ran out. She placed herself between the two combatants, dodging the second man who tried to intercept her.
“Stop this foolishness. This does not help Juliet!”
“I am trying to protect her, Miss Edith,” Hemsworth glowered, “now, stand aside, please.”
“No! Lord Hemsworth, I will not. Do you not know who this is?” Edith demanded.
“The Duke of Ravenscourt . A man of ill repute, who has involuntarily admitted to his part in a plot to marry Juliet against her will...”
“No, you fool!” Edith replied hotly, “This is the man whom she loves! The man she would choose to marry were it not for her fear of leaving a widower! You and he have the same objective. Juliet's ultimate happiness!”
Hemsworth's sword hand wavered. He frowned at Horatio who lowered his own sword.
“You… love her too?” Horatio asked.
“I do,” Hemsworth said, proudly.
“But as a sister! Time for honesty, Lord Hemsworth. For Juliet's sake,” Edith said earnestly.
“Juliet and I made a pact of… secrecy , on certain matters,” Hemsworth said, quietly.
“Then keep your secret and admit to His Grace that you have no interest in Juliet as a woman. As a lover,” Edith flushed scarlet at the use of the word lover.
Hemsworth looked uncomfortable for a moment, then nodded reluctantly.
“It was to be a marriage of convenience. To save Juliet from the cruelty of her Aunt,” Hemsworth murmured, for some reason glancing aside at the man whom Horatio had assumed was a servant. That man moved to stand beside Hemsworth now and Horatio reappraised them. They stood as equals. He put the two men from his mind, there were more important matters. He reversed the blade and offered it to Hemsworth's companion.
“Then I do not believe I will need this. We appear to be on the same side, Lord Hemsworth.”
“We do. Then let us waste no more time.”
Hemsworth spun and strode to the open front door of the house. Lord Gilbert appeared, barring the way.
“Neither of you are welcome in this house,” he announced.
“Stand aside, man. Your wife is not here and we all know that she is the true master of Wetherby House,” Hemsworth scoffed.
“We are here to see your niece Juliet,” Horatio snarled, stepping up beside Hemsworth.
“And as Lord of this house, I refuse. She is under the age of one-and-twenty, and as such is my ward. My responsibility.”
“I relieve you of that responsibility since I have evidence that you have abused your position and mistreated Juliet. Including forcibly drugging her to ensure her compliance in your wicked scheme,” Hemsworth countered.
“You have no right...” Godwin began.
“I am a magistrate of this county. Appointed by the King to uphold his laws and justice. I have every right, and if you bar my way, I will see you in irons, sir!” Hemsworth roared.
Gilbert Godwin glanced over his shoulder as though looking for his formidable wife, then remembering that she was at Ravenscourt. He paled, stammered, and was then pushed aside by Horatio. He raised his cane, pinning its end against Godwin's chest and propelling him against the nearest wall.
“Direct me to Juliet's room or I will beat the information out of you,” he grated.
“Her room is on the second floor. At the end of the corridor.”
“She is locked in with a nurse to guard her,” Edith added.
“Then this nurse will unlock the door or we will break it down,” Horatio replied, glaring at Godwin who swallowed nervously.
“Hear hear,” Hemsworth echoed, “lead the way, Your Grace.”
Summoning reserves of strength that were probably his last, Horatio strode through the entrance hall to the staircase, taking them two at a time. Hemsworth was close behind and Edith behind him. At the second floor, Horatio's legs almost gave way, only Hemsworth's quick reflexes saved Horatio from falling flat on his face.
“Are you quite well, Your Grace? You seem awfully pale.”
“A gift from the Godwins,” Horatio admitted, “they sought to keep me docile with a drug in the guise of medicine. They will stop at nothing.”
“And despite this weakness, you were prepared to fight me,” Hemsworth remarked with no little admiration in his tone.
“For Juliet, I would gladly lay down my life,” Horatio said, honestly.
“Well said,” Hemsworth replied.
Edith pushed past them and hurried along the corridor.
“And you, young lady, Juliet has often spoken of your intelligence, but now I see it is joined with courage too, to put yourself between two angry, stubborn men with blades drawn.”
Edith looked back at Hemsworth and smiled, blushing. “I thank you for the compliment, but I should like to free Juliet before hearing more.”
A door at the far end of the corridor opened and a woman in black stepped out. She had a severe expression on her face and strode down the corridor to meet them.
“What is all of this noise? I have a patient...”
“You have a prisoner, Mrs. Swift,” Edith challenged, “whom you have been keeping locked up and feeding some kind of concoction to make her doubt her own senses!”
Horatio strode past the woman without stopping, eyes on the door she had just left.
“You cannot go in there. I shall summon Lord Godwin...”
“His Lordship is currently detained by my good friend Sir Nathan of Hastings. He will not help you,” Hemsworth smirked.
Horatio stepped into the room, finding it to be an anteroom with a further closed door beyond. He saw a table with a large, brown glass bottle on it and a tea tray beside it. The bottle had been decanted into a small vial and he realized that the intention had been to apply it to the tea. Tea which was doubtless intended for Juliet to drink. He tried the inner door handle and found it to be locked.
“Juliet!” he called.
There was a moment's silence and then... “ Horatio ? Am I dreaming?”
“You are not. I am here!” Horatio exhaled in relief, “Now, please, step away from the door.”
He heard movement within the room and then stepped back, raised his foot, and kicked at the lock with all his strength. The door flew inward to slam against the wall. Wood splintered and the lock fell away with a heavy metallic clunk. Juliet stood on the other side of a small bed. She was clad in her nightgown and stockings. Horatio strode into the room and his knees lost their strength. Juliet leaped past the bed and dashed for him. As Horatio fell to his knees, so did Juliet.
She fell into his arms and he held her tightly.