Chapter 26
Stephen had sent a footman to track Tristan through the house and explain what had transpired. Perhaps he should have waited for his friend to arrive, but that would involve waiting.
So here he was, striding through the dark trees, heart pounding, head spinning. There was no movement around him, except for the rustle of birds in the treetops and the skitter of some animal in the undergrowth.
The butler had told him that Amelia had crossed the gravel courtyard, heading for the stone bench on the lawn.
She was not there, but there was a mess of footprints in the dewy grass.
He tracked them through the trees. The trail led through the grounds and past a gap in the outer wall, and from there onto a quiet street.
Where did she go from here? I don’t understand.
Stephen glanced up and down the road, desperate for a clue. Movement caught his eye, and he spotted a man slumped against a wall, his legs splayed out comically in front of him. He was clearly drunk, but hopefully not too drunk.
“Good sir,” Stephen called, stepping toward him. “Did you see a red-headed woman pass by here?”
The man sucked on his lower lip, staring up at him with bleary eyes. “What will you give me if I tell you the truth?”
“Half a crown.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Just like that?”
He scrambled to his feet, revealing a tall, stocky build. He was not as tall as Stephen, of course, but he obviously fancied himself as such, standing on his tiptoes.
“And what if I were to inquire how much more money you’re carrying on your person, Your Majesty?”
“I imagine that you would regret such an impertinent question. Immediately.”
The man held his gaze for a few seconds, then swallowed and glanced away.
“A woman did come by here,” he muttered. “Pretty, she was. Red-headed, like you said, in a yellow dress. She didn’t look at me as I went by, but the fellow she was with kicked my leg out of the way. She told him not to be so rough.”
A shiver skittered down Stephen’s spine, a knot of unease unfurling in his gut.
“What fellow?” he pressed.
“Well, the fellow she was with. It’s not sensible for women to walk these streets alone after dark. I remember thinking that she was wise to choose that man. Angry, he looked, walking a little ahead of her.”
“And she followed him of her own accord?”
“Looked like it. Tall, he was, and had red hair too. I recall thinking that they looked like brother and sister.”
Stephen briefly closed his eyes.
Brother and sister.
This was immediately followed by another thought.
I know where Amelia has gone.
“Thank you,” he said, opening his eyes and sticking his hand into his pocket.
He withdrew the promised half-crown and threw it at the fellow, who accepted it with delight.
“If a man comes here asking if I’ve passed by you, I’d be obliged if you tell him that I’ve gone to the Viscount’s house. He’ll know what that means,” he added, tossing another crown.
The man caught it, beaming wide enough to reveal blackened teeth at the back of his mouth. “Right you are, sir. Right you are!”
Striding off, Stephen broke into a run. At least now he knew where he was going.
The road was familiar. How many times had he and Harry stumbled or walked along these roads, drunk or foolish or otherwise, talking and laughing, discussing everything and nothing?
It was such an easy friendship.
Clenching his jaw, Stephen shoved the memories away. Now wasn’t the time. He mourned the death of their friendship a long time ago. The Harry he remembered was gone, or perhaps he’d just never existed.
He turned into a wide, dark alleyway, fringed with heavy old trees. The alleyway was a shortcut, he remembered, one of the many ways to reach the old St. Louis manor house.
What is Harry’s aim? What will he do?
There was no easy answer, nothing that eased the panic in his stomach. There were too many unanswered questions, and he worried the answers would be worse than the questions themselves.
Suddenly, a shadow flew out of the darkness, almost noiselessly, and cannoned into him. He grabbed reflexively at the shadow, and she let out a terrified squeak.
The noise echoed through him, instantly familiar. Gripping her waist, he stared down into her face.
“There you are,” he breathed. “I was looking for you, Amelia.”
In the weak moonlight, he saw her eyes widen. Her face was pale, and he could hear her breathing, labored from running.
Running from whom?
“He’s right behind me,” she gasped. “I didn’t get much of a head start, not after I climbed out of the window.”
There was no need to ask who he was.
Stephen pushed her away, just in time to step between her and the furious shadow that pursued her.
Harry had never been much of a runner, but it appeared that fury had given him extra strength. He skidded to a halt when he saw Stephen, cold panic flashing in his eyes.
Stephen faced him grimly. “Harry.”
He was vaguely aware of Amelia shifting behind him, her boots scraping against the rough ground. Was she backing away?
He wasn’t willing to turn his back on Harry, not even for a second.
“Be careful,” she whispered shakily. “He has a knife. He wanted me to kill myself with it. He said it would be less scandalous.”
White-hot anger shot up Stephen’s spine. He met Harry’s gaze in the gloom and then let his own drop to the glittering blade in his hand.
“I would put the knife down if I were you,” he heard himself say, voice cool and detached. “It won’t do you any good.”
“Don’t you dare tell me what’s good for me,” Harry hissed. His gaze slid over Stephen’s shoulder, no doubt landing on Amelia. Stephen shifted, blocking his view. “She doesn’t trust you anymore, not after what she heard.”
Amelia sucked in a breath.
“What did she hear?” Stephen demanded, narrowing his eyes.
“You,” Amelia whispered, her voice drifting from behind. “You and the maid, Jane, in your rooms. I stood at the door. I heard…” she trailed off.
Stephen clenched his jaw. “Whatever you heard did not include me,” he murmured. “I was not in my room, and I can prove it. This was a ploy. A lie. It’s over, Harry. Don’t look at her. She won’t help you. It’s only you and me, now.”
Harry eyed him, his breathing gradually returning to normal. His knuckles stood out white as he gripped the handle of the knife.
“You had something to do with Jane, didn’t you?” Stephen hazarded.
How could his old friend have changed so much? He looked so thin, so drawn, so much older than he was. There was a hollow look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
The passing years had given Stephen strength and steel. The years of hardship had built him up. In Harry’s case, the years had torn him down.
“You should hire better servants, I think,” Harry said.
There was a rasp in his voice, a tired old croak that, in Stephen’s experience, came from poor living and too much liquor.
“The maid only required a kiss and some coin to do as I asked. It was her idea to have Amelia overhear something rather compromising. She was quite sure that Amelia wouldn’t barge into the room to see for herself, and she was right about that.
I suppose Amelia already suspected you could never be faithful, and needed little evidence to support her theory. ”
Stephen clenched his jaw. Was Amelia still behind him? He couldn’t hear the patter of her feet anymore. Had she run away? That might be the sensible thing to do, unless Harry managed to dart past him and get away.
Stephen’s gaze dropped to the knife again. Harry held it unsteadily, almost uncomfortably. He wasn’t used to holding a weapon; that much was clear.
At least I have the advantage there. How many weapons have I used over the years? Guns, pistols, knives, swords, cannons. My own bare hands served me well enough.
“Put the knife down, Harry,” Stephen murmured. “I have no intention of hurting you.”
“No intention of hurting me? Ha!” Harry cried. “You want me dead. This knife is as much protection for me as it is a threat.”
“I don’t want to kill you. I simply want you to understand what you did to me, Harry. I want you to face the secrets you’ve buried for so long. Your half-sisters, my abduction. I want you to face the same despair that I did.”
“You think I don’t know despair? Oh, you’re wrong about that, Stephen.
” Harry took a step toward him, teeth gritted.
“Do you have any idea how hard it was to watch you and your father adore each other? To watch you spend money like water when I could barely pay my own rent? I lived in my father’s manor for a time, but…
Let’s just say, gambles go wrong sometimes. ”
“If you’d asked for help—”
“I had some pride,” he snapped bitterly. “And then the Grand Tour. You wouldn’t shut up about it, would you? Where you were going to go, the adventures you were going to have.”
“I never meant to hurt you, Harry. Believe me.”
Harry’s eyes had gone blank. He shrugged, glancing away. “You wanted to go on a Grand Tour, so I sent you on one.”
He gripped the knife a little tighter now. His back stiffened, his body coiled like a spring.
Stephen had seen that stance in too many men over the years. In a moment, Harry would rush at him. Whether he would try to stab him or dive past remained to be seen.
Casually, Stephen widened his own stance, letting his arms hang loose and easy by his sides. It was time to prepare.