Chapter 20
Twenty
“Actually, you’re not going anywhere.”
Hammerton spun around, mouth agape.
“Sebastian!” cried Alex as she shot up from the chair.
Branford stepped into the room, pistol aimed squarely at Hammerton’s chest. “Are you all right, my love,” he asked, never taking his eyes from her captor.
“Y … yes,” stammered Alex. “But how did you ever—”
“Your father’s letter.” Branford smiled. “I finally gave it the attention that I should have when you first asked me to look at it. If I only had—well, I’m damnably sorry. I could have prevented this.”
“You are sorry!” exclaimed Alex. “I …” She suddenly noticed the ugly red splotch seeping through the fabric of his disheveled shirt. “Ye heavens, you’re hurt!”
Instinctively she moved towards him.
“Alex—no!” But it was too late.
For a brief second, she had come between Hammerton and Branford’s pistol—and it had been all the time the dastard needed.
He grabbed her around the neck and yanked her up against his body to shield him from any further threat.
In the next instant, he whipped out a knife from his pocket and pressed it up against the side of her throat.
“Put the gun down on the table,” he shouted.
Branford hesitated.
“Don’t, Sebastian,” said Alex. “You know he’ll only kill us both. Put a bullet in the monster.”
“Shut up, you bitch.” He shook her roughly, causing Branford to take an involuntary step towards him.
“Stop—put the pistol down!” cried Hammerton. “I swear, I’ll cut her throat if you don’t by the time I count to three—and I shall enjoy every second of it.”
The wild look on his face made it clear the threat was not an idle one.
“One!”
Branford’s eyes narrowed, the only sign of emotion on his face as he took note of the darkening bruise on Alex’s cheek.
“Two!”
“You’ve just signed your own death warrant, Hammerton,” he said softly as he lowered the weapon and set it skidding halfway down the table.
It was still out of Hammerton’s reach. Even so, he relaxed his hold on Alex, letting the knife fall slightly away from her skin.
“Ha! You see, I am smarter than all of you,” he crowed. “I’ve beaten you, Branford! I’ve beaten you in the battle of wits ,and now I’m going to shoot you down like the dog you are.”
“Is that so?” inquired Branford.
Alex noted that he seemed to want to keep Hammerton talking.
“Why exactly do you hate me?”
As he spoke, Branford inched closer..
Caught up in his ranting, Hammerton didn’t notice. “Everyone thinks you are the clever one for having saved Wellington. Any idiot can appear a hero in war. You’re not clever, merely lucky.” He sucked in a a breath. “I’m the clever one. And you—you’re nothing but a murderer!”
“That’s rather like the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you say?” said Branford dryly. He inched another step closer.
“Oh, that.” Hammerton smirked. “Was I supposed to let an eccentric old man take away what I had worked for all my life?” He slanted a quick glance at Alex.
“It seems the old codger did manage to warn you? I don’t see how—I climbed down to the wreck and checked his pockets and belongings quite thoroughly.
And I inquired at every possible place he could have posted a letter. ”
“Not thoroughly enough, it seems,” said Branford, saving Alex from having to answer her tormentor. “He left a letter of warning in one of his books.”
Hammerton furrowed his brow. “There was nothing but scientific gibberish.”
“It was in code.” Branford smiled. “I’m afraid the eccentric old man managed to outwit you.”
Anger flashed in Hammerton’s eyes. “Hardly! The fool is dead. And so will all of you be in a short time, including that sapskull of a brother of yours. And then I shall be well rid of a tiresome nuisance.” He gave Alex another shake.
“I’m simply protecting what is rightfully mine!
I am the true Earl of Hammerton.” Caught up in his rage, Hammerton punctuated his words with a wave of the knife.
Alex saw her chance. Slipping her hands free from the loosened rope, she shoved Hammerton into the table and lunged for the pistol. Recovering in a flash, Hammerton grabbed for it too, but she managed to knock it away from him and twist out of his reach.
Hammerton lunged again for the pistol, which had come to rest on the far end of the table—
But Branford moved at the same instant. The two of them came together, grappling for the weapon that lay so tantalizingly close. The struggle went on for what seemed like ages, the two bodies intertwined, first one on top, then the other.
Alex didn’t dare cry out, afraid of distracting Branford. His superior size and skill appeared to give him the advantage—but his strength looked to be ebbing as the blood stain on his shirt grew bigger …
Hammerton managed to free one hand and land a vicious blow to Branford’s wound. It doubled him over and he dropped to his knees, allowing Hammerton to grab the pistol.
He quickly jumped back, out of arm’s reach. “It is you who are the dead man,” he sneered as Branford managed to stand.
Raising the pistol, Hammerton let out a wicked laugh as he took dead aim at Branford’s heart.
BANG!
Alex screamed.
For an instant, no one moved. And then Hammerton lowered his eyes, an incredulous look on his face as he watched a spot on his white shirtfront begin to turn red.
“No! It can’t be …” he cried faintly as he crumpled to the floor.
Branford dusted the dirt from his palms. “Thank you, Chilton. I’m relieved to see that your aim left nothing to chance on this occasion.”
Alex swayed, not quite believing that Branford was still standing. With a small cry, she rushed across the room and flung her arms around him and buried her face against the familiar warmth of his shoulder.
“I-I thought that monster would pull the trigger, and I’d never have a chance to tell you …” Her voice wavered. “W-w-what happened?”
He lifted her chin and touched a gentle caress to her cheek. “Fortunately, my love, your brother has become an excellent shot.”
Alex looked around see Justin framed in the doorway, the smoking pistol held calmly by his side. “Oh Justin, thank heaven you’re safe! I was afraid that you would let Hammerton lure you into his grasp.”
“I wasn’t about to walk blindly into such an obvious trap.” He grinned. “I knew you’d ring a peal over my head if I got us both sent to our Maker. So I …” He glanced shyly at Branford, “I went to the one person I trusted could help us.”
“I’m sorry that I didn’t unravel the mystery soon,” said the earl. “I finally deciphered your father’s code and discovered it was Hammerton who was the villain behind all this.”
He looked to Alex and gave an apologetic grimace. “Remember those little symbols? You thought they were hatchets—but it finally dawned on me that they were hammers!” A sigh. “If I hadn’t been so blind I might have spared you this ordeal.”
Alex looked from Branford to her brother and then back to the earl. Suddenly she burst into tears.
“Ye heavens, I never cry,” she managed to croak between sobs.
Branford gathered her in his arms.
“How embarrassing,” she sniffed, once she managed to get her emotions under control. “Please forgive me.
“Alex,” murmured Branford as he gently brushed a tear from her bruised cheek. “You don’t have to carry the entire weight of the world on your own, very capable shoulders any longer.”
She looked up at his face. It was deathly pale beneath the dirt and sweat, and a trickle of dried blood had formed at the corner of his mouth where one of Hammerton's blows had connected.
But his eyes sparkled with a warmth that lit a glow throughout her entire being.
She reached up and ran her hand lightly along the line of his jaw.
“Oh, Sebastian,” she whispered.
He lowered his lips toward hers—
The front door suddenly flew open with a bang. The clatter of footsteps echoed in the corridor, along with the babble of familiar voices.
“Damnation,” muttered Branford. Then he went ahead and kissed her anyway.
The grin still on his face, Justin stepped out of the room and pulled the door firmly shut behind him.
For a brief interlude, they had only each other.
Moments later, Lord Ashton and Simms burst in, pistols at the ready, followed by a very determined Lady Ashton brandishing her parasol like a saber.
“Sorry, Cap'n.” Simms lowered his pistol and tried to repress a grin. “When I couldn’t convince His Lordship and Her Ladyship to stop, I figured I better come along as well.”
Ashton surveyed the body on the floor and then regarded Branford and Alex wrapped together in an intimate embrace.
“You see, my dear,” he said rather smugly. “I told you Sebastian would have things well in hand without any help from us.”
“A little too well in hand,” she retorted. “Sebastian!” she added sharply, turning to face the earl. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“I think you know very well what it means, Cecilia,” he answered dryly. “But you could at least allow me to propose to Miss Chilton without an audience.”
“Of course you may—in due time.” She smiled sweetly. “Just so we all understand each other. I’ve noticed that Mr. Chilton is holding a pistol and I wouldn’t want there to be any more misunderstandings.”
Branford chuckled. “I think Chilton knows by now that my intentions are entirely honorable.”
To her dismay, Alex found herself turning beet-red. “But Lady Ashton, it’s not what you think. Sebas… Lord Branford should not be forced—I mean, he doesn’t want—”
“We’ll discuss that in the carriage ride back to Town,” interrupted Branford.
To her own surprise, Alex fell silent without an argument.
Branford turned to Ashton. “How did you manage to track us down, Henry?”
“I’m afraid half of White’s could do it if they wished to. Odds are fifty-fifty on whether Whitleigh will recover from his shock.”