Chapter 24
A s Alfie sped from the room, he vaguely heard Dominick shouting behind him, ordering the servants to lock up the house, to not let anyone leave—or worse, enter—but there was no time to lose. Rutherford had had James for too long. The man’s hatred for his wife had turned to madness and Alfie had seen before the evil that men pushed to such a point could do.
He tore past the gardens, the smell of charred wood, spilled ale, and worse still lingering on the air. By the time he reached the treeline, Dominick’s footsteps were right behind him. Alfie’s leg screamed at him as they began to climb the forest path. He gritted his teeth and tried to run faster.
On a wide part of trail, Dominick overtook him, leading the way as the path wound up the crag. He was easily the faster of the two of them, but Alfie refused to be left behind. By the time they broke through into the clearing at the top, Dominick was less than a dozen strides ahead of him. There he skidded to a stop, staring up in horror.
Alfie followed his gaze, craning his neck back further and further. The folly was nearly finished, stone wings spreading out from a central tower that rose forty feet into the air. The room in its base was complete, as were the windows that marked the path of the stairwell that wound its way up the inside of the tower.
The only part of the folly that remained unfinished was the ring of crenelations around the top. When complete, they would not only serve to make the folly look like the ruins of some forgotten castle, but provide a barrier to keep the unwary from falling off. Without them, the top of the folly was a bare circle high above, with nothing to stop anyone who climbed up there from slipping off the edge.
And at this edge, silhouetted against the sun, stood a man.
Rutherford.
Alfie had never seen him before, the murderer had kept himself too well-hidden in the shadows, but there was no mistaking who he could be. His skin was as tanned as leather from the heat of the Australian sun. His scar stood out in a pale stripe against a face aged beyond his years by a life of cruelty and brutality. Even at this distance, Alfie could see the obsession that blazed in his eyes.
Despite these differences from the studied blandness of Captain McConnell, it was no wonder that at a glance and hearing Mrs. McConnell’s cry, Mrs. Hirkins had thought the body on the drawing room floor was his. The men were of a similar height and build, but there was no mistaking the strength in Rutherford’s frame. The span of his shoulders was greater even than Dominick’s and he held himself like a man who’d been fighting all his life.
He stood unwavering on the edge of the folly, not heeding the tiny pebbles that trickled down past his feet. His arms were held out over the open air and in his hands, he held James.
Alfie’s heart stopped in his chest.
The baby had his face scrunched against the cold wind and he was wrapped only in the blanket from his crib, far too little to protect him from the chill of November. But James only hiccupped, his face red as if he’d been crying too long and had no more tears to shed.
“Don’t come any closer!” Rutherford yelled. “Another step and I’ll drop him.”
“Christ, Alfie, he can’t.” Dominick hissed.
Alfie didn’t bother to reply. They both knew he could and if they didn’t do something, he would.
Alfie raised his hands in the air. He’d forgotten he was still holding his cane and as soon as he noticed it, it was as if his leg remembered as well, nearly buckling under him in a sudden flash of pain. He barely steadied himself in time to keep from sliding back down the path.
“Rutherford!” he called out. “Can we talk? We’ve heard your wife’s side of the tale, but I’ll wager there’s things she didn’t tell us. I’d like to know your side.”
Rutherford laughed, an eerie cackling that made cold shivers run down Alfie’s spine.
“I bet she told you all sorts of things. A damned liar, that’s what she is! But she’ll pay for those lies. I bet she told you I want her dead. Another lie and she knows it. I don’t want her dead. I want her to suffer for what she did. She was mine. And now I’m going to take what’s hers.”
Rutherford gave James a rough shake. Both Alfie and Dominick stepped forward instinctively, but Rutherford kept his grip on the child. Over the pounding of his heart, it took Alfie a minute to parse Rutherford’s words.
Bloody hell, Janie had been right. Who knew what Rutherford had picked up as he spied on Balcarres. What snatches of conversations he’d overheard and misheard that made him think that James wasn’t Agnes’ son, but Mrs. McConnell’s. The sight of Janie, who’d been working as Mrs. McConnell’s companion, carrying James around the Samhain celebration last night must have cinched it, the two women looking as natural as any well-appointed woman out with her child’s nanny.
Rutherford pulled James back to him and for a moment Alfie felt a flicker of relief. Then he realised Rutherford wasn’t cradling James—he was wheeling back to throw.
“Wait!” Alfie screamed.
If Rutherford simply dropped James straight down, the fall would likely kill him, but the folly wasn’t high enough that death would be assured. The child might survive. However, there were only a few feet of earth in front of the folly before the ground dropped away down the face of the crag. Rutherford had used that drop before when he’d tried to push the stones down onto Dominick and him. If he threw James beyond that narrow ledge, there would be no hope of survival.
To Alfie’s endless thanks, Rutherford hesitated.
“You’re a reasonable man,” Alfie said, not knowing what words would come out next, only that as long as Rutherford was listening, James was safe. “And you’ve been hard done by. Forced into a punishment far worse than the crime and then, once you’d made the best of it, to be so cruelly mistreated by Mrs. Mc—by your wife. Who was meant to honour you. Obey you. You came to claim back what was yours. I respect that.
“More than respect that,” Alfie continued as Dominick stared at him wide eyed, “There aren’t enough men who’d face what you have just to put right the wrongs done to you. I think that sort of determination should be rewarded. As an earl, I can do that. A word from me in the right ear and your record is clean. You wouldn’t have to hide in the shadows or worry about ever being sent back to the penal colony. More than that, I can force your wife to go back to you. She wouldn’t have a choice, would she? Not now that I know she’s an escaped convict. You could settle wherever you wanted and never have to worry about losing your property again.”
Just saying the words put a bitter taste on Alfie’s tongue. It felt like there was some sort of pungent oil on him that he couldn’t get off. He’d chosen to be with Dominick and every person, man or woman, deserved to choose who they wanted to spend their lives with, not be forced into a marriage with someone who saw them as no more than an object to be owned—an object that might be admired, but could also be broken.
Still, he’d met enough men like Rutherford in both Spitalfields and Mayfair to know how they thought.
When Rutherford didn’t answer, Alfie stepped closer to the folly door, only to be pulled up by an arm across his chest.
“What are you doing?” Dominick hissed.
Alfie craned his back head up. Rutherford was watching them, his gleaming eyes sharp but unreadable.
Alfie spoke softly, pitching his voice low so it wouldn’t carry. “Someone’s got to stop him. I’ll go up there, talk to him, and when he’s distracted, I’ll snatch James.”
“He’ll fight,” Dominick whispered. “He survived years in Australia, Alfie. Hell, he survived the trip back from Australia. He’s strong. And with your leg… We can’t risk it. I’ll go.”
“No!” Alfie winced at how loudly he’d spoken, but Rutherford hadn’t moved. He still watched them, ignoring James’ tiny hands pushing against his chest. “Your hands, Nick.”
Dominick looked down at the bandages wound around his hands, pinning his fingers together. He must have done something to his right hand without Alfie noticing as a foul, yellowish liquid flecked with brown rose up through the cloth along his knuckles.
“You won’t be able to grab James,” Alfie said. “Not and be sure of holding onto him. It has to be me. And I won’t be unarmed, remember?” Alfie rubbed his thumb over the catch that released the sword within his cane, a movement Dominick would understand but was too slight for Rutherford to even see.
Indecision played over Dominick’s face, but there wasn’t anything for him to decide. There was no other choice. It had to be Alfie.
He wanted to kiss Dominick then, but couldn’t give Rutherford another way to harm them. Besides, the gesture felt too much like a farewell.
“I’ll come up with you.”
Alfie shook his head. This man, this wonderful, protective man. He was everything Rutherford would never be, never even be able to understand. Dominick knew Alfie belonged to him, but he belonged to Alfie just as much. And it wasn’t the sort of “belonging” that meant “owned”. It was “belonging” like feeling that you were where you were meant to be. Like home.
Alfie smiled sadly at his Dominick, his home. “You need to stay down here, Nick. If something happens, I need you here. Not for me, but for James. The ledge isn’t very wide, watch your footing. If Rutherford throws or pushes, there’s nothing to be done. But if it’s just a fall, the ledge is still wide enough that… whatever goes off will land there. If this all goes wrong, if I’m the one who falls, stay out of my way. You won’t be able to do anything but risk losing your own life too. But if it’s James, I need you to catch.”
Under the best circumstances—if there was such a thing in this case—it would be difficult for Dominick to pluck a falling infant out of the air safely. With his bandages, it would be nearly impossible. But some hope was better than none and if there was any man Alfie trusted to do it, it was him.
Dominick winced, but to his credit, he didn’t try to stop him. He only reached down and touched Alfie’s hand, the one that wore Dominick’s ring, as if he’d be able to feel the engraved bird through the layers of bandages.
Swallowing thickly, Alfie turned to the folly and faced what needed to be done.