Chapter Twenty-One #2
“Do not attempt something foolish,” her captor warned Freya as they exited the rear of the lodge.
Ironically, now that Freya was more aware of the dangers Lord Duncan and his sons faced with some regularity, she was coming to her own conclusions about the Duncan family.
Consequently, she ignored the continued warnings.
Instead, she set herself the task of not only fetching the water for His Lordship, but also to learning what she could to assist the gentlemen.
Without comment, Freya placed the bucket she had claimed from the kitchen on the hook and turned the handle to lower it into the well.
Once the bucket was filled, she reversed the process, which proved to be heavier than she expected, but she swallowed her complaints and simply remembered the power and control both Lords Duncan and Graham had practiced.
She set herself the task of proving herself equally as worthy to be a part of their family as had been all her new friends.
Initially, she had difficulty lifting the full bucket from the hook; yet, she made no sound of distress. At length, the bucket was on the ground.
Her captor warned, “If you spill your load, you shall be wiping up the mess on your hands and knees, where you belong—lower than your aunt, if that is possible.”
Freya barely covered her realization. She wished to turn and confront her captor, but, instead, she bit down on her lower lip to silence the words. It was important to tell Lord Graham what she had discovered.
Aaran looked up to view Freya reenter and said a silent prayer for God protecting her, though there was new strength in the slant of her shoulders and the expression on her features said something had changed.
Despite the click of the gun behind him, he took several steps in her direction.
“I have it, my girl,” he told her as he caught the bucket’s wire handle with one hand and pried her fingers free of the ring with the other.
“You did well,” he added. “Now, assist me with Duncan.”
She nodded her agreement, but Aaran had studied her often enough to know she wished to tell him something she had recently recalled or learned.
In that manner, Freya was very much like Lady Annalise.
Two redheads, he thought. Both had been restrained by men who thought women should be seen and never consulted.
Lady Annalise’s pretend uncle had kept Lady Beaufort under his thumb with psychological manipulation, and Lord Cunningham had done the same to Freya with his constant threats.
The ladies themselves will eventually prove those men their true inferiors.
“Should I tear off the ruffle of my day dress?” she offered. “We could use it to bandage His Lordship.”
“I believe we can use the part of His Lordship’s sleeve as a bandage and my handkerchief to tie it off,” Aaran explained, “but we may require the ruffle later.”
“I wish we had some soap,” she told him.
“We will do our best. The wound is not as bad as the last time Duncan was shot,” he told her.
“It is not necessary for you to discuss anything more than cleaning the wound,” the shortest of the three captors ordered.
“As you say,” Aaran reported dutifully as he dabbed at the dried blood on Duncan’s arm and began to clean the wound. In his opinion, the damage was less than he initially expected.
He and Lady Freya worked in companionable silence, though he noted that she continually looked up to where the three captors stood whispering together. “The one… who went… outside… with me,” she said through her teeth and tight lips, “is… Lady… Rayland.”
“I know, love,” he breathed the words. “The tall one is her lover, Mr. MacAlasdair.”
Freya’s eyes went wide. “The other?” she mouthed the question.
“Not certain,” he told her.
“Why all the whispering?” MacAlasdair barked.
Aaran initially ignored the question. Instead, he tied off Duncan’s bandage and assisted his father to a seated position before he responded.
“I was disclosing your identity to Lady Freya,” he said with more calm than he felt.
He was about to upset the rules of engagement in such situations.
Aaran had yet to hear the signal from his brothers that they were in place.
“His Lordship and I were already aware of your plans to harm our family.”
“You are not part of Duncan’s family!” MacAlasdair shouted. “You are Aaran Graham’s bastard!”
“I proved otherwise before the courts of Scotland,” Duncan said with less emphasis than usual, but Lord Macdonald Duncan still held all the authority of his earldom and his place in the British government.
“The elder Lord Graham was a bounder and never the proper gentleman that his son has proven to be. The elder proved himself to be an arse of the first tier.” Duncan paused briefly to catch his breath.
“The only thing good I can say of the man is he sired two sons who will change the face of Scotland.
“As for today,” Duncan continued, “I am glad to know with confidence that we were chasing more than one culprit. I will admit that we were quite confused at times. The descriptions were contradictory. The man in Covent Garden. The one who fell into the river. The one who killed a kindly old woman. The one who pretended to be a magistrate so he might kill Almano. The one who killed Mr. Stark in Yorkshire. They all held similarities, but none matched perfectly.”
“What do you think you know?” the shortest of the three demanded with such vehemence that Lady Freya jumped back in surprise and fell into a nearby chair.
Duncan raised his chin in defiance. “I know my former friend Donegal MacAlasdair has joined forces against me. You really should not have come to Kent. If so, I might not have made the connections. You led me to my conclusion. From what all that has occurred, I am guessing all three of you have played a part in this madness.”
“You know nothing!” the shortest declared as he pointed his gun at Duncan.
“I know when MacAlasdair shot me before the Lyon’s Den, either you or Lady Rayland purposely left behind the coat we later recovered in the Lyon’s Den garden.
We were correct in assuming my shooter was a tall man, but with the smaller coat, initially, you fooled us into believing my shooter was slimmer than we suspected.
Standing on the street and against the shop when my sons returned me to Duncan Place also had us confused.
You are to be congratulated on your planning. ”
MacAlasdair growled at the others. “I told you he would not be easily fooled.”
“Keep your mouth closed,” the shortest ordered as he pointed his gun at MacAlasdair.