Chapter Nineteen
A lexander stabbed rather too ferociously at the innocent slab of beef on his plate. Yes, the meat at the local inn was a bit tough, but it didn’t warrant such force. Yet when Alexander lifted his knife to cut it, he pressed so hard that the metal scraped against the glazed clay plate.
I do not want to wed a man like my brother or Henry Talbot. Was she clumping him into the same category as them? And what had she said about sportsmen? That manner of man has only ever broken my heart.
Did she really consider him a callow brute who toyed with women? Before, Alexander had just assumed that she did not wish to marry at all. But it stung—nay, it burned—to know that she was particularly rejecting him.
A scholarly man. That’s what she wanted. Did she actually prefer a dunderhead like Lord Clifville, who wanted to be shot at for research purposes? Was that truly Georgina’s idea of a good match? She was clearly too spirited for such a man. She should marry someone like…
Like him.
The words burst inside Alexander like a firework—the sparks both iridescent and painful. He’d known since last night in her bedchamber that he loved her. And somewhere, deep in his heart, he’d already started planning their life together. They’d go for long rides in his curricle, and she’d chatter away about her latest treatise. While she dug for antiquities, he’d amuse himself with target shooting and riding over the countryside. And when he came into the title, he’d run the estates while she explored them for any ancient structures. They could sit together on candlelit evenings and write. She would scribble about history, and he could pen one of his satires.
It had stopped mattering to Alexander that marrying Georgina would please his father. Because Alexander wasn’t willing to sacrifice his own happiness. He’d thought he could bring the same joy to Georgina’s life.
That manner of man has only ever broken my heart.
Once again, her words speared him. He could not even blame her considering what she’d endured living with her half brother. After Alexander had read through that awful marriage contract, he’d discovered a letter in the pile where Algernon admitted to Alexander’s father that Georgina had no dowry because he’d embezzled it. Georgina had only shrugged at the news and admitted she’d assumed he’d gambled it away long ago.
Percy, too, had misused Georgina’s trust. As much as Alexander enjoyed his friend’s company, he knew Pendergrast wasn’t the steady, reliable sort. Hell, Pendergrast would admit to that failing himself.
Alexander could see why his shooting and racing would worry Georgina. And he certainly wasn’t somber and deliberate in every undertaking. He was a writer, but not of dry, academic pieces.
He supposed that he could try to give everything up for Georgina and mold his personality into what she desired. But he wouldn’t. Even for her.
He’d spent his entire childhood trying to remake himself into someone who his parents would accept. He couldn’t waste his adulthood in the same fruitless endeavor. He was who he was, and he wasn’t about to change himself.
If Georgina didn’t want a sportsman, then she didn’t want him. And he simply needed to accept that fact. Even if it felt like his heart was being torn apart by a million tiny, red-hot pokers.
“That’s it!” Georgina suddenly cried out, breaking into his misery. Under the table, her hand gripped his, and he almost shook her off. But Georgina didn’t deserve his foul temper for simply making her needs and desires clear.
“That’s why there was such a commotion in the weeks before Algernon and Anne brought me to London!” Georgina was enthusiastically pumping his arm now, whacking his knuckles against the wooden board. He doubted that she even realized what she was doing.
“I am afraid I missed something important,” Alexander said as he gently tried to disentangle himself from her grasp.
“Didn’t you hear what the men behind us were discussing?” Georgina asked. “I thought we were eavesdropping while we wait for Lord Henry’s appearance?”
Well, that’s what they were supposed to be doing, but Alexander was wallowing. Something that was entirely inappropriate given the circumstances. At the very least, Georgina needed him alert for danger. If Talbot was involved in the smuggling ring, he would be very dangerous indeed. Even if their suspicions were wrong, he still wasn’t a fellow to trifle with.
“What did you hear?” Alexander asked, forcing his senses to sharpen.
“Week before last, the body of an exciseman washed up on shore a few miles from my parcel of land. He had been shot and killed.” Georgina leaned forward as she whispered so softly that Alexander had trouble understanding her.
When he did piece together her words, his innards froze. If the person they were chasing had murdered once, then he was capable of doing so a second time. Worse, anyone who attacked a government official wouldn’t hesitate to harm a mere miss like Georgina.
“You think Arthur was the perpetrator?” Alexander asked.
“Or one of the underlings in the smuggling ring. Even my brother would be capable of it, especially if he was deep in his cups,” Georgina admitted.
“I don’t see my father shooting another person, nor can I imagine him skulking around on a dark beach participating in smuggling.” Alexander reached for his cane to fiddle with. The facts were starting to arrange themselves into a pattern now, and he didn’t like their deadly portent. “Talbot has always been bloodthirsty. As a youth, he and his older brother enjoyed forcing the other lads to engage in dangerous games.”
“You think that just like Hawley played at being a highwayman, his middle brother tried his hand at smuggling?” Georgina asked. “It does make sense—in a terrible way. If Lord Henry found it a lark, Algernon would, too. And I do think the smuggling ring precipitated the murder. That is why the carriages converged upon Algernon’s manor. It would have been at the right time. Your father came from the west, and Arthur arrived from the northeast. They probably convened to address the death. It likely put their entire operation at risk and added substantially to the crimes they were committing.”
“My father wouldn’t have liked being embroiled in such a travesty, but he was already too deeply enmeshed. The fact he was negotiating a marriage between you and me indicates that Algernon wasn’t directly involved in the murder. Or, if he was, my father is unaware.”
How were they to untangle this mess, and how had Percy gotten caught up in it?
“I wonder if the duke and my brother are trying to form a tighter alliance to push Arthur out?” Georgina tapped her fingers against the tabletop.
“That sounds like His Grace. He wouldn’t want the taint of murder affecting him.” Alexander tried to ignore the churning in his stomach. “But it could make Arthur even more dangerous.”
“Arthur is the one who caused Percy’s disappearance, isn’t he?” Although Georgina had been talking in extremely hushed tones this whole time, her voice became even smaller.
“Most likely.” Even though he knew he was risking more heartache, Alexander reached under the table to covertly give Georgina’s hand a reassuring squeeze. This was about her need for comfort, not his.
Without warning, her fingers dug into his palm. Her brown eyes had grown enormous, yet she seemed more determined than frightened. “He’s here.”
Alexander didn’t need to ask who. Immediately, he stiffened. He didn’t want to confront his old tormentor, but it couldn’t be helped. If Pendergrast was still alive, they had to follow every clue to save him.
“You said that you’ll pretend to accidentally knock into Lord Henry, but it’s my cousin who’s missing.” Georgina planted her hands on either side of her plate as she rose. Their goal was to try to grab Henry’s snuffbox and confirm that “Arthur” was inscribed in the lid.
“No.” Alexander used his cane to push himself quickly to his feet. “It’s too dangerous for you. He could see through your disguise. He almost has in the past.”
“But I don’t want to place you in—” Georgina said as she shifted out from the table.
“You will bear more risk—” Alexander protested at the same time while he shuffled sideways to stop her.
Unfortunately, Georgina tripped over his outstretched cane. She pitched forward into his chest before he could brace himself. His bad leg buckled under the unexpected weight, and he toppled backward… right into something hard and unyielding.
“Oooof!” The grunt near Alexander’s ear was accompanied by the exceedingly strong smell of ale.
Alexander righted himself, only for a hand to painfully grip his shoulder. Its owner immediately pushed Alexander, forcing him to awkwardly spin around. If Alexander’s reflexes hadn’t been honed under Championess Quick’s tutelage, he probably would have collapsed into a heap. Instead, after using his cane to steady his body, he found himself face-to-face with Henry Talbot.
“Well… well… well.” Talbot drunkenly slurred the words. “If it isn’t Alexander the Galling—the reason for my banishment.”
Banishment? Was Talbot not in Essex of his own volition? Or was he blaming Alexander for leaving London and forcing Talbot to stalk him all the way to Georgina’s home village?
Alexander did not have much time to parse the meaning of Talbot’s words as the man’s fist came flying in his direction. Alexander easily ducked, but if he had any hope of triumphing over Talbot, he’d need to knock him to the ground. Henry swung again, and this time, Alexander had a harder time avoiding the blow. Pain shot up his bad leg as he awkwardly put pressure on it.
“Do. Not. Touch. Him.” Georgina growled out the words, her feminine voice thankfully deep with rage.
All around the tavern, the other patrons watched. None seemed inclined to join the fight, but they were definitely interested in watching it unfold.
Henry straightened. He blinked sluggishly at Georgina, his senses clearly dulled from alcohol. Shock washed over his countenance, making him look even more inebriated. But why was he stunned to find Georgina at the inn? Hadn’t he been trailing them? And given how deep Talbot was in his cups, could he have actually been today’s shooter? Taking into account how much liquor the reprobate could hold, it seemed like he’d been drinking for a least a few hours to be in such a state.
“You!” Henry jabbed an unsteady finger in Georgina’s direction. “You’re also the reason for my exile! If you two hadn’t plagued me at Elysian Fields, Father wouldn’t have ordered me back to the bloody countryside.”
So Talbot was here on the Duke of Lansberry’s orders. Perhaps he wasn’t Arthur after all. But if he wasn’t, why did he have the snuffbox?
One thing was certain, though. Alexander needed to draw Talbot’s attention away from Georgina. Even this drunk, he was a dangerously powerful brute, perhaps even more so. Some of Alexander’s worst beatings at the other man’s hands had come when Talbot had drunk brandy that he and Hawley had smuggled onto school grounds.
“You’re the progenitor of your own ill luck,” Alexander taunted. Unfortunately, Talbot didn’t seem to register the insult. He only staggered toward Georgina, somehow managing to be both clumsy and purposeful.
“Who are you to order me to unhand Alexander the Galling? You’re nothing but a short, annoying mite.” As Henry lurched forward, he kept stabbing his finger in Georgina’s direction. Alexander began to lift his cane—ready to intervene before Henry poked Georgina in the chest. If he discovered her bound breasts, her reputation would never recover.
Georgina backed away, which made Talbot’s mouth stretch into an unkind grin. He threw back his head, his cruel chuckle a haunting echo of his schoolboy chortle.
“Afraid, Little Mite?” Talbot balled back his hand, preparing to strike.
Alexander started to sweep Talbot’s leg with his cane, but Georgina was faster. With no hesitation, she kicked up her leg and rammed her shin between Henry’s thighs. Hard. Exceedingly hard.
Just like Alexander had taught her.
Henry stiffened and then seemed to collapse on himself, his arms sweeping downward. As his body sagged forward, Georgina slammed the heel of her palm into his chin. Not expecting the blow, Henry toppled backward. With his hands gripping his groin, he didn’t have time to brace himself. His head conked against the floor followed by his back. A roar of rage and pain erupted from him.
Around the room, the other patrons began murmuring in astonishment. Although they didn’t know that Georgina was a woman, it was still a spectacle to witness a large, muscular nobleman felled by a small fellow.
“Now run!” Alexander shouted to Georgina as Henry began to thrash in her direction.
“Not yet!” Georgina yelled back, fortunately remembering to deepen her voice. Alexander realized that she wouldn’t escape until they’d secured the snuffbox.
Talbot’s hand snaked toward Georgina’s ankle as he began to surge to his knees. Alexander didn’t wait as protective rage thundered through him. Tossing his cane to the side, Alexander tackled Henry. His wrath was so intense that he barely registered the hollers ringing from the onlookers. “Plant a facer!” “Ribroast that jackanapes!” “Give him what you’ve got!”
Talbot flung his fist at Alexander’s head, but Alexander easily blocked the hit with his forearm. Talbot next tried to land a blow with his other hand, but Alexander was faster. Although he was still less muscular than Talbot, he wasn’t a weakling, and he’d been taught by a prizefighter who knew how to defeat her bigger opponents. Using his body as leverage, Alexander pinned Talbot down. It took all his willpower not to slam the brute against the ground. He just needed to subdue the bully, not beat him into a bloody mess.
Alexander didn’t even need to shout to Georgina to grab the snuffbox. She was already kneeling beside them, searching Talbot’s waistcoat. Talbot writhed, but he wasn’t using his bulk strategically. It wasn’t hard to keep him pinned, especially with the anger pumping through Alexander. This man hadn’t just attacked him over and over in the past, but he’d lunged at Georgina.
Trying to keep his fury at bay, Alexander watched as Georgina fished out the silver-covered piece. Quickly, she bent over the object, shielding it from both Talbot’s and the spectators’ view.
“What does it say?” Alexander asked as Talbot attempted to headbutt him.
“It simply says ‘To Viscount Hawley.’” Georgina turned to him in shock, no longer trying to obscure the snuffbox. Instead, she shook it in Talbot’s face. “Where did you get this?”
“Why do you care about that useless trinket of my brother’s?” Talbot spat out as he ineffectively twisted his body in an attempt to wriggle from Alexander’s grasp. “I thought it might be of some value, but no one knows what the bloody gem is.”
“My father must have gifted it to Lord Hawley when he was going to marry Charlotte,” Alexander told Georgina, ignoring the thrashing Talbot. “I don’t think it’s the one we’re interested in.”
“Why the hell are you addlepates searching for a damn snuffbox?” Talbot bellowed as he increased his struggles to break free. “Bloody arses.”
Alexander wanted nothing more than to repeatedly smash his fist into Talbot’s face. But they’d studied the trinket, and he wasn’t the villain they sought.
“I’m going to release you,” Alexander warned. “But if you attack either Mr. Harrington or me, I won’t hold back.”
Slowly, Alexander relaxed his grip on Henry’s upper body but still immobilized his legs. Talbot bolted into a seated position, his balled fingers nearly walloping Alexander in the temple. Alexander pivoted but took a painful hit to his shoulder. Before the blackguard could sock him again, Alexander whacked the fleshy part of his elbow against Talbot’s cheek. A single groan escaped the bigger man’s lips before he slumped bonelessly to the floorboards.
Fueled by untrammeled vigor and pent-up ire, Alexander raised his fist. But he stopped mid-strike. Because he wasn’t Talbot. He didn’t clobber those who were already down.
“Alexander! Alexander!” It was Georgina yelling. He heard her shouts now, and he wondered how many he’d missed. Her hand touched his arm, and he let her guide him to his feet. She pressed his cane into his hand, and he accepted it. Together, they turned from Talbot’s prone body and strode out the inn’s doors. Dimly, Alexander heard the congratulations from the other patrons, but he didn’t care.
His limbs began to shake, but he’d expected that. He had an unharmed Georgina by his side to keep him steady. Somehow, he’d defeated his childhood tormentor. And better yet, he hadn’t become him, either. Triumph filled him even as the wild energy inside him ebbed away.
The cooler evening air washed over Alexander as they emerged into the twilight. The horizon burned a glorious red, almost as if in celebration of Alexander’s victory.
“That was an exceedingly impressive blow.” Georgina’s tone was bright. She, and the sound of her voice, buoyed him even more.
Using his cane as a pivot point, he slowly spun in her direction. But when Alexander faced her, the joy suddenly whooshed from him. How could he kiss her? Especially now? Would his victory over Talbot only make her think of him as a violent man? Yet she hadn’t seemed to mind when he’d successfully outrun their ambusher yesterday. In fact, he knew the escapade had thrilled her.
But Georgina had still declared that she didn’t desire a sportsman. At least not for a husband. And Alexander didn’t want only a fleeting romance with Georgina anymore. Not with the way his heart felt around her.
Perhaps he should be honest. If he suddenly withdrew his affections, could that not hurt her?
“Georgina, I…” Alexander stumbled over his words as he tried to explain his feelings, even while fully expecting rejection.
“Miss Harrington!”
Alexander stiffened at the use of Georgina’s real name. Instinctually, he stepped between her and the speaker, who was somewhere behind them. As Alexander turned toward the newcomer, he reached for the gun hidden under his coat. The man had spoken with a local Essex accent rather than a London one, but that didn’t make him any less of a threat.
Perhaps he was even a greater one.
“Jack!” Georgina called out. “Were you having a drink at the inn? I didn’t see you inside.”
“Who’s Jack?” Alexander asked Georgina quietly. Perhaps this fellow wasn’t dangerous if she was greeting him with such warmth. She certainly wasn’t attempting to hide her identity, although it was apparent that this chap had already recognized her.
“He’s one of the young men who helps at my pit,” Georgina answered in a low voice, before she added brightly, “Is Tom with you?”
“No.” The answer was short and tinged with an ominous darkness.
Alexander pulled out his pistol just as the figure stepped away from the bright glow of the tavern. As the interloper drew closer, his features became more apparent in the faint lingering rays of the sun. His boyish features were drawn, making him look like a wizened elder instead of a lad on the cusp of adulthood. A wildness haunted his eyes that could have been desperation or something more sinister.
“Don’t step any closer.” Alexander leveled his weapon at the local’s chest.
“I’m not here to hurt Miss Harrington or you. I’m trying to warn you.” Jack lifted his hands, showing that they were empty.
“Jack,” Georgina said, her normally crisp voice marred with worry. “What’s wrong?”
“Telling you will only put you in more danger.” Jack’s expression turned pleading, and Alexander finally saw the fear in the youth’s face. “Please return to London. Stop looking for snuffboxes, and never return to where they are mined.”
“How did you know we went to the cliffs?” Alexander demanded as he cocked his weapon. Jack’s palpable terror had almost caused Alexander to lower his guard, but he was thankful he hadn’t. “You were the one who shot at us, weren’t you?”
The lad didn’t even try to refute the accusation as he visibly began to shake. “I never intended to hit you. I was trying to scare you away.”
“Jack, I have always known you were a smuggler.” Once again, Georgina sounded like her pragmatic self as she stepped around Alexander to face her worker. “I have no intention of reporting you or any of the locals.”
“You don’t understand, miss. I’m not worried about the government. It’s the nob you need to fear. The one your brother calls Arthur. He’s unhinged, that one. He murdered the exciseman. Shot him in the back, Tom said. He was yelling about how he was the descendant of King Arthur and the real law of England when he pulled the trigger.”
“You know who Arthur is?” Alexander said.
Jack shook his head. “Just that he’s a gent. It’s Tom who met him and saw the murder. I got a glimpse of him once, and that was all. Tom told me to keep away, and so should you, Miss Harrington. From what I hear, Arthur would likely kill a dove, too. Those gems aren’t worth your life.”
“I’m not worried about a bunch of rocks—no matter how colorful they are. I’m searching for my cousin, Lord Percy Pendergrast.” Georgina stepped even closer to Jack.
Alexander reached out and gently snagged her arm. He didn’t fully trust the lad, and he didn’t want Georgina blundering into a trap.
“Lord Percy is as good as dead, and so is Tom. There’s no saving them, if they’re even still alive.” Jack’s eyes glistened in the fading light, and his face crumpled. He attempted to look stoic, but his anguish and concern were palpable.
“Tom is missing, too?” Georgina asked.
This time when she shifted toward Jack, Alexander let her. It was clear, even to him, that the broken youth wasn’t a danger. He was simply scared and doing his best to save Georgina.
“Since right before you went to London, miss. Tom knew that this Arthur fellow was keeping your cousin among the loot, and Tom left one evening to rescue him. He never came back. When I finally mustered enough courage to check the cave, there was no trace of any of them.” With each word, Jack sagged a little more, his gaze fixed on the ground.
Georgina seemed to wilt, too, and Alexander grabbed her arm once more. He felt flattened as well, but he wouldn’t accept this lad’s word as defeat.
“Did you spy any blood or signs of a struggle?” Alexander demanded, steeling himself for the worst.
“No. Just an empty corridor where they’d been keeping Lord Percy.” Jack swallowed hard. “I should’ve gone with Tom that day or stopped him altogether.”
“You can help now,” Alexander said firmly.
“How?” Jack asked. “The best I can do is keep Miss Harrington away from Arthur.”
Alexander ignored the sickening churn in his stomach as he concentrated on the facts. “You saw the villain’s form. Could he have been Lord Henry?”
“Who?” Jack asked in confusion.
“The man whom Alexander and I fought in the inn just now.” Georgina’s voice was back to being logical without a single quaver. Hearing the return of her pragmatism brought a wave of relief through Alexander, bolstering his own confidence.
They had a witness. All was not forsaken.
“No. It wasn’t him,” Jack said. “His frame is all wrong.”
“Is Arthur even more hulking?” Alexander asked, thinking of Lord Malbarry.
“He’s tall but skinny as a reed. He looks like a puff of breeze would bend him straight in half.”
“That sounds like the Earl of Clifville,” Georgina gasped out.
“He does own a crumbling old castle to the northeast,” Alexander said slowly, “but I cannot imagine that bookworm killing an ant, let alone a human being.”
“Do you think he’d strut around London proclaiming that he’s a murderer?” Georgina asked. “Besides, scholars can be exceedingly underhanded and vicious.”
“Yet you want to marry one!” The accusation flew from Alexander’s mouth before he could stop it.
“I beg your pardon!” Georgina shouted, sounding confused and more than a trifle annoyed. “My marriage preferences have nothing to do with this conversation.”
Jack cleared his throat awkwardly as he studiously looked anywhere but at Georgina and Alexander. “I… I did hear Lord Craie mention an earl once, along with a duke. He didn’t use their full titles, though. I never met the other nobs, like I said. I wasn’t supposed to know even that much.”
“The duke would be my father,” Alexander said, still trying to accept the fact that the man who wanted to experience gunfire for research purposes had actually shot a government official in the back. “It does sound as if Lord Clifville is the one who kidnapped Percy for discovering the smugglers’ lair.”
“That isn’t why he was taken—not according to Tom,” Jack interjected. “It’s because of that helmet you found, Miss Harrington. Arthur wanted more treasure. He kept Percy in that cave and demanded that he reveal where he’d found the grave goods. From what Tom said, the earl thought the barrow was on Percy’s family’s estate and not your parcel.”
“That bastard!” Georgina clenched both fists and looked ready to knee a man in the groin for the second time that evening. Then her fingers went limp as she realized the darker meaning behind Jack’s words. “Did—did he hurt my cousin?”
“I-I do not know.” Jack stared at a spot over Georgina’s shoulder.
“Why didn’t Percy just reveal that the barrow was located on my land?” Georgina asked. “My dig isn’t worth his life.”
“Most likely for the same reason Tom didn’t see fit to reveal it, either. Once Arthur knows, he’d have no need to keep your cousin alive,” Jack explained.
“But Clifville now has a good idea where the burial mound is located after the Duke of Foxglen practically led him straight toward it.” Georgina’s face showed the same horror that was piercing Alexander.
“Shite!” Jack said and then glanced at Georgina. “Sorry, Miss Harrington, for my language.”
It was unlikely, however, that Georgina had even heard him. She was pacing now, clearly trying to make sense of all the new facts.
“Why is Lord Clifville so obsessed with the barrow?” Jack asked.
The reason suddenly became clear to Alexander, but he felt no thrill. Not when the answer showed just how deluded the earl was. “He believed Pendergrast when he bragged that the helmet was King Arthur’s.”
Georgina stopped her nervous marching and whirled in Alexander’s direction. “But Lord Clifville dismissed Arthur as a legend.”
Alexander gripped Georgina’s arm as his concern for the well-being of her cousin and now Tom grew exponentially. “The earl hid the fact that he was a deranged murderer and kidnapper, too. It would have been much easier to lie about his belief in the Round Table. Think about it. He chose Arthur as a nom de guerre. I wager that he dreamed up the other appellations, too. And Jack, didn’t you say that Tom heard Clifville call himself a descendant of King Arthur?”
“He did,” Jack confirmed.
“But… but none of that is logical,” Georgina protested.
“No, it isn’t. Clifville is clearly troubled,” Alexander said. “That is precisely why we need to rescue Pendergrast and Tom as soon as possible.”
Jack shifted nervously. “It isn’t safe, but…”
“But?” Georgina prodded.
Jack shoved his hand into his hair, loosening his already sloppy queue. “When I was at the tavern making sure you didn’t get in more trouble, I overheard two other nobs talking—an old man and a big mountain of a fellow. They mentioned that a Lord Clifville had returned to London on some urgent business.”
Alexander tried to ignore the sense of doom that had settled over his soul. He didn’t want to drag Georgina further into danger, but he knew she’d never stay behind. He braced himself and made the declaration they were all thinking.
“Then tonight is the perfect time to invade Camelot.”