Chapter 39
Sebastian Devereau did not have time to so much as scramble to his feet before he was flung to the ground. Julian had kicked the chair from beneath him with as much force as he could muster, and the man pitched forward. Julian seized him by the collar and hauled him up.
“You weasel. Do you imagine you can come into my house and abduct my family and walk out again? You must be utterly cocked in the knob if you thought I would ever allow it.”
The man stared at him, eyes wide. The cocky, smirking ease he had carried at the ball was wiped clean away.
“How did you find me?” he said.
“It does not matter how I found you. Only that I did. And your scheme ends here. You will not endanger my cousin or her child a moment longer.”
“You mean my child. I shall take this matter to the Court of Chancery, and they will most certainly decide in my favor. Your cousin will be jailed. She stole my son.”
“If you thought you had a chance at winning, you would have gone that route from the start. You know you do not. Not with what you did to her. You have entirely lost your mind, have you not? You lured my cousin from her home with promises you never intended to keep, married her under false pretenses, and planned to steal her child. That is fraud. Your marriage was never valid, and you know it perfectly well. That is precisely why you wanted her to admit to an adultery she never committed.”
“The child is still mine. I am his father.”
“Once we prove you defrauded my cousin into marrying you, he may still be your son by blood, but he will not be your son born within wedlock. I know little of Italian law, but here, that means he is no legitimate heir which I rather think will diminish your uncle’s interest in him considerably.”
“He is still my blood. She will never have him. I shall see to that.”
Julian rushed forward, forcing the man to stumble backwards until his back struck the wall.
“You think you will be free to do any of that?” he said.
“You kidnapped my wife, a titled lady of the realm. Even if we could not have you on the matter of David, we can have you for that, and we will. And you imprisoned my cousin, the niece and cousin of a duke—his ward. You must have lost your mind entirely if you think you will be walking these streets freely after today.”
As with so many bullies he had encountered over the years, hearing the truth set out plainly seemed to inspire a shift in the man. He wetted his lips and raised both hands.
“We can talk about this, surely. We can come to an understanding. Let me go, and we can discuss it like reasonable men.”
“There is nothing to discuss. We are done here.”
He turned his head and called over his shoulder. “I have him. I have the rat. Fetch the constable.”
Then it was his turn to smirk. He noted that the man had not even attempted to claim he didn’t have Clara which told him she was, in fact, behind that locked door. They had won. They had won, and it had been so much easier than he had feared.
Now the biggest hurdle remaining was convincing her that he had not meant a word of what she had overheard. Because the honest truth was that he had not.
“No,” he said. “You are going to sit here, and I am going to tie you up, and you are going to wait quietly for the constables to arrive.”
He was not entirely certain when the constables would arrive.
It occurred to him only now that they had still to send word to the local constabulary.
The Bow Street runners and the authorities in London had been alerted to the situation, but nobody this far south yet knew.
He would have to send one of the footmen back out into the weather, but that was a logistical concern for later.
First, he had to tie this man up, and then ensure Clara was unharmed.
“I would not be quite so hasty,” a deep voice sounded from behind him.
He spun, and to his horror, he saw Arabella in the grip of a tall man, a man who towered over even Julian himself. He held her by the hair with one hand and a knife to her throat with the other.
“You will let my master go now,” the man said. “And then, perhaps your cousin will not come to any harm.”
“Let her go.” Julian’s voice had dropped to something cool and low. “Let her go. You do not know what you are doing.”
“I know perfectly well what I am doing. And if you imagine your friends are coming to save you, you ought to think again. The one you left in the hallway to free your wife and child? Unconscious. Locked in the dressing room. The other two—please, if you mean to bring amateurs to such an affair, you must expect rather poor outcomes. You ought to teach them never to walk into a room without first ensuring they can walk back out of it. Though it was kind of you to bring the chatelaine up. It saved me the trouble of going down for it myself. Now, I am afraid it is just you.”
“Oh, how the tides have turned,” Sebastian said with a small laugh. “Be a dear and let go of me.”
“No,” Julian said, tightening his grip. “He will not get away with this.”
“Oh, very well. Do not let me go. It rather suits me better in the end. After all, if Arabella is found to have met her unfortunate end here under tragic circumstances, then I need not concern myself with annulments or divorces or any of that tedium. Alexander will simply be mine by rights. A poor half-orphan but mine by right.”
Julian’s eyes flicked between Sebastian and Arabella.
“You have always been a snake,” Arabella spat. “And his name is not Alexander. You did not even like your father. Why on earth would you name your son after him? His name is Horatio.”
“Named after a father who could not even look after himself long enough to see you safely into adulthood. A truly inspired choice.”
Julian wanted to drive his fist into the man’s smart mouth, but he controlled himself.
“Do not give in to him,” Arabella called. “He cannot have Horatio. He cannot get away with this.”
“Shut your mouth,” the man said and pulled tight on her hair, drawing a yelp from her.
Rage ran through Julian. He calculated quickly.
Nathaniel was out of action, as were James and Gideon apparently, but that meant two of his friends and at least four of the footmen were still moving through the house searching for Clara and the baby.
They would come eventually, but he had no way to know when.
He had heard footsteps on the third floor earlier which meant someone was up there searching, but this was an enormous house.
He could not count on a swift discovery.
He hoped, fiercely, that Clara was safe. Was she still in the room? Hadn’t this man said Nathaniel was in the dressing room? Which dressing room?
His mind raced.
“You will not get away with any of this,” he said.
“Surely you must know that. Even if you cut Arabella’s throat and pretend it is the work of highway robbers, I am a witness.
Are you going to do away with me, too? And the three friends of mine you’ve already bested?
All of us are peers, and none of us is below the rank of earl.
Are you truly going to attempt to murder all of us and trust that the Crown will not come after you? ”
“I do not need to have all of you killed,” Sebastian said.
“Only the wench. The rest of you may stay tied up nicely and tell whatever tale you like. I will take my child back to Italy, and the authorities will not send me back—not when I tell them of the vile treatment I have received here. To have my child stolen from me. My poor wife murdered by highwaymen. I shall have all their sympathy.” He dipped his head to the side.
“Besides, I will have protection in the form of your lovely wife. Clara, is it?”
Julian’s head pounded. Clara…
“I will come after you. You know that I will. I shall hunt you to the very end of the earth if I must. You will not harm my wife.”
“But you will not. If you follow us, I cannot guarantee what will happen. I shall take her as a guest of mine for a time. Until your nerves have calmed somewhat. Or perhaps longer.”
Julian could not help himself. His fist flew through the air before he could rein it in and connected squarely with Sebastian’s nose. The man let out a yelp and clapped both hands over his face.
“Sir!” his henchman called and stepped forward.
Arabella chose that exact moment to make her move. Julian caught it from the corner of his eye. She raised her left foot and hooked it behind her captor’s ankle just as he attempted to take his next step, and he pitched forward, crashing to the floor, the knife skittering from his hand.
“Heath!” Sebastian cried out as his servant lost his grip on Arabella.
She lunged for it just as the brute was scrambling back to his knees.
“Quickly! Throw me the knife,” Julian called.
Arabella reached for it just as Heath got to one knee.
“You will regret this,” he snarled. “You will regret—”
He got no further, for the sound of a heavy vase shattering over his head filled the small room.
Julian’s eyes had been fixed on the knife. He looked up.
Clara stood in the corner of the room, her hands shaking, her hair loose from its pins, and looking more beautiful than he had ever seen her.