Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
“I have to be the one to deliver the necklace,” Evie insisted the next morning. “Otherwise, the blackmailer will sense a trap.”
“I will not have you endangering yourself,” James growled.
And yes, he was growling—because they’d been going around and around since she’d received the note, neither willing to concede ground.
Now they had an audience. His family was gathered again in Xenia’s sitting room to avoid prying eyes.
He and Evie stood in front of the hearth, arguing their points.
“I won’t be in danger. He wants the jewels, not me. In fact, he is probably toasting my good health since it is tied to his growing fortune.”
Evie’s blasé attitude tested his patience to its limits.
“You wanted to flush out the bounder—I agreed,” he said grimly. “You wanted to be the bait? I permitted it. However, I will not allow you to prance into the bloody woods at midnight to rendezvous with a villain who, might I remind you, has committed murder!”
“Allow me?” Outrage flared in her eyes.
“Children, please.” Mama, seated on the sofa, used a calm yet firm tone. “There is no point in quarreling. Our time and energy would be put to better use coming up with a plan.”
“Mama is right.” Standing behind her, Papa added his authority. “When tensions are high, cool heads must prevail. James is correct—Evie cannot go into the woods alone.”
“Actually, I agree with Evie.” Mama twisted around and frowned at him. “If anyone else goes in her stead, the villain will know the game is up.”
“But should danger arise, Evie would be ill-equipped—”
“Why? Because she is a female?”
James exchanged uneasy glances with his brothers. Growing up, they’d all heard this whisper-soft tone from their mama and knew it was the laying of a trap. Ethan subtly shook his head at Papa, trying to warn him.
“Well, yes, partly.” Papa drew his brows together. “But that is not the only—”
“I am a female.”
Papa cleared his throat. “Of that, I am well aware.”
“And during the conflicts with Boney, did I not successfully navigate perilous situations?”
James stilled. Mama rarely discussed her experiences during the war, and to this day, neither he nor his siblings were quite clear about the role she played. Papa would only say with pride that she was a true heroine.
“You are an exceptional woman, my love,” Papa muttered.
“Evie is as well. Come sit with me, dear girl.”
At Mama’s beckoning, Evie went to join her on the sofa…
but not before giving James a smug Mama-agrees-with-me smile.
He sighed, torn between irritation and fathomless love for his hardheaded spouse.
As requested, she sat next to Mama—at least she heeded someone—and James had the sudden recognition of how alike the two were.
Not on the surface, for Mama’s beauty was sultry and dark while Evie’s was solemn and fair, but at the heart of who they were.
Strong, intelligent, and brave women who loved fiercely and were loyal to the bone.
Mama patted Evie’s hand. “During the prior deliveries, did you see the blackmailer?”
“Neither hide nor hair of him.” Evie hesitated. “But he must have been there…watching.”
“Yes,” Mama agreed. “And he will be there again tonight. To flush him out and run him to ground, you must make an appearance. However”—she held up a hand to cut off James’s protest—“you won’t be alone.
This morning, we will send scouts to find the best places to keep watch without the blackmailer’s awareness. ”
Xenia and Gigi volunteered simultaneously.
“I will go!”
Ethan and Godwin groaned.
Now they know how I feel.
“By all appearances, Xenia and Gigi will be two ladies taking a morning constitutional through the woods.” Mama gave a pleased nod.
“Once they determine the best places of concealment, the men will take their places. Tonight, Evie will bait the trap, and when the villain appears, the men will make their move—and capture him. Evie will always be under watch and protected, but as an extra precaution…”
Picking up the knitting bag at her feet, Mama pulled out a pearl-handled pistol as if it were a harmless ball of yarn.
“She must also be able to protect herself.”
It was nearing midnight. Concealed in the recessed alcove of the hermit’s grotto, which gave him a view of the entrance, James saw the approaching glow of a lantern.
His muscles stiffened for he knew it was Evie walking through the dark woods alone.
The fact that he and his kin had the grotto surrounded and that Evie herself carried a pistol that Mama had taught her to use did little to alleviate his tension.
His wife should not be undertaking this dangerous errand.
Yet his protectiveness was tempered by his understanding of her: she needed to see this business to the end.
Fiercely proud of her courage, he was determined to help her defeat the demons of her past.
The light of the lantern dazzled his pupils as Evie entered the grotto.
He had to leash his impulse to pull her into his arms and hold her tight.
Instead, he stayed hidden in case the blackmailer had eyes and ears nearby.
He heard the swish of her skirts and the soft sound of the jewelry box being placed upon the niche.
Then she was gone, leaving him in darkness.
The shadows seemed to grow deeper as he waited.
He hadn’t worn a watch for fear that its ticking might give him away.
Minutes felt like hours as he awaited his adversary.
His mind wandered—from the consoling knowledge that Evie would be safely back at the manor by now to the satisfaction he would feel when he finally captured the blackguard.
He thought about the grotto, too, and its mystical connection to Evie’s dreams.
A rational man, he didn’t believe in ghosts. Yet he couldn’t deny he felt something—a presence or energy—in this strange hollow. Before the light had died, he’d seen the spiral of shells and the inscription on the wall that Evie had described.
You are mine, and I am yours. Not only for ease, but for every trial. This is the way of love: to stay, to forgive, to begin again.
Was it Rosalinda and Thomas’s version of Ad finem fidelis? Whatever the case, he couldn’t argue with it. His marriage had taught him that love was about committing to one another and taking chances despite mistakes.
He set aside sentiment and focused on monitoring the grotto’s entrance.
At times, his vision played tricks on him, picking up movement where there was none.
Then he saw a faint flicker; he blinked, and it was still there—growing brighter, getting closer.
He made out a lantern held by a cloaked figure.
James’s muscles bunched in readiness as the shadow moved into the grotto. The man set the lamp down and picked up the jewelry box. He checked the goods, then stowed the box in the satchel strapped across his chest.
James pounced.
“What the bloody—”
He wrestled the villain to the ground. It was like grappling with a lamprey. The man was slippery and strong, and just when James thought he had the upper hand, the bastard kneed him in the groin. The dirty move made him see stars. His grip loosened, and the bounder broke free, making a run for it.
Staggering to his feet, James caught his breath and yelled, “Grab him! He’s getting away.”
He heard the answering shouts of his brothers and Papa. Grabbing the blackmailer’s lamp, he shoved aside the pulsing agony and dashed out of the grotto. He saw dark figures racing through the woods and joined the chase, passing Papa and reaching Ethan.
He sprinted side by side with his brother.
“The bastard has the speed of a bloody thoroughbred,” Ethan panted.
“We cannot let him escape,” James bit out.
Pumping his arms harder, he propelled himself forward.
He ran as if his future depended upon it.
His muscles burned, sweat stinging his eyes as he gained ground.
The sound of rushing water grew louder, and the trees thinned, the forest opening into a clearing eerily lit by moonlight.
Swollen by recent storms, the stream cut through the land in a dark, frothing rush.
Spotting Owen and the blackmailer running up the sharply inclining bank, James followed.
He fought for balance on the slippery grass, mud sucking at his boots.
One wrong step would send him toppling into the churning waters.
He was less than a hundred feet away when Owen caught up with their foe, tackling him from behind.
James’s heart shot into his throat when both men pitched toward the water’s edge.
They caught their balance, locked in battle, moonlight dashing their shadows over the churning waves.
Owen fought like a man possessed—with a blind and brutal ferocity that had been foreign to his nature before the war.
James raced toward them, but the villain managed to twist free of his brother’s hold.
With an inhuman howl, Owen lunged at him, and the pair wrestled ever closer to the stream’s edge.
James was close enough to see the wildness of his brother’s eyes when the earth gave way beneath the blackmailer’s feet.
The man fell into the water, screaming, his grip tightening on Owen and dragging him to his knees.
“Let go, Owen!” James yelled. “For God’s sake, let go!”
But Owen didn’t. He remained where he was, kneeling on dissolving ground, holding onto the enemy’s hand—as if he could not bear to let another soul slip away.
Or as if he were ready to follow the other…
James hurled himself forward, grabbing Owen by the waist. In that instant, he saw the villain’s hand slip from his brother’s.
The bounder’s shout was lost in the roar of the water, his body disappearing in the vicious current.
Feeling Owen’s shuddering tension, James said hoarsely, “He’s gone, brother. There is nothing more we can do. Come with me now.”
For a heartbeat, Owen didn’t respond. Then his breath hitched in the softest of sobs…and he allowed James to haul him back from the edge. They reached solid ground just as the bank rumbled, collapsing into the thunderous tide.