Chapter Nine
Eloise dashed into the house and nearly crashed into Lord Graves, whose tall, large form dominated All Hallows’ entry way.
The man put up both hands to prevent her from stumbling into him. “Whoa. Eloise.”
“Your Grace.” She offered a quick curtsy before wiping her face. “I wasn’t aware you were to visit today.”
“I wasn’t. But I came across information pertaining to Hamish and didn’t see the point in waiting. Are you all right?”
“Yes, Thank you.” She removed Lucian’s coat, then straightened the ribbon at her waist, her fingers shaking. “I fear Lucian is in the garden.”
“I see.”
“I can go back and get him.”
“No. He needs moments to himself.”
Graves obviously put together her tears and Lucian’s absence. He knew his friend well.
“The remnant of war is a horrible mistress for a man to court.”
“It is indeed,” the duke said.
“He might not be safe alone.” She glanced fleetingly back at the door.
Graves took her arm in his and steered her toward the library. “Lucian is a strong man. He’s survived more than I could ever deal with, but sometimes, it is we who need to be strong for him. Including letting him work out his troubles in his own way.”
She knew the duke’s words to be true, but the fact didn’t make them any less painful to accept. “I suppose, but I don’t wish to leave him for too long.”
“We won’t.” He guided her to the sofa and after she sat, removed his coat and took a seat on the sofa opposite.
“I hope you’ve brought good news as this whole business of my parents’ deaths and Edmund’s is most unsettling.” She eyed window, hoping to find Lucian walking back. The lawn remained empty.
The crinkle of paper unfolding stole her attention.
Graves had several documents spread out on the table.
“Winston and Mallory were correct. I searched the Knights’ ledgers that are in my family’s possession and did indeed find an entry pertaining to one Duncan Blackwood, eldest son of his father, Donall, as well as his ancestors, which do not include Hamish as a direct descendant.
Duncan’s birth was recorded in the late sixteenth century. ”
“Then Hamish is not heir to the Knights’ second seat.”
“No. He is not. In fact, his direct ancestor was rumored to have murdered a fellow knight to advance himself in the society, though no definitive proof exists.”
The news didn’t surprise her. “Surely Uncle must have known if he’d been discussing it with Winston before the man’s death. And yet he never pursued the matter or even mentioned it to me.”
“Sir Mallory has a way of doing things. He never rushes to conclusions. He tends to put his house in order before acting.”
Alms entered the library, tea tray in hand. “Oh.” He stammered. “I…I’ll return when Lord Cartborough is here.”
“Now, now, man. Don’t be hasty retreating with those goods you have. I am proudly addicted to Mrs. Hamptons biscuits, and I have no intention of letting the chance to indulge, escape me.” Graves motioned for Alms to bring the tea to the table.
After settling the tray, Alms set out two cups.
Graves reached for the pot and poured. “I don’t stand on propriety while here, Miss Blackwood. I hope you are not offended by me serving.”
“Of course not.” Who was she to argue with a duke?
Alms offered a brief bow, then turned for the door.
“Wait,” Graves ordered. “I wish to send my thanks to Mrs. Hampton.”
Alms wrung his hands, a slight shake visible in his jerking movements. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Tell her…let me see now…” The duke paused, apparently thinking over what he wanted to relate to Cook, then brought the teacup to his mouth and sipped.
He immediately spit out the brew. “Good God, lad. That’s laudanum.
And a very hefty dose of it, to boot. I should know, my late wife drank enough of it on her deathbed to dull her hellish pain.
” He returned the cup to the table with a loud clank.
“I wouldn’t know, sir.” Alms continued to fidget.
Graves stood, his imposing height enough to frighten even the most formidable foe. “Don’t lie.” With a menacing stare he peered down at the young man. “Who are you working for?”
Alms inched back. “I…I…”
“Give me a name.”
“Sir Hamish.”
Eloise sucked in a breath that was more shock than air.
“Why?”
“He’s me pa.”
Now it was Graves who fell captive to shock.
“And Sully was me brother.”
“Young Sully, the spy lad, was Hamish’s son?”
Alms shook his head. “No. We had one ma, but different pas. And me pa said Lord Cartborough deserved to be poisoned for killing me brother.”
“More like Hamish was picking off his whore’s proof of infidelity when he killed Sully.”
“Graves!” She didn’t mean to speak so rudely, but they were in the presence of a young man and whore or not, the woman they referenced was still Alms’s mother.
“Right. Forgive me, Alms. I would never speak ill of your mother. I am sure she is a very nice…lady.”
She smiled appreciatively at the duke.
“But as for you and your pa…” he couldn’t have stressed that last word more, “I think you might need to be removed to my household, where I can keep a good watch on you as well as teach you the manners befitting a gentleman’s son.
God knows you haven’t gotten those teachings from your father and probably never will.
I’ll let the authorities deal with him.”
Just then Orson stormed into the room. “I heard shouting.”
Graves dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand. “It’s all good, Orson. But remove Alms and keep him in your care until I come to fetch him myself.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Orson grabbed Alms by the collar and coaxed him out of the library.
With a worried look, Graves returned to the sofa.
Eloise absently reached for the ruined reticule, her fingers gliding over the edge of Uncle’s letter. “Oh, I almost forget this.” She retrieved the note and handed it to Graves who immediately tore open its seal and read its contents.
“Tell me, Miss Blackwood, does the term Creag Talon mean anything to you.”
“That’s a reference to the old abbey. Lucian told me so himself. Sir Hamish trains his falcons there.”
Graves bolted from the sofa like a soul unleashed from hell. He didn’t even bother explaining himself before he was out the door, walking stick in hand.
She ran after him, fear pounding her heart.
*
Lucian sat on the bench in the old abbey’s chapel, the memory of Eloise’s eyes lighting up with excitement as she studied the stained glass, a vision he never wanted to forget.
If only he hadn’t been so gullible. He’d wasted more than a year fueling his nemesis’s need for power.
Realization mocked him.
He was worse than a haunted man for he now understood there were no ghosts vexing him, but rather a living, breathing human.
Hamish’s largest falcon flew into the stone chamber, then let out a loud call and stirred the other falcons already perched in the alcove below the vaulted ceiling.
“No sense hiding yourself, Hamish. I know you’ve trained the birds to hunt me, to tell you when I’m in the old abbey and when the place is unoccupied.” He rose.
Hamish stepped into the chapel. His largest falcon flew to him and perched on his glove-covered hand.
“You’re no different than Old Ceasar here.
” He fed the bird a bit of raw salmon. “Though you were more entertaining to train. All those fits of madness, all those moments of sheer agony as Alms’s whispered words carried through the talking tubes of All Hallows.
How I wish I could have witnessed them all.
But I saw enough on the moors. And I certainly enjoyed Alms’s reports. ”
“You have no right to torment that boy.”
“I have every right. He’s my son. Not that I’d truly count a bastard as my own blood, but still.”
God, but Hamish was a monster. “You won’t get away with this.”
The insolent man smirked. “I already have. I’ve killed off Sir Edmund.
Drove you mad. All that’s left now is for me to do away with that little mouse like I did her parents.
Maybe Caesar here will enjoy a bite of her.
” He glanced at the falcon. “Oh, yes, you would like that, wouldn’t you, my little bird. ”
“Too many people know of your crimes, Hamish. You will be caught.”
“Maybe one day, but by then, I’ll control the Knights, the magistrates, even Prinny.” He let the falcon go, the bird flying up to take his perch next to the other birds. “Now let’s finish you off, shall we?”
Lucian gripped his cane and pointed it at Hamish. “Don’t make me use this.”
“I won’t need to. My choice of weapon is far better. It’s called Sully.” Hamish stepped closer. “Can you here his cries as he bled out? Maybe see his face, the fear in those blue eyes of his. Do you remember pushing him in front of you, to save your own life?”
He did no such thing. “He was just one-and-twenty. A lad with a whole life to live.”
Hamish shrugged.
The vision of the bloody sword came back to plague Lucian. “It was your sword that sliced my leg when I turned to shield Sully. But it was already too late. You were to protect him and you didn’t.” He forced the image back into the box he’d made in his memories.
“His death was worth it to ruin you. He was no different than my ancestor who was born in Enfer’s Gate.
Sully even knew of him from that damn library Mallory Blackwood insisted on funding for those wretches.
I schemed to erase that worthless part of my lineage.
And I couldn’t have Sully or you or anyone else bringing it back. ”
“You’re despicable.”
“Says a madman.”
“Lucian?”
Eloise. “Don’t come any further.”
“Is Hamish with you?”
Graves. “Good, God, Graves, how could you have brought her here?”
Hamish laughed. “Oh, this will truly be fun. I couldn’t have anticipated this much sport if I schemed it myself.”
Eloise ran into the chapel.
Followed by Graves.
Both were held at bay by swarming falcons.
“Get her out of here, Graves. Now!”
Hamish pulled two daggers from under the cuffs of his coat and lunged for Lucian.
He sidestepped him.
A second jab came his way, this time slicing his arm. Blood seeped through his coat sleeve. “I won’t let you destroy anyone, anymore, Hamish.”
The miscreant thrust one of his daggers directly into Lucian’s wound.
He stifled the scream clawing up his throat, and stumbled, falling into Hamish, who twisted and fell to the floor.
A gurgle emitted from the man’s mouth, a stream of blood spreading out from under his lifeless body.
Graves returned and ran directly to Lucian.
“I’m fine.”
“No you’re not. He sliced your leg.” Graves glanced at Hamish. “Though I suppose you’re better off than he is.”
“He landed on his own dagger.”
“Well, bloody hell, who would have thought Hamish would have done himself in.”
“Served him right. Where’s Eloise?”
“I’m right here.” She rushed to his side and cupped his face in her hands. “Thank God you’re alive. I love you, Lucian.”
“Not as much as I love you. Have always loved you. I never stopped loving you, but I did think you were better off without me. Until I realized on the moors today how much we are alike. How much we’re meant to be together. You with my cravat, and me with your embroidered square of linen.”
“You saved it?”
“Carried it with me into battle.”
The smile on Eloise’s beautiful face filled him with joy. “Marry me, Eloise.”
“Yes.”
And for the first time since Salamanca, Lucian no longer sensed the ghost of Sully or the ill-fated lovers roaming the moors. He was finally at peace.
The End
If you’ve enjoyed this story, don’t miss Angelique Armea’s series, Skye Warriors, where you’ll meet the original Knights—Fae knights! Available from DragonBlade books.