Chapter Nineteen
“Albert!”
Emily backed up as the man stepped in through the back door. He looked terrible. He was a sickly shade of pale, his hair was dirty, snarled, and oily, and his clothes were dirty and torn. There was a fierce glint in his eyes that terrified her. And just him standing there in the kitchen was terrifying enough without all that was now wrong with him. It had been two weeks since the confrontation in the saloon. Had he healed from the gunshot? Where were his men?
He stepped closer and she realized he also smelled bad, almost as if something was rotting on him. Albert had always been so fastidious. It was then she realized he had been hit with a bullet and he had not healed from the wound he had gotten. She could not see it but knew it was there. Then she saw the gun in his hand.
“Where’s the boy?” he demanded.
“Albert, he is only three years old. A mere babe, for mercy’s sake.”
“A babe who holds my title, my lands, and my bloody money. Now, where is he?”
“You cannot kill a child.”
“Watch me. I suspect I will do a very good job of it. Tell me where he is. There is no point in trying to hide him. How many others do you want to die because of that brat?”
“That brat is your blood. So was my sister. So were those three other relations of ours whose only crime was trying to help me and Annabel. And my mother and father. And it was you and only you who killed them. Do not try to shove your sins on others. Did you kill poor Constance, too?”
“That stupid cow? No, no need to. She left your fool sister’s letters in one of the prissy keepsake boxes you women fancy. Right on her desk in plain sight. So, I invited her to go for a ride with me in my carriage and, when she ran up the stairs to change, I went through her things. Did not even lock the demmed box so I saw the letters and had a nice read. Your sister did love to blather on. Then I put them all back so she would not even know. All I had to do was listen to her. Less than an hour spent listening to her empty, senseless chatter and I had all I needed. Though there was a time or two when I did consider the joy of putting a bullet in her constantly moving mouth.”
Constance was obviously very fortunate that Albert had been in a good mood that day. “You do not need any of it. Not the lands nor the money. You have your own. You just want it. One can sometimes sympathize with ones who commit crimes because of desperation, poverty, or need. Even revenge. What you suffer from is pure unrelenting greed. How can you do this to Grandfather? He took you in, raised you. You were like a son to him.”
“Not enough of a son to be named his heir.”
“Your parents left your care to a good, generous man.”
“Something they had been about to change. Why do you think they were killed? I saw their will, saw who would take me in yet they were going to change that and stick me with a wizened old woman who was as good as destitute. I have been planning all this since university, you know.”
“You killed your own parents?” Emily did not think anything could have shocked her more and she waited to hear him forcefully deny it.
“Fools. Both of them. And one like me should not have to deal with fools. They had the Duke of Collins Wood as a friend and never made use of him, never made use of that most advantageous connection.” Albert shook his head. “My father was shocked at my suggestions that he do so. Several times I patiently pointed that fact out to him, the fact that he was missing a grand opportunity by not taking advantage of the old man. He just kept saying, ‘The duke is a trusted friend; I could never do that.’
“Then a friend of mine at Oxford shot his father. He did not kill him for the years of abuse he had suffered at the man’s hands, just shot him in the hand that had so regularly beaten him and fondled him. My father was so shocked. He asked how could a son shoot his own father? I happened to be carrying my pistol so I showed him. Shot him right between the eyes. Then my foolish, foolish mother ran in. Why would any rational person run right toward the sound of gunfire? Stupid cow. She screamed at me. Me! Her own son! Shot her to shut her up.”
Emily listened to the man talk with a growing horror. He was mad. He may well have always been but she thought it had become too much for him to hold back when he had shot his own parents. It was that act that had brought all his illness roaring to the fore. She could not even blame this on the infection he now suffered from. The man should be shackled up in Bedlam or someplace similar.
“You kill people like others flick a piece of lint off their coat sleeve,” she said softly, suspecting her look of horror would not calm his murderous urge but unable to hide it.
“That is because the people I kill are no more significant than a piece of lint. They are an annoyance, a blockade. They are foolish, stupid people. I should not be forced to deal with such people.”
“Neddy needs to be none of those if you just leave. He will stay in this country.”
“You expect me to believe that? Who will make him stay when he is grown and realizes what awaits him back in England? You expect him to actually choose to herd sheep or cattle? Maybe become a farmer? Over here they seem to expect the landowner to do the work himself.” He shook his head over what he obviously considered an obscene attitude.
He spoke of those things with such scorn she did not even try to defend the many ways of earning a living. “He would stay because all he loves would be here.”
Albert laughed. “Any man with sense would decide he can love whatever he wants, wherever the best living is. I happen to love being very wealthy. I will love getting the title and I will most certainly love having that power. A royal dukedom would be better but I will settle for one gifted by the great Elizabeth.”
* * *
Iain stood as still as possible just outside the kitchen door and listened. The man was supposed to be dead or gone, not still plaguing them. He did not know exactly how long Emily had kept the man talking but it was evident there was no talking such a man out of his murderous plans.
There were a lot of reasons to kill Albert, including his current weakened state that would make physically fighting the man impossible. He could kill the man easy though, especially knowing he planned to end the life of a bairn. That that bairn was Neddy, a little boy they had all come to love, would make the killing even more acceptable, he thought with an anger he had never felt before. He would also like killing him for terrifying Emily. He had been able to hear that cold fear in her voice although he doubted Albert had noticed.
Walking back into the parlor as silently as he was able to, Iain took the sword off the mantel there. He had left his gun upstairs and feared he would lose what strength he had if he went back up the steps. The trip he had taken today might have been a pure delight but it had cost him just when he needed his strength. Iain also admitted that it would be good to kill that man with his father’s sword. From what he had overheard, Emily was backed up against the kitchen door and Albert was near the back. He went out the front door and walked to the back, slipping up to the kitchen door as silently as he was able.
Through the slight opening in the lace curtains over the window in the door, he could see the man’s back. He could also see how tightly the man held on to the chair by the kitchen table. It appeared he may well have been injured and he was not at full strength. The white of his knuckles revealed Albert had a real tight grip on the chair. Iain had to wonder if it was needed to keep Albert upright and steady.
That would work to his advantage, Iain thought. Even the idea of killing a wounded man from behind did not cause him any hesitation. He had also seen the gun in the man’s hand. The man’s obvious love of hearing himself talk was all that was keeping Emily alive.
Closing his hand around the door handle Iain began to slowly turn it, thankful that he had begun to make sure all door handles were well oiled. That time he had killed one of Albert’s hired men in the same way he planned to kill Albert now had made him very cautious about having silent doors. As he began to slowly open the door he almost smiled. He must have been firmer about the chore getting done regularly than he had thought because it was opening without a sound.
Stepping into the kitchen was difficult. Iain wanted to rush as he feared the man was getting to the end of his bragging and would immediately shoot Emily when he was. He held his breath each time he put his foot down, knowing the softest sound of a footstep could alert the man. Iain had no wish to be shot again if only because that would make it difficult to rescue Emily. It felt like hours passed until he was close enough to run the fool through with his sword.
Just before he ran his sword into the man, he whispered, “So very sorry to end your soliloquy.”
* * *
Emily caught sight of the kitchen door opening and fought desperately not to fix her gaze on that. She saw Iain creep inside and nearly sagged with relief. She knew things were not safe yet but she felt as though they were.
“Albert, you cannot keep shooting people just because they annoy you or get in the way,” she said, using the tone she used on Neddy when she was trying to correct some bad behavior of his.
“You are so cute when you try to talk like a mother or tutor to a small child.” His look turned fierce. “I am neither. I am soon to become the Duke of Collins Wood and deserve respect.”
“Grandfather is not so aged you can count on him dropping dead the moment you become the heir. Although, shock may do it,” she added in a muttered voice that dripped with scorn.
Albert pointed the gun straight at her heart. “How droll. Do you know, he once made a passing comment on how good it would be if women could become the duke and he wished his ancestor had gotten that concession from Elizabeth. Seems the old man is rather fond of you and thinks you would be a perfect duke.”
“That is very kind of him.”
“That is stupid. Complete and utter stupidity. Now, are you going to tell me where Neddy is or do I have to go through this hovel room by room. Rest assured I will kill anyone in my way. That includes all those brothers you are probably bedding and that woman with her three kids.”
Just as she opened her mouth to try to say something she watched a sword point come right out of his stomach. She pressed a hand to her own and she felt something wet splash her face. To her amazement, Albert only grunted, lightly touched the tip of the sword, and glanced behind him before grinning at her. It was gruesome to look for blood was already starting to pour out of his mouth.
“This is funny, is it not. Killed by a Scot with a broadsword in America. The irony of it all.” Then his eyes went blank and his body began to sag.
Iain shoved the body off the sword and watched Emily sink to her knees and close her eyes. There was blood all over her face and he grimaced. After wiping his sword on Albert’s frock coat, he moved to the sink to get a wet rag.
“Iain?”
“Right here, love.” He crouched down by her side, careful of the blood that was slowly flowing over the floor.
“Please get this off me. I can feel it dripping down my face.”
There was a note of extreme tension in her voice and he suspected she was fighting hysteria so he grabbed her and moved her to the table, setting her down on a bench. Then he carefully washed the blood from her hair and face. “Ye will have to wash the gown, I fear, though there isnae much on it. It mostly hit ye in the face with some going in your hair.” He felt her shudder and decided he would not say any more about the body and blood.
“You must cease killing people with that sword.”
“I left my guns upstairs and decided I should not risk going back up. He was mad as a hatter.”
“Most certainly. I think the reins on his madness snapped clean off when he killed his parents.”
“His own parents? What did they do?”
“He felt they were stupid. His father for not using his connection to Grandfather and his mother for being so upset that he had killed his father. That became his reason for killing people. They were stupid or they got in his way when he wanted something. It was difficult to listen to him as he, well, he boasted of what he had done. I do not know why he thought I would care to listen to his depravity. What makes me sad is that I know there are many more he has killed but they were not of our class and he must have thought them not worth mentioning. By the way, it looks as if we may be getting Humphrey for our holiday meal.”
He smiled. She was obviously trying to calm herself so he let her talk, although she appeared to have forgotten he was there to hear that last little piece of information. “Sounds good.” Then he frowned as he noticed she was starting to shake. “Almost clean, love.”
“Thank you. For saving my life again and for cleaning my face.”
“I caused the mess on your face.”
“No, it was actually Albert who did that by bleeding. Did you hear what he said? Even though he was as good as dead, he had to make a comment, had to have the last word.”
“I heard it. Not sure if ‘irony’ was the right word though.” The little line between her brows told him she was thinking about that.
“I am not sure. Did you say something to him? It looked like you said something.”
“I just told him I was so sorry to end his soliloquy.”
“Can I open my eyes now?”
“Aye. Face is clean. Just do not look around the kitchen. Keep your eyes on me.”
“I can do that.” She opened her eyes and stared at him. “I rather like just looking at you.”
When he grinned at her and quickly kissed her, she knew she should be shocked by what she had said but felt nothing. It was as if she was numb all over. Shock, she thought. She was suffering from some kind of shock. Considering all she had just been through she supposed that should not be a surprise but she hoped it ended before she said anything she regretted. Unfortunately, she felt sure it was going to end in a strong bout of tears.
Iain moved to get rid of the body then realized he could not lift it. Advising Emily to close her eyes or find something in the kitchen to stare at aside from Albert, he went out the door and, seeing Mrs. O’Neal, told her that he needed one of his brothers fast and why. Then he went back to sit next to Emily, turning on the seat so he could face her.
“Wish I was stronger, love. I would carry ye upstairs and away from this.”
“That is all right although I do like it when you carry me.”
He frowned and glanced at Mrs. O’Neal, who had come back in to get ready to mop up the blood. “Poor girl is in shock,” Mrs. O’Neal said quietly. “Look at her eyes.”
Iain sighed as he noticed the glassy sheen in her eyes. Then his brothers Matthew and Nigel walked in. Even though he never took his gaze away from Emily he explained what had happened.
“Man was mad as a hatter,” Iain said as they began to carry the man out, careful to keep out of Emily’s line of sight. “He even killed his own parents. Said they were stupid because they did not use the duke to make any gains. Actually, I think he killed his mother because she had the audacity to scream at him, her own son. And I didnae even hear all he said. God alone kens what else he confessed to.”
Once his brothers had gotten rid of the body he pulled Emily to her feet and took her out the back door to walk around to the front and get to the stairs. He was pondering Mrs. O’Neal’s whispered advice to try to break through Emily’s shock but had come up with no idea of how by the time he got her into his bedroom. He suddenly grinned as he wondered why he had taken her there. Aside from the fact that he was ready to get out of the sickroom. He wondered if he was thinking making love to her would pull her out of her shock. Since that could well include her starting to cry he decided against it. He urged her to lie on the bed, propping up the pillows at her back.
“Ye need to have some water, I think, love.” He moved to pour her a glass.
Emily sighed. “You always call me love. You really should not. Gives a girl hope, you know, that she might really be your love. I know I am not. I am just the girl you like to, like to, um, shag.” She nodded. “That is the word. Shag.”
Iain hurried back with the water and made her drink it, fighting to control his laughter, mostly brought on by surprise. “That is not all you are to me, Emily.” He hoped she could hear and understand him because he did not like her thinking that. “I have been wooing you. A man doesnae woo a lass when she is just convenient for lovemaking.”
“Oh, yes, the wooing.”
“Aye. I brought ye flowers and candy.”
“Mrs. O’Neal and the children really liked the candy.” The numbness was fading and Emily tried to hold on to it; she did not really want to remember what she had seen and heard.
“Ye gave them the candy?”
“Shared it. They were all sitting there with their big begging eyes. I do not know how they knew I had candy but suddenly they were all there. I feel odd, Iain.”
“Ye are in shock, love.”
“There. You did it again.”
“Emily, you are my love and if my wooing didnae make ye see that, I was doing a worse job than I thought I was.” He gently stroked her cheek. “Come back to me and we can talk sense and I ken ye will remember what I say then.”
“He was so insane, Iain. It was frightening to be in a room with someone so barking mad. He needed to be chained up. He killed his parents and he wanted to kill Neddy. Saw no wrong in it. He even planned to kill my grandfather. He did not kill Constance though, even though he thought she was stupid and talked of how, in the hour he spent with her, he envisioned shooting her in her never-closed mouth even though he was feeling very pleased with himself and kindly toward her at the time. Who thinks like that?”
Her voice rose on the last question and he held her close. “A lunatic. You probably will never know how many he killed. Dinnae fret over it. He is gone now and we dinnae need to worry about his mad plans.”
“But he was my relation. Blood relation. What if that sickness is in me?”
“Never. It doesnae run through families like red hair. There would be signs. There is nothing in ye or little Neddy to show it. And sometimes it is just the one. Just some twist that happened. Maybe in the womb. I have seen both. I am nay worried about it. Maybe it came from the side that is no blood relation to ye.”
“You mean it could have come from his mother’s side not the duke’s.”
“Aye.” He felt a wetness on his shirt that told him the tears had come. “The man is dead. Ye dinnae need to worry about him anymore.”
“You will tell me if you ever see a hint of it?”
“Aye, but I dinnae think I ever will.”
“Because I am your love,” she whispered.
“Exactly. The wooing was so ye would be of a mind to heed me when I spoke of it.”
“So ye want to continue to woo me.”
“Do I have to?”
“Not really.”
He tilted her face up to his and kissed her, then looked down at her and knew what he was about to say was as true and heartfelt as anything he had ever said in his life. “I do love ye, Lady Emily.”
“Oh.” She knew she was crying again. “I love you, too. And you do not need to call me ‘Lady.’ It is my grandfather who is the duke.”
“Which meant your father was the marquise. I think that makes ye a lady.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Used to be. Nay anymore. If nothing else, ye showed me there are good and bad. Ashamed that I ever compared ye to Lady Vera even once.”
“Lady Vera? Lady Vera Compton?”
He tensed. “Do ye ken the woman?”
“Only of her. The duke disowned her. It was quite the scandal. She was only a distant relation but he disclaimed any connection to her and her family. Was she the one who lost you your home?”
“I guess George’s friend at Harvard was right. The gentry is an incestuous bunch. Do ye all ken each other?”
“I do not. Never saw the need. My father had to and complained long and sometimes loudly about it. Refused to take us with them to some house parties. Something about them not being suitable for children. Yet if I mentioned that any of the people my age had been there he would go all stern and say their parents never had any sense. When I was older I decided it was because of drunkenness and maybe something lewd.”
“Quite likely. So why did your grandfather disown her and her family?”
“He said they had no feeling, or even the slightest hint of courtesy, for the ones who worked their lands and made them rich. To my grandfather that is one of the worst sins of the gentry. He says our class is wonderful at spending the money but neither thinks nor acts like they know it comes from the work of others. He is called a radical, I fear. Well, I do not care, but it occasionally causes the rest of his relations an uncomfortable confrontation.”
“And I suspicion your father was much like him.”
“Yes. But he did play the game much better than my grandfather.”
Iain laughed. “Older men can get away with being more blunt-speaking. People who dinnae like what they have to say can just tell themselves he is getting crotchety in his old age.”
Emily smiled, realizing it was his anger at the gentry that had caused him to go hot and cold in the beginning but that he was well and truly past that. “That is exactly what my grandfather says. He also says he has done enough in the past to please most everyone and earn honors and medals and they just do not have the spine to tell him to shut it.”
“I think I could get to like your grandfather.” He kissed her. “Do ye wish to go home?”
“It would be nice at some time if only to see my grandfather and some friends. Go to my cottage at the shore. But no, I miss some things and probably always will but I realized the other day, some of the things I can make here. I actually liked the cabin and all that we did to make it a better place to live. I truly felt a part of it whereas the manor is pretty much perfect and has been for over a hundred years. All I would do is move in. And I do not believe you would be happy to leave this place and live over there so what would be there for me?”
“I would go if that is what ye really desired.” Even though the words were hard to get out he knew he meant them.
“But why?”
“Weel, a mon should stay with his wife, shouldnae he?” He had to bite back a laugh at how wide her eyes grew. “Lass, I told ye I love ye.” Then he grinned. “And if we are wed, I can shag ye whenever I want and not worry about Mrs. O’Neal lecturing my ear off. Dinnae ye wish to wed me?” he asked quietly, suddenly feeling uncertain and hating it.
Emily hugged him, pressing her face against his throat. “Oh, yes, I do. I do. When?”
“Soon as possible. Suspect it will be a few weeks as I cannae see Mrs. O’Neal standing for us just running off to a preacher and getting it done. She will be wanting a proper wedding.”
“I think I do, too.”
“Good. Need to get to all that shagging.”
She slapped his arm. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“Got the word from ye,” he said, and watched her blush. “Ye were still stuck in shock and ye told me I only called ye ‘love’ because I was shagging you.” He grinned when she groaned and covered her face with her hands. “I would like to ken where ye heard that word and why ye ken what it means.”
“I never said that.”
“Sorry, but ye did.” He laughed when she swatted his arm again. “Violent woman.”
“I think if ye can be calling her a violent woman in that tone she is over her shock and you can get your behind out of there,” came Mrs. O’Neal’s voice through the door.
Iain sighed. “I guess there will be no celebration of our engagement,” he whispered, and stood up.
Walking to the door, Iain opened it and frowned at the woman standing there frowning back at him with her arms crossed over her chest. “We are getting married.”
“When did you decide that?”
“Just now. Ye are interrupting our celebration.” He started to close the door but was not surprised when she stuck her arm out to stop him; he had seen the glint in her eyes.
“Well then, come on, missy, we have some planning to do.”
Emily got up and went to the door. She glanced at Iain and he grinned. Even though she tried to get Mrs. O’Neal out the door as fast as possible she knew it would never be in time.
“Weel, lass, guess the shagging will have to wait until after the wedding,” Iain said, then yelled when Mrs. O’Neal swatted him on the arm. “Damn woman, that hurt.”
“Good. Come along, dearie.”
Emily fell into step behind the woman and glanced back at Iain still rubbing his arm. She grinned and waved. Her good humor faded when they entered the kitchen. Mrs. O’Neal sat her down at the table and Emily did her best to not look at the spot where Albert had died. Then the woman slapped a piece of paper and writing tools in front of her. It was a rather large sheet of paper and Emily had the feeling Iain was right. It could be a long while before the shagging could be indulged in.
It was time for the meal by the time Emily was done writing and she gazed in amazement at all that Mrs. O’Neal thought needed doing. They were going to be busy if they were going to have a wedding in just a few weeks. She was freed from worry about that when the brothers all arrived and tried to give her kisses of welcome only to start a tussle with Iain until Mrs. O’Neal intervened with her wooden spoon and good aim. Emily laughed and realized she was going to be joining a good strong family. Happy in a way she had not been in a long time, she settled in to enjoy the meal.