Four Nights With the Duke(59)

A moment of brief silence followed as Vander (and presumably Thorn)  tried to imagine this singularly unlikely sequence of events.

Chuffy added defensively, "It sounds a bit melodramatic, but that's  because the two of you don't understand the genre. I assure you that  readers all over the kingdom will be shivering with terror during that  scene."

"Unfortunately, there's a scarcity of tigers in Berkshire," Thorn said, "so Vander can't reproduce that thrilling denouement."

"In one of Mia's most popular books, Esmeralda, the villain leaps from a  stallion onto the heroine's moving carriage, which ends up in the  river," Chuffy said, looking more alert. "The hero-that would be you,  Vander-dives into the black and icy waters in order to recover the  heroine, reaching her at the very instant she starts to drown."

"Ridiculous," Vander said impatiently, coming to his feet.

"Write your own ending, Nevvy!" Chuffy exclaimed. He thrust out a  trembling but declamatory hand. "‘The Duke, the Duchess, and the  Orphan'! To be sold in fine leather with a gold-stamped binding."

"I think you should memorize some poetry," Thorn said, ignoring Chuffy.  "Try for someone less quoted than John Donne and you might even be able  to pass it off as your own."

"Can you really see me falling on my knees and reciting a poem?"

Thorn and Chuffy looked at him, and Vander knew exactly what they saw: a  burly man with no resemblance to a duke. At best his smile was wolfish;  at worst it was downright menacing.

He had never read a Lucibella novel, but he had spent years listening to  Chuffy recite breathless summaries of the plots of his favorite books.  An idea began to take shape.

It would need Charlie.





Chapter Thirty-four




Mia rose at four in the morning and began writing, the words flowing out  of her as if a river had been undammed. Flora was proving to have a  surprisingly practical bent. After a few encounters with a spectral  bride-who had been drifting about the castle weeping ever since being  jilted in 1217-Flora had come around to the opinion that spending her  life grieving for Frederic would be a waste.

By midday, Mia was missing Charlie so much that she decided to fetch him  and move back to Carrington House, on the grounds that Sir Richard was  surely no longer a threat. Once downstairs, the innkeeper informed her  that Edward was waiting in their private dining room, where luncheon  would be served in a few minutes.

"Good day," she said, walking in the door.

Edward immediately stood, bowed, and kissed her hand. "You will be happy  to know that a somewhat battered Sir Richard is now in custody of the  justice of the peace, awaiting the Assizes," he said, guiding her to a  seat.

A Lucibella heroine would feel horror at the mention of Sir Richard's  condition, but Mia rather liked the idea that punishment had been  served. "I am glad to hear it," she admitted. "I hope that you didn't  suffer any damage?"

"Luckily not."

"Given those circumstances, I shall fetch Charlie immediately. I'd like to re-establish us at Carrington House without delay."

A throb of misery shot through her at the very idea of walking in the door of Vander's house. But she had to be strong.

She was her own woman, she told herself for the hundredth time that  morning. She was not just a title-"duchess" or "wife," or even  "daughter" or "sister."                       
       
           



       

She was Mia, and Lucibella too. And Charlie's mother. That would have to suffice.

After the meal, Edward went to settle accounts with the innkeeper, and  she took herself out into the courtyard, tying on her bonnet as she  walked. The moment she cleared the doorway, she heard a familiar whinny.

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" she exclaimed, unable to stop herself from  smiling as Jafeer pranced over to her. "What are you doing here?" He  looked tremendously pleased with himself. Before she could stop him, he  caught her bonnet in his teeth and danced backward, shaking it as if he  were playing a game.

Although Jafeer was saddled, and his reins were draped around the  pommel, there was no one in sight. "Where is Vander?" she asked him,  almost expecting the horse to answer.

Jafeer dropped the bonnet and came over. She stroked his nose as she  looked around. The inn yard was deserted but for a carriage that stood  on the far side of the yard, attended only by a slumbering coachman.  Where were all the post-boys and grooms who generally lounged about,  waiting for something to do? She narrowed her eyes. That snoring  coachman had a distinct resemblance to Mulberry.

"Vander!" she called.

Instead of her husband, she heard a peal of boyish laughter, and Charlie  hopped from the open door of the carriage. Jafeer gave an approving  whinny.

"Darling!" She held out her arms. "What are you doing here?"

Charlie swung himself across the cobblestones, his entire face alight. "We've come to fetch you home!" he shouted.

"‘We?' Is the duke with you?" Mia asked, pushing back the thick curl  that had fallen over Charlie's face and dropping a kiss on his forehead.

"I have to recite a poem," he said, giving her a tight hug. "His Grace  and I wrote it together. I am going to declaim it, the way Roman orators  used to do."

Mia's breath caught when she saw Vander step from the carriage; then she  looked quickly back at Charlie. He hopped up on the granite slab before  the open door of the inn, and turned back to the open yard. With all  the majesty of a young lord about to say something to Romans and  countrymen, Charlie announced, "Roses are red, violets are blue-"

An arm suddenly emerged from the shadowed darkness behind Charlie and  wound around his throat. Mia screamed as a bloodied, disheveled Sir  Richard shoved Charlie forward.

He was holding her child tightly against him, a knife against Charlie's  throat. The cultivated Elizabethan air that Sir Richard was so proud of  had stripped clean away, leaving a predator with savage eyes.

From the corner of her eye she saw Vander take a careful step toward  them. Mulberry suddenly showed himself to be wide awake and leapt from  his seat.

"Sir Richard, what are you doing?" she cried, hoping to draw his attention away from the men.

"Oh, merely thinking about killing a little gutter rat," he answered.  Horribly, his voice still had the same cultivated tenor, as if he were  speaking of tea and toast rather than murder.

Charlie's eyes were wide and fixed on her. "Aunt Mia," he said faintly.  Another scream bubbled up in her chest, but she managed to choke it  down.

"Surely murder is an extreme solution?" Vander asked. He now stood at  Mia's side. Mulberry was silently circling the yard so he could approach  from the rear.

"He's responsible for all of it," Sir Richard snarled. "I have to leave  the bloody country and it's all the fault of this crippled little dunce,  who should have been drowned at birth." He gave Charlie a vicious shake  and the knife came dangerously close to the child's throat.

"No!" Mia stumbled forward. "I am responsible. It's my fault. Please, let Charlie go."

In answer to her movement, Sir Richard wrenched the child's head farther  back, placing the shining edge of the knife blade just under his chin.  She heard Charlie's crutch strike the cobblestones, though she didn't  dare take her eyes from Sir Richard's face.

There had been more behind Sir Richard's perpetual, ferocious lawsuits than she had realized. He was cracked, utterly mad.

"Why Charlie?" she croaked. "Please! He's your nephew! He doesn't deserve this."

"Now," Vander barked.

To Mia's utter shock, Charlie's right arm darted up and back, and he  stuck a little dagger into Sir Richard's arm. He probably didn't manage  to do more than prick him, but Sir Richard's knife wavered, which gave  Vander the second he needed: he exploded forward and wrenched Charlie  free, spinning him away.

Sir Richard let out an enraged bellow, and lunged after them, knocking  Mia to the ground. Charlie was already safely behind Vander, whose air  of a savage warrior, ready to protect his family by ripping an enemy  limb from limb, caused Sir Richard to freeze in his tracks.                       
       
           



       

Then, just as Mulberry sprang forward, Sir Richard veered left, grabbed  Jafeer's pommel, vaulted into the saddle, and sent the stallion  galloping out of the inn yard. With a curse, Mulberry charged through  the gate after him.

For an instant none of them moved or spoke. Then: "He stole Jafeer!" Charlie shouted indignantly.

"He won't have him long," Vander said calmly. With one huge stride, he reached Mia and pulled her up and into his arms.