Part 56 (1/2)

The dark-haired girl glared mulishly. ”I'll go back and see him. I'm not running away for ever. You have no right to tell me what to do. Or tell me what my brother feels. He left me a note before he left last night. In it he told me who you are. The woman who broke his heart!”

Estelle fought the guilt she knew Laura had wanted to provoke. ”Well, he doesn't need another broken heart then, does he? He is here, in this inn. Why not tell him what you want? Why not marry with his blessing?”

”He won't give me his blessing. I am in love. And I won't turn back now.”

Estelle clasped the girl's hand. ”If you are happy, then I wish you a lifetime of happiness. Tell your brother, wait for his blessing before you marry. Understand that it is not too late to turn back. It never is.”

She left Laura then, hurrying back across the muddy yard. It was so easy to give advice she would never take. Lyan was offering her the chance to turn back. And she had said no.

Her heart grew heavier with each hurried step back to the bedroom. Lyan still slept. He lay on his stomach and the sheets had fallen down to expose his bare back. Estelle dropped her cloak and sat down beside him. Her nightdress was half open, slipping off her shoulders. What should she do slip back into bed and betray him by letting Laura escape to Gretna? Or wake him up and betray a young girl who yearned to find love?

She touched his shoulder. Shook him gently.

Click.

Behind her, the door's latch had opened and she spun around. Laura?

She expected to see the girl in the doorway, but instead she breathed in the choking scent of a smouldering cheroot. Her gaze locked on the dark eyes of a strange man.

But she had locked the door. After she'd come in, she'd locked the door by instinct.

The black-haired man winked at her. He wore a grey greatcoat and gleaming black boots, the cheroot was clamped in his teeth, and his large body filled the doorway. Blocking her escape. An amused smirk twisted his lips.

Then she saw it. The almost extinct firelight glimmered along the muzzle of a pistol held in his hand.

”Who are you?” she demanded, fighting to hide fear.

”I take it you are Mrs Desjardins,” the man said and his glittering eyes mocked her. ”I see Lyan has been mixing business with pleasure. Well, I have some business to conclude myself. In the name of Lord Cavendish. Which means, unfortunately, I will have to get rid of you first.”

He swung up the pistol to point at her chest.

Estelle stared at the muzzle, frozen, her heart pounding in wild terror. She expected to hear the roar of the shot and be blown off her feet. Instead, she saw a look of pleasure leap to the man's eyes. He was enjoying her torment.

She drew on all the bravado she'd clung to when she'd been growing up in the stews. ”I will pay you more,” she said, confident and cool. ”I will pay you far more to leave us alive.”

His finger paused on the trigger. ”I doubt that. And I can't leave Lyan alive he'd hunt me to the ends of the earth. But you . . .” His gaze moved suggestively over her.

”I have a lot of money,” she purred. ”I can give you ten thousand pounds.” She couldn't. Couldn't. But she prayed he would be intrigued enough to keep his attention on her, to give her more time- And then Lyan launched off the edge of the bed. His body ploughed into the man, his hand slamming on to the pistol. The weapon exploded with smoke and a flash and the stench of burned powder.

For a frozen second, Estelle expected to see Lyon or herself collapse. Then she saw the feathers drifting in the air. The only victim of the shot was the bed.

The man swung the pistol up again, and smashed the muzzle into the side of Lyan's head. Lyan recoiled and blood flowed down his face from a gash in his temple. Estelle's heart gave a leap of terror. For her entire life, she had feared being under a man's power. She'd feared being helpless.

Dear heaven, she was not going to let Lyan be killed.

She didn't have scissors in her hand this time, but the fireplace poker was in reach. While the attacker had his attention fixed on Lyan, Estelle lunged forwards, wrapped her hands around the iron handle, and struck . . .!

”Blast!” The man jumped back, avoiding her blow. But it gave Lyan enough time to grab him, snapping back the wrist that held the gun. She heard a sickening crack, then the thud of the fallen pistol. The man's wrist dangled limply for a second before Lyan threw him to the floor as though he weighed no more than the feather pillows.

He pressed his foot down across the blackguard's throat.

He had come so close to losing her again, losing her for ever. And he'd known, as Nick Swan levelled the pistol at Estelle's heart, he couldn't live without her. He had barely survived for ten years without her, let alone a lifetime. If she died, he knew his heart would die, too.

Lyan increased the pressure of his foot on Nick's neck. He knew full well he wouldn't have the Judas beneath his boot if it weren't for Sal . . . for Estelle. And, though her chest rose and fell with quick, deep breaths, she was already yanking a cord from the bed curtains to tie Nick's hands. She definitely hadn't left behind the woman she had once been. She was still a survivor. His heart was filled with admiration for her.

”Who is he?” she whispered.

”My former partner and Bow Street Runner, Nicholas Swan.” He rapped the b.u.t.t of the pistol against Nick's temple. ”I take it Cavendish paid you to pursue me.”

Estelle took a sharp breath. She went as white as chalk. Swan emitted a grating chuckle of pure triumph. ”He paid me well, but I had another reason to come here, Foxton the lovely la.s.s waiting in my carriage for my return. I'm sure she's panting for me-”

”Laura,” Estelle broke in. She glared at Nick. ”You are the man she believed was a hero?”

”What?” Lyan began to wonder if he'd been the one thrown to the floorboards. It appeared he'd missed a few things. ”Would one of you tell me what is going on?”

”Your sister came to me last night,” Estelle admitted, ”and told me she wished to elope with a Bow Street Runner because she believed you would refuse the match. I now see why.”

”And you didn't tell me about this?” He felt a sharp pain through his chest, which just had to be the large crack slicing through his heart at that moment. ”Didn't you trust me to do what was best for Laura? This is why I didn't want my sister anywhere near Nick Swan! He's a corrupt blackguard.”

”And what are you going to do, Foxton?” Nick grunted from beneath his foot. ”Have your sister destroyed by scandal? Let me go, and I'll wed the chit and save her reputation.”

”Lyan! What in heaven's name are you doing to Nick?”

Lyan stared into the shocked and horrified eyes of his sister standing in the doorway.

Estelle, bless her, drew Laura into the room. She told Laura everything Lady Maryanne's elopement, their suspicions about Cavendish, Nick's attack. Estelle soothed his sister through each step of the story. At the very end she whispered, ”And you must know which man you can trust the one you should keep in your life. Your brother.”

Lyan dragged a bound Swan to his feet. ”Was it also your job to go after Lady Maryanne Bryght?” Nick's eyes s.h.i.+fted and his mouth hardened, revealing the truth. ”Did you find her? Hurt her?”

At Nick's silence, he gripped him by the throat. ”Tell me where you found her. And what you did to her and Peabody, or I'll kill you now. Give me the truth and things might go better for you.”

Nick gave a vicious laugh. ”Good luck finding them. I caught them two days ago, but by then they were wed.”

”And Cavendish had sent you to kill them if they were,” Estelle accused.

Nick gave a sly grin. ”He wanted the lovely and rich bride for himself. I was to get rid of the husband. But the little witch outfoxed me. I had cut up the gent and was ready to finish him when Lady Maryanne pulled a pistol on me. They managed to escape but I had to return to London because Laura was waiting to elope with me.” He smirked to Lyan. ”Even if I failed Cavendish, I a.s.sumed you would pay a lot of money to get her back and make me go away. Enough for me to live comfortably in Italy.”

Laura turned a heart-wrenching shade of white.

”Where did you find them?” Lyan demanded, but Nick shook his head. Fortunately Lyan knew his former partner well. He was a coward at heart. It took another half-hour of threats and a little pain but Nick finally revealed the small village inn where he had discovered them.

The innkeeper had stormed upstairs at the sound of the shot, and now Estelle took charge, sending him to fetch the nearest magistrate. Lyan looked to her. ”Once Nick's taken away, I've got to see if I can find Lady Maryanne.”

She nodded. ”I will take care of Laura.”

What a shame that, at the end of this, he thought ruefully, she wanted him to walk away from her for ever.