Almost a Countess by Jenna Jaxon
Chapter 25
After a cold night, during which he was especially grateful to Mr. Perry for the two blankets, Finn rose as soon as light began to filter down into the cellar. The lantern had burned out during the night, so the early light was quite welcome. He just hoped someone would remember to bring his proper clothing down to him.
Pacing and rubbing his arms to stir up some heat, Finn couldn’t help but remember his private interlude through the bars with Dora last night before she was whisked away by the arrival of the barmaid, Mattie. If merely the presence of his soon-to-be wife could bring out a heated longing in him, even in absolutely dismal surroundings, he suspected they would have a full, passionate marriage.
The scrape of shoes on the stone above and the clink of silverware made Finn’s ears perk up. It sounded as though Mattie would tend to him as well this morning. The strapping maid appeared, bearing a tray containing a plate covered with a napkin, a cup, and a blessed pot of hot tea.
“Bless ye, Mattie. I’m sae cold a cup o’ hot tea is a godsend.” He wanted to reach through the bars and snatch the pot off the tray.
“I’m sorry, milord, but I don’t have a key.” The girl set the tray down on the bottom step and poured tea into a smallish mug. “This was the only mug I could find that might fit through the bars. She looked at him, teapot still raised. “Milk or sugar, milord?”
“Both, please, and thank you, Mattie.”
She added the ingredients and held the cup out to him, but it was too round to go through the bars. “My pardon, milord.” She looked so distressed, Finn reached through the gate and patted her arm.
“Never ye mind, Mattie. There are more ways tae kill a dog than hanging.” Finn took the hot cup, pressed his face to the bars, then brought the cup to his lips. The sweet, hot tea warmed him instantly. “The best tea I ever had, Mattie.”
“Thank you, milord.” She set the tray down within his reach and lifted the napkin from the food. The plate held sausages, eggs, kidneys, toast, butter and jam, and a thick slice of ham.
Finn’s mouth watered.
“Best eat while it’s warm. ’Twon’t stay that way long down here.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Dropping to the floor, Finn sat cross-legged on his voluminous skirts. He speared a sausage and bit into it with gusto.
“If that’s all, milord?” Mattie turned to go.
“Could ye have Miss Harper or her maid send down my real clothing? My disguise is nae longer needed, sae I’d just as soon appear as Lord Aberfoyle as Mrs. Devereaux.”
“Of course, milord.” She dipped him a curtsy then started up the steps.
“And a jug of washing water, if ye dinna mind,” he called after her. Not only would it clean him up but would help warm him as well. He shivered and continued with the hot food.
The coming ordeal with Scarlet weighed on Finn’s mind, though he refused to allow it to deter him from his breakfast. The lieutenant had demonstrated yesterday that he was unbalanced, his judgment impaired by his utter detestation of Finn so much Finn doubted the man would be able to relinquish Finn to another authority. When that scene played out in Nottingham before the major, it might very well be Scarlet behind bars before the day was done.
As Finn finished up the toast and jam, a light step above made him rise. With luck, Mattie had acquired his suit of clothes and a jug of warm water. He gazed up the stairs eagerly, so his jaw dropped open when a smiling Dora, not Mattie, appeared, clothes and jug in hand.
“Dora! Och, my love, the one person I most wanted tae see.” He reached through the bars to her, wanting nothing more than to touch her again.
She set the clothes and water down then ran to him, pressing her face to the bars, seeking his lips even as he searched for hers. Their mouths met in a blissful tangle of tongues as he strained toward her, wrapping his arms around her as best he could.
“My love, my love.” She pelted his face with kisses, such a sweet rain he grew giddy with it. “Oh, Finn, I cannot stay long. Aunt Mimi agreed to allow me to bring your things, but I have to return immediately.” She leaned her forehead against his. “I simply had to see you before they took you away.”
“More than anything I wished tae see ye as well.” He stilled her mouth by kissing her again, so long and hard they both panted when he reluctantly pulled away. “But ye must go quickly. I need tae wash and change afore Mr. Perry comes tae unlock the cellar and ye shouldna be here while I dae that. Has anyone said how I am tae travel t’ Nottingham?”
“In the carriage with us, of course.” Dora looked indignant that he would even suggest anything else.
“Scarlet may no’ wish tae agree with that,” Finn shook his head, “although I suspect I could escape easier riding a horse alone than in yer aunt’s carriage. Five men on horseback could easily stop such a conveyance, while I might be able tae elude them if I were riding. Hopefully, Scarlet thinks o’ that.”
“I pray so.” Dora squeezed his hands, kissed his lips once more, sweet but fleeting, and ran nimbly up the steps.
His body thrumming with desire for her, Finn shook himself and stooped to drag his clothing through the bars. The jug was a bit of a problem, but after he licked the last crumb from the plate, Finn poured the water into the plate, using it in place of a basin, and, tearing off a piece of his petticoat, began to wash, humming a cheerful tune.
Perhaps a quarter hour later, Finn stood in the cellar, once again attired as a man. The experience of dressing as a woman had been eye opening. He had a much healthier respect for women and what they had to go through with their toilettes, though he was quite certain he never wished to experience such a disguise again.
Heavy footsteps above told him he was about to begin the next part of the ordeal. Mr. Perry came into view, Lieutenant Scarlet right behind him.
“Good morning, my lord.” Mr. Perry produced his key and set about releasing him. “I hope your night wasn’t too unpleasant.”
Considering his lovely interlude with Dora, Finn was able to reply, “Nae, sir. I found the accommodations…stimulating in several ways.”
Scarlet cocked an eyebrow at that, but when Mr. Perry opened the cellar, Finn was too preoccupied with getting the hell out of there to pay him any further mind. He took the stairs at a quick clip, arriving at the kitchen and breathing a sigh of relief. That small taste of imprisonment had convinced Finn that he would do whatever act of contrition necessary to keep from being locked up again. Pray God, Major Collins was a level-headed man who could see reason.
Shielding his eyes against the bright sunshine, Finn strode out into the courtyard, breathing deeply to shake off any lasting effects of his confinement. Dora and the duchess stood in front of their carriage, so he headed toward them.
“Where do you think you’re going, Aberfoyle?” The zing! of Scarlet’s sword leaving its scabbard stopped Finn, his hand dropping naturally to where his own sword should have been. “I’ve arranged your transportation over here.”
Bracing himself for some nasty trick from the lieutenant, Finn turned to the officer. Scarlet pointed to a small, open cart, with bare planks hitched to a single horse who had passed ancient some years before. The only gait the animal could be expected to attempt was a walk, which would make the journey an entire day, rather than the half day it would take on a fit animal or in the duchess’s carriage. A jouncing journey on hard planks in the blistering sun for eight hours or more would be torture.
Exactly what Scarlet intended. If he had to relinquish Finn at the end of the journey, he’d make the last hours under his authority the most unpleasant ones possible.
“Nae.” Finn reared back, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared the officer down.
“It’s not a request, Aberfoyle.” Scarlet advanced a step, sword dancing before Finn’s chest. “Put him in the cart, Gates.” His lips curled up in a nasty grin. “Or do I need to teach you a lesson, my lord?” With a sudden flick of his wrist, Scarlet sliced Finn’s upper left arm, deep enough to draw blood.
Finn danced backward, looking about for some weapon but found none. The yard was ringed with the soldiers, each of them with a gleam in their eyes. Two had drawn and trained their pistols on him. The third had drawn his own sword, making escape impossible for an unarmed man. They didn’t really want to take him in. Not at this point. There would be too many witnesses to speak on his behalf.
Scarlet advanced toward him, blade extended. “Get in the cart, Aberfolye, or I’ll put you in piece by piece.”
If Finn could be killed escaping, or even defying Scarlet’s orders, the army would be within its rights to dismiss his murder as justified. With no weapon to hand, the only course Finn had was to knuckle under, much as he hated to, and get into the bloody cart.
“Come for me, Aberfoyle.” The lieutenant opened his arms wide. “I’ll give you a fighting chance.” The man’s smirk said otherwise.
No, Finn’s capitulation likely wouldn’t satisfy Scarlet in the end. He’d already drawn Finn’s blood and, like any animal, was excited by the smell of it. The lieutenant would only be appeased when Finn finally lay dead at his feet.
“You are making a mistake, young man.” The duchess stepped forward, thumping the ground with her walking stick. “Allow Lord Aberfoyle to ride in my carriage. He can hardly escape if you and your men surround the conveyance.”
Scarlet didn’t take his gaze off Finn. “You may follow after us if you must, Duchess, but my prisoner goes where I please, how I please. You have interfered with the king’s business too much as it is.”
“And will do so once more.” She handed her stick to Finn. “Swordstick, my lord. Now let him see what a fighting chance really is.”
Completely captivated, Finn took the walking stick then said, “Duchess, ye are my favorite person in the world at this moment.” He twisted the silver knob and drew a slim, sharp rapier from the hollow cane. Well balanced and rather light, the blade sliced the air in front of him with a deadly hiss. Tossing the cane aside, Finn snapped en garde opposite Scarlet.
The lieutenant smiled widely, his smug face attesting to his confidence in his own prowess.
Well, the officer might have some skill. Most did. However, Finn had grown up with a sword in his hand from the age of eight, thanks to his Uncle Abernathy. A heavier and wider one than the elegant weapon he now wielded, but that mattered not at all. After days of helplessness, it was as if he’d been given his soul back.
Scarlet feinted forward then left but didn’t draw Finn out. Instead, he bided his time and attacked his opponent’s exposed flank. The lieutenant countered, whipping his sword around toward Finn’s shoulder, but he parried that easily then dropped his blade down, seeking to cut upward and slice the man’s thigh. An unexpected ploy that had worked before.
The lieutenant, however, didn’t blink, but parried and beat Finn’s blade away. Finn spun to his right, being mindful not to run over Dora or the duchess.
They danced out of harm’s way and hurried behind the odious cart.
Finn re-engaged Scarlet’s blade with a high approach, attempting to bind the sword and bear it and its owner to the ground. But the officer, nimbler on his feet than Finn would have allowed, skipped back, withdrawing his blade from harm’s way. Well, then, there was nothing for it but to press forward.
Raining blows left and right in quick succession, Finn pushed the lieutenant backward, crossing the entire courtyard and fetching him up against the wall of the stable. A glancing blow nicked Scarlet’s upper arm, though he didn’t draw blood due to the thickness of his uniform.
The blow incensed the soldier, however, and with a cry of rage, he mounted an assault on Finn that gained Scarlet back half the dusty yard. As good a place as any to end this.
Breathing heavily, Finn attacked the lieutenant’s right flank then whipped his sword up, aiming to split the man’s skull. Scarlet caught the blade just in time, and shoved Finn away. But before Scarlet could recover his balance, Finn came in low, put his shoulder into the officer’s stomach, and bore him to the ground. Knocking the sword from the man’s hand, Finn then abandoned his own weapon in favor of landing several well-deserved blows to Scarlet’s face. All the pent-up frustration and anger at the man’s treatment of him and his horrible abuse of Dora shot into Finn, and he pounded the man until Gates and Lackland pulled him off the bloodied officer.
Groaning, Scarlet came to his feet, staggering a moment before steadying. “You are going to pay for that, Aberfoyle.” He drew his pistol, cocked it, and aimed it at Finn’s chest.
As from a distance Finn could hear all the sounds of the innyard: a rider entering the yard, horses snorting, hushed whispers of the spectators drawn to the fight. Dora crying, begging Scarlet to stop.
But he feared this lunatic would never stop, not until he’d crushed Finn under his bootheel for the simple pleasure of seeing him die. If Finn was going to meet his own father now, at least it would be a good death, on his feet, having fought well and with honor. He raised his chin and stared Scarlet in the eyes.
A shot rang out, and Finn flinched, anticipating the blow of the ball in his chest.
Instead, an agonized wail rose from Scarlet as he clutched his hand, his pistol now in the dust, unfired.
Finn looked about, searching for his savior. His gaze fell on a tall man dressed in black, sitting a white stallion, hair as red as his own, his face with a grim set as he tucked his smoking pistol away.
“Uncle Abernethy!” Finn shook off Gates and Lackland, who raced forward to see to their lieutenant, and stumbled toward his uncle, wholly dazed by his miraculous escape from death. He gazed up at the man who’d been like a father to him all his life, more grateful for him now than at any other time. “Uncle, by all that is holy, how dae ye come here?”
His uncle dismounted and gave the reins to a groom. “Make certain the beast is well tended.”
The lad stared, speechless, at the imposing figure, nodded and led the horse away as quickly as his legs would take him.
Having satisfactorily dispatched his horse, he turned to Finn. “Good morning, nephew. I ken I arrived just in time for the latest display o’ yer foolishness, although ye’ve improved wi’ a sword since last we met. Ye’d have bested him had the bastard fought fair.”
“Good morning, uncle.” The scolding only served to let Finn know his uncle was proud of him. A tongue-lashing from Uncle Abernethy was the equivalent of a “well done” and a pat on the back. “I am more than grateful tae have ye appear and save my bacon at the penultimate moment. Thank ye.” Finn wished he could embrace his uncle, but that would not adhere to the man’s strict code of conduct for a gentleman.
At that moment, Dora ran up to him panting, and threw her arms around him. “Oh, Finn, Finn.” She pressed her mouth to his, and he surrendered to her with a whole heart.
“Ahem.” The duchess had joined the little group, her walking stick restored to her. “Dora, as you are neither married nor yet formally betrothed to Lord Aberfoyle, you cannot indulge in these displays of affection in a public place. Your reputation is all but in shreds.”
“As if I care about reputation,” she mumbled then pressed her mouth to Finn’s.
His sentiments exactly.
“Aberfoyle.” His uncle’s voice broke through Finn’s blissful interlude.
Reluctantly, he released Dora, and stood blinking at the little group.
“Aberfoyle, ye’re a disgrace tae yer family. Introduce these ladies tae me, if ye please, especially as ye seem tae ken the lass better than ye should show the world.” His uncle’s brows dipped down toward his nose.
“I beg yer pardon, uncle.” Finn got himself in hand. “Duchess and Dora, may I present my uncle, Lord Abernethy? Uncle, this is the Duchess o’ Ostroda and her niece, Miss Dora Harper. Miss Harper and I are tae be betrothed.”
“Sae I gathered.” His uncle gave him a stern glance then softened his features to address the ladies. “Duchess, Miss Harper, I am most glad tae meet ye. My nephew mentioned Miss Harper in his letter tae me, although no’ the seriousness o’ their relationship.”
“At the time I wrote, I dinna believe Miss Harper and I had reached an understanding. Neither was the duchess yet known tae me.” Finn tried to keep his mind on the conversation, but his gaze kept straying to Dora.
“But the betrothal has no’ been announced?”
Finn exchanged an uncomfortable look with Dora. “No’ yet.”
“That is not unusual, my lord, when Lord Aberfoyle has not yet asked for Dora’s hand in marriage.” The duchess stood easily, leaning on her stick, as though totally unaware of the bombshell she’d just lobbed.
“Aberfoyle.” Uncle Abernethy’s stare skewered him. “What are you playing at?”
“My lord.” Lieutenant Scarlet presented himself to Finn’s uncle, his mouth pinched. His hand had been inexpertly bandaged. “I beg your pardon, but I am bound to deliver this man to Major Collins at Nottingham today. He is under arrest for his crime and must be brought to justice.” He glared briefly at Finn then looked away. “If he insists on riding in the duchess’s carriage, I will allow it, but we must make haste as the journey is half a day’s ride.”
“I believe we can dispense with the journey, lieutenant. Lord Aberfoyle is nae longer o’ any concern tae ye.” His uncle fished in his inner coat pocket and withdrew a letter, sealed in blue wax. “I have a letter addressed tae ye from Lord Lieutenant-General Rothes, a friend o’ mine and, like myself, a Scottish Representative Peer.” He handed the letter to Lieutenant Scarlet. “Ye will find he bids ye attend him in London immediately on an errand o’ some importance.”
Scarlet paled, but he popped the seal off and unfolded the missive. As he read, his face grew grim, lips thinned into a straight line, and he swallowed several times convulsively. At last, he refolded the letter and stuffed it in his pocket. “I thank you for delivering this, my lord. At your service.” He bowed curtly to each of them then turned on his heel and strode toward his group of men. After some spirited conversation, they mounted their horses and rode out of the courtyard without a look back.
Dumbfounded, Finn shook his head. “And just like that, I’m free o’ this?”
“Just like that.” His uncle offered his arm to the duchess. “Would ye join me at breakfast, Duchess?”
“With pleasure, my lord.” The duchess took his uncle’s arm, gazing up at him with a curious smile on her lips. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Uncle Abernethy’s gaze swept over Finn and Dora, still standing flummoxed. “If ye would like tae ken how ye sae narrowly escaped arrest, Aberfoyle, ye and Miss Harper may accompany us.” Not waiting for anyone else to accept his invitation, Uncle Abernethy strode quickly into the inn.
“He’s rather a force to be reckoned with, isn’t he?” Dora’s tone was reverential as she took Finn’s arm.
“Ye dinna know the half o’ it, my love. But come, I wish tae hear Uncle’s tale for myself. I’ve nae idea how he managed tae dispatch Scarlet.” He sighed and started them toward the inn. “I’m only glad he has done sae.”