‘It was gracious of you to see me at such short notice,’ the Earl of Sandeford said when he was shown into Samantha’s parlour. He bowed over her hand as she offered it and she thought that he looked a little fragile and old.
‘Please, do sit down, my lord,’ she said. ‘It is a pleasure to see you.’
‘How kind, when you might have thought poorly of me.’
‘For what reason, sir?’
‘For having my granddaughter’s background explored before I made up my mind whether I wished to know her,’ he said honestly, his faded blue eyes meeting hers with a challenge that showed his spirit was still strong even if his health was failing. ‘I am an old man, Mrs Scatterby, and I shall admit that I was shocked to discover that Miss Ross was in town, and, seemingly, taking the ton by storm.’
‘Yes, she was very popular,’ Samantha said, ‘until these wicked rumours began. I fear some people have since decided that she is not a fit person to know.’
‘Yes, well, perhaps I may help her a little in that,’ the Earl said. ‘I wish to make amends for the way I behaved towards her mother. She let me down and that hurt me badly for she was always my favourite—the only girl, you see.’
‘Yes, I can understand that her behaviour would hurt you. I imagine it was a long time before she could decide on a course of action—but she was young and in love, and she had to accept that the man she loved could never marry her.’
‘Had they both lived long enough they might have married in the end. That wife of his is dead now, God rest her soul, but it wasn’t well done of Ross. He should have done the right thing, either divorced that poor creature who was his wife or left my daughter alone. He ruined her and that made me very bitter towards them both.’
‘Yes, of course that is how you must see it,’ Samantha said gently. ‘It was a terrible thing to happen in a respectable family, but your daughter was a remarkably brave woman, sir. She chose the path of love despite the fact that it meant she lost the love of her family and would be shunned by all those she called her friends. It takes great courage to do something like that.’
‘Yes, you are right, though few see it that way,’ he agreed heavily. ‘My daughter was brave and honest. She told me what she meant to do, you know. I threatened to cut her off and she apologised for hurting me.’ He choked as if the memory was almost too much for him. ‘I believe I will sit down if you do not mind.’
‘Of course. May I get you some brandy?’
‘No, thank you, my dear. As I was saying, I threatened terrible things, but it didn’t stop Leonie. He came for her one night and she went to him. Of course, I could have locked her up, but that isn’t my way. I hoped her loyalty to me would keep her from throwing her life away, but her love for him was too strong.’
‘True love will often make one blind to everything else. I fear many young women have thought the world well lost for love.’
‘Later, I regretted it,’ he went on, sighing. ‘I missed her so dreadfully and I wanted to tell her so, but I couldn’t. She had betrayed everything I stood for.’
‘It is very hard to forgive.’
‘I forgave her in the end and swallowed my pride and wrote to her, but my proud girl returned my letters unopened. I understood that she believed I wanted her to leave him and abandon the child, but I would not have asked that of her. She would never have consented, but I hoped that Ross might see sense and divorce that mad creature.’
‘It is a pity that she would not read your letters, for it might have comforted her.’
‘Well, perhaps she did not see them. It may have been Ross who returned them. I learned later that by the time I decided to write to her, she was very ill.’
‘Ah, I see. It is very sad,’ Samantha said. ‘She died and the quarrel was never made up. But perhaps you can make amends to Rosemarie?’
‘It is my intention,’ he said, a glow in his faded eyes. ‘I wanted to offer her a home, to give her the protection of my name. But I’m too late, she has disappeared and I fear that she may be in desperate trouble.’
‘Major Brockley is looking for her, as is the young man Rosemarie hopes to marry.’
‘What? This is the first I’ve heard of a young man.’ He frowned severely.
‘He is an officer—a lieutenant. I met him recently when he came looking for her. I believe they are very much in love.’
‘Is he suitable?’ the Earl barked.
‘That is not for me to say, my lord. Only Rosemarie—and perhaps you—can decide that, sir. I can only say that he seemed pleasant and perfectly respectable when I met him.’
‘Well, well, I suppose if he is of decent family—and doesn’t have a wife tucked away—it may be best for her. I don’t have long, you see, but I want to do what I can for my girl’s child. I want her respectably settled.’
‘Yes, I do see that,’ Samantha said, and smiled at him. ‘I think that if it were known that you acknowledged her, it might very well help to smother those horrid rumours.’
‘Yes, but if she is harmed, or dead, I shall never forgive myself. I should have protected her long ago, taken her from that wretched uncle of hers and introduced her into society myself. If anything happens to her, I am to blame.’
‘We must hope and pray that Brock is in time to save her from any harm,’ Samantha said. ‘I wish that it had never happened, but Barchester had her snatched before any of us knew what to expect.’
‘I shall personally see to it that if his guilt is proved beyond doubt, he will no longer be accepted into society.’
‘I should warn you that he is a vindictive man,’ Samantha said, and a shiver of fear went through her. ‘I pray that Rosemarie and the others come through this ordeal unharmed.’
Samantha’s thoughts were of Brock as the Earl took his leave. She had carried her love for him inside all these years and if she were to lose him now she did not know how she could bear it. Her thoughts were constantly with him, wondering just where he was and what he was doing.
* * *
‘You know what to do, both of you?’ Brock said to Robert and his trusted groom. ‘Give me ten minutes and then enter through a back or side entrance. I’m sure that shuttered room at the back must be where they are holding her. Leave me to deal with Barchester. You must find Miss Ross and get her away in the curricle.’
‘But what of you, Major?’ Harris asked with a frown. ‘I wouldn’t trust that devil an inch.’
‘I can take care of myself. As soon as you have Miss Ross get her to London and stay with her until I come.’
‘As you wish, sir,’ Harris said, but he was frowning. ‘Good luck, sir.’
‘Yes,’ Robert agreed. ‘Ten minutes and then we come in and get Rosemarie away.’
Brock clasped his hand, ‘I know I can rely on you to take care of her. She must come first, no matter what you hear, do you understand, both of you?’
Both men agreed and they parted, Brock to approach the house by the front drive while they made their way round to the back of the house. They’d arrived in the early hours and had explored the grounds and studied the house. The whole place seemed to be neglected and there was no sign of the usual servants employed on a large estate. Only three riding horses were in the stables, together with a pair of carriage horses and a smart curricle, which must belong to Barchester. It was three against four, but the three were all armed with pistols and all of them experienced in combat.
Brock rang the doorbell. He could hear it clanging eerily in what was clearly a deserted house, apart from the Marquis and his rogues. Since seeing the appearance of the old family estate, Brock understood the Marquis’s desperation. In London he was still thought to be the possessor of a thriving country seat and a large fortune. Few knew that Barchester’s father had gambled away the family fortune. But the family’s low ebb was not Brock’s concern. Instead, he needed to hold the attention of Barchester and his rogues until the others had Rosemarie safe away.
Brock had hoped that some of his friends might have caught up with them by now, but it seemed that his urgent messages had not reached them for no one had answered his call. He believed the three of them could carry it off, but it was risky, for if Barchester smelled a rat he might harm Rosemarie before any of them could get to her.
For a moment it seemed as if no one would answer the summons and Brock wondered if he should simply have gone in the back with the others, relying on the element of surprise. Then he heard a noise and bolts were drawn back, the door swinging back slowly to reveal a man wearing clothes more suitable to a groom than a house servant.
‘What do you want?’ he muttered. ‘Ain’t no one lives here now.’
‘Presumably, you live here for the moment,’ Brock said pleasantly. ‘I believe that curricle in the stables belongs to your master, the Marquis of Barchester, and I should like to speak with him.’
‘I told yer, he ain’t here.’ The man proceeded to close the door, but Brock was too quick for him. He thrust his boot in the opening and then pushed against the door with all his might, forcing the man back.
‘You can’t do that,’ the groom blustered, trying to recover his balance even as Brock’s fist connected with his chin and he went down, lying with his eyes closed.
Brock didn’t bother to look at him. The rogue would recover soon enough, but for the moment he could not interfere. Now, where to find Barchester? As he assessed the various doors, his question was answered by an angry voice calling out for someone called Barker.
It came from a room upstairs and Brock started towards the stairs, a determined look on his face. He had reached the landing when he saw the Marquis come out of one of the reception rooms. Barchester was dressed in boots, breeches and a shirt, but no coat. He looked as if he had not yet shaved. In his hand was a sword, its blade gleaming as if he had been honing it. The expression on his face when he saw Brock was one of shock and disbelief, which swiftly changed to fury.
‘Damn you!’ he muttered. ‘So you worked it out for yourself, did you? I suppose that blasted woman told you what she’d ferreted out? Well, you’ve seen the place for yourself now so you cannot be allowed to leave here alive.’
Even as Brock hesitated, the Marquis ran towards him, clearly intending to run him through. Brock went to meet him, reaching into his large coat pocket for his pistol. For a moment they stared at each other in deadly silence as the pistol was levelled and then the Marquis sneered, knowing that Brock was too much the gentleman to shoot first. He hesitated for a second and in that instant Barchester lunged.
Brock felt the sharp blade pierce his left arm and swayed with the force of the impact, but his aim stayed true and, hearing the Marquis cry out, he knew that his ball had found its mark. He was aware of excruciating pain from the deep sword wound and a feeling of faintness; then, as he struggled to hold on to his senses he felt a crashing blow to his skull from behind and fell to the floor. The Marquis stood over him, his sword poised to strike the death blow, but then, hearing the sounds of shots and screams, he lowered his sword arm.
‘You’ll have to wait,’ he muttered, standing over Brock. ‘I’ve other matters to attend.’
Brock had descended into an enveloping darkness as Barchester’s henchman struck him from behind, but his last conscious thought was of Samantha. He had never told her that he loved her.
* * *
‘Take Miss Ross and go,’ Harris ordered Robert when they were clear of the house. ‘She is in your charge now. I’m going back for Major Brockley.’
‘But he said we were to get her away,’ Robert protested. He had his arm about Rosemarie, as she clung to him, her face pale and tears trickling down her cheeks. ‘If I take the curricle, what will you have for him?’
‘I’ll manage,’ Harris said urgently. ‘I’m not leaving without him. He saved my life more than once and I’ll not abandon him.’
‘Please, Robert, do as he asks,’ Rosemarie begged. ‘There were only a few of them and I heard so many shots before you came. Let Harris help him. Major Brockley may still be alive...’
They heard shouting behind them and, after one, doubtful, look back, Robert whipped up the horses and set off at a good pace. Harris looked back and saw that two men were apparently searching for them. He shrank back behind the stables to avoid being seen, knowing that he must somehow get back into the house and find the major.
The shot had come just as they’d entered by the back way, overcoming one man who was sitting drinking ale at the kitchen table. They’d knocked him out, but it appeared he’d now recovered his senses and was shouting to his companion that they had to find the girl or the master would kill them.
Harris realised that his best bet was to let the horses loose, but if he did that he would have no means of getting his officer away. His only other real alternative was to fire at the men who were searching for him, fire to kill.
‘Harris.’ He turned as he heard the sibilant whisper and saw Captain Cameron. ‘I’ve just got here. Where is Brock?’
‘The major is in the house, sir. I think he may have been shot. We got Miss Ross out and Lieutenant Carstairs has taken her in the major’s curricle. He told us to get her away, but I can’t leave him, sir.’
‘Quite right, soldier,’ Cameron said. ‘We’d better deal with these rogues first. They seem to be heading for the stables. Let them come and then we’ll deal with them.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Harris said, glad to be able to take orders. ‘I heard just one shot for a start, sir, but there may have been others before we arrived. The Marquis may be wounded, too, I don’t really know. We concentrated on getting Miss Ross away. We had to shoot the lock. She was a very brave girl.’
‘Right, shush now. Here come our brave boys.’
Harris nodded grimly. He had another name for the rogues that had abducted an innocent girl and would have liked to have shot them both, but he was under orders.
‘He’ll have our heads if she gets away...’ one of the men said as he reached for a saddle. ‘Did you hear me, Bert?’
Hearing a smothered grunt, the man turned just in time to see his companion crumple and fall. It was the last thing he saw before he felt a crushing blow on his skull and went down like a stone.
‘Nice work, Harris,’ Captain Cameron said. ‘We’ll truss them up with this rope here and then we’ll find out what’s happened up at the house.’
* * *
Samantha was in her parlour, trying to write a letter when she heard voices in the hall. The sound of a girl’s voice made her pulses race and she jumped to her feet even as the door was flung open and Rosemarie entered, followed by Robert Carstairs.
‘Rosemarie! Are you all right? Have you been harmed?’
‘I’m dirty and tired,’ Rosemarie said. ‘He kept me in a horrid room with bars on the window and an old woman brought me just enough water to wash my face and hands. I was given bread, cheese and a drink of barley water twice a day.’ Her voice wobbled as she fought her tears. ‘One day he came to see me and told me why he’d abducted me. He hated my father because he believed Papa was cruel to his sister. He thought it my father’s love for my mother that had driven his sister mad, but it wasn’t true. She was ill long before they met. I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen. I think he felt guilty because after Papa died he had her released into his care and she got out and drowned herself in the river. He blamed me for what he called Papa’s sins.’
‘He is a wicked man, dearest. Did he harm you?’
Rosemarie shook her head, dashing her tears away. ‘Not in a physical way, though I feared he might. I do not think he was quite sane himself. He threatened to do all sorts of things to me, selling me as a white slave or shutting me in an asylum. I was so frightened and I thought I might die at his hands but I kept hoping that Major Brockley would come and then he did. I heard shots beneath my room and then Robert and Harris came and told me to stand away from the door.’
‘Oh, my love,’ Samantha said, and reached for her, holding her close as the tears flowed. ‘What a terrible ordeal for you. We have all been so worried.’
‘I did as they asked and they shot the lock out of the door and then Robert carried me away and Harris had to shoot one of those horrid men. I think he was killed.’
‘Well, that was very unpleasant, but perhaps he deserved it,’ Samantha suggested.
‘Oh, I do not care about him. It is Major Brockley,’ Rosemarie said. ‘We got away from the house, but then we waited to see if the major would come for some minutes. He didn’t and Harris said we must come on to you in the curricle and that he would go back and see what had happened.’
Samantha’s blood ran cold. What had delayed Brock? She stared at Rosemarie in shock, hardly able to frame the words as she asked, ‘What happened to Brock? Do you know?’
‘No, he forbade us to go looking for him,’ Robert said. ‘Our orders were to get to Rosemarie while he confronted the Marquis. We heard two shots just as we broke into the back of the house. There were two rogues in the kitchen and we knocked them out—but a third came after us as we brought Rosemarie downstairs. Harris shot him at once because he was armed.’
‘But surely you went to investigate?’ Samantha was horrified when he shook his head.
‘He gave us orders not to. His concern was for Rosemarie—and we heard a shot. I think the Marquis must also have been wounded.’
‘But you don’t know. You just left Brock there to the mercy of those devils?’ She was angry and distressed even though she knew he was trained to follow the orders of a superior officer.
‘I begged Robert to go back, but he said his duty was to me,’ Rosemarie said, looking at her anxiously. ‘And he was following the major’s orders. Please, do not be angry with me, Samantha. I am so very sorry to have brought this trouble on you.’
Samantha looked at her and some of her anger drained away. It was not Rosemarie’s fault, even though she could not think well of Lieutenant Carstairs.
‘It was not your fault, dearest,’ she said. ‘I know that you did as Brock asked, Lieutenant, but...’ Her throat caught with fear. ‘You did as he wanted, but I am so afraid.’ She shook her head. ‘No, I must not be foolish. Brock is a seasoned soldier, he has faced many enemies.’
‘I’m sorry, but I was ordered to get Rosemarie away—and Harris went back. He was a soldier. I am sure he would do all he could.’ The lieutenant looked ashamed.
‘If he had not tried to help me, he would not be hurt, or dead,’ Rosemarie said, and her tears started afresh.
‘None of this is of your making,’ Samantha said, blinking away the foolish tears. This was not the time to give way to grief. ‘I blame myself for threatening the Marquis with exposure. I interfered and this is the consequence. If anyone is at fault, it is I.’
‘Oh, Samantha, I do hope Major Brockley is not badly hurt.’ Rosemarie was looking white and anxious. ‘He is so kind and he has done so much for me. I should have died if he had not helped me.’
‘Yes, that is true, but it is still not your fault, my dear,’ Samantha said, resisting the urge to give way to her own grief. ‘You are tired and hungry, I think you said. Come upstairs, my love, and we shall have a nice warm bath prepared for you. Then you may go to bed and a tray shall be brought up to you. Something light and very tasty so that you will know you are home again.’
‘Will you let me stay here with you after what happened? I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want me here.’
Rosemarie looked so anxious and vulnerable that Samantha’s resentment melted away. Rosemarie was not to blame for what had happened—even if Brock had been killed.
‘Of course, my dear, if you wish it.’
Rosemarie’s grandfather was willing to give her a home and that might be best for her, but this was not the time to discuss it. There would be plenty of time for that when they knew more about what had happened at the Marquis of Barchester’s estate.
If the Marquis were still alive he would be even more of a threat if he had succeeded in killing Brock. Samantha knew that the Earl of Sandeford would make sure that the story of his wickedness was known amongst his friends and acquaintances. Barchester’s hopes of a rich marriage would be at an end and he would not be received in society—but the loss of his hopes might make him even more dangerous. He would be sure to blame Rosemarie and her friends, and then he would have nothing to lose. Next time he would not stop at abduction. Samantha must do everything she could to protect the girl, because Brock would expect it of her. She had to keep strong and think what was best for them all.
Please let Brock be alive, Samantha prayed silently as she led the way upstairs. She loved him so much. She could not bear to lose him now. Once, she had survived the grief of losing a man she cared for—but her love for Percy had been softer, not as deep and painful as her love for Brock. She did not know how she would face it if they told her he was dead. Her throat felt as if it must close with grief, but somehow she held it inside.
Samantha knew that she must go on for the sake of the young girl who had no other lady to turn to in her distress. Rosemarie would blame herself if Brock had suffered a fatal wound and she might refuse to marry her young lieutenant and go into a decline if she thought Samantha blamed her.
Although she was weeping inside, Samantha knew she must be strong for the sake of her young friend.