Chapter Fifteen

 

Juliet was exhausted. No other word could express how she felt. Her mind, body, and soul had been pushed to their limit, and now the worst lay ahead. Thinking of Daniel locked away in that filthy, horrible cell churned her stomach, but it was better than seeing him hanged.

What she hoped was to find a way to see him freed from prison altogether, but for the present, she had to focus her thoughts on more immediate matters - her uncle Josiah.

With Lord Parsons off taking care of whatever business he needed to complete, Juliet set out for Caprice Hill Estates in order to speak with her uncle. The viscount had been beside himself that she was willing to lend him aid in dealing with Uncle Josiah, but he had no idea what she had planned. She could not wait to set a double trap that would capture two unsavory characters!

“So, he wishes to blackmail my sister?” Uncle Josiah said with a laugh as they sat in the sitting room of the estate belonging to Lord Parsons. “She is far too cunning to be so easily manipulated by that man.”

“She is crafty,” Juliet said over the rim of her teacup. “And Lord Parsons will soon be out of the way, so it will be of little consequence.”

Her uncle leaned back into the blue chair. “You speak as if disposing of the man will be simple. Murder is never easy. What will you do when the constables come to interrogate you? You must have an idea already, I am sure.”

Juliet tapped the tip of her finger on her lips. “I had not considered that,” she said, although that was a lie. She had worked out every minute detail, but she had to make her uncle believe that he held the reins of this partnership. What better way than to give them to him directly? With her leading the horse by the bit the entire time, of course.

“Do you think they would believe me if I said he was brutal with me? That he beat me, perhaps?”

Uncle Josiah snorted. “Of course not, you silly child,” he said with a wave of his hand. “They would throw you out as soon as the words left your lips. You will become the property of Lord Parsons. However he chooses to treat you once you are married is no concern of theirs.”

Juliet sighed in frustration and smoothed the skirts of her dress. “You know, when Mother and I sighed that contract, he mentioned your name.”

Uncle Josiah frowned. “Whyever would he do that?”

“It was a part of the blackmail,” Juliet explained. “He told Mother that you confided in him about my cousin, Amelia, as well as a few other people he did not mention.”

“Amelia is as evil as your mother,” Uncle Josiah said, his face now a deep purple. “It was because of her and your mother both that I lost everything.”

“Mother will not say,” Juliet said, “but what did they know, Mother and Cousin Amelia, that caused you to lose your inheritance?”

The man set his teacup on the table and placed his hands on his knees. If his look could be described using a single word, evil suited him well. “I will tell you, but only because we are now partners in this pursuit against Parsons. Apparently, like you, I was born a bastard. It seems my mother, your grandmother, had an affair, the hedgewhore. That was the first detail held against me, although I did not know about the affair until only recently. The second concerned a matter Amelia witnessed that threw me into disfavor.”

Juliet widened her eyes in shock. “What did you do?”

“Your father, or rather Charles Lambert, and I hired a prostitute, and when the woman tried to cheat us, I killed her.”

Juliet was already aware of what had taken place, for her mother had told her everything in order to see that she had the ammunition to bring down her uncle. If her mother had not, Juliet was uncertain if she would have been able to keep from gasping.

Instead, she nodded her head in understanding. “At times, extreme measures must be taken,” she said.

What did surprise her was the ease to which this man spoke of murdering the woman, regardless of the fact she was a prostitute. Yet, it would make carrying out her plan simpler.

“I believe I may have a way to rid ourselves of Lord Parsons so we will both get what we want.”

Uncle Josiah raised a single eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“On my wedding night, we will be staying at a country estate not far from Scarlett Hall. You will be our honored guest at my request.”

“To what purpose?” her uncle asked, his face filled with suspicion.

“I will have told you that he had been beating me and so I requested that you guard my back by keeping to the shadows outside of the cottage. You will hear my screams and see a man leave through an open window. On the ground we will scatter a few trinkets this mystery man left behind. We will say that it was a thief who killed Lord Parsons.”

Josiah threw his head back and laughed. “And allow you to say that it was I who killed him? No, Juliet, I will not allow you to use me as a scapegoat so you receive it all. I am many things, but ignorant to the manipulation of a Lambert is not one of them.”

“You are not ignorant, unlike my fiancé. Knowing you are suspicious of me makes me quite happy, for it shows that we think very much alike.” She stirred sugar into her tea, the spoon clinking lightly against the sides of the fine porcelain. “It will be I who kills him.”

“You?” Uncle Josiah asked, clearly surprised. “How will you do that?” He stood and waited expectantly for her response.

“Leave the details to me,” she replied. “However, I must know right now that, once this is completed, you will help me with this estate. We will sell most of it, of course, and I shall pay you fairly.”

His dark eyes bore into hers. “I will help you, but if I sense any sort of trickery, a single scent of betrayal, have no doubt that I will kill you before you even suspect I know.”

Juliet nodded as she took a sip of her tea, hoping her hands did not shake with the fear that filled her. If either her uncle or Lord Parsons learned what she was doing, all would be lost and her life would be forfeit. Yet, she would risk all for Daniel, and if the cost was her life, she would gladly pay it.

“Just be certain you help me,” she said. “And once we are free of Lord Parsons, we will both be able to live the lives we deserve.”

 

***

 

Hugh stepped from the carriage and onto the property of Reverend Ambrose Creassey. The purpose of his calling was twofold - to finalize his plans concerning Juliet and to enjoy a bit of indulgence.

Adjusting his coat, he pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through his blond hair before making his way up the simple path that led to the front door.

The cottage was simple, but Hugh was certain the good vicar was much wealthier than he let on. Too many in the ton were aware that, for a price, Reverend Creassey could make things happen. And he could make problems disappear. It was the latter that had brought Hugh to this same cottage two months earlier.

The door opened to a young girl of perhaps eighteen with bright red hair, a freckled complexion, and bright blue eyes that stirred desire in Hugh.

“My lord,” the girl said with a curtsy, “the vicar’s been waiting for your arrival.” She moved aside. “Please, come in.”

Hugh walked past her and into a small foyer. “I have not seen you here before,” he told the girl. “What is your name?”

“I’m Phoebe, my lord,” she said, her gaze cast downward. “I’ve only come to work here last week.”

Hugh smiled, placed a finger beneath her chin, and lifted her head. She appeared frightened as he moved her head first to the left and then the right. What a lovely creature she was.

“I require a new servant,” he said as he continued his quick assessment. The girl would make a fine addition to his home and provide him with recreational pleasure when he was in need of it. “Perhaps I will speak to the vicar about having you come and work for me.” He pulled his hand away. “You may take me to Reverend Creassey now.”

Phoebe bobbed another quick curtsy, her face redder than her hair. “Yes, my lord.”

She led him down a short hall and into the sitting room where Reverend Creassey stood beside a heavy-laden cart full of decanters.

“Lord Parsons,” the reverend said with more enthusiasm than was necessary. Or was it necessary? Hugh was a viscount, after all. “Please, have a seat. May I offer you some sort of refreshment. I can have tea prepared, but I have a feeling you may prefer a glass of this wonderful Cognac I received from one of my flock yesterday. I do have some of the best parishioners a vicar could ever want.”

“That would be lovely,” Hugh replied as he sat on the sofa.

“It appears things are going quite well for you,” the reverend said as he handed Hugh a glass.

“As well as can be expected,” Hugh replied. “Juliet no longer resists my advances, so there is that. In fact, she is beginning to see the wisdom of being married to me.”

Reverend Creassey chuckled. “And you believe her?”

“Not entirely,” Hugh replied and reached into his coat pocket. “That is why I requested that both she and her mother sign a contract.” He handed the document to the vicar. “See for yourself.”

“Lady Eleanor Lambert,” the reverend whispered as he read. Then he looked up at Hugh. “I am surprised she agreed to this.”

Hugh took a sip of the Cognac. It really was quite good. “You sound disappointed,” he said, a flicker of suspicion rising within him. “Is your allegiance to her so great that her signature on that document worries you?”

The reverend gave a snort. “Hardly. My allegiance is to money. And since you appeared to me first concerning this matter, Eleanor and her children are no concern of mine.”

The answer satisfied Hugh, yet he was there for a much more important reason. “And what about that farce of a marriage between Juliet and the stable boy? Have you received word as to the progress of what we discussed?”

Reverend Creassey sighed. “The marriage was official, as we expected. But there was a mysterious fire that destroyed the records last month, if you can believe that.” His smile said that he very well could believe it because he had likely been behind the fire. “Of the only people who know for a fact the ceremony took place, one sits in jail awaiting trial and the other will soon be your wife.”

“And the man who officiated the ceremony,” Hugh reminded the vicar. “Do not forget about him.”

With a laugh, Reverend Creassey pulled himself from his chair once more. “Would you like another glass?” he asked Hugh, who responded that he would. “Unfortunately, the poor vicar presiding at that particular church was unable to escape the fire and was laid to rest two days later.”

Hugh chuckled as a sense of joy surged through him. “It seems that fate is favoring me as of late.” He accepted the measure of brandy. “I must admit that I was worried that the ton would learn of Juliet’s mistake, and now I can be at ease knowing that they will never learn of it. Oh, they may hear rumors, but there will never be any proof. Yes, everything is falling into place just as I had hoped. The stable boy is where he belongs, and my marriage to Juliet will be that much easier.”

The reverend took a hefty drink of his Cognac and then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Hugh tried to hide his distaste at the man’s actions. This was not his home, after all, and what right did Hugh have to dictate what a man did in his own home?

“Tell me,” Reverend Creassey said, “why this obsession over the boy? And Juliet, for that matter?”

An image of the dark-haired beauty floated into his mind. “The first time I laid eyes on Juliet, I was enchanted by her. To possess such a woman, to parade her on my arm, is all I have ever wanted since that first encounter. She has such a fire inside her…” He shook his head. That part of his obsession was none of the vicar’s business. “For a time, I nearly had her, too.”

“Until she left with the stable boy who bested you?” Reverend Creassey asked.

Hugh looked for any sign that the vicar was mocking him, but none appeared. “It is not I who rots in jail,” he said, his voice expressing his irritation. Even if the reverend had not meant any offense, it was taken, nonetheless. “Rather it is I who will marry the woman for whom he cares. I will possess her and use her for my own gain.” He shrugged and took a sip of his brandy. “When I no longer have need of her, I will dispose of her.”

“And of course, you may come to me if the need arises,” the reverend said, smiling over the rim of his glass. “My services are always available.”

Hugh chuckled. “As I know all too well. Which reminds me…I have moved the wedding to Wednesday next.”

Reverend Creassey raised his eyebrows. “In ten days? I thought you meant to wait until the boy goes before the magistrates. Is that not in a fortnight?”

“I did not wish to wait any longer. I am well acquainted with one of the magistrates, and he has moved the date ahead for me. As a favor of sorts.” The truth was that Hugh had the magistrate in his pocket as surely as he had the vicar.

For all of Hugh’s boasting of what he had accomplished – of those he could control – the man before him seemed less than impressed. “I believe I am available to officiate,” Reverend Creassey said. “But I wish to be paid in advance.”

Hugh could not help but smirk as he produced a bundle of notes from his coat pocket and handed them to the vicar.

“Of course, you will not be offended if I count it,” the reverend said.

Waving a hand at the man, Hugh replied, “Count it if you wish. I would if the tables were turned.”

The reverend grunted and flipped through the notes. When he was finished, he stood and placed the money atop the contract in a box on a shelf. “Is there any other matter of business you wish to discuss?”

Hugh glanced toward the door. “As a matter of fact, there is,” he said with a sly smile. “I wish to employ your new young maid, Phoebe.”

Reverend Creassey chuckled. “The girl is a worthy servant, but I do not wish to part with her.”

Hugh smiled. The vicar always played these types of games whenever the discussion of money took place – and when it came to haggling over the women in his care. “Surely there is a sum we can agree upon,” he said as he rose from the sofa. “Money is no object.”

“It is not a question of money,” the reverend said, “but rather that I have taken a personal interest in the girl’s…soul. And I rarely sell what I already own. However, supposing you were to remain here for the night, you may find yourself desiring a bit of company. Now that can be purchased.”

With a laugh, Hugh asked, “And what is that price?”

The vicar considered the question for a moment and then replied, “A young woman such as Phoebe will require something other than money. A favor perhaps? Yes, when the time comes, I will ask a favor of you, and you will do it, no questions asked.”

Hugh’s first response was to refuse, but thoughts of the lovely young girl gave him pause. Perhaps he would talk the girl into leaving of her own free will while she was in his bed.

“You have a deal,” Hugh replied, shaking the reverend’s hand.

“Very good,” Reverend Creassey replied. “I believe we are beginning a new relationship. One I see enduring for many years.”