With the authorities searching houses for information of those involved in the conspiracy, an atmosphere of crisis prevailed.
‘Father! I’m so afraid,’ Serena said when she found him wandering disconsolately in his now-empty stables. ‘You cannot passively wait to be taken. It is inevitable that you will become suspect.’
Sir Henry’s eyes filled with remorse at the suffering his actions had brought to Serena. Life had not robbed him of his ambition, but age had distanced him from the young hotheads of this new age. He felt used and betrayed by those he had called his friends—and in particular by Robert Catesby. What Catesby had done was a vile and wicked thing and he had done the cause no good by it.
‘What would you have me do?’
‘You must go to Flanders. You have friends there, and you will be close to James.’
Sir Henry became thoughtful, and Serena knew precisely what was going through his mind. She was painfully aware of the friend he would seek out on reaching Flanders’s shores, but she withheld her comments and kept her feelings on his close association with Mrs Davis to herself.
‘I have considered this, but if I go I insist on you going to Carberry Hall to stay with William. Under my brother’s protection the authorities will not touch you if they should come looking for me. Being a woman, you will be spared—and I would be easier knowing you to be safe.’
The split from her father would be intolerable for Serena and her heart was full to breaking point. But she agreed.
Kit became uneasy and concerned when Robin failed to return from Dunedin Hall, and just when he was considering going himself to find out what had happened to his servant, government officials came to search Thurlow under the supervision of Sir Arthur Throckmorton, the Sheriff of Northamptonshire.
Kit was informed that on hearing of Lord Brodie’s suspected part in the conspiracy from his chief minister, the earl of Salisbury, the king, feeling disappointed and betrayed by one of his most favoured lords, had ordered his immediate arrest. His Majesty was determined to mete out swift punishment to the traitors who had been set on murdering himself and other members of his family and his government.
Sir Arthur’s expression was grim. ‘I apologise for disturbing you, Lord Brodie, but I have received information to the effect that you have some connection to the dastardly plot. Accusations have been made against you and I have been instructed by Salisbury to search Thurlow and convey you to London under guard. Have you anything to say?’
‘I would say it is ridiculous were it not so serious or so damning. Are you certain that your information is correct?’ Kit asked, his voice courteous, while inside he felt that the horrifying menace, which had hung over him since that fateful moment when the plot had been uncovered, had come home to roost.
Puzzled by the order that he must search Thurlow and arrest this illustrious lord, who was a known Protestant and fiercely loyal in his allegiance to the king, a man he himself held in the highest regard and respected for his good sense and integrity, Sir Arthur found this whole business distasteful and was hesitant to believe Lord Brodie guilty of the accusations against him.
‘I regret to tell you that the information was so definite and so serious that I was ordered not to hesitate to act.’
‘And is it proved that I am an accessory to this crime against the king?’
‘No. That is why I must take you to London for interrogation.’
‘How was this information against me received?’
‘Your servant was waylaid by a gentleman who recognised him. The gentleman was accompanied by a party of government officials who were in the area to search out information about others who may have been involved in the conspiracy. Your servant was on his way to Dunedin Hall to visit Sir Henry Carberry on your behalf—a gentleman who is a well-known recusant in Warwickshire. His eldest son is a Jesuit priest, and it is not known whether he is abroad or in hiding somewhere. Sir Henry is also known to have sold horses to Catesby to aid the cause.’
Sir Arthur’s mention of Sir Henry took on a new edge. ‘That is correct. Has Sir Henry been arrested?’
‘No. He escaped—fled the country, I believe.’
‘And his daughter?’
‘She is residing at Carberry Hall with Lord Carberry and her cousin.’
Sir Arthur had no idea of the relief that flooded Kit’s whole being. Not a muscle in his darkly handsome face gave any indication of this. He looked so cold, dispassionate and in complete control that Sir Arthur could not fail to admire him.
‘Why do you ask about Sir Henry?’
‘Personal concern for a friend. Nothing more. You may not be aware of the fact, Sir Arthur, but his niece and I are betrothed. Whether or not she becomes my wife, or I suffer the fate of traitors, remains to be seen,’ Kit said drily. ‘Do you mind telling me the name of the gentleman who recognised my servant?’
‘It was Sir Thomas Blackwell of Ashcombe Manor.’
Sharp talons of dread raked Kit’s heart, and the muscles of his jaw were taut with a barely controlled rage on hearing this name. ‘Blackwell,’ he growled. “That explains your presence here in my home.’
‘You know the gentleman?’
Kit nodded. ‘The man is a blackguard and of unrestrained, ruthless ambition.’
‘I’m not acquainted with Sir Thomas, but I have heard disparaging remarks about him. Wasn’t it you who complained about his disgraceful conduct in the Low Countries, which resulted in his regiment being recalled?’
‘It was. Our paths have crossed frequently in the past in extremely unpleasant circumstances. It would seem I have just become a victim of his malice. No doubt it will amuse him to see me cast into the Tower and charged with treason.’
‘Are you saying that Sir Thomas is lying—that you did not associate with Catesby and his associates?’
‘No. In part the information is false—certainly intended to be misleading.’
‘In part? Then you don’t deny it entirely?’
‘Why should I deny it? I have nothing to hide. I confess to having dined on occasion with Catesby and his friends, but that does not make me guilty of collusion. Others were also present who had no part in the conspiracy. Certain branches of my family are Catholic—and there are liberal helpings of Catholic blood in your own, Sir Arthur,’ he said pointedly, for the Throckmorton family was one of the most prominent Catholic families in England, ‘but that does not make me a Catholic.’
‘If what you say is true, I sincerely hope you establish your innocence.’
Kit grinned wryly. ‘So do I, Sir Arthur.’
Still reeling from her separation from her father, news of Lord Brodie’s arrest hit Serena hard. The accusations of conspiracy against him were based on Thomas Blackwell’s testimony, reinforced by a good deal of evidence. But unbeknown to Serena his captivity was short-lived.
Aware of the gruesome fate awaiting him at the Tower, from the moment Kit left Thurlow he was determined to escape rather than enter the gates of that formidable fortress. His opportunity came late one night—he loosened the bonds that held him when his guards thought he was asleep. With all the stealth of a shadow he slipped away. Fleet of foot, he travelled south-west, hoping to find Ludovick at his home at Chelsea.
It came as no surprise to Serena that Lord Brodie’s betrothal to Dorothea was blighted by the discovery of the Gunpowder Plot and his assumed involvement. Not long after his arrest and with undue haste, Lord Carberry, believing he had just cause to cancel his daughter’s betrothal to a traitor, joined her in what he considered to be a more successful union to Sir Thomas Blackwell.
Serena was appalled that Dorothea had no objections to the match and would listen to no wrong said about him. The possibility that her cousin might fancy herself in love with the beast that almost ravished her had never occurred to Serena. She had known Dorothea all her life, yet she was beginning to realise that she did not know the inner workings of her mind at all. Nothing she could say would make her cousin change her mind or her opinion of Thomas Blackwell; as for herself, she would never be reconciled to such an unsuitable match, and she hoped he would not give her cousin cause to rue the day she married him.
And so, unable to come to terms with Dorothea’s determination to wed Sir Thomas, and feeling that she could not bear to come face to face with the aforesaid gentleman ever again—which she would have to do if she remained at Carberry Hall—Serena decided to leave England and seek out her father in Flanders.
She slipped out of the house when everyone had retired for the night, leaving her uncle and Dorothea a note telling them of her intentions, convinced that by the time they woke and read the letter she would be well on her way to the south coast. Her uncle’s fury would be fearsome when he discovered what she had done.
Quickly she saddled her beloved Polly. It would sadden her when she had to part with her, but she would sell her for a good price and find her a suitable stable before embarking on her journey across the Channel. Driven by a compelling need to see her home one more time, she headed in the direction of Dunedin Hall. She would also obtain possession of a few things to take with her and make use of some of James’s clothes. Dressed in the guise of a man, she would be less conspicuous; it would make her journey less difficult being unencumbered by skirts,
Eventually the ghostly shape of Dunedin Hall came into view. Stealthily Serena let herself into the deserted house. An eerie quiet hung over the place, but she had a keen sense that something was wrong. Lighting two candles that she found on a large chest, she looked around her, appalled and pained by the sight that met her eyes. In her absence the house had been ransacked and looted, although there had been few articles of any great value left. Dunedin Hall had held many treasures, and it was fortunate that her father had hastily arranged to have them removed to Carberry Hall with his brother’s grudging approval before he left.
Despite their differences, Lord Carberry believed in the old adage that blood is thicker than water and had no desire to see his brother meet a traitor’s death. With his love of wealth and the finer things in life, and knowing that all Henry’s property and possessions would become forfeit to the Crown, he had agreed to take anything of great value and would store it until such a time—God willing and the king’s pardon—as when Henry could return to England.
The searchers had shown no respect. Floors had been ripped up and panels removed from the walls in an attempt to uncover any concealed priest holes, of which there were several at Dunedin Hall. As she looked around her at the utter devastation, Serena’s only feeling was anger that strangers had entered, violated and defiled this house that was sacred to her, sacred because it had been her home where her family had lived and loved.
Concentrating her mind on her task, she knew speed was essential. Slipping out of her dress, she put on instead hose and breeches she found among a heap of clothes on the floor that belonged to James. He was younger than she, but a tall youth for all that. Putting on a shirt and dark blue doublet and a stout pair of her brother’s boots, she then twisted her hair into a knot at the back of her head and placed a wide-brimmed hat on top.
Pushing the dress she had taken off into a bag with one other, some undergarments, shoes and other small items that she would need for the long journey ahead of her, she then collected a few jewels of small value which would be of use to her from her own chamber. They were hidden in a secret drawer in a large chest, which had been overlooked when her father had been arranging his escape.
Clutching the bag, she went quickly down the stairscase, a slight shadow moving stealthily against the wall illuminated by the lone candle she held. Dunedin Hall had become a house of memories. A house of ghosts. Serena was struck by the almost brooding silence, an ominous silence that was like a large crouching beast holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Before she reached the bottom step she paused, certain she had heard a sound. On hearing the ponderous approach of footsteps ringing sharply on the stone flags, her heart began to pound. Her eyes were large as she peered and tried to penetrate the gloom, becoming fixed when she saw a dim arc of light down a passageway growing larger and brighter. She had to stifle a cry when a large black figure emerged carrying a lantern, menacing and unreal, almost stripping away her façade of courage as it advanced towards her like a terrifying beast.
Serena fell back, her eyes dilated, all the colour draining from her face as the figure stepped into the light and she realised that misfortune had placed her once more into the hands of Thomas Blackwell. As he set the lantern down on a large chest, its yellow light threw his gigantic shadow against the wall. Clutching a trembling hand to her throat, Serena recalled his violence on their last confrontation. Shaken by the memory, she feared that it was about to be repeated. But this time she was alone and completely at his mercy. There would be no marquess of Thurlow to save her from Thomas Blackwell’s brutal hands this time.
Moving down the remaining stairs, she mastered her fear sufficiently to say coldly, ‘I might have expected to find you here. Are you responsible for what has happened to my home?’
‘I saw a light and came to investigate. The Sheriff had the authority to question the servants and search the house for your father and any other undesirables who may be in hiding here. It’s well known that these spacious Catholic houses are honeycombed with passages and riddled with secret holes for priests and fugitives to hide in. Having found such places, it is clear that Dunedin Hall is no different.’
‘Then the Sheriff has done his job well,’ Serena said scathingly, ‘considering the disorder of things and my family’s belongings which have been transported away. No doubt the Sheriff will make a considerable profit out of it all.’
‘Your father has been declared a traitor. In such cases all properties of the accused become forfeit.’
‘Ha!’ Serena scoffed. ‘Accused! The charge against him has not yet been proven.’
‘It will be. Where is he?’
‘Somewhere in Flanders. You will not find him here.’
Thomas moved closer, his gaze becoming salacious when they rested on her lips and heaving angry bosom. ‘Then perhaps you can explain your own reason for being here. I know you are presently living at Carberry Hall.’
Sir Thomas’s leering gaze stripped Serena’s blood to ice, and she saw what she had not seen when she had believed herself smitten—the lines of dissipation around his mouth and a chilling arrogance in his eyes.
‘This is my home and I can come and go as I please.’
‘It is almost midnight and I find your behaviour suspicious.’ Thomas’s narrowed eyes travelled the length of her. ‘Very fetching,’ he murmured, taking in every detail of her attire, his hooded eyes heavy with desire. ‘Are you going somewhere? Did you think to escape me? Did you think I had forgotten how you thwarted me the last time we met?’
In unwavering response Serena met his gaze directly, her glare conveying her absolute contempt. ‘If you touch me I shall scream.’
‘Such spirit, such defiance—I like that,’ he drawled. ‘Go ahead and scream. No one will hear you. You went too far when you tried to make a fool of me, Serena. You touched my honour and now I think I have a duty to punish you—to take what you so fiercely denied me the last time.’
The full horror of what was about to happen to her crushed down on Serena with appalling gravity and brought all her paralysed senses to life. ‘You blackguard,’ she spat. ‘Have you no concept of honour? Lay one finger on me and I swear I shall make you pay for any offence you commit against me.’
An abrasive laugh came from her assailant. ‘So, you think you can tease and entice and then dance away to delight yourself with Kit Brodie, do you? Nay…’ he laughed ‘…I’ll not have it. I have you now and there is no escape. You will get what you deserve and not forget me in a hurry.’
‘And after you have defiled my person—when my uncle hears of this—do you think he will still consider you suitable to marry Dorothea? He’ll give you the whipping you deserve more like.’
Thomas’s eyes skimmed over Serena with a mixture of angry insolence and hungry fervour. ‘He won’t, because if you know what’s good for you you’ll silence your tongue. I’ll deny everything and accuse you of leading me on, convincing everyone that what you accuse me of is merely a malicious invention on your part, because of your jealousy that I am to wed Dorothea instead of you.’ He moved closer, his breathing becoming laboured as his excitement mounted. ‘I intend to make you suffer—to hear you scream—to make you go down on your knees and listen to you beg for mercy—you treacherous, papist bitch.’
And then his iron-thewed arms were around her. He held her fast, his assault conjuring up memories, and Serena remembered the force, the power of this man. Her hat came off and her hair tumbled loose about her shoulders, hampering her as she struggled frantically. Thomas’s hands mauled her body mercilessly, and when he lowered his head to clamp his mouth on hers she almost retched, flinging her head from side to side in an attempt to avoid his violation, humiliated and angry that she was having to suffer this torment yet again.
‘Stop fighting, damn you—you witch,’ Thomas growled as she managed to drag herself away from him, desperate to put an end to the nightmare.
‘You beast—you lecherous oaf,’ she spat, outraged, lashing out at him in fury, but he caught her wrist cruelly and twisted her arm, forcing her to her knees.
‘That—’ a voice rang out from across the hall ‘—is quite enough, Blackwell. Release Mistress Carberry.’
Thomas turned and found himself looking into the muzzle of the marquess of Thurlow’s pistol. At first he stared at him in disbelief, but then his expression became one of fury. ‘You!’ he hissed.
‘I am no apparition, Blackwell. If you touch her again I’ll kill you,’ Kit said, making his presence felt, his voice cold and lethal and his eyes as penetrating as dagger thrusts. ‘Do you understand me?’
Glancing uncertainly towards the vision that had suddenly appeared, Serena beheld a face that made her tremble and a gasp rise in her throat. For a split second she thought she was imagining things, that her vision was distorted, that the marquess of Thurlow could not possibly have stepped in to rescue her from Thomas Blackwell’s brutal hands a second time. She blinked, but her vision did not clear, and she saw it was indeed Lord Brodie, just as tall, just as handsome as she remembered, his face as hard as a granite sculpture as he glared at his adversary.
His presence stirred memories of a cosy room at Carberry Hall late one night, and Serena’s heart pounded with an overwhelming intensity. Ever since their first meeting he had kept intruding into her thoughts when her desire was to keep him out, and now she was unable to suppress the surge of jubilation that raced through her. But how did he come to be here when he should be languishing in the Tower?
As he was consumed with rage, a red haze formed in front of Thomas’s eyes. He reached out and tried to deliver Kit a punch, but to his astonishment he found his arm seized by Kit’s free hand with a strength that exceeded his own. The pistol in Kit’s other hand struck him hard in the belly, then his free hand slammed against Thomas’s jaw and bowled him over on to the floor where he lay bellowing like a gored animal. Gasping for air, he struggled to his feet, leaning against the balustrade for support. His hand went to his hip where he wore his sword, but Kit saw the gesture and prevented him from drawing it by raising his pistol.
‘I’ll get you for this, Brodie,’ Thomas rasped with difficulty, his eyes freezing with a piercing darkness promising repercussions. ‘I’ll see you both in hell before I’m finished with you.’
Kit’s eyes took on a steely hardness as he moved closer, still brandishing his pistol. ‘What’s the matter?’ he taunted with an infuriating grin, placing the cold muzzle beneath Blackwell’s chin and watching with heightened interest as perspiration broke out on his brow. A soft chuckle of derision went rippling around the hall. ‘Did you think I was a prisoner in the Tower, where I would be made to suffer every indignity and every conceivable torture known to man? Did you hope that I would soon be dangling on the end of a rope with my insides ripped out?’
Kit’s mood changed suddenly. There was a tensing of the muscles in his lean jaw and a feral gleam in his eyes. ‘You have much to answer for, Blackwell. I know you were responsible for the arrest of my servant, and I realise how disappointed you must be to discover I have escaped the not-so-watchful eye of my gaolers after all your efforts to discredit me.’
‘Aye, I admit it. I thought I had gotten rid of you, but I never thought you’d have the audacity to show up here.’
Kit smiled wryly. ‘I have come to serve vengeance of my own on someone who was not content to settle his account with me in person. Unlike you, Blackwell, I would rather face my enemy than have him at my back. Is there no end to your wickedness? You still ply your skills with ruthless ease against women, I see. Are you so smitten with Mistress Carberry that you must take her by force?’
Thomas sneered. ‘To hell with you, Brodie. Why didn’t you seek the hospitality at Carberry Hall?’
‘I knew what kind of reception I would receive. Through your doing I have been accused of treason against the Crown, so I could hardly expect Lord Carberry to welcome me now, could I? I’ve been watching you all day, Blackwell. I followed you here—and it’s as well I did,’ he said, switching his attention to Serena.
Seeing the strain of her ordeal showing on her face, Kit moved towards her. Reaching down, he took her hand, feeling it tremble as he drew her to her feet. He watched as the flickering light from the nearby candles illuminated her features, which were etched with pure clarity on his consciousness. She looked pale and stricken and heartbreakingly beautiful. His heart wrenched. ‘Are you all right?’
She nodded. His dark eyes seemed to bore right through her, the gaze so bold that she could almost feel her heart knocking against her ribs as she struggled against his mesmerising stare. ‘Yes. He hasn’t hurt me.’
A scowl darkened Kit’s brow. ‘Not through lack of trying,’ he stated.
‘I never expected to see you,’ Serena remarked.
Kit lifted a sleek, black eyebrow. ‘Ever?’
‘So soon.’
‘I couldn’t keep away,’ he said with a smile.
Thomas was glaring at them both, hatred burning like a fire within his breast. ‘Your concern for this she-cat is touching, Brodie,’ he rasped, sensing an advantage as he tried to bring his strident breathing under control. ‘You show more for her than you do her cousin.’
Kit glanced at him sharply. ‘What do you mean by that remark?’ he asked, a coldness congealing around his heart. ‘You speak of Dorothea, my betrothed, I think.’
‘I realise you are still under that assumption, but that is no longer the case. Dorothea is betrothed to me now. Since your arrest and condemnation as a traitor, Lord Carberry has seen fit to cancel the arrangement made between you.’
Kit spun round to Serena. ‘Is this true?’
She nodded, thinking that the icy coldness in his eyes and hard set to his jaw would have done justice to an executioner.
The windows of Kit’s understanding were suddenly blown wide open, igniting all the tapers of hellfire. In two short strides he was in front of Thomas, his face contorted with dark fury as he glared at him. ‘By God, what treachery is this? You are to marry Dorothea?’
With venom Thomas smiled smugly. ‘I am. She has no objections to the change of groom. In fact, she is in favour. Dorothea has excellent taste and wants only the best. In short, she prefers me to you, Brodie.’
Kit sprang at him, seizing him by the neck of his doublet and giving vent to a stream of oaths and insults that would have done credit to any trooper under his command. His face became convulsed by a spasm of violent rage. The idea of Dorothea married to this depraved animal seared through him like a red-hot blade, bringing a bitter taste to his mouth.
Transfixed by Kit’s reaction, Serena had not realised until that moment how much he must love Dorothea, and how hurt and resentful he must be feeling, discovering she was to wed another man. Because that other man was Thomas Blackwell would make it harder for him to bear. As for herself, she was assailed by confusion and lowered her face to hide a hurt she could not confess to.
But Serena wasn’t to know that Kit’s rage was because something had been taken from him rather than any romantic feelings he might cherish for Dorothea. He pushed Thomas back against the stairs. ‘Then marry her and be damned to you, Blackwell. But I have not done with you yet. Because of you and your malicious lies I have been branded a traitor. I will not rest until you have exerted as much effort as you did to discredit me as you will to clear my name. We both know I am guiltless of the crime of treason, and only you can restore me to the king’s good graces.’
‘Over my dead body,’ sneered Thomas contemptuously.
Kit’s hard face was wiped clean of any expression. ‘So be it. You carry a sword. Prepare to defend yourself, Blackwell. Let us have this out in the open between us with some mark of honour.’
Acceding to Kit’s demand for a duel, Thomas nodded, his eyes gleaming murderously. ‘My pleasure.’
‘No,’ cried Serena wildly, rushing forward to try and stop them spilling blood. ‘You cannot do this.’
Kit threw her an exasperated glare. ‘Stay out of this,’ he ordered between his teeth, his face rigid. ‘This is between Blackwell and me. It is not your affair.’
Trembling with fright, meekly Serena obeyed and crouched against the wall, feeling physically ill and watching in helpless misery as the two men faced each other, the hatred and contempt they felt for each other vibrating between them.
Quickly Thomas unsheathed his sword and launched an attack. Kit answered the invitation by raising his own, and a clash of swords reverberated around the walls of the cavernous hall as the naked blades met in a shower of sparks. Both men were adept swordsmen of formidable strength, defending and gaining the advantage alternately, jabbing and parrying, the attack aggressive. But Kit’s blade began to threaten and Thomas was made to twist and dance to avoid his relentless thrusts; the speed that Kit exerted, encircling, forcing him to move faster. Sweat beaded Thomas’s brow as he struggled to dodge the shining length of steel which nicked and snipped, the rents in his doublet becoming bloodied.
With a subtle caress with his clever blade, Kit finally lunged, the tip of the double-edged rapier disappearing into Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas staggered back. At first his reaction was sluggish and his eyes widened. His hand gripped his shoulder to feel blood already oozing through his fingers. Appalled, he fell to his knees and stared up at the tall, noble man, whose lips were stretched across his teeth in a savage snarl, and Thomas could feel the cold steel of the blade poised against his throat as Brodie prepared for the kill.
Serena rushed forward, knowing Kit’s fury was so great he would do just that. ‘No,’ she cried. ‘Please don’t kill him.’
Kit turned his head and stared at her with incredulity. ‘What? After what he is guilty of? Why should I spare a dog intent on rape? He would not have spared you.’
‘You saved me,’ she whispered, unable to understand why she should want this monster who had sought to violate her to live. She only knew that she did not want to be responsible for ending any man’s life.
Kit cursed softly and lowered his sword. ‘Be thankful Mistress Carberry has a soft heart, Blackwell. Left to me, I would finish you now.’
‘And add murder to your crimes?’
Kit shrugged. ‘Who would know? In a short time Mistress Carberry and I will be in Flanders.’ He turned and looked at Serena. ‘I take it that is the reason why you are attired so strangely? Am I right in assuming that you have run away from your uncle and that you are on your way to join your father?’
‘Yes. The moment I knew Uncle William intended marrying Dorothea to Sir Thomas, I found it impossible to remain at Carberry Hall any longer.’ Serena glowered at Thomas, moving closer to him and speaking with derisive scorn. ‘My loathing of you is so great that I could not bear to be close to you. Because I chanced to smile at you, you had me figured out for an easy tumble.
‘I despise you and can only pity Dorothea. If your abuse of her is half as violent as it has been towards me, then she will most likely expire on her wedding night. I would give ten years of my life to see you lying dead at my feet, and I only asked Lord Brodie to spare you because of the dire consequences to ourselves should it become known he killed you.’
Freed from the threat of Kit’s blade, Thomas staggered to his feet, clutching his wounded shoulder, his face having darkened to a livid red. Such hatred sparked in his eyes that Serena involuntarily shivered.
‘I give you fair warning,’ he growled at Serena. ‘Hide yourself from me when next we meet.’
Having sheathed his sword, Kit brandished his pistol in front of Thomas yet again, speaking in a tightly controlled tone, his expression hard and cold.
‘If you ever touch her again I will kill you. You will not escape me a third time. Take care that you heed my words, Blackwell. I should hate to make Dorothea a widow before she becomes a wife. And yet I might be doing her a favour if I were to blow your head off here and now and spare her the indignities and misery which will be her lot when she becomes your wife. It would not distress me in the slightest, and I only refrain from doing so because Mistress Carberry has asked me to spare you.’
Kit looked at Serena, his dark eyes holding hers in an unrelenting gaze. ‘Are you ready to leave?’
She nodded. With trembling fingers she knotted her hair and placed the hat back on her head, grasping the bag with her few possessions in it.
Without further ado Kit bound Thomas hand and foot, ignoring his clenched teeth and sharp intake of breath, which betrayed the pain he was clearly suffering from his injured shoulder. Propping him up against the wall, Kit smiled down at him.
‘Forgive me for leaving you in such discomfort. For obvious reasons I cannot allow you to go free. Mistress Carberry and I must be well on our way before you raise the hue and cry. You can be certain someone will come by when it’s light to plunder the house further.’
Breathing hard, Thomas glared at Kit and ground his teeth on meeting the mockery in his dark eyes, hating him, hating the tolerant smile, the imperturbable confidence and unruffled composure.
‘You have slept your last peaceful night, Brodie. Mark me well.’
‘I am the marquess of Thurlow—and mark me well, Blackwell. I will not be mocked.’
In the candles’ glow Thomas watched them go, hearing a door shut, closely followed by the sound of their horses’ hooves as they disappeared into the dark, wet night, intent on escape.
Unfortunately, the strong current of air that swept into the hall when Kit opened the door to leave blew a lighted candle over. It fell on to some curtains the searchers had left strewn on the floor. They caught light almost immediately, and the house was soon engulfed with flames.
Lord Carberry’s rage, caused by his niece’s disappearance shortly after she had left the house, was absolute. With a small party of men he was soon in hot pursuit, heading towards Ripley, strongly suspecting that Serena intended calling at Dunedin Hall before journeying south. It was the flames lighting up the night sky that made them proceed with all haste.