Chapter Forty-Nine

The Villain Plots

Alistair Halifax accepted a cigar from his host, Lord Brockton. He cut the tip and lit the tobacco then drew in a breath to ignite it fully.

“Your lady friend has not seen fit to answer your correspondence and meet with you? Has the infamous rake been subdued by a slip of a girl?”

“Jest all you wish, Brock. I swear her guardian protects her as if she were the Virgin Madonna. However, I do like a challenge. I took a ride to the estate and it is well guarded. Wolferton has hired guards to surround his property, but perhaps if I disguise myself as a merchant, I’ll be able to gain access. All I need is the ability to whisk her away.” He blew smoke rings into the air with ease.

“Whisk her where? He’ll find you, and you’ll have hell to pay.”

“Once she’s compromised, she’s damaged goods. All I need is twenty-four hours. Wolferton will beg me to marry her. Wait and see.” He arose and looked into the distance. The duke’s house was about four miles away, but the land between was not hospitable. The only road led to the manor house.

Brockton circled fingers to his head and closed his eyes for a moment. “The Village Council meeting is tomorrow at the chapel. Since he’s in town, he might be there. Don’t hold high hopes, he’s not been around for a long time.”

Halifax snapped his head toward his host. “Why didn’t you say so before? It’s perfect. As a merchant, I’d be led to the servant’s entrance and would be able to gain access to the house.”

“You make it sound easy.”

He gave a solid shrug. “I may need to create a diversion.”

“What would you claim to purvey—love potions?” asked his host with a mocking smile.

“No, illustrations of famous artists, and of course, books of romances.” Halifax salivated at the thought to demonstrate those romance novels to Jaclyn, the starry-eyed simpleton when it came to such things.

“Where will you obtain such books?”

“Your library. I will not offer them for sale but infer they can order them. The maid’s quarters will have romance novels I can borrow. Of that I’m sure.” He walked to his friend and clapped him on the back. “I’m off to change into more modest attire as befits a merchant.”

Brockton shook his head. “I fear you may trade such attire for prison garb.”

“Nonsense, I’m a lord of the realm, protected from such punitive actions.” He turned. “Perhaps in London it would be harder, but in Hertford, a country village, my peer status will excuse me.”

About to depart the room, Brockton called, “Wolferton is the Village Magistrate when he’s in residence. This is not London.”

“Nonsense, I know what I am about to do. It’s not like I haven’t done this before.” Halifax grinned and hid the malice he experienced within.

“What do you mean? You’re a married man?” The shock on Brockton’s face was more than obvious.

“Yes, it was in Italy. I married the daughter of a count. She was pretty, silly, and enthralled. But when I looked into her cow eyes, all I could see were Italian florins. Her father was extremely generous with her dowry.”

“Where is your wife now?”

“Dead.”

Brockton arose from the chair and faced Halifax, his face in a grimace at the news.

“We were on a sailboat on our honeymoon. The two of us. A harsh wind developed, and since I was not an experienced boater in that area, the sail jib came loose and knocked her off the deck. It was an accident. It swung back and grazed my head. I still have the scar. At the tribunal, the verdict was that it was an unfortunate accident. I left the country since her father swore a vendetta against me for my carelessness.”

“So the money you claimed you inherited from an aunt was really from your late wife? Why lie about it?”

“I didn’t lie. The inheritance from my aunt was a small one. Unfortunately, it was used to keep the collectors away. It was no one’s business but my own. Besides, I meet more women as a bachelor than a widower.” Halifax’s glance skewered Brockton. “No one knows about this, so if you repeat it, you may incur a tragic event yourself.”

“Are you mad? Do you dare threaten me? I believe you should leave.” He stormed to the door. “The sooner, the better. I want no part of your theatrics.”

Halifax followed. “Now Brock, you’ve misunderstood. It was an unfortunate circumstance. We celebrated our marriage with Italian champagne, and she took more than a few swallows. I did not imbibe as much since I tended the rudder. I dove into the water to save her, but with her heavy skirts, she went under and I couldn’t find her. I tell the honest truth.”

I must convince him that I did not murder my wife. However, no one will know I drugged her drink and I did loosen the gib. Poor Carlotta was in no position to save herself. I waited a few minutes before I dove into the warm water.

“I want your word of honor you plan no such accidents for Wolferton’s ward.” Brockton stopped and he turned to reenter the room.

“I give you my solemn oath that I will not harm a hair on her lovely head. It’s no crime to marry for money. We English do it all the time.” He breathed a sigh.

“I have no choice but to believe you. If true, I’m sorry for your loss. I just can’t see lying about it. It is not the action of an honorable gentleman.”

Halifax chose not to answer. He’d already said too much.

“Do not think Wolferton a fool. He’ll kill you before he lets you ruin her. You play with fire.” His tone cautioned. “Find some other woman who has money. Leave this one alone.”

Halifax grinned. “This wouldn’t do. I want to see the expression on Wolferton’s face when he’s forced to admit I’ve bested him. I’ve waited a long time for this revenge.” He smiled with a scowl at the wondrous thought.

“What in heaven’s name did he do to you?” asked Brockton.

Halifax thought long and hard about this question. There wasn’t any one thing or event that caused his outright hatred. Perhaps it was envy that Wolferton had everything Halifax wanted: money, prestige, and trustworthy friends. Yes, Wolferton had a past, but he redeemed himself during the war and in his accomplishments since. Halifax’s experience involved the ability to take a half-truth and turn it into a full-blown lie. A prevarication often told soon enough became the truth. His sneer attested to his past success in this subterfuge.

“Nothing personal except to flaunt his superiority at Eton. It was over some tart, but I’ve never forgotten. I’ll make his ward my special strumpet. Wait and see.” His laugh roared through the room.

“I have the notion that I’ll have the opportunity to attend your funeral service.”

“I doubt that, but if it comes to pass, be kind in your epithet. Now let’s conclude this conversation. By the way, when I marry Miss Moreux, will you attend as my best man?”

He saw the hesitation on Brockton’s face and the seriousness to which he replied in a cold arctic tone. “No. Not in a million years.” He arose and went to his desk.

“What are you doing?” Halifax scrunched his nose with a worried frown.

“I’m about to compose your epithet.”