A Dangerous Courtship (9 page)

His gaze surveyed the misty area, and though he saw no one his gut instincts told him he was not alone.

Holding the bundle tight in one fist, Julian darted for the relative cover of one of the abbey's walls. Out of the corner of his right eye, he spied the shadow of a figure. The person waved one arm—quickly, as though directing the course of another—then drew back into the shadows.

Damn.
There was more than just one other person about.

Reaching the wall, Julian pressed beside it, then began to inch his way to the opening of what was once a door. Just as he reached it, intending to steal through, a strong, behemoth of a man rounded it, ramming hard into Julian with his bull-like shoulder, forcing him back against the stone.

Quick as a flash, the brute slammed one meaty fist into Julian's right eye, another into his midsection, then grabbed him by the hair, yanking up his head when Julian would have doubled over from lack of air, and slammed his head back against the stone.

"Evenin'," he said, a feral gleam in his mud-brown eyes, his breath reeking of rot. "It be Fate come visitin' this night." He rammed his mighty knee into Julian's groin, then grabbed Julian by the neck, hitting his head against the stone, again, again, and then a third time.

Pain exploded in Julian's brain, and the brute's ugly face swam before his eyes. To his credit, Julian didn't black out, though he feared he would if the brute continued his murderous assault.

A second marauder stepped out of the mist.

The brute glanced back at his companion. "He's got it, Nate. Right here in his hand," he said.

The bundle—they were after the bloody bundle!

Julian briefly considered handing it over lest this brute's beating destroy his hearing—or worse. But a vision of Veronica swept through his mind, and Julian instinctively tightened his hand about the sheepskin, deciding these two miscreants could go to Jericho.

The second marauder noted Julian's reaction. "Relax, cove," he said. "It ain't the bundle we wants. We already had a look-see inside when we hauled 'at snivelin' lad off the stagecoach w' it an' tol' him he'd be hog feed if he didn't leads us t' where he was t' place it t'night. No, it was the bloke comin' to reach for 'at package what's we want'd." He smiled malevolently. "Guess, 'at would be,
you
eh?"

"Who the devil are you?" Julian demanded.

"Shut yer trap and listen up," said the burly brute of the punishing fists and accurate knee.

To bring his point home, the vile being brought up one elbow and slammed it into Julian's mouth, splitting his lip open, at the same time ramming his other fist up against the underside of his chin. Julian's head snapped back, his back teeth piercing his tongue.

Julian stifled a grunt of pain. Blood immediately spilled from his split lip and trickled from the corner of his mouth while his right eye, having been bashed earlier, began to swell.

"Don't much matter who we are," said the man called Nate. "Findin' somethin' what's missin' is all we're tryin't' do. Now you just best make it easy on yerself and tell us where 'at 'spensive baubble be hidd' n. A lotta blunt be paid fer it, and our employer, 'e don't take kindly t' bein' hoax'd."

Julian, dazed now and wondering how he would extricate himself from these ruffians, stared bleary eyed at the fiends. "I... I don't know... wh-what you're talking about, you swine."

"Sure'n y' do. We wants 'at diamon'."

"D-diamond?" Julian felt his insides convulse at mention of a diamond.

"Aye. We wants t' bauble. And now, if y' please, 'and it ov'r or be leadin' us t' it's hidin' place. I won't be askin' so nice like ag'n."

No doubt you won't,
Julian thought, inwardly cursing the scurvy lout
,
because I won't give you the chance to do so.

As they had their exchange, Julian made a pretense of coming in and out of consciousness—which wasn't, in actuality, a difficult thing to do.

He let his head loll forward, then jerked it back up. "D-don't know wh-what you're talking about," he muttered, all the while keeping a keen tally on the brute's hold of him. The oaf's grip lessened a bit as Julian pretended to lean against the stone for support.

It proved enough of a window of opportunity.

Julian took that moment to react. Suddenly coming to life, eyes blazing, he brought up his right hand—Veronica's bundle still held fast in his grip—and laid a sharp, lightning-fast blow to the man's ugly mug. He followed it with a mighty left hit to the man's temple, one meant to extinguish his lights. The great giant fell back, knocked out cold.

Julian wasted no time. He sprang forward, bending slightly, and charged toward Nate with a snarled curse. He crashed into the man's wiry body with a thundering energy, toppling him to the ground and pinning him there. Julian wanted blood.

"Tell me," he demanded, the fingers of his large left hand splayed open against the man's throat and squeezing hard, "who sent you here?"

Nate, his bravery suddenly knocked out of him as his accomplice lay still on the ground nearby, shriveled into a fearful mass of quaking limbs. "I-I know not," he gasped. "It—it be God's truth, I swears! S-some lawy'r type hir'd Scruggs an' me, though we nev'r met 'im face-t'-face. We was hir'd t' come t' Yorksh'r and follow 'at snivelin' lad. We was t'ld t' beat the tar outta whoever laid claim t' 'at bundle ye ain't be lettin' go of. 'At's all I know, cove. Don't know 'at lawy'r fella, or ev'n 'is name. Scruggs an' me, we get hir'd on through sever'l messengers. We never knows the blokes what hire us, 'at be the truth. I swear on me mum's grave, 'at's all I know."

Julian believed him.

Good heavens, into what kind of coil had Veronica enmeshed herself?
He imagined the ugly scenario that would have taken place had she actually been present to discover the packet within Fountains.

On the heels of that came yet another thought... one that twisted Julian's gut even more.

What if a solicitor of one Lady Veronica had been the very person to orchestrate all of this, and on
her
order?

Could this be a plot to uncover him? Might the lovely Veronica actually know of what had transpired on the night he'd ascended to his title as Earl of Eve?

He hoped not. Prayed not.

Julian wanted to slam a fist into Nate's face, but quickly tamped down such an urge. Instead he said, "Know this, you swine. I've the sheer tenacity to dog you and your friend over there until your dying days if you ever dare come near me again. Leave this place... and send a message to whoever hired you that you failed miserably at your deed."

Nate swallowed thickly in the face of Julian's fury. "Aye. Right, cove. Got it, 'at I do. Ev'ry w'rd."

Julian got to his feet. "I hope you do."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, after having dropped down again into the earthen caves he'd discovered beneath Fountains, gathering up his sparse belongings, and then retrieving his giant stallion from a private spot near the River Skell, Julian was ready to head for the Red Lion Inn and one Lady Veronica, who dwelled there.

But first...

Julian looked down at the bundle he still held tight in his right fist.

Nate had muttered something about a diamond.

Good heavens, but could he have been talking about the very same one Julian had given to his father on that fateful night long ago?

Julian untied the twine, pulled back the layer of sheepskin, and felt a thud of dread drop to the pit of his stomach.

Inside the skin lay a familiar-looking chess piece. A horseman, to be exact, fashioned of black ivory.

Julian drew in a deep breath.

Ten months ago he'd returned from the coast of Africa, bearing with him a black ivory chess set, each piece based with pure gold, for his father, the sixth Earl of Eve. Tucked inside one of those pieces had been a perfectly cut blue diamond of extraordinary size—a diamond Julian himself had carved out of the earth and named the Eve Diamond. He'd taken it back to London as a gift for his beloved father, in celebration of the man's forty-fifth natal day celebration.

But an explosion had rocked his family's house in Hanover Square that night, killing the earl, Julian's mother, and his young sister, Suzanne, and leaving Julian with his sense of hearing gone.

It had been his manservant, Garn, who had dragged Julian out of the flaming structure, saving his life. And it had been Garn who, several weeks later after Julian's bruises had healed but it seemed apparent his hearing would not be restored as easily, had reluctantly agreed to leave Julian at the ruins of Fountains, a place where Julian and his parents had come when he was young—a place where Julian thought he might be able to heal... and if not that, to rot.

It all felt like a lifetime ago, yet the pain of that night had never left Julian and never would.

He turned the chess piece in his hand, noting a knick in the ivory near the gold base. Someone had pried the base off at one time. Julian did so now. Tucked inside was a piece of vellum, with a note scrawled across it.

I want the diamond and the chess set. Deliver them to me or suffer the consequences.

Julian's entire body felt suddenly as though it had been frozen on ice. Whoever had hired Nate and Scruggs through an intricate chain of lowly messengers clearly knew about Julian, the Eve Diamond, and the chess set he'd brought back to England... and, more importantly, doubtless had a connection to the explosion in Hanover Square that had claimed the lives of his beloved family. B'God, but they would pay. And dearly. Julian shoved the note back inside the horseman, reaffixed the gold base, then bundled it all with the fleecy sheepskin and twine.

Eyes filled with a burning light, he shoved the bundle into his saddle pouch, then swung his lean body astride his powerful horse. He was eager to reach the Red Lion Inn and one Lady Veronica. The beautiful lady had a lot of explaining to do.

And Julian would, he vowed, get the full truth from her this time.

Chapter 7

Veronica had just pushed away a small plate of spicy Yorkshire parkin when she thought she heard some new commotion outside the coffee room door.

"M'lady," said Nettie, oblivious to the noise that had gained her lady's attention, "if you not be wantin' 'at slice of parkin, I'll gladly take it."

"What? Oh. Yes, of course. Help yourself, Nettie. Please, do," said a distracted Veronica, turning in her chair and straining to make out the voices beyond the door. But the din within the taproom and outside the inn had grown to such a clatter that Veronica could not separate one set of voices from another.

Perhaps what she'd heard had been nothing more than Shelton conversing with one of the revelers who'd chanced to walk by.

Blast, but she was on edge, what with wondering whether or not anyone had gone to Fountains to deliver the packet, or if Julian had begun a search for it—or if he was now finding his way to her, through the darkness the guide, Drubbs, had said he preferred over daylight.

Veronica turned back to her maid and tried to relax as she watched the girl begin a serious endeavor to devour the slice of too-spicy parkin. After the huge meal just served it was a wonder her maid had room for more. The girl had eaten not only a large serving of rabbit pie and Yorkshire pudding, but had also partaken of a healthy serving of the fried lamb's liver with golden onions—the very dish Veronica had chosen but only picked at. A tea tray had also been delivered to the table, and with it teacakes and parkin. The innkeeper had obviously ordered his cook to spare nothing for Lady Veronica.

There came a loud, angry voice from beyond the door, causing Nettie to jump in her seat and Veronica to stiffen.

That it was Shelton shouting at someone was unmistakable.

"La, m'lady," said Nettie, around the food in her mouth, "but 'e be soundin' frightful angry. Whut ev'r could be the matt'r?"

Veronica could wager a fair guess. She did not, however, have a chance to go and see for herself.

Within seconds, the coffee room door was thrust open and the cause of Shelton's ill-tempered shouts made his presence known.

"Julian,
"breathed Veronica.