Page 76 of A Widow for the Earl
“Indeed,” Cyrus added, though his grim expression was not as convincing, “I think he is taking rather a risk with his life, doing this.”
The priest seemed to hesitate, before giving a blithe shrug. “Certainly, for though I do love a wedding, I, too, have my concerns about this one. I would have consulted the Marquess, but he has been rather poorly for some weeks. Ever since he returned from the Highlands, hunting with his brother. I warned him that no good can come of spending so much time in Scotland, but he would not heed me.”
All at once, a suspicion began to form in Vincent’s head, making greater sense of what Anthony had clearly being trying to allude to: that this ‘mystery illness’ of the Marquess’ was not so mysterious after all, but the actions of a second son who seemed fond of taking things that were not his.
Poison?Vincent thought of Beatrice’s late husbands, and the way in which each had been found. Physicians had studied the deceased, finding nothing unnatural. But what if that was because they had not been looking for the right thing? A poison that mimicked natural causes. A poison that was, at this very moment, making Frederick’s brother very sick. Perhaps, in smaller doses, it was not so immediately fatal.
“We will not be long,” Vincent said, faking a smile as he pushed through the chapel gates with Duncan and Cyrus close behind him.
At that moment, a small door down the side of the chapel burst open. Frederick exploded out of it with Beatrice thrown over his shoulder, running for the fence at the rear of the small graveyard. The despicable man had clearly been watching from the windows and knew that his plan had gone awry.
“Halt there!” Vincent roared, sprinting after the beast.
Cyrus hopped the fence and ran around to try and cut Frederick off, while Duncan sprinted around to the other side of the chapel, blocking all of the thief’s escapes.
Frederick, of course, didnothalt. Instead, he attempted to kick down one of the sections of fence, while Beatrice unleashed her fury upon him. She punched the man’s back with curled fists, yanked at his hair, kicking her legs out to try and break free of his clutches. Frederick yelped and hissed, struggling to ignore the frenzied attack, while he continued to try and push through the fence.
Vincent was two seconds away when Frederick broke through, splintering the wood as he lumbered forward. At that very moment, Beatrice bit him, sinking her teeth into his shoulder.
An ungodly howl left Frederick’s throat, the shock of the bite conspiring with the slope of the hill. Vincent watched the man lose his footing, and sprinted forward with all of his might, reaching out for Beatrice as Frederick began to fall toward the earth.
Letting go of her to break his own fall, Frederick hit the ground with a thud, while Beatrice landed on her feet. She swayed unsteadily, about to topple backward, when Vincent caught her around the waist. He pulled her sharply against his chest, holding her so tightly that he could feel every frantic rise and fall of her breaths, and the rapid race of her heart.
“You are here,” she whispered, her arms stiff at her sides. “How can you be here?”
Before Vincent could answer, Cyrus landed on top of Frederick, pinning him to the ground. He was joined a moment later by Duncan, who saw fit to sit on the man’s legs.
“Do not mind us,” Duncan said, grinning. “Apologies for our delay, Beatrice.”
“Vincent, is that… your mother?” Beatrice whispered, bringing a frown to Vincent’s face.
Still holding her in his arms, he turned his head slowly.
Striding across the beautiful grounds of the Merricold Estate, with what appeared to be six constables in tow, Julianna Wilds had somehow arrived. She had never been one to miss a wedding, but even this was beyond her usual scope of attending every event possible.
“Vincent, what is your mother doing here?” Duncan asked, noticing at the same time.
Vincent shook his head. “I do not have the faintest notion.” He pulled back, gazing down at Beatrice. “Are you hurt? Are you well? Did he do anything to you?”
“He had most of society calling me a murderess, but I am otherwise unharmed,” she replied haltingly, her eyes shining with something like relief. “How can you be here, Vincent? I… thought no one was coming.”
Vincent brushed a wavy lock of hair out of her face. “I searched for you.”
“But how did you know I was in trouble?”
“Because of the people who are dear to you,” he replied, explaining the short version of how the driver had chased after her, then gone to Valeria, who, in turn, had sent Duncan to him. “I think your cousin knew that I would stop at nothing to find you.”
A flush of pink colored Beatrice’s pale face. “Then, I am grateful to you.” She pulled away. “Thank you, Vincent.”
Unable to bear the thought of her being further from him than necessary, he closed the gap between them once more, enfolding her into a fierce embrace. A hug that made the rest of the world disappear for a moment, leaving only her, and the tentative movement of her arms as she held him in return.
“I will never leave you alone again,” he murmured, his breath hitching as he felt her embrace him that little bit tighter.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“Honestly, there was no need for all of that gallivanting,” Julianna chided mildly, as the constables dragged Frederick away. “It was perfectly simple. All I had to do was visit Wycliffe, find out what had happened, then summon the constables. It was clear to me what Frederick intended to do, for no well-stationed gentleman kidnaps a woman unless he has elopement on his mind.”
Beatrice stared at the fearsome woman, uncertain of whether to be nervous or in awe. They had something of a history, the two of them, and Julianna had not always been fond of her. Indeed, she had often been blamed by Julianna for leading her daughters astray.
