Page 91 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
Chapter Fifteen
It was late when Alistair, weary to the bone, rode into the courtyard and dismounted. No one came running to take his horse. He frowned. ‘Halloo.’
No answer.
No doubt they were still down at the Wheatsheaf imbibing Prosser’s best. And John Coachman and a groom were well on their way to London with Julia.
Surely, there should be one lad left on duty.
He removed Thor’s saddle and began the task of grooming himself instead of seeking out the stable lad who must be around somewhere. It felt good to be busy. He knew it for what it was, of course. A way to put off returning to an empty house. For some stupid reason he’d hoped she might not have gone.
His gut roiled at the memory of what his stepmother had told her. Shame washed through him that Julia would believe he would have willingly abandoned a woman carrying his child. It seemed, even in her eyes, the dissolute Duke was sunk to the depths of depravity. Damn Isobel and damn Elise for not coming to him after their brief encounter. Instead she’d gone to his father, no doubt expecting him to force Alistair to the altar. Instead, he’d whisked his heir off to the Continent and required Luke to fill the breach.
Curse it all. What a mess his life had turned into.
A lonely mess, without Julia. He missed her already.
He glance up at a sound, expecting to see one of the lads coming to help, or take over.
Instead, he saw his stepmother, a lantern in one hand and a pistol in the other.
He frowned. ‘What are you doing here?’ And for once it wasn’t a rude question. He couldn’t recall a time when he had seen his father’s wife in the stables.
‘Waiting for you.’
He straightened and moved away from Thor, his gaze on the pistol in her hand.
Isobel glared at him. ‘You weren’t supposed to survive childhood, Alistair. And would not have if not for that interfering old governess. I could not believe you avoided my trap in Italy, either. But even you cannot survive a bullet to the heart.’
His gut lurched. Recollections of French soldiers chasing him away from the ship sent to bring him home surged through his mind. Memories of how they had seemed to know exactly when to arrive at the dock and the way they had singled him out. ‘Youhad me betrayed to thegendarmes?’
She glared at him. ‘The clergyman your father hired to conduct you around Europe promised me you were dead. He said he saw your body.’
Pain shot through Alistair’s chest. ‘They shot the fellow I was with. A friend. I switched our papers, took his identity.’
She glared. ‘It was supposed to be you. The Lords were hovering on the brink of declaring my son Duke and you came back.’
‘Inconvenient, to be sure.’ He edged away from the stall. He didn’t want her shooting Thor by mistake. ‘I suppose you had my girth cut, too.’
‘A broken neck is a common enough occurrence.’
It could have been a broken back, leaving him paralysed. His blood ran cold. ‘There were other accidents when I was a boy. The stone falling from a chimney. The leak in the boat on the lake. Was that you also?’
‘You were such a hardy little beast.’
‘And Julia? The poppy?’
‘Howdidyou figure that out? That stupid Robins woman, she could do nothing right.’
He shifted towards an empty stall. ‘It was one of your servants I saw Robins with in Boxted. I knew I recognised him, but could not place him until now.’
‘You always were too clever for your own good.’ She waggled the pistol. ‘Not clever enough. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I cannot use this. Your father taught me well.’
His father always was a damned good shot. And a good teacher too. He held still.
‘Why did you seek to harm my wife, when it is I who holds the title you want for Luke?’
‘I won’t risk having you leave behind an heir. Not after all my trouble to be rid of you.’
