Page 56 of The Allure Of Lord Devlin
Philippa moved across the room to where Charlotte stood. Her stepmother had arrived as soon as she’d heard the news. “I hope the doctor gets here soon. The blood loss has slowed, but the longer the bullet remains in her, the higher the risk of infection.”
Charlotte rubbed her hands together. “We need to get more brandy into her until she falls unconscious. Getting the bullet out and setting that collar-bone will hurt like the devil.”
“I wish Tobin hadn’t left to go back to the river. She might have to be held down.”
Charlotte nodded. “But I hope the doctor finishes before Devlin arrives. I don’t want him to hear her pain.”
She didn’t have the heart or strength to tell the ladies she could hear them. “More brandy please,” she whispered.
As the ladies helped her drink, slowly she sunk into unconsciousness.
* * *
Devlin’s men found themselves pinned down, while the schooner sailing up the river, which had been blocking the Lady Seraphina's departure, was almost completely past, leaving a clear river passage to the sea. Soon, Fencourt could pull up the last anchor and sail off. Revenge burned in his soul. The villain had shot Dharma. He thumped the barrel he was leaning against.
He stilled and turned and stared at the barrel. Brandy!
At the edge of the docks, Devlin slowly stood with a determined look in his eyes. His white linen shirt was covered with sweat and dirt, without his greatcoat that he’d given to Dharma. The adrenalin pumping through his veins meant he didn’t feel the cold. Bloody Fencourt was a dark presence on the ship, but Devlin’s thirst for revenge gave him the edge.
He tightened his grip on his pistol, wishing he was close enough to put a bullet through Fencourt’s black heart for his betrayal and lack of honor. He should never have trusted the man given who his father was. He’d let the man onto the ship and he’d still shot Dharma. “Fencourt, or should I say Lord Longton, since your father is dead, I’m coming for you,” he called out, his voice echoing across the water.
Fencourt sneered from the shadows. “I’ll be leaving soon!”
The tension between the two men was palpable. He’d been in purgatory for years, because of Longton, and now his son would not better him. Tonight, it would reach its climax. He had a plan to outsmart the cunning villain.
A nearby stack of barrels filled with precious brandy had caught Devlin's eye. An idea formed, and he knew it was their best chance to lure Fencourt, or was it Longton, off the ship. He gestured to his loyal men, who were hiding in the shadows nearby.
“Loosen the ropes holding the barrels, lads!” Devlin ordered, and the men swiftly went to work. He unplugged a barrel and let the scent of the brandy waft through the air, intoxicating and enticing—and a weapon if used well.
“Find some sticks, and cut up the rope and soak it in the brandy, and tear up your clothes, wrap strips of the cloth around the sticks.” Just then, Tobin arrived back at his side. “How is she?” he asked with his heart in his throat.
“I didn’t wait for the doctor, but the bleeding had slowed. I wanted to be here to help.” He looked at all the activity and a smile broke on his lips. “I think I ascertain your plan. You mean to burn the ship?”
With the barrels positioned strategically, Devlin took a torch and ignited it, his eyes locked onto the towering ship before him. He dipped the rest of the sticks in the brandy, while Tobin struck another flint and went down the line of men. The flames blazed.
“All of you, throw the sticks and rope on the ship. I’ll take this barrel and set it alight at the top of the gangway.” As the flaming weapons hit the ship, setting the cargo alight, Devlin hurriedly carried a half-full barrel up onto the deck while Tobin and the men gave him cover with pistol fire. With the lid to the barrel already off, Devlin waved the torch over the liquid within, igniting the alcohol in the wooden cask. The brandy inside caught fire and burned brightly. He kicked at the barrel and it rolled into the passageway leading to the stateroom. He waited as the flames licked the walls before dashing back to the safety of the dock.
The ship’s crew members shouted and panicked as the fire spread, and Fencourt emerged from the shadows, coughing from the smoke, his eyes aflame with fury. “Goddamn you to hell, Devlin.”
His lips curved into a triumphant smile. Fencourt’s only chance of escape was over the side of the ship again or down this gangway. “I've given you a choice. Surrender or face the flames.”
Fencourt hesitated, but his instinct for self-preservation surfaced. The flames danced higher, the half empty brandy barrels the men were setting alight and then hurling onto the ship, threatened to turn the “Lady Seraphina” into an inferno.
“If you dive over the side, I will shoot you. But I will let you walk off this burning ship with your life if you surrender to me.”
He laughed. “And I’m supposed to believe you?”
“Unlike you, I am a man of honor. My word is my bond.”
Fencourt had the decency to look afraid. “You just need me alive to vouch for your father, but I hate to say it, I don’t really know anything that happened back then.”
That was probably true. Fencourt was younger than him, and his father would not have involved him. “But you know your father is guilty of kidnapping me and Mrs. McTavish. And you shot Lady Dharma.”
“That was not me. It must have been one of the sailors. I won’t surrender to be hung for something I didn’t do.”
Liar!But how would he prove it? “Well, you kidnapped Dharma.”
“The way I see it, I rescued her from my father and Mrs. McTavish.”
