Page 102 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
“You disgust me,” he snarled. “I’m not sure I believe Whiddon feels anything for you. Come on, there’s fresh air just through here.” He shut the door behind them and the darkness was instant and absolute. She heard the slide of a cask, felt the movement as he shifted it. He must be hiding the door latch from sight.
He took her wrist again. “Let’s go.”
Her fingers trailed along the rims of several large casks as they moved forward. She’d just made out the thinnest line of light ahead, a door frame perhaps, when a hand suddenly closed on her elbow and yanked back hard, releasing her from Hurley’s grasp. A hand closed over her mouth, and she was dragged back and pushed down against a wall. “Stay here.” Lips pressed close to her ear. “Don’t move. I’ll deal with him.”
Gabriel! He was gone in an instant, but Hurley was cursing her roundly.
“You hellishly stupid girl! There’s a lantern outside. You cannot hide from me.” Exasperation filled his tone. “I should just shoot you now. You are more trouble than you are worth.”
She could hear his footsteps, but nothing else. The outer door swung open and flickering light showed outside. She shrank down. The street noise grew. The cellar must open onto the passage to the servant’s entrance, below street level at the front of the house.
Hurley turned to face back into the room. He held the satchel in one hand and his pistol in the other. “Come out now,” he ordered. “It will go harder on you if I have to fetch the lantern to find you.”
Suddenly, Gabriel stepped out of the shadows and grabbed the pistol. Leaning back, he kicked out with a booted foot, hitting Hurley in his middle, and sending him sprawling backwards into the open. “That’s enough.” He leveled the gun at his former steward. “It’s over.”
Spewing foul curses, Hurley scrambled to his feet. Clutching the satchel, he turned and ran.
Gabriel went after him. Charlotte stumbled to the doorway and saw Hurley pelting for the stairs to the street level. He was halfway up when Chester appeared at the top, his large form looming, blocking the way.
Hurley hesitated only an instant before turning to the wall and reaching up to grab the railing that separated the pavement from the open space of the stairs. Moving awkwardly with the satchel hampering him, he scrambled up and over the railing. Gabriel was right behind him, however, and he grabbed onto the leather satchel and pulled.
Hurley fought him for it, but Gabriel had gravity and all the weight of his lower position on his side. Hurley was forced to let go.
For a moment, he stared daggers at Gabriel. Charlotte lurched up the stairs behind her husband and saw Chester moving in on Hurley from one side and Sterne from the other.
He saw them, too. He looked wildly about and decided to risk the traffic of the street. He jumped in front of a lumbering night wagon. The driver yelled and kept on coming. Hurley dodged and continued. The light from the houses didn’t carry so far and he disappeared into the shadows.
Gabriel and both his friends gave chase. Charlotte made it to the top of the stairs and sank down, wracked with disappointment and fear. She strained to see anything. Suddenly a shout sounded followed by a horse’s scream of alarm. Chaos broke out in the street.
“Gabriel!” she gasped. The ordered traffic had become a snarl. Shouts and orders and accusations rang out. Pedestrians rushed out to see what had happened. On the top step, Charlotte gripped the railing and sobbed.
She was still crying, shuddering with grief and shock, when she felt warm arms go around her. “It’s all right, my love. It’s all right.”
“Gabriel?” She looked up and pressed both hands to his face. “Thank God! Thank God.” She sobbed still, unable to break free of the hold her emotions had on her.
“Hurley’s dead. He ran in front of a coach and four. He was trampled. The others are fine.”
She nodded and sobbed. He gathered her into his arms. “Come. Let’s get you inside.”
* * *
Whiddon gathered his wife close,so incredibly grateful she was safe. He’d been frantic when he found her snatched away from home. He’d been merciless with Harriett, who tried to play innocent, but cracked quickly in the face of his relentless rage.
Thank all the saints, they’d been in time, although the sight of the blood on Charlotte and the feel of her trembling set off his fury all over again. Her sobs quieted at last, but he kept her in his arms as he entered her uncle’s house.
Lord and Lady Burchan stepped out of the drawing room to meet him in the entryway. Harriett, tearstained and disheveled, huddled in the doorway. Tensford stood behind her, watching them all carefully.
“Good heavens, it was true?” The baron looked back at Tensford. “This villain has been hiding here, beneath our noses? How could this happen?”
“I think you need to direct that question to your daughter,” Whiddon told him, disapproving.
“Harriett? Don’t be absurd.” Lady Burchan looked bewildered.
“She was in the beer cellar?” the baron asked.
“Locked in the room behind the beer cellar.”
“Whatroom behind the beer cellar?” The baroness was beginning to sound hysterical.
