Earl of Weston_Wicked Regency Romance Read online

  Bergen reflected for a second or two. “There are rumors of his pockets being to let, as well as reports of extortion.”

  “I had not heard those, but it fits with the rest.” Edward rubbed his forehead in frustration.

  “You could be right. I would not have thought of him.” Bergen reached for his brandy. “He is a vindictive chap, or so I have heard from people who have crossed him. Still, I would not have thought him capable of murder.”

  “Perhaps it was an accident. I do not know, but I doubt that. Barring an eyewitness or confession, we will have a difficult time proving his involvement. He did not confess to anything specific. Most likely, I will have to force a confession—unless a witness comes forward or can be discovered. It appears Hampton is also connected somehow, although thus far he has avoided me. Hattie said she was told he left in a hurry. Hampton’s behavior is entirely strange, do you not think?”

  “Let us not get ahead of ourselves, Weston. I am having trouble believing that your new relatives could possibly be connected to your brother’s death. Besides, I am fascinated at the closeness you and your new bride have found together.”

  “We rub along tolerably well, it seems.”

  “Yes, I can see that you do.” Bergen allowed his smile to stretch across his face.

  “Do be serious!” Edward regretted his burst of temper. He wanted Bergen to concentrate on Robert, not his marriage. “There is more. I have a letter that Martin penned to Robert. When I saw Mother before my wedding, she passed it to me. She said it was in Robert’s possessions. She did not see it to be of any significance, but I think he tried to extort money from my brother. He claims he is owed for vowels of mine, accumulated during the week before the duel.” He pushed the note across the table and waited for Bergen to read it.

  Edward glowered at the bent head.

  “Not only have I always settled my debts or gone to Robert myself, but I was in Paris, working. Robert knew this and I believe he refused to meet the man; either that or, perhaps, he threatened to have him arrested.”

  Bergen finished reading the note and leaned back in his chair. “I agree. This fits with your extortion theory. With what Hattie reported, it points to Martin’s involvement.” He studied his drink. “There is no chance anyone saw Hattie when she overheard this, was there?”

  “I hope not. She did not think so.” His throat felt dry despite the refreshment. “I have left her at the house, but Mother is there, as well.” He felt better knowing she was not alone. “They seem to be affable towards one another, strange as that seems.”

  “And Archie…”

  “Yes. The popinjay is there, too. No doubt that limits her activity.” He furrowed his brow. “Now that I consider it, I recall Perry, Hampton’s brother, complaining that Hampton had been driven out of Town, but he refused to be specific.”

  “I have been thinking about that. What hold could Martin have over Hampton? The man has always been above reproach.” He laughed. “He is rather boring.”

  “I could not say. Hampton has known our family all his life. Robert was his best friend. Why will he not meet with me? If he needs help, I would hope that he would feel he could talk with me.”

  Bergen lowered his voice. “I think we need to talk to Hampton. We can use him to lure Martin out and possibly get him to confess.”

  “That is a good idea, only our bait has gone.”

  “Well, not exactly. A certain…lady…told me that Hampton is here.”

  For the first time in what seemed an eternity, Edward felt real hope. He knew Hampton was key, but could not know exactly how. Could Hampton have seen something related to Martin and Robert?

  “Hampton is here, at the Red Lion?”

  Bergen nodded.

  “Well, let us find him.” Rising, they both went in search of the innkeeper.

  “My good man,” Bergen addressed the innkeeper, “we are in town for a wedding and the groom is staying here, upstairs. We would like to show him a good time before his big day.” He winked.

  “That is very odd, my lord. We would have heard if we were having a wedding. What is your friend’s name?”

  “Lord Hampton. And I believe the wedding is just a small family affair to be held at a small chapel down the road. We are surprising him. Do you know if he is in his room at the moment? We would like to surprise him. He is a little nervous about the big day,” Edward added, feeling as if he had fallen back in time to his days at Eton, where he and Bergen had always been playing pranks on the other boys.

  “My lords, I should not do this, but I enjoy a good prank and I can see no harm in it.” The man glanced around him, presumably to ensure they were not overheard. “He is in the room at the end of the hall. That way.” He pointed to the stairs beside his desk.

  “Thank you.”

  “Keep this for your trouble.” Edward handed the innkeeper a gold sovereign and they hurried towards the staircase. “Wait.” he added, pausing with one booted foot on the bottom step. “We need a plan.”

  “Weston, it is simple. We tell Hampton we know his secret, and we are going to help him with Martin.”

  “Ah. As long as we can follow our plan it might work.” Edward fairly flew up the steps, taking them two at a time, with Bergen following close behind. Edward knocked on Hampton’s door and they waited.

  The wooden door opened and Hampton stood looking at the two of them, his mouth agape.

  “I do not need anything from either of you.” He looked at Bergen angrily and started to close the door.

  “Wait.” Edward wedged his foot in the doorway. “This is about Robert. We know about Martin blackmailing you.” As they say, in for a penny, in for a pound.

  “You do?” Hampton gave an incredulous look. He looked down the hall, and then back at them.. “Come in.”

  Twenty minutes later, the three of them were riding towards the Bentley estate. Edward turned in his saddle to regard his companions.

  “We are betting on a note from Hampton luring Martin to the stables. Bergen, would you mind delivering the note to the house? Rejoin us as quickly as possible. I doubt Martin will think anything of it if he sees you at the door and, in all probability, will assume I am still with Hattie.” He noticed beads of sweat above Hampton’s brow. There was more to this than gambling debts. “Hampton,” he continued, “I appreciate your helping us. You confirmed that this man killed my brother. I want him. The magistrate has agreed to meet us. Stay out of sight, now, until we have him.”

  “I will.”

  “Get the damn bird away from me or he will soon adorn some lady’s headdress!” Mr. Martin shouted at Hattie. He reminded her of her handy hat pin, so she slipped it from her bonnet and held it in her hand in case.

  “How dare you threaten my Archie!” she screamed in outrage, momentarily emboldened by having her umbrella and a hat pin to use as weapons. It was clear this man was a menace and needed to be dealt with quickly. Unfortunately, her lessons had never included training in battle, and her knight in shining armor was nowhere to be seen, let alone riding ventre-à-terre to the rescue. He was away on Crown business.

  She was quite used to saving herself in her spinster dreams; it was when she awoke from them she realized there was no actual knight. Now that she did have one, it would have been lovely to have been rescued.

  “It is you and me, Archie,” Hattie said softly as she waved her weapons at the horrid man and tried to run towards the gardener’s shed. In there, she hoped she might find a sturdier weapon with which to defend herself. She was too far away from the house for anyone to hear her shouts, and so far, she’d been unable to get past him.

  “You are mad,” Mr. Martin sneered, cutting her off once more while also attempting to fend off the bird’s pecking. “I will be doing Weston a favor, helping to rid him of an unwanted wife. I am afraid you now know too much for me to let you live.”

  “Murderer! Murderer!” Archie squawked.

  Hattie saw the man reaching for something in his
coat and lunged at him with her hat pin.

  “Archie, fly home! Get help!” she commanded. The bird obeyed and flew away.

  “You witch!” he screamed, striking her with the back of his hand as she stuck the long pin into his arm. The force of the blow caused her to drop her umbrella. Undaunted, she tried to wrestle his weapon away from him. Her beloved new spectacles flew to the ground in the mêlée. The man might look a dandy, but he was rather strong. Could she lure him backwards into the privy and trap him? It was hard to think while struggling with the man over his knife, but she did manage to recall it latched from inside. The shed was a better option since it locked outwardly, she decided quickly. She let go of the arm which held the knife and ran the few paces to the shed, pausing by the open door as he ran after her. At the last second, as he attempted to swing the knife at her, she leaped aside. He fell into the shed, but managed to catch her leg and drag her in with him. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed a sturdy garden shovel with which to defend herself as the knife went skating across the floor.

  He also attempted to scramble to his feet and reclaim the blade, but she struck him in the chest with the shovel, causing him to stagger. But she had not hit him hard enough to knock him out and escape. He’d grabbed a garden hoe and now blocked the doorway. What was she to do now?

  He laughed, condescension dripping from every sound. “Did you really think to hold me here with that flimsy weapon until someone comes to rescue you? Or do you believe you can get the better of me with it?”

  A peal of thunder clapped through the air, shaking the ground. The wind began to howl and, in the same breath, slammed the door shut.

  “Drat!” Hattie muttered as she realized there was no hope for escape now. They were locked in.

  He laughed again. “Have you just now realized you are trapped, Miss Longbottom? Forgive me, I mean, your ladyship,” he mocked.

  “I do realize you seem to enjoy murderous pursuits. However, the shed locks from the outside, so we are both quite trapped in here until someone chooses to release us,” she snapped, still holding tight to her sturdy shovel.

  “Do you think a simple latch will deter me?” He took a step toward her, but she swung her weapon at him in warning, managing to strike him on the wrist. “Bollocks!”

  “Sir!” She reprimanded his language without thinking and for an instant he managed to flush.

  “Save your self-righteousness for someone who cares,” he snarled. “By the time your dear husband finds us, you will have met with a terrible mishap and I was unable to go for help. They will find me most distressed.”

  She held her ground, holding tightly to the shovel as heavy rain began to pour on the roof of the small shed. She scanned the enclosure, making note of other garden tools that could be used as weapons in case he should try to pull the shovel from her grasp.

  They stood there for some minutes. He continued to look amused while she steadfastly stood her ground, scowling fiercely at him. She was uncertain how long she would be required to hold him at bay until someone found them there, but she refused to let him murder her and escape, or attempt to murder her Edward.

  She tried not to let her thoughts wander as her arm grew tired from holding the heavy instrument. Biting her lip, she swung the shovel at him with renewed vigor whenever he attempted to approach, determined to see the adventure to its conclusion. Someone would have to miss them before long, would they not? She began to doubt.

  “No one will willingly come out in the storm, Lady Weston,” he taunted as though he had read her thoughts.

  “Mayhap they will not, but I will not willingly allow you to murder my husband as you did his brother!”

  “You believe you are clever, but I am growing bored. There is no proof of your accusations, true though they may be. It will be your word against mine.”

  “Stay back,” she commanded when he attempted to lunge at her to end their standoff. He grabbed for the handle of the shovel and tried to wrestle it from her hands. She managed to hold him off by rapping him on the knuckles with it.

  “Ouch!” He sucked at the knuckles she had just hit, and then surprisingly fell to his knees. She had not struck him that hard, but he fell over on his side. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed an object flash. His knife! She had forgotten it and he was attempting to retrieve it.

  “Oh, no, you will not!”

  Stepping on his knuckles and whacking him with the shovel, she kicked the knife back towards the door.

  He tried to grab her feet out from under her, but never let it be said that Hattie Longbottom, no Weston, she reminded herself, was not an agile dancer. She evaded his clutches while managing to spin around and plant the end of the shovel squarely in the back of his head. His eyes rolled backwards and blood began to pour from his head.

  “Oh Lord, what have I done?”

  Quickly, she was on her knees, trying to stem the flow of blood; frantically ripping at her new petticoats and holding pressure against the otherwise lifeless form.

  “Please, God, let someone find us before he bleeds to death!” she sobbed.

  Thou shalt not commit murder! The Reverend Hastings’ voice, speaking the sixth commandment, played in her mind.

  “Harriet Eleanor…Weston, you will hang and burn in hell for this!” She proceeded to torture herself thus for some time as she watched the horrid man dying in front of her very eyes.

  “Murderer! Murderer!” she heard Archie crow outside as the rain eased, but unfortunately he was unable to open latches on shed doors and he had not gone for help as she had hoped. Her face fell in her hands in desperation.

  Chapter 10

  Edward debated the best way to engage Philip Martin. He believed, if he could get him talking, it would increase the possibility of the man incriminating himself. If Edward knew more about Martin, he could possibly know his vulnerabilities. He recalled the conversation Hattie had related. Apparently, the man loathed being threatened. That was interesting, he mused; it could be one approach to discovering the truth.

  Bergen rode up beside him. “Weston, there is something more happening here with Hampton than accumulating simple gambling debts. Consider this, my friend. Compare the difference in your reaction to having a promissory note held over your head, to perhaps, a secret that could injure you. Hampton seems terrified of something or someone.”

  “Yes, you could be right.” He thought about his brother. “Hampton was Edward’s friend. I do not know what it is, but if I can get Martin to admit he did the killing, I will do whatever I can to stop his revelations.”

  “I concur—but how?”

  “I am not sure. To be honest, I feel like we are stepping forward blindfolded, but that seems the only thing we can do. We do not have the luxury of planning. He is leaving.” Edward looked behind him. Hampton was still trailing them by some distance. “He is still back there. There is no sign of bravado or enthusiasm—even with us by his side.” In less than an hour, the trio arrived at the Bentley estate. The property was situated amongst several sloping areas. A large rose garden framed with boxwoods and a slight hill separated the home from a stone building housing the stables, giving the barn area a more distant feel. They made their way to the horse stalls.

  “Will you wait here for me?” Edward spoke to Bergen, while he watched Hampton. “I will talk to the head groom and arrange a safe place for Hampton and the horses.” He strode across the stable yard to the harness room, returning a few minutes later with a grizzled-haired horseman in tow. “The groom has offered us a stall in the far corner for our operation.” He noticed Hampton was staring off in the distance. “Hampton?” Edward gained the man’s attention, and pointed him to the end of the shadowy building. “The rearmost stall is yours. It has recently been mucked out.”

  Hampton scowled and then sneered, “I do not know what to say.”

  Edward gave his brother’s friend a hard stare. “Hampton, tell us everything you feel we should know—now. Let us not let Martin have the e
lement of surprise over us. I have known you almost your whole life. We grew up together, and I know the good man you are.” He softened his petition. “I am your friend.”

  Hampton looked around. He started to speak, but closed his mouth before any words came forth, apparently changing his mind.

  Edward turned at the sound of horses in the near distance, then quickly moved inside the door of the barn, out of sight, but still able to see the rider. A stocky balding man with a brown overcoat crested the hill. “The magistrate is coming over the rise. Bergen, you say you know this man?” Edward nodded behind them.

  “Yes. He has an excellent arrest record in these parts. Very few escape his justice.” He chuckled.

  “One whom always gets his man. Excellent. It is a five-minute walk to the house. Let us get the note written.” He produced a sheet of vellum and a pen from his saddlebags.

  Bergen handed his horse to a waiting groom and ran up the steps to the front entrance. He tapped the brass knocker on the door. After a couple of minutes, he knocked again.

  “Murderer! Help!” He heard the cry of a familiar bird.

  Bergen banged the dark wooden door with his fists. A few moments later, an aged butler opened it. Before Bergen could speak, Archie flew from the shrub behind him, straight into the house. He landed in the hall, jumping from the banister of the staircase to the base of the glass transom above the door and back.

  “Help! Murderer! Fly home Archie!” The bird leaped towards Bergen and slapped his face frantically with his wing. “Help! Help!”

  “Archie, where is Lady Weston?”

  “I am here. Who is looking for me?”

  “My apologies, my lady. I am looking for your daughter-in-law. Archie seems to have misplaced her.” He studied the bird for a moment. “It is strange, since I left him in his cage.”