His father had been beyond furious that Harold himself had sunk into more debt than his sire. He’d paled at the mention of Mr Smith and had completely cracked when he discovered he was the sole guardian of three substantial dowries. Wickham would never see the Penfold girls as anything more than a means to repay debts. The little one was too young to use right now, he’d said, laughing as he held Penfold’s will in his hands. “But the other two can be brought to heel by the end of the day.”
Hours had passed in the time Harold had been tied to a chair, a gag wrapped around his head, miserable and wishing for death to claim him. He was supposed to win Eliza, marry her, use her dowry to pay his debts. But then he wanted to start again. She was a good woman and might make a good wife. He was sure he could have turned her head with his charm, made her understand what kind of wife he would expect, but she had been so frigid, holding herself back in every action. She may have lowered herself in station to marry him but as mired in scandal as she was, she should have been content with his offer.
But then his bastard brother had sailed into their lives again after almost two decades and made eyes at his woman. Perhaps it had made him a little mad and impulsive. Perhaps he should have warned his father the bastard would fight for her. It meant little now, he thought with a sniff that ended in unbearable pain.
When the knocking started, Harold thought it was in his head at first, a pounding to drown out the other aches, but then the door exploded inwards with a splintering of timber and a rain of paint flecks. He cringed but there was nowhere to go.
He realised in that moment it wasn’t his father or Mr Smith that he really had to worry about at all. As he met the furious gaze of his half-brother, he wondered if this would truly be the day he left this earth.
*
By the time they’d reached the village, there was no sign of Wickham, in fact the tracks on the road told him they’d not stopped and probably wouldn’t, but Darius hadn’t wanted to pursue right away. They risked losing the carriage in London traffic or a shoot-out with Eliza and the children caught in the crossfire.
There were only two inns in the village so narrowing down his brother’s lodgings hadn’t been difficult. Reining in his impatience and that of his men had been next to impossible.
Darius waited for Wes to move away from the threshold, pieces of the door hanging by their hinges and waving back and forth. He gave his man a nod and then entered the room. They probably hadn’t needed to break their way in like that but the innkeeper hadn’t wanted to hand over the spare key to the lock and time was a luxury they could not afford.
His brother was tied to a chair by his hands and feet, which would explain why no one had answered when he’d knocked. Darius hadn’t really expected to find Harold there. He’d expected his brother to flee and never be heard from again. Instead, he was there, held prisoner and left for dead, his face a mess of bruises and welts, of dried blood and fresh.
“You’re a bloody sight,” he told Harold as he pulled another chair forward and straddled it so they were at each other’s eye level.
“Just do it, brother. I tire of the games and if someone is going to kill me, I’d rather it be you.”
Darius almost drew back in surprise. “Why me? You loathe every beat of my bastard’s heart.”
“I don’t care about any of it anymore. I thought if I hated you as much as Father did, then I’d become more to him. I was wrong. I was wrong about everything.”
“What are you talking about, Harold?”
“He hates me just as much as he hates you. Maybe even more now he knows…”
“Knows what?” He wondered if the beating his brother had taken had partially dislodged his brain.
“I’m in trouble. Big trouble. Mr Smith is coming for the both of us.”
“Wickham is in trouble. I think most of the blame can be laid at his door. As for Mr Smith, if you feared the man this much, why gamble to him? You cannot play with fire and expect to escape unscathed.”
Harold shuddered and Darius wondered what exactly he’d said that caused only more fear.
His half-brother tried to explain. “Father will get himself out of the pot soon enough. He’ll come for Eliza, marry her and repay his own debts. Mr Smith will find me and I’ll be done for. I’m dead no matter how this day ends. I would rather have my bastard brother slit my throat than have Mr Smith set me on fire.”
“Do you know his plan, Harold? Do you know where Wickham is taking the children? Tell me and perhaps I can help you.”
“He’s going to do what he has to, to get Eliza’s dowry.”
“Eliza’s dowry is already gone, brother.”
“But that means she already married…”
Darius confirmed Harold’s thoughts with just one look.
An even deeper anguish filled his brother’s eyes. “She married you? A bastard? I offered her the world and she turned me down.”
“She was forced to it. But not by me, never by me.” He shook his head. How could he explain? Why should he have to? He owed his brother nothing.
“Penfold tried to force her to marry me and she still said no.”
“It doesn’t matter how or why. They are all in greater danger than you or I. Do you know where he is taking them?”
“He’ll hurt Eliza if he discovers the truth. She won’t be