perhaps you were even ready to set a trap for me, my lord, but here I am, springing it before you were ready.”
Douglas sat back in his chair, his arms behind his head. “You duped us all, madam. You have a rare talent.”
“You only say so because you were the one deceived, my lord.”
“Tell me, Annabelle. Were the stories you told my wife about Miss Plimpton anywhere near the truth?”
She laughed. “Ah. William’s precious Miss Plimpton. I never met her, of course, but I suspect you figured that out, didn’t you?”
“Yes, a pity. I did not lie. I am glad that Hollis isn’t here. You also deceived him.”
Douglas looked at her with such contempt that she shouted, “I had to use the old man! There was no one else to give me entree into this wretched house.”
“You did it very well. Now, you are English. How could you be related to Georges Cadoudal?”
“His wife, Janine, was my sister, well, halfsister, really. My mother was English, and I was raised in Surrey. She named me Marie because she believed that useless Frenchman who was my father would be pleased, perhaps leave his wife for her. I did not go to France until months before Janine died. I took care of Georges and the children.”
“What is your name?”
“Marie Flanders. My dear dolt of a mother dressed bonnets for all the wealthy ladies in Middle Clapton. A meager existence. She died far too soon, with nothing.”
“Why do you wish to kill me, madam?”
“I am going to kill you because you betrayed my sister. You raped her, made her with child, and left her.”
Douglas rose slowly as he spoke, splayed his palms on his desk, leaned toward her. “You know that is nonsense, Annabe-Marie. Why do you really want me dead? Come now, the truth. After all, you’re going to kill me. What difference does it make?”
She gave him a wonderfully warm smile. She leaned toward him, whispering, “No difference at all, my lord. You want the truth? It’s money, my lord, all your money, and your house, and your lovely title, once you are dead. Naturally one would wish to dress it up, claim a motive of pure vengeance, of righteous revenge, since it sounds so terribly tawdry and common to claim simple gain. Ah, I do believe she is here now. It is about time.” Marie turned her head just slightly. “Come in, my dear.”
Judith McCrae slipped in through the door, and softly closed it.
“I have checked, Aunt Marie. No one is in the house, other than some servants floating about. Everyone is out watching the horses mating. I should be there too, but now I won’t have to endure that disgusting display.” As she spoke, Douglas walked slowly around the side of his desk and stood against the bookshelves.
“Hello, my lord. From the look on your face, I have a feeling that you are not altogether surprised.”
Douglas took small steps toward the sofa, as if he was going to sit down. “No, I’m not surprised. I hoped I was wrong, for my son’s sake. No one had as yet brought in your name, but I knew I would have to. You wanted my son to give you entry to my house, just as your aunt did with Hollis, and you managed to snag him, something no young lady before has managed.”
“It was not difficult. Jason is a man, my lord, just a man.”
“And you sat in on all our meetings, learned of our thoughts and plans. My wife was ready to welcome you into the family. Do you know she told me she was blessed, to have two such fine daughters-in-law practically at the same time.”
For the first time, Douglas saw the resemblance between daughter and father, or perhaps he simply wanted to see it. Those eyes of hers were cold and dark with rage and purpose. “I watched you slap Jason on the back, acknowledging that you knew he’d had his pleasure with me. I would have liked to stick a knife in your heart at that moment.”
Marie Flanders said, her eyes on that closed door, “Damnation, I should have realized this sooner. His fine lordship here was baiting his trap last night. There is no more information that you’re waiting for in Eastbourne, is there?”
Judith said, “It doesn’t matter. He’s a fool, as are his sons. There is no trap. You’re wrong, Aunt Marie.”
“No, I’m not. Why do you think he kept inquiring about Lady Arbuckle? He was pushing us to act. And that note he sent me, telling me Hollis wouldn’t be here today. It was to lure me here, lure me into acting.”
Judith shook her head. “You give him too much credit. Fact is, I didn’t really pay attention to what he said. I had to give Jason my attention or he would have wondered what was going on. Do you know, my lord, I really preferred James. But Corrie already had him by the collar.”
Douglas never took his eyes off the two women. “James didn’t realize that until-well, that isn’t any of your business is it?”
“No, and I don’t care. Aunt Marie, I’m bored. I wish to get this over with. I don’t wish to kill any of the servants. They’ve been quite kind to me, so we will do it here, now, and slip out through the gardens.”
Douglas said slowly, “Both of you have much to answer for.”
“If ever we answer, my lord, you will not be here to hear it.”
Douglas called out, “James, Ollie, signal your men. Come in now.”
But James didn’t come from his post behind the glass doors. Neither did Ollie Trunk.
Jason walked slowly into the estate room, his arm at his side, a gun held loosely in his hand. “James is missing, Father.”
Douglas looked at Judith. “Where is my son?”
“Why, my lord, he’s with my dear brother.”
JAMES FELT THE trickle of blood slide down his face. His head hurt from the blow, but his brain was clear. He could think, he could understand, and what he both saw and understood was a young man he’d never seen before, a young man who was tall and well-made, dark-haired and dark-eyed, and this young man wanted to kill him.
James shook his head, started to get to his feet.
The man said, “No, stay right where you are. Ah, I see you’ve got your wits together again.” He stood, walked to James, and stood over him. “Hello, brother. It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face.”
James looked up at him, saw the gun in his right hand leveled at his chest. “You’ve kept yourself hidden very well. You’re Georges Cadoudal’s son, aren’t you? We were right about that.”
“Yes, he was my father, at least in name.”
James understood a great deal in that moment, but it still didn’t make any sense. “You seem to believe that my father sired you. You weren’t terribly subtle what with using Douglas Sherbrooke as your name. What is your real name?”
“Douglas Sherbrooke is quite real enough.”
“How did you come to believe that you are my father’s son? How did you come to take his name?”
“I assumed my rightful name when I came to England to kill you and that dishonorable bastard from whose seed I come. It seemed only just to take his name.”
“What is your real name?”
The young man shrugged, but never did he look away from James’s face and the gun aimed at James’s chest. “My father and all my friends in France called me Louis. Louis Cadoudal. My father died insane, did you know that?”
James shook his head. “We knew he’d been assassinated.”
“Yes, an assassin shot him, and all believed he died from that, but his brain had already rotted. There were only a few who knew it. He spoke of so many things in his mad deliriums, of how your father had raped my mother; but then he would frown, and say no, rape wasn’t involved at all. Of course those were simply words spun from his madness. But I realized the truth of it the moment I saw your father. Our father.
“Don’t you think I look like him, brother? You and your damned twin, neither of you look like him, but I do. I am his firstborn son, not you, and I look like his son.”
“No, you don’t,” James said calmly. “You’re lying to yourself. You are dark like him, and you are tall like him, nothing more.” James knew he had to stay in control, knew he had to be ready. “Let us agree that my father sired you, Louis-”
“He did, damn you!”
“Very well, if he is indeed your father, it makes no difference to the succession. I am the firstborn legitimate
