The Devilish Duke, page 33
Sophie watched as a look of contented bliss came across his features.
“I had not intended to kill anyone,” he continued, “apart from Devlin, that is. But then fate intervened when Jane came to turn down my bed while I was a guest at the Crowleys’. You see, unbeknownst to me, Jane was already in my bedchamber, readying the room for the evening turndown, when Lady Brampton and I returned. Instead of announcing her presence, the silly girl stayed silent in the dressing chamber and overheard Lady Brampton and I discussing our plans.”
“Lady Brampton was a guest at the Crowleys’ last house party?” Sophie couldn’t believe such a thing. The woman was too haughty and proper.
Hemingsworth nodded. “They were hosting a masquerade ball that night, so it was the perfect opportunity for Lady Brampton to slip into the house anonymously and leave the same way. We did have a great deal to plan in our scheme to bring the Devil Duke down, you understand.”
“And you didn’t want to risk being seen together?” Sophie guessed.
“Quite so.” He smiled. “When Jane overheard our conversation, which included mention of my heritage and the fact that I was not a legitimate lord—Lady Brampton does so like to remind me of that—she must have panicked and ran past us and out the door. Silly girl.”
Sophie could only imagine the fear and dread Jane must have felt overhearing such a secret.
“I followed her, of course, but she was too quick and disappeared up into the servants’ quarters before I could catch her.” He picked up a strand of Sophie’s hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “Fate is a funny mistress, is it not? I only had to wait but a short time outside when she fled out the back entrance. I followed her, of course, and caught up to her in the woods. Oh, she beseeched me not to kill her, saying she would tell no one. But, of course, she was lying. All of you women do.” He laughed. “But I made certain she wouldn’t sin again.”
“You are a monster.” Sophie couldn’t not help the loathing from sounding in her voice.
Hemingsworth simply shrugged. “Perhaps, though I was fairly gentle with her, considering the inconvenience she put me through. She put up a fight, I shall grant you that, but you can rest easy knowing that she died relatively quickly.”
Her lower lip trembled. The terror her friend must have felt to have this man’s hands on her was unbearable to imagine. And here he stood, remorseless. Sophie tried to hit him, but he blocked her swing and twisted hard on her hair. “Yes, she tried to fight me, too.” He laughed. “Did you know she sent a letter to you after she saw me?”
She inhaled sharply. “It was you who had someone steal my letters?”
“I took some when I visited your aunt, but the majority were taken by that idiot Benlow, which did in fact include Jane’s letter,” he murmured as his finger trailed across the line of her jaw. “Jane said she had not divulged my identity to you in the letter, but I had to confirm that for myself. Couldn’t have it compromised after all of the years I had spent cultivating it, now could I? Funny thing was, she did tell the truth. Her letter mentioned nothing of myself. It was simply an apology to you for her leaving the Crowleys’. But alas.” He clicked his tongue in mock regret. “The damage had already been done by then regarding your fate.”
Sophie gulped as his breath now whispered down her neck. “Why kill Benlow and Tina?”
“The fools tried to blackmail me,” he growled, letting go of her hair and stepping back from her. “Apparently, before Jane fled the Crowleys’, she told Tina who I was and that if anything happened to her, Tina should go and see you and tell you. Poor Jane, she as much sealed their deaths as she did your own.”
“You are the only one to blame for any deaths.” Sophie eyed him in defiance. Though she’d never felt more terrified in her life, she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
His eyes tightened at the corners. “No, my lady, your death will be entirely your own fault. You ensured that when you became engaged to the Devil. But where are my manners? Come.” He motioned to Sophie. “This room is definitely too small for what I have planned for us tonight. We need a great deal more space.”
Suddenly, she knew with great clarity that this man intended to take her life, but not in the simple way in which he had dispatched poor Crandall. The knowledge chilled her to her soul.
…
Lord Hemingsworth directed Sophie into the main bedroom of the lodge. He could not quite keep all of the excitement out of his face at how freeing it felt to have revealed his true self to her. She now knew exactly what he was capable of but was not screaming as most others would. Instead, she was keeping up a good show of courage, but he could still see the look of terror hidden in her eyes. It was enthralling.
“Perhaps I might formally introduce myself to you, Lady Sophie,” he suggested. “Simon Trellawney at your service.” He bowed again. It felt wonderful, speaking the truth to her.
“You are Lord Brampton’s natural son then,” she said.
He relished listening to her angelic voice. He wondered how she would sound when she screamed. “Do you not mean his illegitimate bastard?”
She remained silent.
“Yes, I am. Devlin’s illegitimate cousin. How marvelous is the world that I, the true heir to Huntington, should be denied my birthright, merely because my mother was a whore?” He sighed. “The injustice of it. But not to worry; very soon my revenge on Huntington shall be complete.”
“But he has done nothing to you!”
His face twisted into a snarl. “He had everything! Yet he cared little, always disparaging the title by dirtying his hands in business and trade. But did the old Duke disown him? No, of course not. Because he was born in wedlock, even though the old Duke despised him. I would have respected the title. It should have been mine.”
He suddenly laughed as he strode up to her. “Do you think I do not know what you are trying to do? You are trying to distract me from my purpose. But do not worry. It is not our time yet. Firstly, I have to deal with Lady Brampton and then Devlin when he arrives. Then I shall be able to enjoy you.”
She gaped at him in shock. “Devlin knows where we are?”
“Of course. I sent him a note telling him so.”
He could almost sense the cold foreboding settling in the middle of her ribcage.
“Why would you do that?” she asked.
He laughed again. “Is it not obvious? I intend to destroy all he holds dear. But first I need to get Lady Brampton.”
“Where is she?” Sophie asked, her voice quivering slightly.
“Do not worry,” he purred as he leaned in toward her and placed his head down onto her blonde tresses. She smelled of peaches. He was going to enjoy her so much tonight. “I have not killed her yet, if that is what you are thinking. No, the stupid twit had to pay homage to her husband’s grave first.”
“Why does she think Devlin’s father is responsible for her husband’s death?”
He laughed again. “Because I convinced her it was so. It has been so easy to do. Though I was the one who killed my father. He was the first person I ever murdered.”
“But you were only a child,” Sophie exclaimed.
He was happy she knew that. “Yes, but I was fourteen and fairly large for my size and had decided to confront him after only just having found out that he was my father. He was such a hypocrite. Everyone thought him to be so benevolent, visiting our orphanage every month. Little did they know it was so he could keep his dirty secret from being revealed.” He looked up at Sophie. “He did not even speak with me once, in all those years visiting the place, not once.
“When I found the money and letters the headmistress had been using to blackmail him, I needed to meet him. I found him riding his horse alone through his grounds. I didn’t actually intend to kill him, but when he got off his horse and dismissed me out of turn, something strange came over me. When he turned around to remount, I picked up the nearest rock and struck him on the back of the head with it as hard as I could. He fell to the ground and did not move.” He felt completely enthralled with the memory. “An intense feeling of euphoria came over me, but of course, I was terrified I would be caught, so I went to leave. But I could not resist taking his ring with me, a symbol of all that I had missed out on but should have been entitled to.”
“So you were trying to frame Devlin with it,” she blurted out.
“Not really,” he said. “I knew the authorities would speak with him, but they would never arrest a Duke. I just wanted to make things more difficult for him.”
“But why hold onto the ring all these years then?”
“I was not going to. In fact, when I got back to the orphanage, after I punished the headmistress, I was intending to go back and replace the ring in his bedroom. That way the authorities would not be suspicious of his death. But when I snuck into his room, I found Lady Brampton on his bed, crying to herself in the darkness. At first, she didn’t even register that I was there watching her in the shadows, and she started ranting and raving to herself about James’ killing her precious husband.” He lifted a shoulder. “That was when I came up with the brilliant notion to nurture those thoughts of hers. Then I could control her.”
“Surely she did not believe you?” Sophie said.
“A woman stricken with grief will believe anything she is told, particularly if she has already half-convinced herself of it. As soon as I made myself known, I managed to persuade her that I had been hiding in the bushes and had seen a man strike her husband on the head with a rock and then take his ring: a man named James. She had then told me as much information as she could about the entire family, after I promised her to avenge my father’s death against Devlin’s side of the family.” The woman had been putty in his hands ever since.
“You used her grief to twist her thoughts.” There was contempt in Sophie’s voice. The fact irritated him slightly. Didn’t she see the brilliance of his manipulation?
“The woman was more than happy to believe the tale. In fact, she latched onto it fiercely, not even suspecting that I had been the one to kill her husband. She even gave me money to run away with.”
“But society knows of you as Lord Hemingsworth. How is that possible?”
“Ah.” He nodded his head repeatedly, enjoying the thought of his own cleverness. “That was easy enough. When I later returned to England, I approached her, and she agreed to vouch for me in society. Hence I became known as Lord Hemingsworth. No one even questioned my identity with the patronage of the Dowager Marchioness of Brampton behind me. It has all been too easy, actually.”
She slowly backed away toward the corner of the room. “Does Lady Brampton know that you killed those three people?”
“Yes, but she does not care. All she cares about is having her revenge against Devlin for his father’s supposed sin. I think she is slightly unhinged. In fact”—he chuckled—“I cannot wait to see her reaction when she finds out that it was I all along who killed her beloved Charles.”
He glanced up into Sophie’s face and frowned when he saw her gaze dart to his left side. Quickly, he pivoted, just in time to see Lady Brampton had silently snuck up behind him and was about to lunge at him with a knife.
He knocked her hand to the side, but the knife still grazed his chest.
“You bastard!” Lady Brampton screamed. She lunged at him again. This time, he grabbed her wrist as she fell on top of him. The old hag was actually trying to kill him? He knocked the knife from her hand and rolled her over onto her back, his body pining hers beneath him.
“You killed my Charles! You killed him!” she screamed as she tried to pummel her fists against his arms. “You lied to me all of these years.”
“You stupid bitch!” he roared at her as he grabbed the knife and plunged it into the woman’s chest.
Suddenly, he felt Sophie jump onto his back. With a bellow, he tried to knock her off. Belatedly, he felt something smash against the side of his head before his own world went dark.
…
Sophie pushed Heminsgworth, or Simon, or whatever he wanted to call himself, off of Lady Brampton, the unconscious weight of him unaccountably heavy. But with a final shove, she managed to roll him off and onto the wooden floor.
Her blood ran cold as she saw the glassy eyes of Lady Brampton staring into the distance, the woman’s chest covered in dark red blood. Quickly, Sophie looked away. As much as she hadn’t liked the woman, no one deserved to die like that.
She glanced across to Hemingsworth and nearly jumped out of her skin when he moaned lightly. He was still unconscious but looked as if he was slowly coming to. She had to get out of here immediately. There was nothing she could do to help Lady Brampton now, and as sad as it was, in the end, the woman had sealed her own fate.
Sophie dashed out of the room and ran through the corridor and out into the dark woods that surrounded the small cottage. Paying little heed as the small twigs and branches battered against her face, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her over the uneven ground.
Suddenly, she stopped. She would only get lost if she kept running into the wilderness, and most likely, Hemingsworth would have a fair knowledge of this area, seeing as he had grown up around here, and would probably find her without too much trouble. In fact, he would expect her to run. What he would not expect her to do would be to circle back to the lodge.
She listened intently. She could not hear any footsteps following her. Slowly, she glanced back to where she had come from. She could just make out the light of the lodge in the distance.
At least Devlin would be on his way to save her, even though he would know he was riding into a trap. The thought filled her with more terror than her own death.
She would not leave him to face that madman alone.
She couldn’t, for as much as she loathed to admit it, she had fallen in love with a rake after all. And as much as Devlin tried to push her away, she wouldn’t stop loving him. And she would not run and hide while Hemingsworth tried to kill him.
She started to veer off to the right from where she came, deciding to circle around back to the lodge. But first, she picked up a rock the size of an orange and put it in her pocket, along with grabbing a nice heavy branch and holding it in front of her. Both would do as weapons if they had to.
Her mind made up, she slowly began circling back to the building. She prayed this was not a foolish idea. For who in their right mind would go back to confront a murderer? Well, that was what she was counting on, that Hemingsworth would not even think it a possibility.
Chapter Forty-Two
Devlin saw the light from the lodge just over the ridge. Only a minute more on foot and he would be there. He had left his horse tied to a tree beside the main road, as much to mask his approach as to serve as a sign to his men of where to follow. Who, he hoped, were not too far behind him, though he had ridden like the very Devil was chasing him.
The thought that he might be too late to save Sophie whispered across his mind, but he pushed it firmly aside. He could not think of such a thing, or he would not be able to function. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, his revolver held firmly in his right hand as he stalked toward the lodge, carefully keeping to the shadows.
As he approached the edge of the woodland, the disused lodge came into sharper view several meters away. An old lantern hung on a peg by the front door, illuminating both the entrance and the small path leading to the dirt trail. What worried him most was that the front door was lying wide open, yet all of the windows had been boarded up tight, and he could only make out the barest hint of light coming from within. It was not a good sign.
He looked to the left of the cottage and could see Sophie’s carriage and its horses tethered to the side of the building. Apart from horses’ slight nickering, not a sound could be heard. Devlin felt a terrible tightness in his heart. Something was wrong, very wrong indeed.
He stood silently, shadowed by a tree, and watched for a minute. Nothing moved. He quickly maneuvered around to the back of the lodge. Again nothing. Not even a lantern lighting the back door.
But it was a mistake on the madman’s part; shadows were much easier to blend into than the light.
When he was sure he would not be ambushed, he quickly ran to the back door, using the shadows to partially hide him. He crouched down beside the door and twisted the knob. It was unlocked and opened effortlessly at his touch.
He positioned his revolver in front of him and carefully slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him. The hallway was dark but for a light flickering from the front.
He silently made his way along the short corridor, passing an empty kitchen and room to his right. As he approached the two front rooms, he stopped and listened again. Nothing. Not one sound.
He slipped along the hallway and stopped in his tracks. For up ahead, through the partially opened door to the room on the left, he saw the petticoats of a dress on the floor, and a booted female leg was attached.
No! He could not be too late. Heedless of the danger to himself, he raced into the room, his world feeling like it was spinning out of control.
A profound sense of relief ran through him when he realized it wasn’t Sophie lying there. Instead, Lady Brampton’s lifeless body stared up at the ceiling. Someone had stabbed her in the heart. At least she likely hadn’t suffered greatly before her death.
Devlin quickly walked through to the other room. There was a man he did not recognize dead on the floor in a pool of blood. He looked to be a servant, if his attire was anything to go by.
Devlin returned to the main room, certain now that the house did not contain Sophie or whoever had killed Lady Brampton and the servant.
Had Sophie been taken elsewhere? Had she escaped? He felt like howling into the night with his frustration. Where was she? If she had escaped, she could be anywhere, as the woods surrounding the Huntington estate were over fifty hectares.
