“Leave that to me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Carlisle, then Scotland.”
She gaped at him. “Scotland? Youaremad.”
His face went an ugly red, and Lucy shivered. He frightened her. He always had, she realized. If only Aunt Mary had seen that in him, too. Aunt Mary? Had he hurt her? “Where is my aunt?” she demanded.
“On her way back to London, I should think,” he said with an indifferent shrug.
“Aunt Mary will contact Bow Street,” she warned him. “They will come after you.”
“Perhaps, but that will take days. She would have to engage a Bow Street Runner, and just supposing he discovered our trail, which is unlikely, for no one has set eyes on you since we left London except the innkeeper and his servant, we shall be over the border by then.”
“Why do you want to marry me?” Lucy asked in desperation. “As you’ve planned this, you must have looked into the rumor and know I am not an heiress.”
“Not yet, you’re not,” he said over his shoulder while he inspected the wood box.
“What do you mean?”
He removed the two remaining logs and put them in the grate. Then lit the fire. “Your father will be the Marquess of Berwick before the year is out. And I’m a patient fellow.”
He straightened and looked at her, that gleam back in his eyes, which she’d come to dread. “That’s nonsense. TheMarquess of Berwick is a widower,” she said. “He has two young sons.”
He shook his head. “One son now, for Giles just died. Unfortunately, Berwick and his other son, Sebastian, won’t last long. They are gravely ill.”
She stared at him, shocked. “I don’t believe you!”
“You will, when we get to Carlisle.”
“What could have happened to them?”
“I heard it’s poisoned water. Killed one of the staff, too. Very sad.”
“Poisoned water?” Her stomach roiled. Had he killed a child? “How do you know this? There’s been no mention of it in London.”
“I have connections in Carlisle.”
She put a hand to her stomach, fearing she’d gag, filled with utter terror unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. “Connections? A murderous servant in your pay? You are wicked!”
“I cannot take credit for it,” he said, unaffected by her accusation. “I’ve been in London for months. Any number of people would attest to it. And who would be interested in me? They might focus on your father, however. After all, he will inherit the estate.”
Lucy’s blood ran cold. “That’s absurd,” she gasped out, her fingers digging into her palms, wanting to hit him, to wipe the smug look off his face. “My father would never do such a thing, and he couldn’t. He lives in Bath.”
“But if proof is presented to the magistrate that he hired someone…in the form of a letter, perhaps…” He left the sentence hanging, a sneer curling his lips. “If he agrees to my terms and keeps his word, I shan’t send it, of course.”
“Forged letters? No one would believe it. Your plan will fail, and you’ll end up in Newgate.”
He raised his eyebrows, but his eyes had grown dark and angry. “Wait and see,” he spat out. “It will all become clear to you.”
Lucy, speechless, realized she beheld the devil. But he would not win. He mustn’t. Absolute terror racketed through her. She put a hand to her nape and found it wet with sweat. “I want to wash and dress. My feet are muddy, and I’m cold.” Her voice faltered, and she feared she would faint, but she gripped the sofa and glared at him. “I presume you have brought my luggage? I want to dress.”
Rattray chuckled. “Yes,milady.” He nodded toward the door. “You can change in there. I’ll bring you your luggage and a bowl of water.”
“No. First, put the water and my luggage in the room,” she said, folding her arms.
Rattray frowned but went outside to the pump. Lucy opened the other door and darted inside, hoping to find a window, but it was as Rattray had said, bolted shut. The shadowy room smelled just as bad as the other, perhaps worse. It didn’t bear thinking about as she stared at the narrow cot and its frayed coverlet. A table sat beside it with a stub of candle in a candlestick. Could she get hold of the tinderbox? Would he light it for her? If she could set the cabin on fire, she could escape into the forest. Rattray might be cruel and a ruthless murderer of children, but he wasn’t stupid. He had the cunning of a fox. How could she outwit him? She stepped back through the door as he came inside the hut carrying the bowl.