Hugh nudged Rattray back into the room.
“Hugh!” Lucy stood pale and still, her eyes wide. A bruise darkened her cheek and another on her chin, and there were deep, violet half-moons beneath her eyes.
“You villain!” Hugh punched Rattray in the solar plexus and as the cretin staggered back with an “oomph,” Hugh dealt him a brutal left undercut to his jaw, then followed it up with a stinging right. Rattray folded up like a fan and fell, then lay spread-eagled on the floor, cursing in a very ungentlemanly like manner, while feeling his jaw.
His eye on Rattray, Hugh went to Lucy, wanting to make sure she was unhurt. “Did this villain harm you?”
She put her hand to her cheek. “No. Only bruises.”
“I’ll be with you in a moment, sweetheart.”
Lying on the floor, Rattray watched him keenly, like a snake watches its prey.
Hugh brandished his pistol. “Get up. We’ll see what the magistrate makes of this.”
“You won’t shoot me,” Rattray said. “You lords are too soft and lily-livered.” He reached down and pulled a small pistol from his boot, and as his finger tightened on the trigger, Hughflung himself to the side. As the bullet hit the wall behind him, Hugh fired.
Rattray stumbled back, clutching his chest, where blood had begun to seep through his waistcoat. He crumpled to the floor with a gurgling sound, his head falling back.
Hugh kneeled beside him, but it was clear the man was dead.
At the sound of the shots, Luke ran inside. “What the…?” He bent over to the prostrate man. “Dead. Pity, I would have liked to spend some time with the villain.”
Lucy stood with her hands over her ears. Then, with a gasp at the dead body, she ran into Hugh’s arms.
Hugh had gathered Lucy’s trembling body close and shielded her from the sight. “You’re safe now, sweetheart.” He glanced at the burned curtain. “It looks like you’ve been giving him some trouble.”
“I tried to burn the hut down,” she murmured, clutching his coat. “But I’m afraid it didn’t work. I’m so glad to see you and Mr. Beaufort.” With a shuddering gasp, she drew away. “Rattray admitted he was responsible for poisoning the Marquess of Berwick and his sons. He claims one child died, even.”
Hugh hadn’t shot a man since the war and had hoped never to do so again. He shook his head. “Dear Lord.The manwasmad.”
“Poor Aunt Mary was completely taken in by him,” Lucy said. Her eyes widened. “Aunt Mary must have told you he’d taken me.”
“Yes. She came back to London the next morning to ask for Sarah’s help.”
“Is she all right?”
“Somewhat unnerved by the experience, but when she sees you, I’m sure she’ll be much better.” He gazed tenderly down at her. “We’ll go back into Chigwell and see the parish constable. Shouldn’t be a matter for the magistrate, not with a witnessto the fact that Rattray fired first.” His bullet had shattered a timber panel on the wall.
“I’ll testify I saw that as well,” Luke said.
“No.” Lucy put her hand to her cheek. “I shan’t have you lie for me. No more lies. My witness testimony will surely be enough.”
“Right.” Luke bent to drag the body outside.
“Better to leave it as it is, Luke,” Hugh said. “And his gun. The constable will want to view the scene.”
Luke nodded and went outside to bring the phaeton closer to the house.
Hugh raised Lucy’s tear-stained face and gazed tenderly into her eyes, hating to see how she’d suffered at that scoundrel’s hands. He couldn’t help himself. He kissed her, her lips as soft and sweet as they were in his dreams.
“I’ve wanted to tell you how I felt for weeks,” he admitted when he drew away. “But I wasn’t free. I had an unresolved betrothal to deal with.”
“And now?” she asked searching his eyes.
“Miss Ashton is to marry someone else.”
“Hugh,” she murmured as her arms slid around his neck, and she pressed herself against him. His hands at her waist, he pressed his mouth to hers again as blood raced through his veins. It was all he could do to end the kiss and pull away. His heart banged in his chest at his palpable relief. He’d been grinding his jaw since he’d first heard of her abduction, and a muscle jumped.