The Deception of the Emerald Ring

Chapter Twenty-nine

One minute Letty was admiring her handiwork; the next she was dangling a foot off the ground.

Two large hands grasped her under the arms, yanking upward. Letty howled with indignation and pain. That grip under her arms hurt, with a throbbing pain that did not get any better when her assailant gave another concerted pull, raising her another half inch and threatening to dislocate her arms from their sockets. Letty batted ineffectually behind her, but she had failed to take into account quite how difficult it was to hit someone who had one by the armpits. Her fingers barely brushed the fabric of his sleeves.

"Let go!" Kicking out behind her, Letty's flailing foot hit wood instead of flesh, with a force that sent pain reverberating all down her leg.

Her captor took advantage of her distraction to haul her up another half foot, her backside scraping against a decidedly splintery surface. Letty's jacket snagged on a rough edge, and her captor gave an irritated grunt.

It wasn't much, but that tone of irritation was unmistakable. Letty made a concerted effort to look behind her that resulted only in a wrenching pain in her right arm.

"Captain Pinchingdale?" she exclaimed.

"Would you be still?" Jasper demanded in aggrieved tones, as though it were perfectly unremarkable for him to be grabbing her from behind and attempting to haul her into a vehicle that seemed to be completely composed of sharp fragments of wood, all aimed at Letty's backside. "You're making this much harder."

"I'm making this harder?" retorted Letty incredulously. "No one asked you to grab me! Put me down at once."

"I'll put you down"—Jasper gave another mighty heave, bringing Letty's back into uncomfortable contact with the edge of the wagon—"once you're inside."

"You might have just asked me," Letty gritted out.

Jasper snorted. It was, Letty had to admit, a fairly accurate representation of the likelihood of her having agreed to go anywhere with him. With a final heave, Letty's back scraped painfully across the edge of the wagon and she toppled over sideways, into a scratchy substance that scraped her cheek and got up her nose. The hay smelled heavily of horse and other substances that Letty, even with her country upbringing, would really rather not have encountered quite so intimately.

Why was it that people suddenly seemed to feel an ineluctable desire to pick her up and toss her into their vehicles? Some women attracted sonnets; others collected small animals. Letty got tossed into carriages. It was a trend that had to stop.

Blowing hay out of her mouth, Letty heard the slap of reins as Jasper urged the horse into motion.

"I hadn't realized you had taken up agricultural pursuits," commented Letty, struggling to her knees as the ill-sprung wagon rocked back and forth. She had never realized before quite how slippery hay could be. Every time she managed to get a bit of purchase, the cart swayed, and her hand slipped out from under her.

Jasper's nostrils flared, in an expression uncommonly similar to that of the animal he was driving. The horse clearly didn't care for Jasper any more than Jasper cared for him. "I couldn't afford anything better. Thanks to our munificent Geoffrey."

Letty clawed her way up onto the bench, wincing at the ache beneath her arms. "If this is another attempt to get me to murder my husband, the answer remains no."

"Do you really think I'm that foolish?"

"Given the circumstances?" Letty didn't have to think about it. "Yes. Now that we've gotten that cleared up, I would be much obliged if you would put me back down. Right now."

"As much as it pains me to disoblige a lady, I'm afraid that won't be possible." Jasper didn't look the least bit pained. "You see, I have plans for you."

Letty had plans for herself, too. She doubted they coincided.

"Well, that's just too bad." Letty reached for the reins. "Some plans aren't meant to be."

Jasper forestalled her by the simple act of pulling a pistol from his waistband and jamming it into the region of her waist. It was much larger than the pistol Geoff had given her, sixteen inches at the least from stock to muzzle. Jasper handled it with a one-handed ease that bespoke long familiarity with the weapon.

"Sit," he commanded.

Letty sat.

"Is it loaded?" she asked hopefully.

Jasper sent her a look loaded with enough derision to stagger the Dowager Duchess of Dovedale. "What do you think?"

"I think you ought to put it down. You might hurt yourself."

"Your concern touches me deeply."

The thought of touching Jasper in any way revolted her. It did not, however, seem politic to say so while he had a gun jammed up against her spleen.

"I'm flattered that you were so determined to have our drive together, but you can let me down now." Letty favored him with a sparkling social smile that was only slightly marred by the smudges on her cheeks and the hay in her hair. "This has been simply charming, but I should be getting back before I'm missed."

"Has anyone ever told you that it's unwise to mock a man with a gun?"

"The situation has never arisen," said Letty honestly. "I would prefer to keep it that way."

It probably wasn't the wisest course to taunt a man with a gun shoved into her ribs, but Letty didn't believe Jasper would actually pull the trigger. At least, not deliberately. Jasper was a boaster and a bully, not a cold-blooded killer.

She hoped.

No, she wasn't going to let herself go down that road. If Jasper had the mettle for murder, he would have just killed Geoff outright, rather than trying to bamboozle her into doing it. Letty didn't doubt that Jasper was greedy enough and conscienceless enough to attempt to arrange the death of anyone who came between him and his tailor, but he just didn't have the backbone to do it himself, a fact for which Letty was profoundly grateful.

Letty scrounged for other explanations. The only one she could come up with was ransom money. The thought cheered Letty immensely. If he was planning to hold her for ransom, she would be far more use to Jasper alive than dead. No one paid full price for a corpse.

Perhaps if she started him talking, Jasper's grip on the weapon would relax. Once the gun was knocked out of his reach…well, she would deal with that bit when she got to it.

"What do you intend to do with me?"

"I thought you would never ask. Get along." Jasper impatiently slapped at the horse, which was ambling along at its own peaceful pace. With a quick look at Letty, he added, "Not you."

"Of course not." Letty folded her hands demurely in her lap and tried not to look as though she were seeking the first opportunity to whack him in the arm, steal his gun, and leap out of the wagon.

"Such a shock it will be to everyone," expatiated Jasper, waving the hand holding the gun, "when the young Viscountess Pinchingdale is found dead. On her honeymoon."

Not kidnapping, then. Jasper did seem to be taking her rejection of his advances a little too seriously. Letty wondered if she ought to have refrained from that comment about his sideburns.

"Not only dead," Jasper continued, warming to his theme, "but murdered. And by whom?"

"Preferably no one."

Jasper ignored her. "By her own husband."

"I hate to point out the flaw in your cunning plan," said Letty, squirming toward the far end of the seat, "but Geoff isn't here."

Jasper brought her to an abrupt halt by the simple expedient of thrusting the gun against her chest. "He doesn't have to be. That's the brilliance of it. It isn't necessary that our dear Geoffrey kill you—"

"How lovely."

"—simply that he be thought to kill you."

"And how do you plan to manage that? Geoff isn't exactly known for his murderous rages. No one is going to believe it."

"Oh, won't they?" Jasper looked altogether too sure of himself for Letty's liking. Even his sideburns exuded smugness. "Everyone knows our blameless Geoffrey was in love with your sister."

"Along with half the ton," snapped Letty. "It is not exactly an uncommon emotion where Mary is concerned."

"It is common knowledge that our Geoffrey was forced against his will to take you instead."

The way Jasper kept repeating "our Geoffrey" set her teeth on edge. Or maybe it was just the gun, poking insistently at the binding around her waist. She could feel the muzzle boring into her side, even through all the layers of fabric. For the first time, Letty wished Jane had wrapped on more binding. And perhaps a few layers of armor.

"I could have the entire ton up on the stand," continued Jasper confidently, "all vouching to the fact that Geoffrey never wanted to marry you."

Letty had no doubt that Mrs. Ponsonby would be the first to testify. "That might be true, but it's no motive for murder. Otherwise you would have three-quarters of the ton in the dock."

"Yours was an exceptional case."

"Wouldn't you rather just kidnap me and hold me for ransom?" Letty suggested. "That way, you get an immediate influx of funds with no pesky little murder charges. You know what they say about a bird in the hand."

"That isn't a bird; it's a gull. Do you really expect me to believe that our Geoffrey would pay to have you back? He wouldn't even travel with you as man and wife." Jasper smirked. "And everyone in Dublin has seen him making up to Miss Fairley. Now there's a fine piece of flesh."

Letty wondered just what Jane would have to say about that description.

"Besides, why would I settle for a measly portion when I could have the whole? Not only the money, but the houses, the title, everything that was due me at birth."

"Due?"

"Due. It should have been mine. What right did Geoffrey have? What did he have that I didn't?"

Letty could have told him the answer to that quite easily—he had the good fortune to be born in the proper order to the proper father—but she suspected the question was intended to be rhetorical.

If Jasper wanted unfair, he should try being born a woman. That would teach him.

"Perhaps," suggested Letty, treading very carefully, "you might try discussing this with your cousin."

Jasper might be venal, but he was, unfortunately, not entirely stupid.

"Do you think I'm entirely stupid? No, the only way is to take my destiny into my own hands. And you, my dear Lady Pinchingdale, are going to help me. Once your body is found"—Jasper gloated over the reins—"I won't even have to kill him. The law will do it for me."

"I'll grant you," said Letty, "that ours has not exactly been a picture of married bliss. But that isn't enough to prove a charge of murder."

"It will be," said Jasper complacently, "when they find our Geoffrey's snuffbox beside your body. It has the letters GP quite clearly worked into the design." Jasper paused for dramatic effect before adding the piиce de rйsistance. "And a portrait of your sister painted on the lid."

There was very little Letty could think of to say in response to that. What was there to say? In conjunction with the rumors percolating about their marriage, the discovery of the snuffbox would be just as damning as Jasper intended it to be. With the picture of Mary simpering sweetly from the underside of the lid, it provided both evidence and motive in one convenient package.

As a peer, Geoff would be tried before the House of Lords. How many members of the peerage had seen Geoff dancing attendance on Mary? How many of them had attended their disastrous wedding? True, those of them who knew Geoff would know that he wasn't the sort to murder his wife—but what was the sort to murder one's wife? They would waggle their double chins and speak wisely of young men being driven to madness by love. Tristan and Iseult would be mentioned, and that earl, two Seasons ago, whose wits had been so weakened by amour that he had gone so far as to marry his mistress. Someone would undoubtedly quote from Romeo and Juliet.

There would be wagging of heads, and reminiscences over past scandals, and the long and short of it would be that Geoff would stand condemned, hoist by his own love poetry.

Jasper wielded his whip with a self-satisfied slap.

"Bring out the black cap," he said cheerfully.

Since there didn't seem to be much point in trying to curry favor, Letty spoke as she felt. "You really are revolting."

Jasper glanced over at Letty, his handsome features arranged in a parody of sympathy. "Come, come, my dear girl, you must get some little pleasure at being the downfall of the man who ruined your reputation."

There was something fundamentally flawed with Jasper's logic, and Letty didn't have a hard time identifying just what it was. "I'd rather be ruined and live."

Jasper shook his head. "Just like a woman to reject the chance of a glorious death."

"Fine. You take death. I'll take dishonor."

"Don't worry, my dear," said Jasper, baring all his teeth. "I'll have a charming picture of you placed in the gallery of Sibley Court. I'll even tell the artist to paint out those freckles."

That did it. "If you are so keen on killing me, why haven't you just shot me already?"

"It might stain my clothes. Do you know how much this waistcoat cost?"

Letty was relieved to know that he had some scruples, even if they didn't necessarily stretch to the sanctity of human life—hers, for a start.

"Most forms of murder are messy," said Letty very seriously. "And no matter how hard you try to scrub at a bloodstain, you never really get the marks out of the fabric."

"Exactly," said Jasper. "That is why I am going to drown you in the Liffey instead."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Letty scarcely knew what she was saying. She was too busy casting about for escape plans. She had no hope of anyone riding to the rescue. Even if Geoff, on a very rare chance, had seen Jasper carrying her off, he had the demolition of the rebel stronghold to take care of. The life of a wife—even if he was glad he knew her—ranked fairly low next to the safety of England. "Water stains silk."

"I wore wool."

Thank goodness she knew how to swim. Not well, but enough to keep her from sinking straight to the bottom. Wearing men's clothing, she stood more of a chance than she would have in skirts. She would just have to pretend to go under and swim furiously toward the other bank.

"And don't think you'll be able to swim," advised Jasper, clearly deriving great pleasure from Letty's discomfiture. "Swimming ought to be quite difficult after a blow to the head."

"Blows to the head bleed badly," countered Letty, pressing back against the side of the wagon. The vial of sleeping potion was still in her waistcoat pocket, but there was no way she could administer it. As for the whistle, she could blow until she was blue in the face; no one would hear her above the rattle of wheels, and even if they did, no one would care. That left only the embroidery scissors. Embroidery scissors. She had as much hope of storming a citadel with a thimble. "If you won't think of me, think of your waistcoat. It's too fine to mar."

With a particularly unpleasant smile, Jasper leaned forward. Reversing his grip on the gun, he raised it high above her head.

"That's a risk I'll just have to take."

Letty was right; Jasper's sideburns were unbecoming.

They wouldn't be all that was unbecoming by the time Geoff was through with him. Jasper was long overdue for a damned good thrashing. Geoff charged toward his horse, before being brought up short by the realization that he hadn't brought one. Damn. He had no hope of catching them on foot. For such a rickety vehicle, Jasper's wagon was receding at an alarming pace. Ahead of him, children and livestock played in the street, carts rumbled past on their way back from market, and weary laborers trudged home from work. The throng of early traffic had slowed Jasper's progress, but it had not stopped him.

Geoff stopped a man leading a tired-looking nag. Whatever the animal's usual function was, it was not a riding horse.

"Here," said Geoff, tossing him a handful of coins without bothering to see what they were. "Buy yourself another horse."

Keeping hold of the bridle, the man tested a coin with his teeth, saying laconically, "I dunno, sir. She's a fine animal, sure and she is…"

Up ahead, Jasper drew something that glistened darkly in the summer sunlight before disappearing again below the level of sight.

The small form next to him went very still.

Fear such as he had never felt before froze through Geoff's veins like congealed January.

Swinging up on the surprised animal's bony back, Geoff lobbed his entire purse at the man with the precision that had made him the toast of the fourth-form cricket team. "Here. This should do."

The heavy pouch whapped the man straight in the chest. Staggering back, he released his grip on the bridle. With one swift kick, Geoff was away, guided by a single, overwhelming imperative: to catch up with his cousin and apply that gun where it would hurt the most.

"You coulda had 'er for a shilling!" floated down the street after him.

Leaning low over the nag's neck, Geoff wove around a dog-cart, a man with a wheelbarrow, and a remarkably unconcerned pig, taking a brief detour into the gutter as he skirted impatiently around a carriage that refused to grant him the right of way.

Jasper was making north, toward the river. Toward the river and the suburbs beyond? The area to the north of the city was still largely undeveloped, a perfect place to cache an unwilling hostage, far away from the great throng of humanity, and the last place anyone would think to look. That must be what Jasper was planning to do, stow Letty away somewhere and use her as a bargaining chip for whatever his latest selfish scheme was—a commission in a better regiment, his debts paid off, his allowance increased. Jasper's desires ran along fairly predictable lines.

But that gun made Geoff nervous. Very nervous. Even if Jasper didn't actually intend to use it, the lurching of the wagon on the uneven surface of the paving stones made its going off a deadly probability. One jolt of the wagon, one inadvertent flex of the fingers…

Geoff was gaining, but not quickly enough.

Why in the hell hadn't he sent Jasper packing back to England the moment he had turned up in front of St. Werburgh's the week before? He ought to have shoved two months' allowance into his hand, marched him straight down to the docks, and personally supervised his removal.

He hadn't thought. He hadn't been thinking. And if he had thought, he would have assumed that the very circumstances of his union with Letty would protect her. The prospect of heirs might well spur Jasper to violent action—Jasper had been holding his creditors at bay for years on the strength of his expectancy in the Pinchingdale estate—but who was less likely to produce heirs than an unwanted wife? As far as Jasper knew, Geoff was courting the favors of Miss Gilly Fairley, which was not a course of action conducive to the begetting of legitimate heirs.

Unless Jasper had seen through the ploy. Indolent Jasper might be, vindictive and venal and selfish, but he was not without a certain raw cunning. And he had known Geoff for a very long time. Those summer holidays they had been forced to spend together at Sibley Court, "playing nicely," had left neither unscarred.

If Jasper realized that Geoff and Letty's marriage had become something more than a sham…

Geoff urged his horse forward, as if by the application of speed he could outrun the misbegotten images propagating through his mind.

It could all happen so quickly. A trigger pulled. A shot muffled by proximity. A limp body tossed out the side of the carriage like so many old clothes. A sea of empty words sloshed through his mind—duty, obligation, and responsibility.

None of them meant a thing next to the raw sensation of panic that washed over him at the thought of Jasper firing that gun. No more ginger hair poking him in the nose when he woke up in the morning; no more tart remarks; no more Letty. The idea of going back to England without Letty made his head echo with the very emptiness of it, as bleak and barren as the black-shrouded corridors of Sibley Court after the smallpox had swept through. Next to it, his despair at being balked of Mary was reduced to what it had been, a child crying after a toy in a window, more pique than pain. But Letty…

He couldn't lose her. Not now.

With an unmistakable motion, Jasper hefted his weapon, angling the solid wooden stock to come crashing down on Letty's unprotected head. Grabbing his wrist, Letty pushed back for all she was worth, but Jasper, stronger by far, was winning. Letty's arms bent back inch by painful inch, incapable of withstanding Jasper's superior force.

In the midst of it all, Jasper laughed, a great, unpleasant guffaw.

With red rage ringing through his ears, Geoff drew abreast, poised to leap from the animal's back into the back of the wagon.

The entire world exploded into chaos.

A comet of flame burst through the roof of the house on Patrick Street, seeming to set the very air on fire with a hail of fiery flecks. Horses reared and pigs squealed as debris ricocheted off the paving stones. Bent bits of metal clattered against the cobbles and carts careened into one another in blind confusion as a sulfurous cloud swept down the street, borne by the evening breeze like a whiff straight from the inner reaches of hell.

Through the screaming, crying confusion, Geoff could vaguely make out Miss Gwen, striding jauntily away from the blazing building as she neatly dusted off her parasol against her trousers.

Even the placid beast dragging Jasper's wagon did what any sensible animal would do. He bolted. Or rather, he tried to bolt. Given the three carts piled up in front of him, he didn't get terribly far, but the abrupt motion yanked the reins from between Jasper's knees and made the cart rock dangerously back and forth. The ancient slats creaked in a way that boded ill for the inhabitants.

Jasper lunged for the dangling ribbons, leaving the pistol wavering half-forgotten in his other hand.

Giving a silent cheer for Geoff and Miss Gwen, Letty seized the moment. Whipping out her embroidery scissors, she slammed the points deep into back of Jasper's hand. Howling, Jasper dropped the gun, flapping his wounded hand in the air and cursing loudly enough to drown out any number of explosions.

The weapon fell clattering to the baseboard. Letty dove for the gun. Jasper dove for Letty. The horse, meanwhile, had found a little clump of grass and was placidly engaged in munching, relieved that the maniac on the box was leaving him be for a bit.

Ha! There was the pistol, right by Jasper's boot. Letty's fingers brushed the barrel just as an agonizing pain shot through her scalp.

The gun skittered out of reach as Jasper hauled her up by the hair. Like the knell of a penny disappearing down a wishing well, Letty could hear the reverberations as the gun tumbled out the side of the wagon and clattered against the spokes of the wheel before clanking down onto the paving stones with one final, conclusory clunk.

Well, if she didn't have it, at least neither did Jasper.

Unfortunately, Jasper had other means at his disposal, means far more lethal than a dented pair of embroidery scissors. He sent Letty reeling back with one casual swipe of the back of his hand. Letty's head connected with the edge of the cart with a force that made flashes of light explode in front of her eyes, blocking all thought except for the searing reality of pain.

With some dim notion of following the way of the gun, Letty let herself slide down off the seat, and began crawling along the baseboard. The wood abraded her palms, and her head ached, throbbing front and back.

The pain made her angry.

Anger was good. Letty used it to fight back a weakening wave of dizziness. Somehow, if she could only find a way out of the cart…

Jasper hauled her up by the back of her collar, thrusting her back onto the seat. He shook his hand in her face, splattering blood across the grimy gray of her cravat. Clearly, he was beyond worrying about bloodstains on his waistcoat.

Jasper's lips peeled back from his teeth in a way reminiscent of wolves in fairy tales. "I'll make you sorry for this," he snarled, yanking Letty up by the cravat.

Letty clawed ineffectually at the hand holding her by the throat, gasping for breath.

"By the time I'm through with you, you'll wish you'd never seen a scissor. I'll—"

"You'll what?" a new voice demanded.