Forsaking the Prize (The Wild Randalls 2)

“Like hell they’re getting that from any of us,” Leopold growled. “And who the devil are they?”

“You’ll see in a moment. I’m more than happy to show them. They’re not going to like what I tell them, but let’s get this mess out of the way now. Come with me.”

Oliver moved ahead and was the first one through the doorway. Tobias caught his brother around the waist and held him steady on his feet. A circle of servants stood before them. Wilcox at their head, the cook, several footmen and, surprisingly, the housekeeper stood in their midst, too. Each possessed a weapon of a sort. The cook passed a wicked looking knife from hand to hand—one capable of severing the head of any small animal. This was likely the man that had put Blythe’s reputation in peril. He clenched his fist ready to do battle as Leopold swore and lifted his arm, pistol cocked and ready.

Oliver forced Leopold’s arm down. “No need for hostilities. We’ll give them no trouble.”

Tobias clenched his fists. “Speak for yourself.”

Wilcox sneered. “You’re no match for all of us.”

“No. No. No. This foolishness has to stop.” Oliver stepped forward until he stood in the center of the tiled floor. “We will give you what you’ve been searching for and then you will leave Romsey. Leopold, stand on the lower stair and turn the balustrade knob clockwise until it clicks.”

Tobias’ pulse hammered in his ears as Leopold moved to do as asked without a word of protest. Blythe, Mercy and Edwin stood behind them and he was glad for that. They were outnumbered and unarmed. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, and if this went badly, it would be bloody.

The floor beneath his feet shook and he looked down again. Oliver, and the floor he stood on, fell half a foot. Everyone backed away.

Calmly, as if such matters occurred every day, Oliver shuffled off the section and toward him. “There is a chain behind that panel of wood there, Tobias. Press to open it, and then tug on the chain until I say stop.”

Tobias saw a rose carved into the panel and pressed on it as he would with the store room. The panel released and he peered into the very walls of Romsey Abbey. An old rusty chain passed behind the paneling and he grabbed it and tugged. It took more effort than Oliver had let on for the chain to move, but when it did the floor rumbled again.

“What the devil is this?” Wilcox hissed.

He glanced over his shoulder as the other servants gasped and grumbled. A black pit had opened up in Romsey Abbey’s entrance hall. The access to the duke’s sanctuary and Romsey’s true riches were exposed.

Oliver clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s far enough. Come see what the duke’s perverted sense of humor has wrought upon us.”

Tobias let go the chain and glanced down properly.

The pit was ten inches deep and led exactly nowhere.

Oliver set his hands on his hips and addressed the servants. “There was but one way in. The duke sealed it. He’d rather ruin whatever marvels he’d hidden down there than have anyone else claim what was his.”

The servants looked between each other nervously. One even came forward and touched the newly exposed ground. “It’s hard. Can we break through it with a pick and mattock if given enough time?”

Oliver shook his head. “I doubt your chances. The duke was a very thorough man. Whatever was down there is lost or at least ruined by the cement.”

Leopold jumped off the step, releasing the knob, and the chain in Tobias’ fingers jerked. He slowly let it go and the floor resealed itself as if it had never been opened.

Leopold set his hands to his hips. “I want you all gone from Romsey—every last one of you. Never come back here.” He shoved his hand in his coat pocket and threw a wad of notes and coins across the floor. “Consider that your reference. Now get out.”

Some snatched up the money and bolted for the servants stairs. Wilcox lingered, his expression stricken. “How could he have done that?”

“As with everything. Because he could.” Tobias crossed the room in three long strides and caught Wilcox by his cravat. He lifted the butler from the ground. “You knew what was going on all along and played us for fools?”

“Mr. Randall,” he squeaked, struggling for his release. “You misunderstand.”

“Oh, I don’t think I do. Your life is over, but I’ll allow my eldest brother to take the first shot. There’s a nice tree on Romsey’s front drive that we can lash you to.”

“Tempting, but a body could prove to be a problem,” Oliver advised seriously. “Better to turn him off without a reference than follow the duke’s example of destroying everyone that crossed him. A man Wilcox’s age should do poorly away from here.”

Although the urge to throttle him remained, Tobias let the butler go. He didn’t want to do anything that might jeopardize his future with Blythe. As long as Wilcox and the others left, he could curb his need for revenge. But if they ever came near Romsey again, he’d make them wish they hadn’t.

Footsteps pounded down the main staircase as Leopold’s valet and Eamon Murphy joined them, brandishing pistols. Wilcox took one look and fled.

Leopold cocked his head. “Follow them and make sure they take nothing.” He cleared his throat. “I, ah, owe you and Lady Venables an apology. You were both correct about Wilcox and I didn’t pay either of you enough heed. Forgive me.”

“I do hate to say I told you so, Leopold,” Tobias laughed.