Лорен Уиллиг: The Deception of the Emerald Ring

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.

With a low growl, little more than a rumble in the throat, Jasper dropped Letty. Letty couldn't have been more delighted.

The wagon lurched precipitately as Geoff leaped into the wagon bed, landing in a fighter's crouch in the well-used straw. Sensing the change in weight, the horse flicked its ears briefly back, before he went back to munching on his patch of grass, leaving the silly humans to their own devices.

"Would you care to repeat that—to me?" Geoff demanded, a dangerous glint in his gray eyes. "Or do you only war on women these days, Jasper?"

Slumping against the side of the wagon, Letty dragged in a labored breath, her cramped lungs sluggishly resuming work. Her cheek ached, the back of her head ached, her chest ached, but at the sight of Geoff, she could feel a wild exultation flood through her, headier than air.

Somewhat less enthused by the new addition to their party, Jasper turned slowly to face his cousin, his brows drawing together over the long Norman nose that was one of the few features they shared.

"I had other plans for you, cousin, but this will do just as well, when you and your lady wife"—nursing his bleeding hand, Jasper glowered at Letty, turning the word "lady" into the worst sort of slur—"are found dead, murdered by an anonymous footpad."

"It's so nice to find you finally pursuing a gainful occupation," replied Geoff. "But I suggest you find someone else to go bother."

"Oh, you can mock," replied Jasper. He flexed his hands as he stalked, one booted foot, then the other, up onto the wagon seat. He loomed over the box, the very image of menace. "Mock all you like. You won't be mocking—urgh!"

All his energies focused on his cousin, Jasper never saw the small form creeping purposefully along the box behind him. He didn't feel the two hands press against his back until it was too late.

Arms flailing, Jasper tumbled over the edge of the seat. With a crash that rocked the entire vehicle and sent little bits of straw spurting into the air, he landed facedown in the wagon bed.

Geoff jumped nimbly back as Jasper went sprawling at his feet.

A faint groan emerged from the straw.

"And that," said Letty distinctly, brushing off her hands, "is quite enough from you."

Geoff's eyes, alight with admiration, met Letty's over Jasper's fallen form.

"Nicely done," he said.

"Thank you." Letty regarded her handiwork with some satisfaction. "I thought so."

Jasper's bloodied face rose from the straw to glower malevolently at Letty. "My nose is broken, you—"