by Emma Wildes
“Did your quest go well, my dear?” Jack asked. “A new hat, wasn’t it?”
She grimaced charmingly. “Nothing quite so inane, darling. And yes, it did.” Her gaze slid between them and she must have sensed the charged atmosphere in the room, because she asked, “Am I truly interrupting something? You both look a little grim.”
“Not at all.” Still standing, Alex inclined his head. “Actually, I must be going, though it pains me to quit your company, Madame Rivers.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Jack nodded at his wife and then escorted Alex down the hallway toward the front door. The incommunicative footman was in the foyer so Jack actually followed Alex outside and said in a low voice, “Whatever you need from me, you’ve only to ask. Send me word.”
Pausing on the steps and gripping his friend’s hand tightly, Alex nodded his thanks. By God, he thought as he went down to his waiting carriage, an ally, especially one of the caliber and intelligence of Jack Rivers, was just what he needed. Set Jack, with his keen mind and experience, to the task of gathering helpful information, and there just might be a chance of catching the culprit. Besides, Jack traveled in the same circles—
“Pssst, guv.”
Alfred Tolley crouched in the gutter, hunched down by the side of the carriage, staring up at the house. His gaze was fixed on the front door and his thin body was tense.
Alex said sharply, “Tolley? Thought you would be long gone by now. What are you doing?”
“Forgot my hat, sir, in the conveyance, and came back for it.”
“Yes.” Registering the young man’s odd behavior with foreboding, Alex followed that intent stare and saw nothing but the front of the decaying townhouse. “So?”
“You asked me, sir, if I would recognize Pickford’s ladybird, did you not?”
Not liking the expression on the boy’s face, Alex frowned. “Yes, I did.”
“Well, she arrived a few minutes ago and went into that house, sir. The one you just left.”
Eloise?
That news was as stunning as a punch to the gut. Alex growled, “You’re mistaken, Tolley.”
The boy shook his head. “Small, blond, as pretty as a glass teapot, sir. Blue dress, big blue eyes that could lure a man to anything. It’s her, sir.”
Eloise Rivers. Alex felt a bit stupefied. Eloise as mistress to Pickford? It made no sense.
Tolley glanced up and cleared his throat. “And the man. The one following her last night…well, he’s the one has just seen you out, sir. Tall and dark as Hades.”
Jack.
A heartbeat of denial passed.
Then in harsh order, Alex said, “Get in the carriage now, Tolley.”
Chapter 15
Once again she arrived at Braidwood alone and in the dark. This time, however, there were lights in the windows, and instead of a thicket of wild grass and overgrown hedges, the lawn was neatly clipped and the walkway clear. Jessica alighted from the carriage and inhaled deeply the smell of summer fields and twilight skies, nostalgia settling over her like a well-thrown mantle.
Home.
Alex had not lied; he was intent on making the place back into the grand estate it had once been. Her gaze sweeping up over the front of the house, she saw the cleaned facade, the well-groomed curve of the drive, and the smell of fresh-turned soil hung in the evening air. To have done so much in such little time, he must have spent a fortune and hired a small army.
Alex had given her back her home.
The aching loneliness that had settled into her stomach on the journey now came to life with an attention-getting pang. She would not fall asleep tonight in strong arms, nor would she waken to warm caresses.
But…she had made her choice. The question was, would he come after her?
* * * *
He missed his wife.
What were a few hours here and there? He imagined they would settle into a comfortable pattern eventually, but…he found himself, even in the middle of this unusual situation, thinking about her.
And he was afraid.
The late afternoon sun had disappeared and the twilight was both eerie and thick with the sounds of evening. At this hour the park was nearly deserted, and their position, under a thick cluster of trees, made the meeting as private as any could be in a public place.
“There is no one I would trust more.”
The declaration fell bitterly into the gathering dusk. Alex declared savagely, “I actually said those words. By God, I feel like a fool.”
General Wright merely smiled, a thin, hard expression on his face that had nothing to do with amusement. On a bench with his hands resting on his knees, he’d listened so far with impassive attention. “Take it easy, Ramsey. Men other than yourself have been taken in by traitors, and Rivers was once a good sort. If,” he added as a telling pause colored the observation, “he is still not a good man. You have no proof, Colonel. And it is a huge problem.”
Practically snarling, Alex turned and took several paces, his hands clasped behind his back so tightly that his fingers began to ache. “It fits too well for me to be wrong, though I wish to the heavens that I were. General, Jack was neck deep in intelligence for Lord Wellington, as you well know. He’s the one man I can easily name who might just have the contacts to discover not only that the Committee exists, but the names of each member. Think about the scenario. He’s captured by the French, falls for the beauteous Eloise who helps him escape, but instead of returning to his post in Spain, he resigns and comes here with his new bride.”
“Hardly proof, any of that. He’d not be the first to sicken of the blood and death.” Swinging around, Alex held up his hand. “Wait, listen on.”
Wright gave an abrupt nod, barely visible in the fading light. “All right, Ramsey, convince me.”
“It has always puzzled me, sir, that Lord Flattery could be so easily killed. After two members dead, he was very much on his guard, as they all are now. Several of their number brutally murdered and yet he lets himself be lured to a secluded place where someone can walk up behind and put a rope around his neck.” Alex lifted his face, grateful for the cooling breeze. “Now, if he were distracted…say, in the arms of a lovely woman, then perhaps he would slip a bit and lose himself in the moment.”
“Eloise Rivers, Colonel?”
“As far as I can ascertain from the information provided to me, both Orschell and Flattery had very recently become involved with someone mysterious. What’s more, Mrs. Rivers was seen by Tolley with Major Pickford yesterday going into an inn. If we suppose our murderer to be not just one man, but a man and a woman working together, it all makes more sense right down to Flatterly’s perfectly tied cravat after someone had stuck a knife in his throat.”
“A woman’s touch, eh?”
“I doubt a man would bother with it.”
What Alex didn’t add was that Jack’s almost scornful comment about the loose morals of married couples now had a chilling significance. Especially if he and his wife were using that weakness in London society to a deadly advantage.
Flatterly, garroted like a pig…
General Wright eyes gleamed. “If Pickford is next, why the attempt to break into your brother’s house last night?”
“Marcus loves his wife in an unfashionable way; it is well known. Their only hope to kill him would be to do it while he’s unaware and sleeping. He isn’t susceptible to seduction.”
“Ah.”
“I imagine they take what opportunities they can, General. I have no idea why they didn’t attempt Pickford at the inn yesterday. Perhaps they saw Tolley watching, or maybe the opening just never presented itself. But, let me tell you this, the fight I had with the intruder only convinces me further that it was Jack. He was the right height and build, and the way he fought…” Voice trailing off, Alex felt a little sick.
“Like a gentleman?”
“No, sir.” Alex felt a tight laugh leave his lips. “He carried himself like a gentleman but he fought like a brawling
soldier.”
Wright looked momentarily amused. “And you, Ramsey? Down and dirty?”
“Damn right, sir. I’ve brawled a time or two and fight to win. I decided a long time ago that honor means very little when it equals a knife stuck into your back.”
“Quite so.” Falling silent and watching a distant horseman gallop across the far end of the grass, Wright looked thoughtful, rubbing his jaw. When he did speak, he said, “Colonel, your theory seems plausible. However, we need proof. Letters, eyewitness accounts, anything. Jack Rivers once distinguished himself to this government. We cannot accuse him lightly of these heinous crimes. Moreover, if he and his wife are seeking to destroy the Committee, I need to know if this is personal revenge or if he has turned and is taking orders from the French.”
“I paid a brief visit to their landlord this afternoon. That particular gentleman told me Jack insisted on renting their townhouse fully furnished, on a month-by-month basis. I’ve been in the place. I found it odd they would live in such shabby surroundings, but now it makes sense. They have nothing of themselves there; no investment, emotional or physical. It appears to me like they are ready to drop out of sight at a moment’s notice, sir.”
“Let’s see to it that they don’t skip out on us, Ramsey.”
“I have a plan.” Alex’s smile was more of a grimace. “Of sorts.”
“Do you? Excellent, then.” Getting up from the bench, the general dusted off the seat of his breeches and tugged at his gloves. His glance was sharp and businesslike. “I assume you’ll be wanting Tolley and O’Brien.”
That was an understatement. Alex laughed, no mirth in the sound. “And anyone else you can spare. Someone needs to watch over Pickford.”
“I might be able to dredge up another man. What about your brother, Colonel?”
“Now that Marcus knows what and who to look for, he can take care of himself.”
“Very good.”
“Sir?”
In the act of turning to leave, Wright swung back around. “What is it, Ramsey?”
It had gotten so dark they could barely see each other under the cover of the trees. Alex blurted out, “All three of the murdered men were strangled before they were posed and left to discovery.” The wave of sickening disappointment swept over him again as he continued. “When we were in Portugal—Jack and I—the local soldiers taught us how to do it and quick, nice and neat. I’ve never cared much for the idea of choking the life out of a man, but Jack was particularly good at it. It was quiet, and in his line of work, sometimes necessary.”
To his surprise, Wright put out his hand and lightly touched Alex’s shoulder. “You do know that this afternoon you tipped Rivers to the fact you are involved in investigating this case? I suggest you be careful.”
“My very thought, General.”
* * * *
“Madam, will there be anything else?”
Startled from picking at her plate, Jessica glanced up. In the dining room where at one time she, Robert, and their parents had dined and laughed, now sat a long, highly polished table and enough chairs to seat at least a dozen people. The chandelier glowed, there was a plush carpet underfoot, and if the walls were still barren and empty, at least the paneling had been cleaned and obvious care put into the old marble fireplace.
As she sat there eating an excellent dinner, Jessica knew she should feel coddled and very, very lucky. Instead she was more alone than she had been even the night she’d broken into the house and found it stripped and forlorn. She attempted what probably turned out to be a wan smile. “Nothing, thank you.”
“If I may say so, you did not eat much. Did the food not suit you?”
The man Alex had hired to run his household was very austere, very proper. Feeling a little like a chastened child wasting her food, Jessica toyed with the stem of her glass and lowered her gaze. “It was delicious. Please tell the cook I’m just very tired from my journey.”
“I will, my lady.” Higgins bowed and left the room.
Pensively she sipped her wine and wondered what on earth Alex was doing.
No doubt he was out running around intent on God knew what secretive business that held such importance that he couldn’t possibly trust her, his wife, with the explanation.
Damn it, how she resented his reticence.
How she wished he were close enough to hear her swear and reprimand her for it.
* * * *
They’d left the house separately, which wasn’t actually suspicious enough by itself. First Eloise, lovely and graceful, sweeping into a carriage. Then Jack, dark and tall in somber evening clothes with his hat pulled low and carrying a cape over one arm, walking down the street to wave at a hired hack.
Undoubtedly they felt very, very safe.
Alex squeezed behind a glossy bush weeping with tiny white flowers and tried to ignore the rain shower of petals across his dark coat. Gazing up at the side of the house, he saw that very few lights were lit, nearly all in the back.
Perfect.
From the condition of the townhouse and the same careless neglect reflected in the gardens, Alex was fairly sure the Rivers kept limited staff. In fact, if the surly footman who answered the door when he’d come to call was any indication, they kept as low a profile as possible.
Every observation pointed to the confirmation of his suspicions.
And none of it proved a thing. That was up to him.
He had a plan, or so he’d told the general. Well, that was true upon interpretation—that is if a plan consisted of agreeing that proof was definitely needed and he had to go get some or look like a suspicious fool.
So here he was, breaking into his old friend’s townhouse like a common thief.
His goal was one of the low windows on the east side of the house. It was another balmy evening, unusually so, and during his brief visit earlier he’d noticed the windows had been open in the room where he’d sat and actually asked the man he now believed responsible for the murders, for his help.
Damn all, it was the thought that might rankle the most. He’d been a fool and not only tipped his hand but no doubt provided Jack Rivers with a great deal of cynical amusement. It galled him almost as much as the deep, deep disappointment he felt in a man he had viewed as a comrade for over a decade.
Crouched down and staying to the shadows, he inched forward, grateful to see that, indeed, the window was still ajar. He turned to signal briefly to Tolley, who was poised at the edge of the alley by the dilapidated stable. Then he eased upward to peer inside.
The moon was even brighter than the night before, lending an eerie illumination to the shabby chairs and worn rug. The door to the hallway was open, which was not the best thing, but otherwise everything looked silent and deserted. How nice, he thought darkly, for Jack to show me the location of his study, the most likely place where there might be incriminating papers or letters. The fact they had enjoyed a drink there crawled under his skin.
With a firm hand on the sill, he hauled himself upward and slid through the window to land on the floor. It took his eyes a second to become adjusted to the gloom, and he stood there and took a deep breath, slowly reaching into his pocket. A wry smile touched his mouth as he pulled forth the item he had borrowed from Tolley. Why the young man carried picklocks on his person was not his business, he told himself. Right now it was to his advantage to be able to access Jack’s desk without having to leave evidence someone had been there.
The room smelled of musty cloth overlaid by the faint tang of tobacco smoke. Stealthily moving across the carpet, he approached the desk and tried the top drawer on the right-hand side, ignoring the few papers carelessly stacked on top of the scratched surface as likely to be harmless if they were in such plain view.
The drawer slid open with ease, containing only several leather-bound ledgers which, when held up to the filtered moonlight coming in the window, looked like household expense accountings. Carefully replacing them, Alex moved on to the other drawers, glanc
ing now and then at the open doorway to the dim hallway. With each one he checked first the contents, and then pulled the entire thing out and examined it for false bottoms or sides.
The only drawer that was locked was the last one he checked, the bottom left. Cursing inwardly that he hadn’t started in the opposite order, Alex crouched down and began to select different sizes from the ring in his hand, toying with the lock and listening intently for the telltale click like Tolley had taught him in their brief lesson an hour before. Beads of sweat began to gather along the line of his jaw as he worked. Even with Tolley and O’Brien watching the house for Jack’s possible return, he was only too aware he would have merely minutes to make his escape in case they should give the warning signal.
The small tick of metal sounded absurdly loud in the stillness of the shrouded room. With a grim sense of triumph, Alex eased the drawer open and lifted out a sheaf of papers, rolled and tied with a bit of ribbon. Slipping them free and unrolling the top one, he stood and angled the vellum toward the dappled moonlight.
The sound of a cool voice made him stiffen.
“It’s both in French and in a code so unbreakable that I feel safe enough to leave those communications in my desk, defended by only a simple lock.” Jack Rivers strolled into the room, his hands casually in the pockets of a dark jacket, his eyes glittering in the uncertain light. “Good evening, Alex. Fancy finding you here. I thought we were allies.”
Good God, Alex thought, feeling a shiver of warning shoot through his whole body, what had happened to Tolley and O’Brien? They were supposed to warn him if anyone at all approached the house.
Jack lifted his brows, obviously able to read the expression on his face even in the darkness. “It was Francois you saw, leaving disguised as myself. We often play little charades for our somewhat nosy neighbors. I intended to leave a little later and meet up with Eloise and dear Major Pickford to take care of some unfinished business. Imagine my surprise when I heard someone moving around in my study.”
