Realm 05 - A Touch of Mercy

by Regina Jeffers

  He should send her away, but Aidan suspected it would not be that easy. The possibility shook him to his core. He had lost so much. Lost his dream, the one to which he had clung for so long. Now, he wanted the dream again. He wanted a wife and a family; yet, was he willing to risk having his heart crushed again to claim a bit of happiness?

  He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. Silence, thick and despairing, cloaked his shoulders. “What am I doing? I have played the role of tinker and gentleman, but my trickery has been in behalf of the British government. Suddenly, an idea so dreadful it rocked his composure exploded in Aidan’s head. Could Miss Purefoy repeat lines in a theatre greater than a country assembly? Could she be an agent for the Realm’s enemies?

  Aidan wished for his memories to return so he would have a point of reference by which to judge what had happened of late. As if something was missing, an aching pain filled his heart. He felt all of the uncertainties were held in the lady’s delicate grasp.

  He had no idea how long he had sat as such. Somewhere below, a clock struck one. Slowly, Aidan forced himself to his feet. He had returned to his home with grand plans only to second-guess his choices. “I cannot go forward until I speak to the lady.” Dejected, Aidan turned his steps toward his quarters.

  However, the sound of a door opening behind him had him spinning around to meet what he instantly knew was an intruder. Other than the two at the head of the hallway, no rooms in this part of the house were occupied. Aidan had expected to meet, at best, a familiar thief, but he had not been prepared to face Murhad Jamot; however, that was who stood before him. “What the bloody hell!” he exclaimed.

  The Baloch smiled warmly as he unsheathed a long knife at his side. “I was told you were away,” he said in heavily accented English.

  Aidan edged toward the light. He did not think he could retrieve his gun from his inside pocket without the Baloch noting the movement. He would face the Realm’s enemy bare-handed. Aidan could set up an alarm, but he was better trained to fight this intruder than were his most burly footmen. “Who spoke of my absence?” he demanded.

  Jamot took a defensive stance. “You have those upon your staff not so loyal. I have visited your house previously.”

  “So I have heard,” Aidan snarled. His eyes searched the hall for possible weapons. Several seconds ticked off before he asked, “What brings you to my home for a second look?”

  The Baloch stood perfectly still, and Aidan could not help but to admire the man’s bravado. Murhad Jamot did not fear dying. Aidan wondered if his enemy could read him as easily. Until of late, he had had little for which to live, but with Miss Purefoy in his life, he held a reflection of hope. Despite his earlier misgivings, Aidan doubted he could give her up.

  “I search for the emerald,” the Baloch said matter-of-factly.

  Aidan chuckled ironically. “After all this time, you still believe one of us involved in Ashmita’s escape had something to do with Mir’s emerald? And here I had given you credit for more intelligence. I begin to think you have no desire to return to your home. England has grown on you.” Aidan flexed his fists, waiting for the Baloch’s attack.

  “As for this God-forsaken damp country, you are welcome to it.” The Baloch scowled. “Yet, Mir expects by diligence.”

  Aidan actually felt empathy for the man. The Baloch had been sent on an impossible mission, and, unfortunately, Jamot would never be welcomed home unless he succeeded. The man was in permanent exile. “You will never know fruition.”

  Jamot smiled dryly. “We will see.” A long pause was interrupted by the smell of smoke.

  “What have you done?” Aidan charged forward, and Jamot countered with a move, which placed Aidan on his backside and the Baloch towering over him.

  “I have done nothing, Lord Lexford,” Jamot hissed. “But you have many enemies, and several reside under your roof.”

  Aidan made no countermove. The Baloch held the advantage of a weapon. Aidan desperately wanted to know of whom Jamot spoke. Possibly his memory loss had a source close to home. “You have claimed solidarity twice. Name your compatriots,” he growled.

  Jamot smiled deviously. “That would be too easy, my Lord. Why do we not negotiate? I will name those who opened your doors to the likes of me if you will return Mir’s emerald.”

  Aidan scooted backwards out of the Baloch’s reach. “I will permit you to search my house without fear of incarceration if you provide me the names of those who mean me harm. If you find the emerald, it is yours. I simply want my life to know normalcy.” He stood gingerly to face Jamot again.

  The Baloch sighed. “It is the wish of many men, but I have only two names to share. Are two names enough to whet your taste, my Lord?”

  Jamot switched the knife to his less-dominate hand, and Aidan wondered what the man planned. “As I have nothing to hide, your terms are most amenable.”

  “Nothing to hide is it, my Lord? Then why have you placed young guards about your estate?” Jamot maintained his threatening stance. “Perhaps you should study your family tree as closely as have I. I find my strength in knowing my enemy’s weaknesses.”

  Annoyance chewed upon his patience. Aidan said testily, “What does all your tosh mean? Just speak the truth. My temper has known enough of the world’s manipulations.” In frustration, he unconsciously jammed his fingers into his hair. Aidan knew he should not ask, but he could not stop the words. “Is Miss Purefoy one of my enemies?”

  The Baloch smiled knowingly. “Miss Purefoy?” he said with satisfaction. “Is that the lovely lady’s name?”

  Aidan’s heart sank. “Do you know Miss Purefoy?” He had been so certain he could have the woman without his heart being involved. Unfortunately, Aidan suspected misery would soon become his companion.

  The knife rested again in the Jamot’s right hand, and he gestured with it. “I have not had the acquaintance of Miss Purefoy, but I do know a Miss Nelson.”

  “N…Nelson?” Aidan could barely get the word out. His throat closed in dread. “As in the marquis’s wife?” But before he could ask more, a door opened at the end of the hall, and a young gentleman with whom Aidan held no knowledge stepped into the muted light. With hair as dark as the night sky, the man had a presence of authority.

  “Talpur?” The stranger spoke with a Northern accent. “Have you…” The intruder broke off when he spied Aidan.

  Aidan asked suspiciously. “Talpur?”

  The Baloch shrugged. “It is as it should be,” he said softly.

  “We must go,” the stranger called urgently. Aidan wished he could see the man clearly, but Jamot stood between him and the Englishman.

  Jamot began to back away. “I fear our negotiations have taken a divergent path, my Lord. You must discover the answers on your own.”

  Aidan stalked Jamot’s retreat. “You have entered my house for the last time. You come again, and I will kill you.”

  The Baloch laughed. “And here I thought we had come to an understanding, Lord Lexford.” Without removing his eyes from Aidan, Jamot executed a flamboyant bow before turning toward the still open door through which the gentleman had disappeared.

  Aidan gave pursuit, but he pulled up when the smell of smoke became more pronounced. Instead of giving chase, he followed the scent of burnt timber to open the door leading to the area, which had haunted his house and his dreams forever. Flames rose from the shambles of the former west wing of Lexington Arms. His heart stumbled to a halt. He could lose it all.

  He turned toward the main stairs. In a panic, Aidan called out the alarm. “Fire! Fire! Fire!”

  A footman appeared. “What is amiss, my Lord?”

  “The west wing,” he huffed. “Another fire! Rouse everyone!” Without waiting for the man’s response, Aidan returned to the wing. He had to warn Miss Purefoy. Skidding to a halt before her door, Aidan pounded with both fists. “Mary! Mary! Do you hear me? Mary! Please.”

  “What is the danger, my Lord?” He turned his head t
o find Serena Chadwick clutching a robe to her chest.

  “There is a fire, Miss Chadwick. I need you and Miss Purefoy out of the house immediately.”

  The woman glanced toward the open door and the smoke billowing into the hall. “Miss Purefoy is gone, Sir. She left while you were absent from the manor. In fact, the night of your leaving from what we can decipher.”

  Aidan could not comprehend how what Miss Chadwick said could be so. He and Mary had finally known sweet intimacies. He meant to make his addresses to the lady in the morning. “Gone?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The sound of his men rushing to his aid brought Aidan from his stupor. “Tell Miss Hanson to take Aaron to a point of safety outside. Stay there until I come for you.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The girl rushed away to do his biding. Aidan glanced to Mary Purefoy’s room. She had spent the night with him; and then the lady had departed. “Just like all the others,” he whispered. The tumult surrounded him, but not all of the chaos came in the form of the fire. Aidan shoved his heartache aside to bark out orders. “You two organize the water buckets. You check the nearby rooms to make certain the fire has not spread to the rest of the house. You others, come with me.”

  Aidan led the way outside. The water line had formed, and he stripped off his jacket to join it, but before he could heft the bucket from Deland, one of the grooms caught his arm.

  “There be someone in the fire, Sir.”

  Aidan’s eyes followed along the line of the young groom’s arm. “Damn!” he growled. “Do we know who it is?” A woman was tied to the center post close to where Miss Purefoy had rescued Aaron. Through the flames, Aidan could see the brown and gold of the day dress he had commissioned for the woman. She writhed and pulled at the ropes. “Good Lord!” he groaned.

  He rushed to the door leading to the yellow drawing room. It stood open upon the night. It was likely the entry point for Jamot and his accomplice, but Aidan had no time to investigate the scene. A woman’s life rested in his hands. He had lost Susan in a fire, but the suicidal plunge into the fire’s center had been his wife’s choice. This was different, he told his reasonable side.

  Climbing the servants’ stairs two and three at a time, Aidan emerged into the same hallway where he had encountered Jamot earlier. Now, thick smoke filled the air. Dropping to the floor, Aidan crawled along the passage to the open door.

  Emerging into the open space, Aidan tottered on one of the braced joints before claiming his balance. From his vantage point, he could see the fire line was a large circle about a makeshift bonfire in the middle of the open space. Flames danced high, but the fire was not as dangerous as he had first thought. Aidan bent low to direct his men. “Place water on the circle first.” He lay out along the beam and gestured to those below. “Deland, direct part of the men to pull the timbers from the bottom. Spread it out. Not all the pieces hold fire!”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  Aidan began to work his way toward the girl. Secretly, he had hoped it was Miss Purefoy. In fact, the possibility of Jamot’s accessory having teased Aidan by placing Miss Purefoy in danger would have been the script if the Baloch had been in charge. Jamot enjoyed pure drama. Instead, the girl was a wide-eyed Millie Joseph, Mary’s maid. The reason the girl wore Mary’s gown would be addressed once he saved her.

  The heat from the flames below streamed upward, but the fire would not reach them. The stacked timbers and broken furniture were not so high. Even so, it was a dangerous situation. The structure was less than stable. To reach her, Aidan would have to walk across a narrow crossbeam. He wished Wellston near. The earl would easily dance along the distance. Aidan glanced up at the girl. “I am coming for you, Millie.” He edged along the beam. “Do not be frightened.”

  Wide pleading eyes met his. Either Jamot or the Englishman had gagged her with a large handkerchief tied about her head and covering the girl’s mouth. She groaned a response he could not identify. “Just a few more minutes,” he said as he tittered on the board, his arms spread wide to counterbalance his steps. He wondered how the man had lured the girl to such a dangerous spot.

  Finally, he reached the braced point where four large beams met to form a double cross. Aidan went to work loosening the knots. First the gag. “Thank you, my Lord,” the maid whispered on a throaty cough. As if the culprit never meant for the girl to suffer, the knots were not too tight. The situation was a message to him: His enemies could wreak havoc with his household, and he was helpless to stop them. When the last knot gave way, Aidan tossed the rope to the floor below.

  His men had followed his instructions. They had dragged the fiery timbers from the pile and had attacked them with buckets of water. White smoke trickled upward, but it was not as thick as previously. “Come with me, Millie,” Aidan said as he caught the maid’s hand. “We must cross the beam to safety.” He stepped onto the cross beam and gently tugged the girl’s arm so she might follow him. “Do not be frightened. I will not permit you to fall.” The maid nodded her agreement, but Aidan noted how her breath came with a ragged catch. “Do not look down. Keep your eyes on my shoulder,” he ordered.

  She bit her lip, but Millie allowed him to lead her onto the beam. Aidan said a silent prayer that the wood would hold their combined weights. He easily recalled how another cross beam had given way from under Miss Purefoy, and the lady certainly was feather light. The image of Mary in her muslin-clad pantaloons led to one of her naked body beneath him. He paused to steady his progress.

  “Easy.” Aidan looked up to see John Swenton reaching his hand out to Aidan. His friend had his other arm wrapped about a support post.

  Aidan did not know whether to laugh or to frown. He had left the baron behind in Ellesmere Port some eight hours prior. He certainly did not expect to see Swenton so soon. “Nice knowing you appear when most needed,” Aidan said sarcastically.

  The baron smiled easily. “Always glad to oblige.” He stretched his hand further in Aidan’s direction. “Now take my bloody hand and stop with the heroics.”

  Aidan did as he was instructed. Stepping to safety, he turned to brace Millie’s final steps. With Swenton’s assistance, he managed to direct the girl to the ledge marking the room’s former floor. Swenton caught Millie’s other hand and led the way along the narrow framing. Finally, the three of them stood in the west wing’s hallway. Smoke had settled along the floor.

  Aidan called to the servants rushing to assist them. “I want windows and doors left open to air out the rooms. Temporarily move Miss Chadwick and Master Aaron into the newly finished rooms.” He shot a questioning glance to Swenton, who nodded his agreement. “The baron will also require a room.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Mr. Payne had organized the maids and several footmen.

  “Millie, you will accompany me and the baron to my study. I have several questions, which require answers.” The girl trembled, but she nodded her understanding.

  Mrs. Osborne wrapped her arms about the girl’s shoulders. “I’ll see Millie below, Sir, and then I’ll bring in refreshments. This looks to be another long night.”

  “That it does.” Aidan scrubbed his face with dry hands. “Thank you, Mrs. Osborne. Baron Swenton and I will follow momentarily.” With the exit of the cook and Millie, Aidan directed Swenton to a private corner where they might speak. “It is not that I shun your company, but what has sent you after me? We parted only hours prior.”

  Swenton took a second glance around the area. “Lowery questioned the prisoners further. One indicated Jamot might be using the name ‘Talpur’ and was in the vicinity of Lexington Arms. I followed to warn you. I am to meet Sir Carter in London at week’s end to attend Pennington’s engagement ball.”

  “In the chaos, I had forgotten about the celebration for Pennington and the dowager duchess, and as for your warning, you are too late. Jamot has been here and gone. I stumbled across him in this very hallway, along with a young Englishman of whom I held no prior knowledge.”

  “Jamot was in your ho
use?” the baron asked incredulously. “What occurred?” Unwelcome feelings of pity filled Aidan.

  “We tussled. Jamot taunted. He shared some cryptic statements regarding my household. Then his compatriot showed, and I discovered the fire. Jamot and the Englishman escaped while I attempted to save my manor and all in it.” Aidan’s frown lines met in a tight knot.

  The baron considered what Aidan had communicated. “Likely the reason your local inn was full. I stopped there before seeking lodging at your estate. I planned to speak to you on the morrow. Perhaps I should return to the village. I suspect two rooms have suddenly become vacant.”

  “Although I expect you correct, I am in need of your good sense in discovering what is actually occurring under my roof. Jamot claimed two of my employees admitted him last autumn and again tonight. Plus, I have discovered from Miss Chadwick that Miss Purefoy departed Lexington Arms the night I rushed off to join you and Lowery.”

  Swenton studied his face, and Aidan attempted to hide the turmoil churning in his stomach. “What else?” the baron demanded. “You keep some facts private.” They exchanged a sorrow-filled glance.

  Aidan considered keeping his own counsel, but he knew the baron to be trustworthy. “What I confide in you must be kept secret until I can interpret the truth behind the lies. You must not speak of what I am about to share with the others.”

  “I promise.”

  Aidan murmured a self-deprecating curse. He clenched his jaw against another rush of despair. “I should not believe him. I know Jamot rarely speaks honestly.” He paused to compose his thoughts. “Jamot claims…Jamot claims my Miss Purefoy is really Miss Nelson.”

  “A relative of Lady Godown?” Swenton asked skeptically.

  Aidan stood perfectly still; he dared not breathe–dared not to put into words his worst fears. Bile scorched his throat. “I know from Pennington’s investigation that the real Mary Purefoy is a maid in an inn in Derbyshire, but even with that knowledge, I never thought the woman meant me harm. Yet, if what Jamot speaks is true, my ‘Miss Purefoy’ is the sister of the woman the marquis suspects of staging several attempts on his life, as well as being the younger sibling of a man who has played a role in bringing opiates to English shores.”