While the men wasted valuable time pondering, Clarissa began to search the area where the pin had been placed, hoping it was significant. Finding nothing, she got down on her hands and knees and began to feel the floor, the sides of the barrels. Her fingers found the latch before she saw it. ‘Over here!’ The barrel was sawn in two, one side was hinged. She pulled it open and revealed a small tunnel leading off it. Not wanting to trail at the rear, she lunged through it first, feeling her way with her arms extended, oblivious of the pitch-black darkness beyond. She stumbled as she hit a staircase and found herself bathed in dim lamplight.
‘Wait.’ Gray’s voice was hushed, but his grip on her shoulder was insistent. ‘If Penhurst escaped through this secret passageway, then we have the advantage. Let’s not spoil that with hasty and ill-conceived rescue attempts. We have the element of surprise.’
They did and he was right. Behind him there was Lord Fennimore and the tall blond man. Both men had pistols in their hands. ‘Leave this to us, young lady.’
‘I’m coming with you.’
‘You will only be in the way.’
‘Did you see the stick-pin? Did you find the hidden doorway or this passageway?’
‘She has a point.’ The tall man smiled. ‘And she probably knows this house and its occupants far better than all of us.’
Lord Fennimore sighed as if greatly put upon. Then shrugged. ‘A fair point, Flint. Make sure she stays safely behind us then.’ The older man pushed past and forged forward, carrying the miserly lantern aloft. ‘Let’s see where this tunnel ends, shall we?’
The narrow passage twisted and turned. In places it was so low they had to drop on all fours to navigate it. After an eternity it branched out into two, but with no point of reference in this dark, subterranean world, it was impossible to know which to take. ‘One has to be an escape route out to the Downs.’ Knowing Penhurst as well as she did, Clarissa knew he would always consider his own skin above all else. ‘The other probably leads back to the house or grounds somewhere.’ Again, if he needed it, the viscount would have a contingency plan.
‘That makes sense. But which would he take?’ Lord Fennimore could apparently read her mind.
‘Penhurst would run for the hills. Seb would want him back at the house—if he hasn’t had to reveal his hand.’ A man who was able to quietly remove his stick-pin and lay it on the ground was hardly a prisoner, or so Clarissa desperately hoped. Seb would play Millcroft to the end because he was stubborn and brave, with emphasis on the stubborn.
‘Then let us assume Leatham has convinced him and headed to the house.’ Fennimore was clearly not one to waste time making decisions.
‘If only we knew which way the house was. Perhaps we should split up?’
Lord Fennimore rummaged in his coat pocket and pulled out a compass. Flipped it open and then nodded left as if it was perfectly reasonable he had the instrument on his person. ‘It’s that way.’
In single file they climbed the steep incline until the older man halted them with a raised hand and swiftly blew out the lantern. Ahead a thin strip of light bled through what appeared to be floorboards. Being the tallest, Flint went to investigate, pressing his eye close to the wood and leaving Clarissa to wait with her heart in her mouth for what seemed like five minutes before returning.
‘It’s the study, I think. Just two men—Seb and Penhurst. It looks like they’re making preparations to leave. Seb is holding open a satchel while Penhurst is stuffing money into it. Seb has positioned himself to shield the hatch, so he’s expecting us, but we’ll have seconds at most. Only Penhurst appears to be armed.’
* * *
He couldn’t delay things much longer. It had taken all his powers of persuasion to convince Penhurst not to leave without funds to aid his escape and now that the satchel was stuffed with every note the viscount had stashed away for such an emergency, he would want to leave. For the hundredth time Seb cursed himself for his carelessness. Forgetting his pistol had been a ridiculous mistake. But his head had been filled with thoughts of Clarissa and his heightened emotions had made him sloppy. He’d had no choice but to play along and assist with Penhurst’s escape, pretending his own safety would be compromised any other way.
Seb wrestled with the buckles, making a hash of closing the satchel. As he handed it to him, he would have to punch him square in the face and hope that he could grab the gun before Penhurst pulled the trigger. The man’s index finger had been twitching on it since the moment they had heard the Excise Men rushing down the corridor.
Then the oddest thing happened. Seb knew they were there because he sensed her.
‘Give it here, man!’ Penhurst tugged at the satchel at the same moment the hatch flew open. Seb lunged for the gun, vaguely aware of Lord Fennimore’s shout, but the viscount was too quick, whipping it back and sending Seb crashing to the floor. He felt the hard press of steel against his temple, holding him down.
‘Back off or I kill him!’ Gray, Flint and Fennimore stood with their own pistols aimed. Icy calm. Seb expected nothing less. No one would shoot unless necessary.
‘Drop the gun.’ With deliberate slowness Gray pulled the hammer back. ‘This house and the grounds are filled with Excise Men. All have been instructed to shoot to kill if the situation warrants it.’
Penhurst’s eyes were frantic, flitting from face to face as realisation dawned. He dragged Seb to his feet and used him as a shield, the barrel of the gun now digging into his neck. ‘Get out of my way!’
His comrades began to move in a slow circle around them. ‘Think about your situation, Penhurst.’ Fennimore’s tone was matter of fact. ‘We have all the evidence we need to send you to the gallows. By now, my men will have rounded up everyone in this house. Secured the exits and already be scouring the grounds. The roads are blocked. We have ships anchored off the cliffs watching the beaches. More men are waiting below us. Wondering why we haven’t returned. All it will take is one signal from me to unleash them.’ He paused and stamped one foot loudly on the floor. Gray followed by bashing his fist against the door.
‘He’s in here!’
‘Stop it!’ The pistol jabbed into Seb’s jaw. ‘I’ll kill him!’
‘Go ahead.’ Lord Fennimore sounded bored. ‘My men know the risks of the job. They also know their deaths will be ruthlessly avenged. The moment you shoot you leave yourself exposed. He will die knowing we won.’
Behind him, Seb could feel Penhurst’s heart hammering against his back, feel the way his breathing had become erratic. Cornered and panicked, he would shoot any second. Unlike the bullet that had ripped through his chest, the viscount’s would kill him. Instantly his mind wandered to Gem and the grief at never seeing her again overwhelmed him. Seb should have fought harder to convince her he was the one, reiterated his love. At least allowed her to answer instead of storming off, bitterly regretting their last interactions had been mired in anger when there was so much still left unsaid.
Time seemed to stand still. Every sense was heightened. He heard Penhurst’s finger begin to pull back the trigger. Saw Flint and Gray’s eyes widen as they realised his number was up. Closed his own eyes to picture her one last time before his heart stopped beating and resigned himself to his fate.
Then there was a dull thud and the fingers dug like claws around Seb’s neck suddenly loosened as the viscount crumpled to the floor.
When he opened his eyes Gem was stood like a warrior, teeth bared and wielding the bronze statue of Aphrodite like a tennis racquet, ready to bludgeon Penhurst if he moved a muscle.
Which he didn’t because he was out cold.
‘I knew she wouldn’t stay put.’ Lord Fennimore knelt down and felt Penhurst’s neck for a pulse. ‘He’s alive, thank goodness. We can’t interrogate a corpse.’ From his pocket he produced some cord and looked up at them impatiently. ‘Well? Is one of you going to help me tie him up or are you al
l just going to stand there?’
Seb didn’t move a muscle and neither did she. Her hair a veritable bird’s nest, a smudge of dirt on one cheek and what looked like a dusty cobweb hanging from her ear. He had never seen anything lovelier. His feet moved towards her and he found himself prying her weapon out of her clenched fingers by peeling them back one by one. She didn’t want to relinquish it. ‘It’s over, Gem.’
Her forget-me-not eyes flicked to the viscount on the floor and then back to Seb, then she rushed at him and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. ‘I thought I’d lost you again.’ She kissed him, smoothing her palms over his face and shoulders. Then she shook them. ‘Every time I look away you put yourself at risk!’ Another kiss. Longer. Perfect. Seb happily kissed her back.
‘Do you two mind?’ Lord Fennimore snapped, his exasperated face inches from theirs. ‘Such nonsense should be saved for your honeymoon. We still have a job to do.’
The mention of a honeymoon cruelly reminded him of her impending marriage. ‘You should get back to your fiancé. He’s probably worried.’ He sounded like a petulant child and didn’t care. He’d almost died. He’d earned the right to be petulant. ‘You could have told me yourself rather than making me hear it from him. I’m sure you and Westbridge will be blissfully...indifferent to one another.’
Her head tilted, then her mouth opened, then she pushed him hard in the chest. So hard he staggered backwards. ‘For a man who claims to hold no duke in high regard, can you explain why you listened to that “windbag”, as you are so fond of calling him, yet failed to ask me if it was true?’
She had a point, a glorious, wonderful point that made his heart soar with hope. One he would have told her, except she didn’t give him a moment to get a word in. But then he had never been good with words so he let her give him both barrels and thoroughly enjoyed it.
‘You are a stubborn idiot, Seb Leatham! Storming off and avoiding me after we spent the night together! Refusing to speak to me!’ Another push. ‘After everything we have been through, did you seriously think I would want him over you?’ Her hands fisted on his lapels. ‘And after I just saved your miserable life! Why, I have a good mind to strangle you rather than marry you! Not that you asked, of course. Which is another black mark against your—’ Seb silenced her with a kiss. Like all their kisses this one heated immediately. Only the sounds of a veritable army storming the room broke them apart.
The commander of the Excise Men stepped forward to speak to Lord Fennimore. ‘All bar one of the guests is accounted for, my lord. They are in the ballroom awaiting questioning.’
‘Who’s missing?’
‘The Duke of Thetford. He hasn’t been seen since late afternoon.’
‘Oh, good gracious!’ Gem’s eyes were wide as she darted out of his arms. ‘I completely forgot! He’s in my bedchamber!’ With that she dashed off, leaving Seb no choice but to follow. She took the stairs in a hurry, her skirts held so high he was rewarded with the delicious sight of her silk-clad legs before she skidded to a halt at her door, her expression pained.
‘I might have accidently let slip to him your real identity.’
‘It doesn’t matter now.’
‘Oh, I know that—but this afternoon, with things at such a critical stage, I thought it best to...um...contain the situation.’ She flung open the door and revealed a completely empty room. Just as Lord Fennimore, Flint and Gray arrived in the doorframe, all obviously more curious to see what she had done than remain downstairs, Gem went to the wardrobe and grimaced as she opened it. ‘I might have lured him here with a promise of a full explanation, then clocked him over the head with my curling iron.’
There, crammed awkwardly in the bottom amongst an array of slippers, his fat hands and feet bound by what looked like stockings and ribbons, was his brother. Bright purple with indignation. His mouth stuffed with a lacy handkerchief.
‘She’s a canny one, your lady love.’ Fennimore breathed on the lenses of his spectacles then polished them with the corner of his coat. ‘Quick thinking. Resourceful. An asset, I think.’ He wound the wire frames around his ears. ‘The pair of you had best get yourselves downstairs with the other detainees while I sort out this mess. Gray—arrest them.’
‘Arrest us!’ Gem clung to his arm while Seb simply glared. His superior was up to something. ‘He can’t arrest us! Can he?’
‘Of course he can’t. There will be an ulterior motive. With Lord Fennimore, there is always an ulterior motive.’ Seb folded his arms and pinned him with his stare. ‘What is it?’
‘Think about the possibilities...’
‘Here it comes. Brace yourself. He excels at bullying people into doing things they don’t want to do.’
‘At least hear me out. It’s a splendid idea and nobody downstairs is any the wiser, so we must strike now and use the momentum. From the outset, Lord Millcroft has been a triumph in society. The arrogant, mysterious adventurer from the Antipodes. The beautiful Incomparable hanging adoringly on his arm. As a couple, the ton will love you. Especially after the scandal sheets are filled with the tale of how she tossed away a duke to marry for love! The pair of you will be invited everywhere—every hostess will be delighted to have you. So delighted, nobody will ever think you are working for the Crown. The possibilities are endless for Lord and Lady Millcroft.’
It was outrageous. Preposterous. Dangerous. Positively brilliant. Seb’s temper flared, then was doused immediately. Because Gem’s arms were outstretched and she was beaming. ‘Don’t tie my wrists too tight, Lord Gray. I don’t want ugly bruises.’
‘You don’t have to do this.’
‘Of course I do.’
Both Flint and Gray were nodding at the idea as if it was a fait accompli. ‘Good men are dropping like flies! Another one of the King’s Elite appears doomed to fall into the parson’s trap!’ Flint appeared appalled.
‘It’ll be you next.’ Gray nudged him, winking.
‘Over my dead body!’
Joking? At a time like this? Was Seb the only one thinking about the practicalities here? ‘In case it has escaped your notice, my incensed half-brother is currently bound and gagged in the wardrobe! Once that gag comes out, believe me, he will shout the truth from the rooftops!’
‘No, he won’t.’ Flint bent down and stared at Thetford like a specimen in a jar. ‘He’s been consorting with a traitor. There will have to be a thorough investigation. Every tiny detail of his life and finances will have to be publicly scrutinised. When the papers get hold of it there will be a huge scandal...not to mention the censure he will receive from the whole ton and even the King himself when it comes to be known how he shockingly abused and mistreated a national hero—his own brother, no less.’ The Duke’s terrified eyes were wide.
Lord Fennimore shook his head, looking very dour. ‘Aside from that, in matters of national importance, spilling state secrets is, in itself, an act of treason. If he says a word, I’ll have him tossed in Newgate. But he won’t say a word, will you, Thetford?’ The wily Lord joined Flint, bending over him. ‘You will be an asset to the King’s Elite and do your best to ensure that Lord Millcroft is welcomed everywhere he goes. You will take your secrets to the grave.’
As his half-brother was now nodding pathetically, Seb turned back to an indignant-looking Gem. ‘This is a bad idea.’ Although even he couldn’t truthfully say that with much conviction. Together they were rather splendid. Better than splendid, they were perfect.
‘I have a talent for spying, you said so yourself, and I have learned that I am so much more than a pretty face. Have you any idea how marvellous that is? And you need me around to keep an eye on you, else there is no telling what will happen. Besides, these last few weeks have been the most exciting of my life.’ Her palms found their way to his chest. It seemed perfectly natural to loop his arms possessively around her waist. Despite their audience, his ears didn’t redden and
his tongue didn’t feel tied. His usually shy eyes locked with hers and held. ‘How many ladies in my position get to help the Crown doing something that they adore with the man they love?’
‘You love me?’
‘Don’t sound so surprised by it. I turned down a proposal from a duke for you. A girl doesn’t do that unless she’s head over heels in love. Which I am. Completely. Hopelessly. Ecstatically. It’s wonderful.’
‘It is.’
She loved him. He could see it plain as day in her forget-me-not eyes. Miracles did happen. Gem stood on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his stunned one, giggling.
‘I’m done with dukes and curling irons and pretending to be what I’m not. I want excitement and passion and purpose. I want honesty and trust. I want to work by your side every day and sleep next to you every night. And I want shortbread smeared in jam under oilskin in a thunderstorm. I want to love and be loved unconditionally. But more than anything, I want to grow old with you. Marry me, Seb Leatham. Let’s make thousands of crinkly, wrinkly laughter lines together. We both know you want to.’
As usual she was right. He did.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story check out Virginia Heath’s
The Wild Warriners miniseries
A Warriner to Protect Her
A Warriner to Rescue Her
A Warriner to Tempt Her
A Warriner to Seduce Her
And look out for the next book in
The King’s Elite miniseries,
coming soon!
Keep reading for an excerpt from An Outlaw to Protect Her by Harper St. George.
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The Mysterious Lord Millcroft Page 24
