Len’s eyes were now fixed to Lucia’s face. There was no trace of sympathy or mocking tonight. Her gaze was enough to freeze Lucia’s heart. Lucia cleared her throat, her thoughts whirling tumultuously as she tried to make sense of this predicament.
“Why have I been brought here?” she managed to say at last, her confusion all too plain in her voice.
“I can’t imagine you are as ignorant as you try to pretend, Miss Foxe. You are lucky to be here. It was suggested to me you be dispatched without being allowed to answer to me first,” Len said. There was such a veiled threat in her smooth tones.
“I have no clue as to why you wish to see me.” Lucia’s resentment failed to give her courage, and she was dismayed by such a cold opening to their conversation. “Nor do I understand why it was necessary to take me from my house in so dramatic a fashion.”
“Would you rather I had sent an invitation?” Len said cuttingly. She had moved close to Lucia now, to stand just in front of her. Her proximity made Lucia feel more vulnerable.
“Do you think I’m likely to attack you?” Lucia tried to match some of Len’s sarcasm and looked into her eyes with hostility, as she moved her arms in agitation against the rope binding.
“In truth, Lucia, I don’t know what you are likely to do. You have betrayed your honour once. I misjudged you. That’s not a mistake I care to make twice.”
Lucia’s mind flew into panic instantly, as parts of the situation began to make sense. “I have betrayed nothing!”
“I don’t believe you.”
Lucia saw at once, whatever she was accused of, it would be almost impossible to prove anything to Len she did not want to believe. Anxiety seized her heart. “Please tell me how you think you misjudged me,” she said. She tried to remain calm, sure her only hope was to convince Len she was honourable after all. She thought she saw a moment of indecision in Len’s dark expression.
“You swore you would tell no one what you knew of us,” Len said.
Lucia was more frightened, as she understood what Len thought she had done, and also indignant Len believed she would break her word so easily. “I made that promise on my honour. Are you questioning my honour?”
“Yes, Lucia, I am.”
“But why? I swear to you I have not breathed a word to anybody.”
“Maybe then you will explain to me why, within days of your being able to recognise my men from your chamber window, one of our number was arrested in town, having travelled there safely once a week for three years, never having been recognised before?”
Cold dread crept up Lucia’s spine. If Len believed she was responsible for what had happened to her man—what surely would happen to him when the course of justice had been run—she could have no compunction in taking Lucia’s life in return. Len appeared to be studying Lucia’s reaction closely now, and Lucia hoped her innocence, her genuine surprise, would save her.
“You have to believe me, I have told no one!” Lucia said as firmly as she could, though her voice broke on the last word, giving her fear away. The candle on the desk guttered in the draught.
“Your father promised to see us hang. Then, just days later, you recognise us, run after us seeking your precious locket. The very next week one of us will indeed hang. That’s coincidence, you tell me?” Lucia could sense the pain in Len’s voice, the anger.
“My father’s promise was not mine. I cannot explain the misfortune to have befallen your man, but it was not my doing.” In her distress Lucia was chafing her wrists sore against the rope holding them.
“What reason do I have to believe you?” Len’s hand travelled to her waist, where it rested menacingly upon her pistol.
Lucia struggled for an answer to convince Len, to save her own life. In the dizzying darkness of her thoughts, suddenly she found a reply.
“You are underestimating me. Do you not think that, if I wanted to see you hang, I would bring the militia here, in the night, to capture you all?”
Lucia saw Len pause to consider this. “You have no idea where you are, therefore you could not do as you say.”
“I know we are within five miles of Foxe Hall. We rode no farther. I could bring with me a company of militia and describe to them the house for which they should search. I could describe every one of your men to them.” Lucia said the words with a challenge in her voice, fortified with the very last of her courage.
Len did not reply instantly. Instead, she seemed to contemplate for a moment. Her jawline set firm, her lips tightened, and her eyes narrowed. Hope rallied in Lucia’s heart as she knew she had cast a shadow of doubt across the other woman’s certainty.
Len took another step closer to Lucia, so Lucia had to tilt her head back a little to maintain eye contact with her, for Len was at least three inches taller. She stood her ground, though she wanted to step back. Even through her alarm, she looked at Len with a certain sort of fascination. Eyes so dark, concealing far more than they revealed, faintly lined with experience. Skin still youthfully smooth over a hard jaw, and lips that seemed set in a determined grimace. Lucia could identify with that stubborn streak, that desire to keep herself hidden. It was very strong in her right now, as her heart beat faster and she felt perspiration prickle her skin, despite the chill. The mystery of it all made it hard to breathe. It was as if she needed to reach out and touch Len to fully believe that she existed. Her fingers burned with the urge. How would it feel to touch her, just for a moment? She was almost consumed with the want to do so, only fear held her back. Len was fascinating yet terrifying, for Lucia had no way to predict what she would do next.
Len took a deep breath and her face relaxed. She appeared to examine Lucia’s expression with her keen dark eyes, then fixed her with an even stare.
“On your honour, Miss Foxe?”
“Yes. On my honour, I have done nothing to jeopardise your safety, nor that of your men.” Lucia’s heart began to beat more steadily, though her head was giddy with relief.
Len said nothing. Slowly, she circled around to stand behind Lucia, and Lucia felt Len’s fingers begin to loosen the knot of rope that held her wrists fastened. Len’s flesh was warm where it brushed against her cool skin. The touch she had wanted so badly just moments before alarmed her now. Len was very real, her fingers very warm. Lucia’s chest tightened. When Len spoke again, as she untied Lucia, her words seemed to creep around the back of Lucia’s neck, leaving a warm trail where they passed. “I believe you, Lucia. Now, you will stay and take some refreshment with me.”
“No, I’m sorry, I will not.” Lucia was firm in her reply, before her curious heart could even contemplate the notion. There was more danger here than the pistol Len carried at her waist. Lucia did not understand it, but she knew she could not remain. “You have stolen me away from my chamber in the night. I demand you return me at once.”
The rope fell with a soft thud to the floor and her wrists were loose. Suddenly, she felt Len’s hand heavy on her shoulder. “My apologies, Lucia, but you will take some refreshment with me. It’s either that or I will have Julian lock you in the cellar. I can’t take the risk of returning you to your home. Not until I’m certain.”
Lucia’s heart stuttered, but she was not entirely sure it was fear that caused it to do so.
*
Len kept her hand on Lucia’s slender shoulder and did not miss the slight shudder that passed through Lucia’s body. But it was only slight. She was a brave woman, undoubtedly. But such bravery could lead to danger. Len wanted to believe what Lucia told her; her intuition told her Lucia’s story was true. And yet she dared not take risks with her men. Besides, at this point, it was in Lucia’s best interest to remain with her here. She wondered if this foolhardy gentlewoman had any idea of the real danger she diced with. Probably not. She ground her teeth together and kept her silence. Her urge to protect Lucia contrasted sharply with the painful knowledge that she was part of the threat. She had to remind herself that it was not her task in life to educate genteel ladies abo
ut the ways of the world. Frustrated at the gulf she felt between herself and Lucia, she was not sure what she should do next. Part of her was tempted to lock Lucia in the cellar, to thoroughly terrify her. That would teach her.
Lucia wriggled out from her grip and turned to face her. Her gaze was level and angry, not as frightened as Len would have expected. She wasn’t sure whether she was intrigued or infuriated by Lucia’s apparent resistance to any level of fear or intimidation. Admiration was her first reaction, though she fought the urge. Lucia was her hostage, her possible betrayer. She had to harden her heart. She stared evenly into the bright blue eyes, raised a questioning eyebrow, and waited.
Lucia took a breath, but did not look away. Len saw the traces of apprehension, but Lucia was exceedingly good at appearing angry rather than frightened. “You cannot keep me here!” Lucia said at last. Len imagined what her hostage was thinking. Perhaps of the scandal of the servants finding her missing from her bed in the morning, when they came to dress the pampered eldest daughter. The notion twisted something inside Len, painfully. This girl knew nothing of the world. A world which, for Len, had just got darker, stained by betrayal and new danger.
“I can keep you here.” She heard her own words come out as a threatening snarl, watched Lucia recoil slightly, and felt a surge of remorse. She could be as well mannered as any lady. She attempted to modulate her tone to one which, although commanding respect, was also polite. “Though I would rather you simply accept my invitation and choose to stay here. For the time being.”
“But why? You believe me, I know you do.” Len was less satisfied than she expected to hear the note of trepidation creeping into Lucia’s words. She tried not to resent this woman’s perceptive abilities. Lucia seemed to know what Len was thinking, and that was unsettling. Len enjoyed being an enigma to her men, none of whom ever knew what to expect from her, even Julian.
“I do believe you.” Once she had begun with honesty, Len felt, inexplicably, that she had to explain her reasoning. She owed Lucia nothing, yet she continued. “However, my men will not believe you so easily. If I am right in my suspicions about what has befallen John, he will not be the only one of us, or our like, to be arrested in the next week. If I keep you here with me, they can form no ideas of your betraying us, since you will not be free to do so.” There was no safer option, for her or Lucia. She would not have one of her men turn murderer, for all of their sakes.
“But the men listen to you, tell them you believe me!” Lucia said, somewhere between an imperious command and a desperate plea. Len watched her hesitate and consider her next words. “Or do they not follow you as faithfully as you would lead me to believe?”
Len blinked at the sudden and courageous challenge in those last words. The little rich girl wanted to play games, did she? Anger twitched at her face. She willed it back and wondered why she didn’t just turn Lucia over to Julian’s custody for the night. Knowing the answer to her only question only made the anger deeper. Lucia was beautiful, no doubt, and strong. Len was all too aware of the power of those qualities over her own rational mind. She felt the pull of them now. But women made her weak in ways she did not wish to be, and that road led only to pain and danger. Still, she could not bring herself to treat Lucia with brutality.
“My men would follow me to their deaths,” she said simply, her mouth set in a firm line as she fought against the torment in her heart. Anger was not helpful here, and instead she drew on her faith that she knew what she was talking about while Lucia had no idea. It made her feel strong and competent. “However, a good leader understands the men who follow him or her are still only men, and they are not above doubting. Therefore, if I can remove any chance of doubt poisoning their minds against my leadership, I am a more effective leader. Do you understand me?” She felt her passion ignite. Lucia’s expression registered her comprehension of how close to dangerous anger she had pushed Len. Len continued to glare, fully prepared to use the advantage. Why was she explaining herself to this woman?
“Why should I help you to be a better leader?” Lucia looked confused, as though she was battling with some emotion other than fear and anger. Len tried not to wonder what that emotion was. She couldn’t allow herself to care.
“You have no reason whatsoever to do that.” Len maintained her calm exterior, though the question riled her temper further. Had Lucia no fear? Did she not understand who she was dealing with? It was hard to maintain her own strength in the face of Lucia’s compelling, though naïve, bravery. Len felt as though she was losing this battle and determined to regain the advantage. “However, I imagine you value your life.” She smiled a smile she knew was more threatening than amiable. Lucia needed to understand the world she had blundered into.
“What do you mean?” Lucia asked. She glanced nervously at Len’s pistol. Len’s hand returned reflexively to her waist and rested lightly on the holster.
“My men are not murderers. If they were, there would be a trail of bodies by the roadside. However, John will hang, there is no doubt.” Pain, and the bitterness of being impotent to rescue John, swept through her, and she caught her breath, fighting not to lose control in front of Lucia. “He was like a brother to some of the men here. If they are inclined to believe you brought him to his fate, they will also be inclined to seek an eye for an eye, so to speak.” The damned woman was still staring at her with disbelief in her expression. Did she think her wealth and position in society rendered her immune from something as lowly as murderous revenge in the night? “Remember how easily they crept into your chamber, Lucia.”
Len’s final words seemed to have the effect she was looking for. Lucia stared at her as if frozen, her apparently quick brain fumbling for a way out and not finding it.
“Surely I am in as much danger if I remain here?” Lucia said. Her protest was weak. Len was intrigued by this sudden weakness, for with it seemed to come a spark of something else in Lucia’s eyes. Excitement? Clearly the girl was more stupid than she’d thought. But still frightened, of that Len was now in no doubt. Suddenly, contrarily, she wanted to reassure her. Lucia looked so delicate, so easy to break, a figurine of pale porcelain. Len did not want to damage her. She felt that to harm this fragile, frightened woman would be to harm herself too. A fracture in the porcelain would reach into her own heart, already cracked and weakened, and risk destroying it completely. Keeping Lucia safe seemed more important than almost anything.
“You will be under my protection. I’ll wager it will be only a matter of days before we have the necessary proof you are not our betrayer, and after that you and your family will be quite safe. I’ll even give you my word you will never again be plagued by my men on the roads.”
The mention of Lucia’s family caused a very visible change in her countenance. Len knew she had struck the right chord. Lucia would not want to endanger her father and sister. Her loyalty was admirable, the look in her eye one of worried affection. For a moment Len envied her and was forced to look away into the shadows at the edges of the room. Family loyalty was something she had never truly known.
“But my father—” Lucia began.
“I have a solution for that.” Len did not need to hear the rest of Lucia’s words to understand. She took a deep breath and spoke slowly, filling her voice with as much calm and authority as she could muster. “But you must do as I say and trust in my honour as I have put my faith in yours. I will allow you to return to your home once there is no necessity for you to remain here.”
Lucia looked hard into Len’s eyes. Len kept her gaze steady and open and gave Lucia no reason not to trust in her assurances. She spoke the truth after all.
“I will trust in your honour,” Lucia said finally. Len smiled, just slightly. A ripple of pleasure passed through her, and she drew her brows together in a frown, alarmed that she should feel anything of the sort. Gathering her composure, she made Lucia a small bow.
“Then we will take refreshment together, Miss Foxe.” She strode over towards her
desk, pleased they had finished this useless sparring and a decision had been reached. Before she reached it, she turned on her heel and took in Lucia standing ashen and tense in the middle of the room. Lucia shivered visibly.
“But you are not dressed for company, Lucia, my apologies, I had not considered it before.” How thoughtless to leave the poor woman in nothing but her nightdress! Inwardly, Len cursed herself for it. Treating those in her power with respect was one of her maxims. Though she might be a thief, Len could not be cruel. Lucia could not remain in the cold house in her nightdress, prey to the draughts. And the men. For a moment Len was bewildered, and then she recalled she had the answer to the problem somewhere in an upstairs room.
Without waiting to excuse herself, Len left the room and climbed the wooden staircase to the upper floor of the dwelling. She found what she was looking for quickly and returned to Lucia with a bundle of clothing in her arms, a little crumpled from the chest it had been stored in.
When she entered the room again, she found Lucia still rooted to the spot but looking about her in the flickering lantern light with a tentative curiosity. The light cast shadows over the planes of her face, and Len could not make out her expression. Lucia seemed suddenly mysterious and intriguing. Her posture was rigid, but Len could not help but see the soft, curving lines of her form through the thin nightdress. Swiftly, she looked away, back to Lucia’s face. Lucia’s gaze seemed to be directed at Len’s hat and cloak hanging against the oak-panelled wall. Len couldn’t help but wonder what was going through Lucia’s mind. She had barely moved when Len opened the door.
The Locket and the Flintlock Page 6
