by Sahara Kelly
Was it because she had found a love of her own? Had that changed her perspective on life, family and her mystical abilities?
It was true that she used them less, now, since being with Finn produced a very satisfactory magic of its own. And in addition, she’d laid her cane aside. Perhaps Finn’s loving was helping her body heal as well. Whatever the reason, she was walking unaided. Still cautious, she wasn’t about to leap on a horse, or attempt a rousing waltz around the Mowbray House ballroom, but she was nevertheless able to move much better than over the last year or so.
“Will you be requiring anything else, sir? Tea and brandy await you in the parlour.” The impressive butler bowed formally to Max.
“I don’t think so. Thank you, Deery.”
Hecate bit her lip against a grin as the man made his stately way from the room. Then finally, she could hold it no longer. “Dearie? Isn’t that a somewhat overly affectionate way to address your butler?”
Letitia let out a sharp bark of laughter, and James’s gurgle was right on top of it.
Max merely smiled. “It’s his real name. I find it quite enchanting myself, and I tell him so from time to time, which annoys him enormously. One can’t ever get cross with him, can one?”
Kitty pushed her chair back and rose. “Right. Time to adjourn. No brandy and cigars for the gentlemen. We will all indulge ourselves together. I want to hear Finn’s tale.”
“Me too,” added James. “I confess myself very curious about all this, so please don’t keep us on tenterhooks any longer?
Within fifteen minutes, they were all disposed comfortably in the parlour, the fire burning and the flames reflecting prettily off the cut glass decanter.
Sadly, the teapot wasn’t getting much use, since everyone had elected to go straight to the brandy.
“Right then. Where do we start?” Letitia snuggled into the corner of the couch and sipped her liquor.
“At the beginning,” said Hecate. “Finn? If you would…”
He put his glass down on the table, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. “It began on June the eighteenth, last year. Far away from here, in a battle we’ll always know simply as Waterloo…”
He spoke quietly, his words simple but fluent, painting a vivid picture of what it had been like to fight that day, to be part of the battle lines, to watch men cut down beside him, in front of him…
Those gathered around sat spellbound, neither moving nor speaking until he had finished his tale.
Waiting for a few moments, Hecate picked up the story, relating how DeWitt had cleverly managed to assume the Faversill title, even though the Marchville family had taken him to court.
Finally, James leaned back with a disgusted snort. “I would wager the judge who ruled on that case was in Faversill’s pocket,” he said.
“I wouldn’t take your bet,” nodded Max. “A gross miscarriage of justice.”
“Well, personally, I think hanging, drawing and quartering is too good for that man. He’s…he’s…ahhh, words escape me,” Letitia stormed.
“Good thing you’re not engaged in anything to do with ‘em then, sweetheart. Words, that is,” remarked James with a grin.
His wife shot him what Hecate could only describe as a withering look. She couldn’t resist smiling at the two of them. “I agree, Letitia, but sadly the Crown frowns on that sort of thing these days. We’d have to go back to the Tudors, I think.” She sighed. “I have some odd skills, but when it comes to travelling through time…well that’s beyond even my capabilities.”
“So what are our other options?” Max rose and refilled brandy glasses.
“Face him with it?” Kitty sipped appreciatively.
“We did consider that. It’s the most logical course of action,” exhaled Hecate. “But as you surely understand, it would be only Finn’s word against Faversill’s.”
“And whatever legal personage he could buy for the occasion, I’ll warrant,” added Max, his lip curling in disgust.
The conversation ranged over a variety of suggestions, from the “let’s kidnap him and force him to confess” from Kitty the Bloodthirsty, to the “let’s try to get a few peers on our side to pressure him into doing something for the Marchville’s” idea, which appealed to Max and James.
As the hour drew late, Hecate rose—a little unsteadily since she was holding her third brandy. “Well my dears. My family. I do have a very solid option to propose.” She put the glass down on the table. “Finn is not entranced by the notion, but I firmly believe it will work.”
She looked around at the faces who were so dear to her. Nobody appeared sceptical; they awaited her words with rapt attention.
God, how she loved them all.
Aware the brandy was making her a little too relaxed, she gathered her slowly dissipating wits.
“All right then. Here’s my plan…”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sir Peregrine Hawkesbury looked at Finn and Max curiously. “Really? Do you really believe this will work?”
“I do, Perry,” answered Max.
“As do I, sir,” added Finn. “We’d not trouble you for your help, but you have the contacts to set up the sort of event we need. A gathering of those in the Ton with similar interests in horses. And the more of them from the military, the better.”
“Well, lad, now you come to mention it…”
Perry fell silent for a few moments, then nodded. “I have it,” he announced. “I’m due to host a dinner soon—we have a rotating club of us older chaps who meet and swap lies just for the hell of it.” He chuckled. “Having passed the age where it’s necessary for us to prove our virility, we can now spin falsehoods about our past adventures with complete confidence that no one knows if it’s true or not.”
“Oh,” blinked Max. “That sounds like fun. Can I come?”
“No.” Perry replied. “You’re too young. And besides you have a child to raise.”
“Not even one evening?” wheedled Max.
Perry simply raised an eyebrow.
Max sighed. “Oh very well. Spoilsport.”
“Back to this plan of yours,” Perry turned to Finn. “If I can gather a dozen men of high rank, would that be enough, do you think?”
“More than enough, sir. That would be absolutely splendid.”
Perry nodded. “Good. So where should we hold this unmasking of a villain?”
“James has offered to let us use his study here in town. It’s accessible, huge—I almost got lost in it—and nobody will think anything of it if they see Hecate and I arrive, since we’re family.”
“Excellent,” agreed Perry. “Congratulations on that, by the way. Miss Hecate sounds like an amazing young lady and I’m so pleased she’s fully recovered from her…accident.”
“As am I, Sir Peregrine. And I thank you for your tact,” answered Finn.
“Nasty business, that was.”
Max nodded. “Nasty indeed, but thankfully over and done with.”
“So on to another nasty bit of business,” sighed Perry. “I’ll set it up for you. Two days from now? Will that suit James, do you think?”
“I believe it will, so let’s work on that assumption unless I send you a message to the contrary.”
“I suppose I should invite you, shouldn’t I?” Perry grinned at Max.
“Yes, you bloody well should.”
Finn chuckled. “All right. It looks like the guest list is confirmed.”
“We’ll leave you to it, then.” Max slapped the older man on the back. “Thanks for offering to help with this. I thought you might be up for a bit of intrigue…”
“Always, dear boy,” said Perry paternally. “By the way, how’s Grace? I’ve been trying to lure her into joining me for an evening at the theatre, but damned if she’ll come. Like trying to get a winkle out of its shell.”
“You know my sister. She’s her own woman. Stubborn as a mule.”
Perry sighed. “I’ll get her out of that shell yet.”
Satisfied with their morning’s work, Finn and Max left Sir Peregrine to write his invitations, and returned to Mowbray House.
Upon learning that all was now underway and that the meeting was in the process of being set up, the ladies—Letitia, Kitty and Hecate—declared that they would be least in sight for the next day or so. Taking advantage of having all three Ridlington women in the same place at the same time, they were going to pay calls to a few friends, visit with Aunt Venetia, and then do what ladies loved to do in London—shop.
Hearing this plan, their three gentlemen escorts shrugged, nodded and took themselves off to engage in the equivalent male endeavours, which included a bit of shooting while the weather held, then a fast and furiously competitive tournament around the billiards table.
Followed by brandy and cigars.
Thus both sexes were kept busy and relatively content, although Finn couldn’t help worrying about this damn plan of Hecate’s. He still wasn’t sure it would work.
He said as much to Hecate when he quietly slid into her bedchamber that night. Letitia, with great and subtle foresight, had placed them across from each other, so it was only one step from his door to hers.
“I’m worried, love.” He frowned at her. “Really worried about this.”
“I know.” She reached for his face and cupped it in her hands. “All I can do is ask you to trust me.”
“And I do. With my life, you know that.” He drew her close. “But I’m afraid for you. That it will take too much out of you.”
“And you’re not sure it will even work, are you,” she added gently.
“I want to believe, Hecate. And if you tell me it will work, then I will accept that as truth.”
“But…”
He sighed. “You have to admit…it’s completely out of the realm of my experiences…”
She kissed him lightly on the nose, then pointed at the bureau. “Finn…do you see that ewer on top there?”
“Yes?”
“Watch.”
*~~*~~*
Hecate awoke with the knowledge that the day was going to be a momentous one. Today they would unmask an unscrupulous man and show the world the villain lurking beneath his aristocratic exterior.
Last night they’d received the final confirmation that the gathering had been set.
Perry had assembled a guest list that made everyone raise their eyebrows as they read the names of two generals, several Right Honourables, an Earl and Colonel Lord Seymour Chittenden, who had been one of the Iron Duke’s Aides-de-Camp. And, of course, Lieutenant Colonel Lord Aubrey Faversill, formerly DeWitt.
Everyone had accepted. It seemed that an evening discussing the role of horse-breeding with a view to the future needs of the military appealed to this select group of attendees.
James had procured a copy of an old newspaper which featured a pencil portrait of Johnny Marchville. He was a handsome lad, with wide set eyes and a slightly crooked nose. The artist had captured something of the man he had been, and Hecate’s heart ached a little bit every time she studied it. But his features were becoming familiar to her.
The stage had indeed been set.
She’d seen James’s library, and judged it perfect, if a little overwhelming for her tastes. She could certainly curl up and read in there. But so could thirty other people at the same time. However, to judge from Letitia’s face when she showed it off, Hecate guessed that for Letitia, it was the next best thing to Heaven in the house. Ask a writer where they’d like to be, and odds were excellent they’d answer “a library”. Other than her time with her husband and baby, Hecate was prepared to believe that Letitia spent more than a few happy hours right here.
Finn was now a believer in the plan.
He was doing his part on schedule, although he was quieter than usual. Her demonstration had shocked him, but satisfied his curiosity and reassured him that their plan did indeed stand a very good chance of working. He’d managed to obtain all that he needed from friends still around his old barracks.
There had, however, been another unexpected result from her experiment.
She had discovered that her proposed actions might well drain her energies further than she’d anticipated. And Finn, who seemed to be developing a strong awareness of her well-being, declared himself to be worried about that particular part of the plan.
“Finn, I have to do this. For you, for myself, and most of all for the Marchvilles.” They were dressing for the evening when once again he voiced his concern.
“None of us matter next to you, Hecate. Can you understand that? You matter more to me than life itself. And although you won’t admit it, this night will be damn near dangerous to you.”
“I can do it, Finn. I must.”
“I know, love,” he walked to her and held her tightly. “But I’m afraid of what you’re risking. If you’re doing it for me, then don’t. I’ll find another way to deal with Faversill.”
She hugged him back but moved from his arms. “There is no other way. If there had been, we’d have thought of it.”
“Then let’s give the Marchvilles enough money to get them settled,” he proposed equitably. “A quick pass the hat and a few quid to get them back on their feet.”
“And you’d live the rest of your life knowing that a terrible wrong was never righted?” She looked at him. “You’re not the kind of person who will settle for that, Finn. Nor am I.”
She turned away under the pretext of fixing her hair.
Finn sighed but finished his own toilette, coming to stand behind her as he attempted to fasten his buttons.
She sighed as well. “Here. Let me.” Turning, she set him to rights.
“I love you.” He stared at her, his eyes full of emotion.
“I love you too,” she answered, knowing her feelings were in her eyes as well. “And I won’t risk too much, tonight, I promise.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” he vowed. “I can’t help thinking you’re risking yourself for me. And that I’m not worth that kind of risk.”
She gripped his hands, hard. “Don’t say that, Finn. You are my world. If I cannot take a risk for my world, what kind of person does that make me? What sort of woman would I be to profess that I love you and yet hold back doing the right thing for you—for us—just because something carries some risks?”
She squeezed his fingers. “This wrong will haunt you to the end of your days if we don’t put a stop to it here and now. It would haunt me as well. My involvement simply makes it a little easier. I hope.”
He nodded, then let her go. “My mother, God rest her soul, must be looking down from Heaven with a great big smile on her face right now.”
“Why?”
“Because she used to scold me for my lack of concern about religion. But at this moment, I’m praying to every saint I can think of that they’ll bless our endeavour tonight.”
“They will, I’m sure,” laughed Hecate. “Your mama wouldn’t let them do otherwise, I’m thinking.”
“And you’d be right,” he smiled back, picking up her cloak for her. “Are we ready then, Ma’am?” He held out his arm.
“We’re ready, Sir.”
“Then let’s be off.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Since the Ridlington family was so closely involved, Kitty had joined Letitia to provide support for Hecate, as Max and James took their seats in the library. She’d declared that not even wild horses would keep her at Mowbray House while something this momentous was happening.
Hecate’s visit earlier in the day had allowed her to plan out where she needed to be and also to make sure her chosen spot worked for what she had in mind.
The library itself was an enormous, book-lined room, with low shelves acting as dividers. There was a very large desk toward one end, and for this occasion, the chairs from around the room had been set up in two rows facing it.
One entire wall was filled with windows, several of which opened out onto a balcony over
looking a modest terrace and garden. Most were curtained, but the draperies were drawn back on a few, allowing the guests to see tiny snowflakes circling down to dust the parapets. Beneath the balcony was the ballroom, which ran almost the length of the house.
She’d met Sir Peregrine, a most charming and handsome man, with light touches of silver in his hair. His attitude toward her was one of friendly curiosity, and she was surprised to find herself promising to come and spend some time with him in the future so she could talk with him about her talents. He had been gently persuasive, and she felt the sincere interest radiating from him as he asked for her promise.
He was already seated in the front row, since he would be acting as the master of ceremonies.
Several other gentlemen had arrived, others stood in the hall, shaking the light dusting of snow from their coats.
Hecate, Kitty and Letitia watched from the upper floor, all but hidden in the shadows.
A final guest…and Letitia nudged her sisters. “I think that’s him,” she whispered.
Hecate stared.
He was shorter than she imagined; and more rotund. In fact, he looked like exactly what he was. An overfed and indulged member of the Ton. His cloak was lined with fur, his clothing tailored to his generous proportions, and diamonds sparkled from his neckcloth and his hands.
It was clear that his attitude was both dismissive and curt, since he walked away from the servants without a word of thanks. Striding into the library, Hecate saw him lift his chin, a man secure in the knowledge that he was above everyone else in the room. At least in his own mind.
Once he had left the hall, the three women tiptoed down the stairs. Hecate knew where she had to be, and slipped silently to the chair standing next to the library wall. Ahead of her was the door, which would remain open.
Finn, who had been lurking in the kitchens—and probably managing to sweet-talk the cook into parting with some of her raspberry tartlets—would approach the same door from the far side of the hall. She would see him at that point.
But there was some time to go before that happened. She closed her eyes and focussed on what she could hear.
