She wished she could stop the trembling that had taken over her limbs. She felt like plopping down to sit on the street, though the filth that coated it was deterrent enough.
Her husband… her fake husband! ... was, it seemed, a man of action. In all senses of the word! She blushed at her brash thoughts. This was no time to be thinking about such things!
She was lucky he reacted rapidly in times of crisis or she’d have been crushed... pulverized under the cart’s wheels! No man she knew possessed the fortitude to remain that calm in the face of such a dramatic episode.
Well, Mr. Mason, naturally, had retained his composure. But he was a professional, a hired bodyguard. After Reed had leapt to her rescue, she’d taken a frightened look around and caught the Scot’s rapid glance to reassure himself they were safe, and then he’d run after the cart.
Even Foster, ever her stalwart protector, was slowing down in his old age and his reaction had not been as immediate as Reed’s. As for how the twins would have responded… They’d be cursing passionately in Italian about the idiocy of the cart owner, their hands gesticulating as fast as their mouths were moving, yet doing nothing to either prevent it from hurting any one else or to find out why it had almost killed them in the first place.
She looked down and noticed her soiled gloves for the first time. If this was the worst of it, she’d gotten off lightly. She glanced at the back of the cart. What was he doing in there?
Suddenly, she stiffened. Had he recalled he was a thief? Was he busy robbing the cart of its contents?
Well, she didn’t plan on standing by for that kind of behavior!
She was about to say so, when he backed out and bent to peer under the cart, then at the splintered front wheel. She just had time to see that his hands were empty of any loot, before he grabbed her elbow and quietly motioned Mason and Foster to join them. “Best we leave now.” He nodded toward the belligerent crowd. “The mob is becoming restive.”
“Did you find anything?” she asked.
He gazed at her in silence for a few moments, as if deciding what to tell her. “There were only huge, muddy boulders in the cart. Not the kind used for building.” He looked at Mr. Mason. “Do you know of any use for such large rocks in London?”
The Scot frowned. “None that I can think of, at this instant.”
“Another thing,” Reed added reluctantly. “The shafts had been cut, allowing the horse to escape and the cart to plunge freely down the hill.”
“In other words, this was not an accident.” Tally had known it. From the moment she’d seen the wagon charging down the hill, aiming straight for her, she’d known this was another attempt to kill her. She’d thought that this time they were going to succeed... until Reed saved her.
“I’m afraid so.” He looked concerned and at a loss to understand why anyone would want to kill her.
What could she tell him? That when he came through her window, she thought he might be trying to do the same thing? She looked around at the gathering crowd. “Let’s discuss this later, when we get home.”
“Right.” He kept his hand at her elbow and they all walked quietly back toward the hackney that, despite the furor, had remained patiently waiting for them. Probably the most exciting event the driver had witnessed in years!
Back in the carriage, Reed said, “Perhaps you’d prefer to go home now?”
She sent him a sharp look. Was he just being solicitous or did he sense danger, thanks to something lying latent in his lost memory? “No!”
The startled looks on the men’s faces told her she’d overreacted. Quieting her tone, she said, “I’ve been looking forward to this Exhibition and it ends today.” It took more than a close-call with her own mortality to stop her from wanting to see her first London art show at the Royal Academy! She wasn’t going to pass up the chance to see what other painters were accomplishing.
Besides, though she couldn’t tell Reed this, whoever was trying to harm her could just as easily reach her in her home as on the street. Witness his climbing through her bedroom window! The art exhibit may very well be the safest place for her, right about now.
Mr. Mason looked as if he’d like to object. Foster, who had agreed to ride inside with them now, was looking glumly resigned.
After lifting an inquiring eyebrow at them and receiving no negative outcry, Reed said, “Then so be it.” He flashed his roguish smile at her. “Far be it from me to refuse you such a treat.” He waved his arm expansively. “To the Royal Academy!”
Who had made him master of this outing? Tally fumed. For a man who was unable to recall even his own name, he was being rather high-handed
Clenching her teeth, she railed silently. She couldn’t very well say anything. He believed he was her husband and had the right to make decisions for her. And she supposed she should give him credit for having just saved her life, even if she didn’t appreciate him trying to rule it now.
Just the kind of man she didn’t need… or want, she reminded herself. Domineering, just like her brothers and her father! She’d had enough of being told what to do, she seethed, conveniently forgetting she had compared him favorably to the twins no more than five minutes ago.
He might be the most gorgeous man she’d met in ages. Fine… that she’d ever met! But, judging from today’s events, he was far too managing to suit her.
* * *
Today they were going to confront Reed. It was past time they found out exactly what was going on in that house, Jace had decided. He’d summoned Max to arrive early, to act as his lookout and sound the alarm should trouble arise.
About fifteen minutes ago, he’d seen almost all the occupants board a hired carriage and leave. He was glad the rest of them were gone, but he’d have preferred it if Reed had remained behind alone. Now, even the housekeeper and young boy had just left by the back door and headed up the lane, shopping baskets in hand.
Good. At least, this way, he could do a thorough search of the premises.
He had his vagrant’s disguise on again, as he slowly made his way up the lane to the back of Reed’s house. Suddenly a vehicle entered from the other end, forcing him to duck into the one of the recessed posterns and watch. A small one-horse wagon, holding two workers, stopped right behind Reed’s place.
Oh, for the love of…! More people to keep an eye on! He began to leave his hiding spot, thinking to saunter ahead and strike up a chat, when it occurred to him that something wasn’t right about this. Why would laborers appear as soon as everyone had left? He edged closer, keeping to the shadows.
Just as he thought! They were up to no good. One went in a window and came to unlock the door for the other.
His suspicions now confirmed, he settled his back against the neighbor’s wall, thick with ivy, to wait and watch. He didn’t have to linger for long. They were out again in less than ten minutes. What had taken so little time? All his senses on alert, he signaled Max — acting as sentry at the end of the lane — to follow them. Now, he needed to get in and out, without his lookout to warn him of someone coming.
He entered the same way they had, through the window left slightly ajar. Was there someone helping them from the inside? Perhaps the new man, the red-headed giant, who had just joined their household? Jace hadn’t been able to get a good look at him yet, but he had noted a few new men hanging around at night and Max told him there were now several men watching the house during the day and the carrot top met with them regularly. Jace had asked the Chief to get one of their agents to look into that.
Slowly, methodically, he made his way along the back hallway and around the ground floor. It was hard to believe that the odor of turpentine and oil paint still permeated the house despite Reed being away for so many years.
Just when he thought that things appeared normal and perhaps they’d just come in for a look around, his eye was snagged by something red in the drawing-room fireplace. He bent for a closer look. The unusual-looking cylinder stood out, though efforts had been made to
conceal it under some kindling. The crimson color of the cardpaper it was made of had caught his eye.
Picking up the package, with its twisted ends like some crude homemade fireworks, he undid one end and shook out some of the black, sand-like contents.
Gunpowder! Holy Hell! The whole place would have gone up like a pyrotechnic display at Vauxhall! The Vanisher wasn’t taking any chances it seemed. He’d planned on making sure the house and all of its contents — including all its inhabitants — were burned to cinders.
An adult might have noticed the odd package but not the young boy who — if the fiends were watching the house carefully, as they must be — they would have known was responsible for the task. Once he lit the tainted kindling, it would have only taken a matter of seconds before the fireplace exploded, followed by a huge inferno. There was little doubt it would have trapped everyone above or below stairs.
The Vanisher had found Reed. Not only found him, but was actively trying to eliminate him. Shards of ice slid down Jace’s spine. Thank God, he’d asked Max to follow those men.
Rolling the cylindrical container into his handkerchief, he stuffed it carefully into the large pocket on his jacket. He could have left then. He figured he’d averted inevitable catastrophe, but something in his gut told him to continue his inspection. He knew what to look for now.
He found the second cartridge in the fireplace in Reed’s room, at the front of the house. The bastards weren’t taking any chances! But they’d seriously miscalculated in thinking that Reed wouldn’t spot their explosive. He had the most observant eye Jace had ever known. Maybe it was his painter’s eye, but one thing was certain, Reed would have noticed the colorful cylinder almost immediately upon entering his room.
Even so, Jace felt sickened. Tinder like this would have been sufficient to set the entire house aflame, and so rapidly it would have been well nigh impossible for anyone to make it out safely, especially if they were on the top floor.
That reminded him to go have a look up in the studio. Once there, he went directly to the fireplace. Nothing. They’d decided not to waste more gunpowder. Anyone up here when the explosion occurred downstairs would have been trapped, with no chance in hell of survival.
Hey…. It looked like Reed had already begun painting again. He sure hadn’t wasted any time! Jace hadn’t been able to see up here with the telescope, so he hadn’t known. Was that why that misbegotten miscreant hadn’t arranged to meet them? Such artistic passion was to be admired. But he should have delivered the documents first!
Despite his annoyance at Reed, curiosity pushed him to the easel, where he lifted a corner of the cloth covering the canvas to steal a peek.
A landscape? A view of St. Paul’s…. He snorted. That bandage around Reed’s head must be genuine. He had to be truly dicked in the nob to change his style so drastically.
He looked closer. Not that it wasn’t good… incredibly good, in fact… but it didn’t look anything like what he’d seen of his friend’s artwork.
The back door slammed. He jerked the cloth back into place. Damn stupid of him to waste precious moments looking at a half-finished painting.
He quietly bolted down the back stairs to the second floor then stopped. Listened. The studio might have made a good hiding place, but then he’d have had the devil of a time getting out of the house unnoticed. From here, he had only one floor to get down without being seen. He looked around for a hiding spot.
Whoever had come in was probably removing their coat, and… Now they were tramping about in the kitchen. If only they… When he heard them move in the direction of the back stairs, he slipped into the linen room at the top of the stairs and stood behind the door, holding his breath.
Had to be the older woman. They’d decided she was the cook because she did the food shopping, usually with the young boy’s help. It was odd that Reed had so few servants, and it was rare a cook went out to make her own food purchases. Guess she was pernickety about what she bought.
He hoped to God she wasn’t coming to fetch some linen. He didn’t relish frightening the old gal out of her drawers.
He heard her plodding steps reach the landing and waited, breath suspended, for her to move. She was breathing hard enough for the both of them. She’d better lose some of her considerable girth, he reflected cynically, or she wasn’t going to be cooking for much longer. Her slow shuffle stopped while she heaved a few more belabored breaths before climbing the next flight of stairs leading to the upper floors.
He waited patiently, until he heard the creaking of her heavy footsteps along the hallway above. He opened the mercifully silent door, descended furtively to the bottom floor, and let himself out the back.
They needed to add more men to their watch detail, he reflected, resuming his tramp’s hobble back toward the park. With their quarry ready to burn down Reed’s home with him and four innocents in it, the Chief would be willing to invest all of his resources to prevent that or something equally dire from happening.
Time was up for his friend. They’d given him enough space to do whatever he was doing. This matter had to be settled before Reed ended up dead. Next time they might not be so lucky.
Chapter Nineteen
Once outside the exhibit, Mr. Mason said, “I’ll go secure the hack but, as I mentioned earlier, I won’t be going with you. I have business to attend to.”
Tally leaned closer to ask, “Will you be home for supper?”
“No, I don’t think so.” He raised his voice for Reed and Foster to hear. “May I suggest you go straight home.” He exchanged a serious look with Reed, before striding off.
It wasn’t difficult to interpret that look. Obviously, Mr. Mason was depending on Reed to watch over her. She’d nearly missed Reed’s barely perceptible nod of agreement. No doubt his quick reactions, earlier, had impressed her investigator.
At the moment, her safety was the furthest thing from her mind. She straightened her shoulders to release some of the tension gathered there and started down the stairs leading out of the Academy beside Reed.
“Did you enjoy the exhibit?” she asked him.
He scrutinized her features, searching for a hitch.
Did she sound different?
He may have lost his memory, but his perceptiveness was uncanny. She was doing her best to behave normally, but her legs felt rubbery and she was numb with shock. Not from her earlier near miss. She’d recovered from that by now. She’d received another, almost greater jolt while viewing the art. If anything could be more unsettling than almost being killed, this was it.
She still didn’t know how she’d retained her composure. Or stopped herself from exclaiming aloud. To see two of her own paintings on display had been shocking.
More shocking still was seeing the “Sold” sign on both pieces.
Her first reaction was that Monsieur must have wanted to surprise her. But the greatest — and worst! — shock of all, and the one she was still reeling from, was when she’d bent to read which pseudonym Monsieur had chosen to use.
“Oh my god! That can’t be right,” she’d exclaimed.
“Wendal Lawton, you mean?” Reed chimed in from beside her.
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud, or that he was so close by. “Wendal–” Her mouth snapped shut. She had read it correctly. The attributed artist was … her father! Monsieur had put her father’s name on her work! It didn’t make sense!
“I like it. I like both of his paintings,” Reed said. “You feel you know what that man is thinking as he watches the children playing ball. His wistful face tells it all.”
She was too perturbed by her father’s forged signature on her work to enjoy Reed’s praise. This was fraud! And whether she’d known about it or not, it was her painting, so she was involved. She’d be roundly condemned!
Ha! She’d be lucky not to be hanged!
From that point on, she did no more than follow Reed and Mr. Mason around the exhibit. Stunned, and frightened of the consequence
s, she was barely aware of where she was. Even now, exiting the Academy, she was still dazed with disbelief.
Striving to appear normal, she said, “What about the rest of the exhibition?”
“Yes, I liked it. Very much. I can’t recall if I usually go to art shows, but I enjoyed this one.” His pleased smile told the truth of his words. “But I was worried about you. Was it too much for you after that frightening incident? You seemed preoccupied.”
“I’m fine,” she clipped, then softened her tone. It wasn’t his fault. “What did you like most?” Talking might distract him from focusing on her.
“Some of the paintings were surprisingly good. I especially liked those two by Wendal Lawton. Too bad they were already sold or we could have bought one.” He paused and looked uncertain. “For a moment, I thought I might have recognized the name.”
She cast him a guarded look. Was that why he’d been climbing in her window? Was there some connection between her father’s name being inscribed on her paintings and the attempts on her life? Was Reed involved in the fraud?
“He’s one of England’s best known artists, so that may be why his name sounds familiar,” keeping her tone neutral, she paused in front of the doorway to look for the hackney Mr. Mason had summoned for them. “I’m glad we came today.”
What an understatement! If they hadn’t, she’d have missed out on the thrill — short-lived though it had been — of seeing her art exhibited publicly for the first time. But, more importantly, she’d have had no idea that her work was being sold under her famous father’s name.
It wouldn’t be long before the art experts knew. The forged signature might fool some who weren’t familiar with it, but it wasn’t perfect. And her painting style, her brush strokes, even the compositions, while bearing certain similarities to her father’s, were sufficiently different to alert the masters to the deception. Weren’t they? It seemed so obvious to her that she couldn’t imagine everyone not knowing.
The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife Page 24
