If He’s Wild

by Howell, Hannah

  “No, I think not. I doubt you got much off of Rogers or Peterson, either.”

  “They were fools.”

  “Why? Because they chose not to betray their country before they died?”

  “Yes. Of what good is honor to a dead man?”

  “Only a person who has none could ask that question.”

  “Fool. I will ask you a lot more questions, and you will answer me. Mayhap I will even allow you to live.” She smiled. “Although you may not wish to when I am done with you. Still, you may consider the fact that if you die, you leave your little wife alone.”

  Fear shot through Hartley, but he quickly conquered it. Alethea would not be alone, for her family would see to her safety and care. “No, she will never be alone. And you will not be able to enjoy whatever money you flee with. My niece and nephew will see to it that you are hunted wherever you go, hunted down and made to pay for killing their family on the beach that day. And they will have all the help my wife and her family can give her.”

  “You but try to make me cower and run, but it will not work.” She stood up and brushed off the sleeves of her gown again. “First my men will soften you up a bit, oui? And then I shall start to ask you questions. You think you are such a brave, big man that you can stand firm beneath what I do? I think you are in for a very big surprise. Men, begin please, and do try to remember that I want him alive and able to speak afterward.”

  Hartley watched one of her men roll up his sleeves. His arms were thick with muscle. When he clenched his hand into a fist, Hartley had to admit it was an impressive one. This is going to hurt, he thought as that big fist swung toward him.

  Chapter 17

  An itch on her ankle was driving Alethea mad, but she remained still. She did not know how long they had been watching Margarite’s house, but she thought it had been long enough to begin to consider that this may have been a mistake. Olympia’s vision was undoubtedly correct, but they all knew that visions were rarely specific as to when the foreseen event would occur. Olympia would readily admit that her visions were more of a knowing, a certainty about something, and nowhere near as exact as Alethea’s could be. Her cousin was certain that Margarite would return to her home, but that did not have to happen today or even this week. The time of late in the day could be right, but which day? It could be next year, and all that would be left of Hartley was his bones.

  A hand began to rub her back, and Alethea pulled herself free of the trap her fear for Hartley kept ready for her. She glanced over her shoulder at Modred. He was such a beautiful man, he looked odd hiding in a shadowed alley with her and the others, she mused, and then mouthed the word sorry. Modred did not need to be pummeled by her wayward emotions now, not when he was determined upon using his gift to get information out of women like Margarite and Claudette.

  Alethea understood why Modred was so insistent upon helping. He needed to see that what he saw as a curse could actually be used to help someone, that there could be some good in it. She just wished he had not chosen women like these to do so. Nothing they had told him about Claudette and Margarite had changed his mind, however. She felt guilty that a large part of her was glad of that, for no one had a better chance of getting the information they needed to save Hartley than Modred did.

  “There she is,” Argus whispered from where he stood in front of her.

  In the dim light of a cloudy late afternoon, Alethea did not know how Argus could tell Margarite from any other heavily cloaked woman, but she did not ask. Although, she mused, not many women walked around with six big men. If Argus said this was Margarite, then it was. He was rarely wrong about such things. The fact that the woman went to the door of Margarite’s house and, with a quick, sharp movement of her hand, quickly dispersed the six men around the house, confirmed Argus’s opinion.

  Alethea was almost able to smile. Those men were in for a nasty surprise. In the shadowy areas around Margarite’s home were an equal number of men, both Hartley’s and, to her surprise, Argus’s. She supposed she should have guessed by Argus’s highly efficient hunt for proof of Claudette’s crimes—and then for Claudette herself—that her cousin was doing the same sort of government work as her husband. She just could not recall anyone having said so explicitly.

  When the signal came from one of Argus’s men that told him Margarite’s men were no longer a threat, Argus casually brushed himself off and strode out of the alley they had all been hiding in. Alethea, Modred, Olympia, Aldus, and Gifford had to scramble to catch up with him. The way Gifford and Aldus heeded Argus’s commands despite their higher stations told Alethea that whatever position her cousin held in the secretive branches of government, it was a high one. When this was all over she was determined to find out just how many of her family were lurking in the shadowy corridors of the government and the military.

  “Are we just going to rap on the door and wait for her to invite us in?” she asked Argus when she caught up with him.

  “Oh, my dearest cousin, I had not intended to rap first,” he replied. “Why announce ourselves after suffering all this discomfort to remain a secret?”

  He took her hand as if he sensed that her fear for Hartley was beginning to get the best of her again. Her husband had left the house when the sun had just begun to rise. Now it was almost full set, and they still had not found him, did not even know where he was being held. She kept thinking of how much pain he must have endured by now and was not sure how much longer she could bear it.

  They walked into Margarite’s house without making a sound. The woman had dismissed all of her servants, so there was no one to warn her of their secretive invasion. Alethea blinked in astonishment as she looked around at the somewhat garish décor. She looked toward Olympia, who just rolled her eyes. Having money, cunning, beauty, and power obviously did not prevent one from having extremely bad taste, Alethea decided.

  Margarite did not see them at first. She was on her knees prying up a board in the floor of the parlor as, one by one, they slipped into the room. They had nearly encircled her before she sensed something was amiss. Whirling around, she stared at them in horror and then glanced behind them. A heartbeat later, she looked at each window. Alethea realized the woman was looking for her guards to rush to her rescue. By the time Margarite met their gazes again, she had begun to get control of her expression and just looked a little shocked, with a hint of confusion. Alethea hated to admit it, but she had to admire the skill that kept the woman from looking as afraid as she must feel now that she knew her guards were not coming to her aid.

  “I am afraid your burly ruffians cannot help you now,” said Argus as he stepped over to Margarite.

  The way Argus yanked the woman to her feet, dragged her to a chair, and shoved her into it shocked Alethea. Argus was a lot angrier about what Margarite and her sister had done than he had revealed before now. The look of grim satisfaction on Olympia’s face confirmed Alethea’s opinion that barely repressed fury was at work here. If Argus had some dark part of him that caused him to be rough with women, Olympia would have known about it. She would also have gelded the man by now, brother or not.

  “You cannot come in here like this,” Margarite protested, her expression now one of righteous outrage. “You certainly have no right to treat me so roughly.” She rubbed the arm he had grabbed. “I am sure to have bruises.”

  “If all goes as I wish it, madam, you shall have yet another bruise, a brilliant one around your neck caused by the noose you so richly deserve to wear. Now, where is your sister and, most importantly, where is Lord Redgrave?”

  “I have no idea where my sister is, and, as for Lord Redgrave, I suggest you ask his little wife.”

  Before Alethea could say a word, Argus bent toward the woman. He put his hands on the arms of the chair, and Margarite pressed into the back of it in a vain attempt to escape the furious man drawing so close to her. Alethea was glad she could not see her cousin’s face, for whatever was there leeched all the color from Margarite’s face. />
  “You will tell me what I wish to know, madam,” Argus said in a voice so cold it made Alethea shiver.

  “I just told you that I have no idea where Claudette or Redgrave are. Why should I? Perhaps they have slipped away for a tryst. He has the wife to give him an heir, oui? So now he can play.”

  Argus stepped back, put his hands on his hips, and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “Aldus, see what she is hiding beneath the floor.” As Aldus moved to do so, Argus looked at Margarite again. “I am curious to see what would have a woman on her knees trying her hand at ripping up a floor.”

  Alethea was truly astonished by the woman’s control. Not by a flicker of an eyelash did Margarite reveal that she was in any way overset by the chance of Aldus revealing her secrets. It was very possible that the woman had not hidden anything that could get her or her sister hanged.

  “I have nothing hidden there,” Margarite said. “I was but trying to fix a loose board.”

  “By yourself? With six burly men roaming about outside? I become gravely insulted, madam, that you should think such weak explanations and excuses would be enough to turn me aside from what I seek.”

  “You said you seek Claudette and Redgrave. I certainly have not hidden them beneath my floors.”

  “Sweet heavens, but she makes me ache to slap her blind,” muttered Olympia in a quiet but very hard voice.

  “I feel the same,” said Alethea in an equally soft voice so as not to disturb Argus. “You can almost smell the arrogance and conceit of the woman in the very air around her. I would like to believe that Aldus will find something of importance beneath the floor, but I cannot. Margarite is far too calm, cocky even, for someone about to be revealed as a traitor.”

  “My guess is that there is money and jewels under there, enough to make for a very comfortable life somewhere safer for her than London is now.”

  “If that is so, then why stay here once it did grow dangerous if she had the funds to leave?”

  “Because for someone like her, enough is never enough. More, always more, is wanted.”

  “Olympia, if you will work your magic on this hovel, I would appreciate it,” said Argus.

  “Of course. Madam, if there is anything you wish to confess to, do it now, for it might be to your benefit to do so before I uncover the crime.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Margarite.

  “Your secrets, your sins, leave their mark, madam,” Olympia said as she began to walk toward the fireplace. “The greater the crime, the heavier the sin, the longer that mark remains.” She shrugged when Margarite just stared at her as if she were mad. “Have it your way.”

  The way Olympia strode directly to the fireplace told Alethea that her cousin had already been closely surveying the room for signs. Olympia’s gift was one she did not completely understand. Alethea understood Iago seeing the spirits of people, but how could Olympia see the spirits of events? However the woman did it, she did it well, and Alethea had no doubt that Olympia had already uncovered something Margarite would rather not have discovered.

  “If I recall the drawings I was shown,” said Olympia as she ran her hand over the ornate marble mantelpiece, “that man Pierre Leon was recently here. That is who I see standing here.”

  “That is no great secret,” said Margarite. “Of course he was here. He is my cousin. And most people stand by a fireplace when they first enter a room. He was probably cold or damp.”

  “A very close cousin, too. You were lovers.”

  Margarite began to look a little nervous, but she shrugged. “That is no crime, either. Pierre is a very handsome man.”

  “And foolish enough to think he could trust you.” Olympia idly rubbed her hand up and down the side of the mantelpiece. “He thought you had accepted his failures, understood that he had done his best to kill Germaine and make Alethea run home. But you had not. Neither had Claudette. Oh, my. That is interesting. You were both with him.”

  “How is that interesting? As I just told you, he was our cousin.”

  Alethea saw the faint smile on Olympia’s face and knew why it was there. Margarite had slipped. She had said was, not is. No one showed that they had noticed that slip, however, and so Alethea struggled to keep her knowledge of it out of her expression. She knew that cracking a nut as hard as Margarite would not be quick and easy.

  “And so very, very close to both of you.” Olympia shook her head. “Poor, poor fool. If he had not tried to kill young Germaine and beat my cousin, I might actually feel sorry for him. He did not realize that the moment he failed to do as you and Claudette wanted, he was already a dead man. Blood ties mean nothing to you or her.”

  “Of course they do. We honor our family and are all very close.”

  “Well, you and Claudette were certainly very close to him that night. He thought he was in for a very special delight. The fact that he felt no surprise at what was offered tells me that he had indulged before.” Olympia gave a dramatic shudder. “That is something I would rather not think about, and I am pleased the act was never finished here. No. As you, madam, kept him dazed with passion, your sister slipped her knife out of her sleeve and cut the poor fool’s throat. I believe if we look hard enough, we will find his blood around here somewhere. No one can clean up such a mess completely.”

  “How dare you accuse me of such things!”

  The protest was spoken with an admirable amount of outrage, but Alethea could see the glint of fear in Margarite’s eyes. The guilty might not understand how their secret had been discovered, but the very fact that it had been laid out in front of them, in detail, was often enough to unsettle them. Alethea had never seen it done to someone guilty of so many heinous crimes before, however. It was interesting to see that the control needed when faced with one’s sins was as hard to grasp in the most evil of criminals as it was in the petty ones.

  “My dear, do not try to argue with our Olympia,” said Argus. “She just tells you what she sees.”

  “By touching things? Do not think me a simpleton, sir. No one can see things by touching something.” Margarite spoke in a voice heavy with scorn, yet she never took her gaze off Olympia.

  “Oh, but they can. Our Alethea is very good at that. You and Claudette left a handkerchief at Iago’s house, and it was very talkative.” Argus met Margarite’s startled look with a smile. “Farm girls. You are naught but lowly farm girls who reach far and above their station.”

  That stung, Alethea thought as Margarite glared at her cousin. “Chickens,” she murmured, knowing she was adding to the insult. “You slaughtered chickens for nothing, and very little of it.”

  Margarite was starting to become afraid. Aldus sat on the floor looking through several small chests he had pulled out of a hollow beneath the board Margarite had been pulling up. The rest of her unwanted company stood around telling her things they had no way of knowing. Alethea was just surprised that it had taken the woman so long to lose her bravado.

  Modred stepped forward, and Alethea tensed, wanting to know what he might discover and wanting to protect him from such evil. She clenched her hands at her side, fighting the urge to pull him back, away from what she saw as a danger to his heart and soul. He was a grown man, head of their large family, and he had the right to prove himself.

  “She is as Iago said,” murmured Modred as he stared at Margarite, his head cocked slightly to the side. “Cold, empty.”

  Margarite glared at Iago. “If I was cold, it was because you were such a poor lover.”

  “No, you wanted him back,” said Modred. “You wanted him to be your next husband.” Modred glanced at Iago. “You would not have survived the marriage for long.”

  “I am not surprised.” Iago shook his head. “I had not realized what a narrow escape I had until Alethea arrived to tell me of her dream. Although, marriage had never been on my mind. One wishes one’s wife a little less experienced than she.”

  “She killed her first husband and the man she married when she
came to England,” Modred said and watched Margarite calmly as he set the accusations before her. “The first she turned in to the authorities as a traitor. The second, she poisoned. He liked a drink of brandy before bed. That is where she put the poison. I believe he is the only one she killed by her own hand.”

  Modred idly adjusted his gloves. “You were right to say she has the soul of a stone-cold killer. She sent both men to their deaths for petty reasons. The first she killed because he tried to be the man of the house, and the second because he irritated her. The worst irritation was how he ate his soup.”

  Alethea could see that Margarite was stunned and growing more terrified of Modred with every word he said. Modred looked a little pale, the pulling of secrets from the woman costing him in strength and peace of mind. More than any of them, Modred led a sheltered life. He would have had little to do with the kind of evil Margarite and Claudette had inside them.

  “The only thing she felt when Pierre was killed right in her arms was irritation over the ruination of her gown. And she does know exactly where her sister is holding Hartley,” Modred finished and smiled at her. “She thinks she does not need to tell us, that she only needs to remain silent for a little while longer and we will give up and go away, returning to blindly running about London looking for him.”

  “Ah, a sound plan, madam,” said Argus. “But you must see that it will not work. We shall just have Modred here pluck it out of your mind. And, if Modred is feeling a bit wearied of peering into that sewer, I will make you tell me what we need to know.”

  “What is he?” Margarite whispered, ignoring Argus. “He was in my head. I could feel him there.”

  “Could you? How intriguing. Tell me where Redgrave is.”

  “Why should I?” she suddenly snapped, glaring at Argus. “It will gain me nothing. You are all of a mind to hang me anyway.”