by Laura Landon
Thomas concentrated on the view out the window. A movement in the far distance captured his attention and his breath caught. He watched until he was certain someone was there.
“Come here,” he said.
Barnaby and the major rose from their chairs and walked to the window.
Two figures were stopped now at the far end of the lane. One of the fellows slowly set down a bushel basket and raised his hands. The other, probably one of the major’s men, checked to see if he carried any weapons.
He seemed satisfied when he reached out and shook the other fellow’s hand and gestured toward the side entrance to the kitchens. The fellow nodded his head and picked up his basket. He was dressed in the common clothes and slouch hat of a local farmhand, and appeared to be whistling as he walked.
That caught the attention of the pups who were playing with Polly and Millicent just yards from the front door. The pups bounded away and ran toward the fellow, who grabbed an apple from his basket and rolled it for them to chase. Polly ran after them, laughing when the man threw another apple and the pups turned tail and scrambled after it.
Inside the house, everyone could hear the friendly chatter as the man drew closer. He took two more apples from the basket and tossed one to Millicent. Whether intentional or not, the apple was poorly aimed and Millicent turned to pick it up.
At the same moment, the man prepared to lob one to Polly, but she shrieked, certain she wouldn’t be able to catch it.
The man laughed and walked closer to Polly, and his intention became suddenly clear.
Thomas bolted from the room and ran to the foyer. “Polly! Run! Don’t take the apple! Run!”
But it was too late. As Polly reached for the apple, the man suddenly dropped his basket, letting the apples scatter across the lawn. In one fluid movement he had his arm around Polly and practically drew her off her feet.
“Polly!” Millicent shrieked. “Let her go!”
But the man’s face was fixed with purpose as he strode toward the house, pulling Polly with him.
. . .
No one in the foyer dared breathe as the man ushered Millicent into the entryway, then stepped through the doorway with Polly still gripped tightly in his arm. It wasn’t a menacing grip, more the companionable arm of a drinking buddy. But when Polly wrestled slightly, she couldn’t break his hold.
“Daniel Welfore?” The major addressed the fellow, and the men in the foyer readied themselves to overtake him.
The young man put his mouth close to Polly’s ear, and whatever he whispered seemed to calm her immensely.
“I want this to end,” young Welfore said quietly. “I know who’s trying to—”
His words were interrupted by a noise at the top of the stairway, and all eyes turned to see Cleo poised at the top. She stood with her hand on the newel post, ready to take her first step.
“Cleora!” Lady Palmerston gasped at the sight of her daughter.
“Who is it, Mother?”
Her timing was ruinous. Just as Cleo lifted her foot to take a step down, her mother called out.
“Cleo! Go back! It’s that Welfore fellow!”
“Wait!” Welfore yelled.
Cleo’s eyes flew wide in shock. Her foot slipped and she lost her balance. She screamed a startled cry and tumbled down the steps.
“No!” Thomas yelled as he darted past the others in the foyer and raced up the stairs. He wouldn’t be in time to stop her from falling no matter how swift he was. He knew it even as he raced upward.
He took the steps three at a time, but by the time he reached her, she’d already fallen down at least a half dozen steps. Her head slammed against the wall on one side then the railing on the other.
“Cleo,” he said when he cradled her limp body in his arms. Blood streamed down her face from a deep gash above her right eye and her cheek was already turning dark.
“Is she all right?” Lord Palmerston asked breathlessly from behind him.
“I … I don’t know.”
Thomas scooped her up and carried Cleo back up the steps. By the time he reached her bedroom, Mary had drawn back the covers. Not long after, her father and mother entered the room.
“The doctor’s on his way,” Barnaby said, following them in.
Thomas reached for the damp cloth Mary held out, but Lady Palmerston took it instead and placed it on her daughter’s forehead.
Although Thomas wanted to stay with Cleo, it wasn’t possible. Lady Palmerston wouldn’t allow anyone to go near her daughter. Especially someone who had no right to be there.
Chapter Ten
Thomas sat in the study where the men awaited word on Cleo’s condition. His cushioned chair was at Sam and Barnaby’s right, and Welfore’s left. Millie had taken Polly to another room to calm her. She was quite upset at the thought of Cleo being hurt.
Thomas took a sip of brandy and wished he’d brought the decanter over with him. He had a feeling he was going to need it.
“You were the person Randolph talked with the day he was killed, weren’t you?” Sam asked. He leaned back against his chair in a relaxed pose that appeared more menacing than if he paced before Welfore with a cudgel in his hands.
“Yes,” Welfore answered. His gaze focused on a spot on the floor in front of his feet.
“Why did you kill him?”
Welfore’s gaze darted upward. “I didn’t. At least… I didn’t go there with the intention of killing Randolph. I didn’t even have a gun.”
Major Bennett couldn’t hide his surprise. “Why did you meet him?”
“I wanted to talk to him.”
“About what?”
Welfore didn’t answer the major. Instead, he raked his hand over his face and breathed a heavy sigh.
“It’s too late to hold your tongue, Welfore. You need to explain everything if you expect us to believe you.”
After a few moments of silence, Welfore lifted his head and spoke. “Randolph was blackmailing me.”
The major sat forward in his chair. “Why?”
Welfore drew himself taller, like a man resigned to making his confession. “I had the opportunity to invest in a shipping venture that was carrying rare and priceless items from the Orient. I was assured that there would be a large profit made from the sale of the cargo.”
“Who did you invest with?” Major Bennett asked.
“Lord Cumings and Lord Billough.”
“Bloody hell,” Barnaby muttered. “It doesn’t get lower than those two.”
“I know. I discovered that they weren’t to be trusted when it was too late. The venture I was involved in was… criminal.” Welfore raked his hand down his face. “I wanted out. I disavowed any association with them as soon as I discovered what they were doing. I threatened to go to the authorities if they didn’t return the money I’d invested. I…” Welfore looked a little sheepish. “I misplaced a crate of expensive silk in case they didn’t pay me.”
“They were importing silk?” the major asked.
“They were smuggling silk. And opium and…” Welfore paused to take a sip of the brandy Barnaby had placed before him. “I don’t know what else. I only know it was not legal trade. I simply wanted out of the bargain.”
“Did they give back the money you’d invested?” the major asked.
“Only after I threatened several times to go to the authorities. I got most of my money back but not all.” Welfore lifted his gaze. “At the time I didn’t care about the money as much as I wanted clear of any association with those devils.”
Welfore lifted his brandy snifter and took another swallow. “When Randolph made his first demand, I thought Billough had put him up to blackmailing me. One of Billough’s men was with Randolph the first time he approached me so I naturally assumed Billough was still giving the orders. I didn’t know what else to do, so I paid them.” Welfore turned his gaze on each of the men. “I told them they would only get one payment, but they were never satisfied. Randolph refused to give up. He d
emanded more and more until…”
“Until?” Barnaby asked.
“Until I decided to confront him in public. I saw him riding with Lady Cleora and stopped where he would see me. He halted the carriage and walked toward me. He thought I’d come to pay the money he’d demanded. Instead, I told him there would be no more money coming. That I didn’t have it.
“He became furious. He ranted that he had debts to pay and needed the money until he could marry that bit ’o rare fluff. It’s what he called her, you know. The lady in the carriage. When I told him I’d go to her father and Randolph would be ruined, he pulled out a gun and threatened me.”
The revelation stilled every breath in the room. It was a plausible scenario, and the young man’s earnest demeanor was convincing.
“I reached for the gun, only intending to push it away. But Randolph wouldn’t put the gun away. We struggled and my horse jumped and knocked him sideways and the gun went off. My hand was never on the trigger, I swear. The gun…the gun was still in his hand as he fell.”
Welfore’s shoulders sagged. “The rest you know. The gunfire startled the carriage horses carrying Lady Cleora and her maid and they bolted. Later I heard that Lady Cleora’s maid was killed and Lady Cleora badly injured. It was…I was…” He dropped his head in his hands and his shoulders shook.
Thomas thought of Cleo lying upstairs and his heart ached. She’d suffered so much through no fault of her own. And now she was suffering more. But this young man had suffered, too.
Sam had been silent through the questioning and now leaned forward with a question of his own. “Why did you search Lord Palmerston’s residence?”
Daniel Welfore looked as if he hadn’t expected them to know about that. “I began to hear rumors that Lady Cleora hadn’t died in the accident after all and I knew she needed to be protected from Billough’s son.”
The major stood now, his hand resting on young Welfore’s shoulder. “Well, it was a good story until now, son. Very clever. I was almost feeling really sorry for you. Now tell us the truth.”
Welfore’s brows rose in surprise. “I am telling you the truth! What makes you think—”
Barnaby rose to join ranks with Major Bennett. They had the boy surrounded, and he looked up at them like a cornered rat.
“It’s simple,” the major said. And then his voice took on an angry edge. “Lord Billough doesn’t have a son.”
Welfore rose and broke between the two of them and turned.
“His bastard son.” Welfore said through gritted teeth.
Thomas saw carefully controlled anger rise in Welfore’s face. His honesty had been challenged, and the fellow did not like that one bit.
“His bastard son,” Barnaby repeated. “Billough had his bastard son working with him?”
“No,” Welfore said. “Not with him. Stealing from him.” Welfore spoke through gritted teeth. “And then framing me for Randolph’s murder.”
Tension heightened as the men in the room comprehended that there was something other than a misguided youth at play here.
“Explain.”
“Billough’s illegitimate son, Creston Parvel, used to work with his father. But he stole too much and Billough foreswore him.”
“No honor among thieves, eh?” Barnaby quipped.
Welfore huffed in agreement. “Billough thought Parvel had stolen the crate of silks. But it was me. That made Parvel furious. I was the reason his father cut him out of the business. The last straw, so to speak. So Parvel and Randolph got to every business venture I had made and undercut me. They made it look as if I was trying to take advantage of the people I was negotiating with. My reputation was ruined. My funds were gone overnight, and I was left with nothing.”
“How does Lady Cleora fit into this?” Thomas asked.
“Parvel was in the Park that day. He saw the whole thing. But he doesn’t know if Lady Cleora saw him or not. He hoped that if Lady Cleora was killed, the authorities would assume that I had done it to keep her from identifying me as the one Randolph had struggled with. Lady Cleora’s murder would put the authorities on my trail and Parvel wouldn’t have to risk killing me himself. The authorities would do it for him.
“So it was Parvel who shot at Cleo and hit Thomas?”
“Yes.”
“And you came today to warn us that the lady is still in danger,” Sam said.
“Yes.”
“You took a remarkably long time doing it, I should say.” Thomas couldn’t help but point that out.
Welfore shook his head. “I had to know for sure I had the right man. And I do. He was seen in a pub less than a mile from here. It’s Parvel. He’s continuing where Randolph left off. In fact, he’s at the docks right now, setting up a fake deal to entrap a Dutch ship owner tonight. If I had some of your men—”
Major Sam Bennett bolted to his feet. “Say no more, young man. Explain it in the coach. Barnaby, get your men and follow the coach. We’ll hatch a plan once I get Welfore’s information. Renfrew, you’re responsible for the manor. I’ll leave three men at your disposal. And send word to Major McCormick to bring a squad to—tell me where we’re headed, son.”
“Billingsgate.”
In a flurry of precision and expectation, Major Bennett and Barnaby escorted Daniel Welfore to a carriage. In minutes they were on their way.
Thomas wiped his brow. If Daniel Welfore hadn’t come up with his clever scheme to enter the house, the major’s men might have shot him. And killed an innocent man. And the one who wanted Cleo dead would still be out there.
. . .
Thomas sat in the study at Radburn Manor nursing a glass of brandy. This is where he’d been for much of the past three days. Word had come late in the night that Welfore had been vindicated. The Dutch ship owner was spared and Lord Billough’s bastard son was incarcerated.
That left only one problem to be solved. And it was the problem that kept Thomas twisted in knots, helpless to know what to do. He thought of breaking down the door to Cleo’s room and demanding that her mother leave so he could sit with her. He knew if he were with her she’d open her eyes and come back to them. He knew if he could only hold her hand the connection between them would pull her back from the darkness.
But being with her was highly improper, so he was forced to confine himself to brief, chaperoned visits and then wait patiently for word of how she was faring. So far today, there’d been little to report. Cleo slept as if she never intended to wake.
Thomas rose to his feet, then stepped to the window. He turned when the door opened and Lord Palmerston entered. One look at the drawn expression on Cleo’s father’s face told him the answer before he asked his question.
“How is the lady?” Thomas asked. He struggled to keep the desperation from his voice but knew he failed.
“She’s the same. She hasn’t moved since you carried her to her room.” Lord Palmerston walked to the sideboard and removed the stopper from the crystal brandy decanter, then poured himself a healthy amount of the liquor. He took a swallow, then walked to one of the two matching cushioned wing chairs and sat.
“Her mother is beside herself,” he said, cradling the glass in his hands. “If she hadn’t sounded the alarm, Cleora wouldn’t have been startled and slipped on the stairs and fallen.”
“She mustn’t blame herself. Nor can you both allow yourselves to think the worst.”
“Who is to blame, then?”
Thomas didn’t have an answer. Part of what Lord Palmerston said was true. But Cleo’s parents didn’t need that guilt placed on their shoulders.
“I’ve watched you with my daughter since we came. You seem to have formed an attachment to her.”
Thomas considered how to answer Cleo’s father. If he admitted he had, he feared Lord Palmerston would voice his opposition to Thomas’s suit. After all, what father would want to see his beautiful daughter connected to someone so scarred?
“I admire your daughter a great deal. Because of Lady Cleora’s
blindness, it has been easy for us to get along.”
“Does she know about your face?”
Thomas was a bit taken aback by the blunt question.
“She does.”
“What does she say about the fact that you have such a disfigurement?”
“She says it does not matter to her. But that is no doubt because she has not seen me. I’m sure once she does, things will change.”
“You talk as if you expect her to see again.”
Thomas lifted his head. His gaze locked with Cleo’s father’s “I do. I think it’s only a matter of time before her sight returns.”
Lord Palmerston’s shoulders visibly dropped. “You don’t know how I pray that will happen. I can’t imagine my daughter never being able to see again. She had such a love for life in London. Every aspect of it. To never travel to London again would destroy her zest for life.”
Lord Palmerston’s words struck Thomas with devastating force. Whether it had been Palmerston’s intention or not, Thomas’s conviction that he could never give Cleo what she wanted most was confirmed. He could never give her the life she deserved to resume.
He took Palmerston’s warning to heart. If the day came when Cleo’s sight returned, she would want to retake her place in Society. Since London was the last place he intended to go, the life Thomas would give Cleo would destroy her were she to marry him.
“Would you care to see her?” Palmerston asked unexpectedly.
Thomas darted his gaze to Cleo’s father. “I would.”
“I will take you to her. We won’t be able to stay long, but you can at least see her.”
“Thank you,” Thomas said rising to his feet.
He followed Lord Palmerston out of the room and up the stairs to Cleo’s room. A footman opened the door and Thomas followed Cleo’s father into the room.
Thomas’s gaze was riveted on the still figure on the bed. It had been nearly three days since Cleo had tumbled down the stairs. Three long days since she’d lost consciousness, and she had yet to regain it. What if she never did?
A painful weight fell to the pit of his stomach and he couldn’t ease the discomfort it caused.
