They walked on in silence. What did Jardine want? He’d said nothing that wasn’t already clear to all concerned. There must be something else, some vested interest apart from Lady Kate. But what?
After a few minutes, during which Max knew Jardine studied him, his companion spoke. “You’ve grown soft, Your Grace.”
The mocking words stung. At one time, Max had prided himself on his cold-bloodedness, his willingness to do whatever was required to get the job done. But to assassinate a gently bred lady desperate to save her brother from incarceration was beyond anything he’d ever contemplated.
Jardine was not so squeamish. And if it came to a fight between them, who would win?
“There might be an alternative,” Jardine said. He glanced speculatively at Max. “Our head of operations is not the man he was. He is looking towards retirement and such considerations inevitably change one’s perspective. There have been . . . lapses in judgment, shall we say?”
Max digested this. Clearly, Jardine wanted the top job and he was prepared to help Max protect Lady Kate. In exchange for . . .
Max hissed out a breath of disgust. “You want the memoirs.”
Jardine bowed. “In a nutshell. I can put the information to better use than Faulkner ever would. The man’s vision is remarkably limited in scope.” Jardine showed his teeth. “Oh, I assure you, my motives are pure. What was it you always said? The end justifies the means?”
Max would have preferred Jardine to stay out of it, but the man knew too much. Admittedly, there were certain strategic advantages to keeping his old rival in plain sight.
He glanced at Jardine’s chiseled profile. “I’ll see what I can do.”
AT noon, Max hadn’t yet finalized his preparations. He jogged down the steps of his Mayfair house and strode off in the direction of Piccadilly, where his friend Lord Vane ran a private boxing establishment even more select than Jackson’s.
“Your Grace! Your Grace!”
Perry. Clenching his jaw, Max halted, struggling to contain his fury. Perry’s failure to keep watch on Lady Kate’s house that morning meant that Jardine now held incriminating evidence against her. Exasperated with himself for trusting the boy that far, Max pinched the bridge of his nose. Why didn’t he just tell the young fool to make himself scarce? In truth, he owed Perry nothing.
But he could never forget that he’d taken the young man’s father away, condemned him to the hangman’s noose. Nor that Perry had suffered cruelly at his father’s hand. Max took a deep breath and did his best to keep his temper.
Turning around, he said, “Ah, Perry.” Max took out his watch and glanced at it. “I did say I’d see you now, didn’t I?”
Perry trotted up to him and fell into step as Max turned and walked on. The young man tried his patience at the best of times, but today his buoyant eagerness made Max want to strangle him.
“You said you’d have a job for me.”
“How rash of me,” murmured Max, drawing on his gloves. “Give me a moment. I’m sure I’ll think of something for you to do.”
He looked about him, letting Perry’s chatter form part of the background, like the clop of horses’ hooves and the shouts of costermongers plying their wares in the busy street.
Though London was its usual noisome self, spring pervaded the air in subtle ways. A gentle warmth. The faint, sweet scent of flowers from the basket of a passing maidservant. Unremitting birdsong and a mellow quality in the light.
It was a time of tender new growth, heady optimism, and the madness of young love. Or, if you were a member of the Upper Ten Thousand, it was the Season, an endless round of balls, musicales, visits to the opera, the theater, even to the museum if some fashionable exhibit like the El-gin Marbles was on display.
For many years that gaiety had passed him by. Oh, he’d always had the entrée to that world. His blood was as good as anyone’s and very few knew of the dirty work he did for the Home Office. His acquaintance assumed he was a desk Johnny and he’d never seen fit to correct them. Even the excuse of lack of funds didn’t answer because most gentlemen of his age punted on tick until their creditors set the bailiffs on them.
He’d cast himself out, he supposed. At eighteen, he’d suffered the crushing discovery that the father he worshipped was not only an inveterate gaming addict, but bankrupt into the bargain. In one fell swoop Max’s future, his brother’s army commission, his sisters’ dowries, his mother’s jointure all disappeared.
Shortly afterwards, his father died in what the local magistrate euphemistically called a shooting accident. The old Duke of Lyle refused the family assistance, and if Max had known his mother had intended to plead with the old tartar, he’d have forbidden her to go anywhere near Lyle. The family was Max’s responsibility and no one else’s.
Max had come down from Cambridge and an uncle had found him a place in the Home Office. Before Max had spent a fortnight in that job, Faulkner pounced, recruiting Max to his secret division with the promise of more money and more excitement. If Max had known what lay in store for him, he would have flatly declined.
Now, having inherited a fortune and position beyond his wildest dreams, it was time to settle down. He’d throw off the mantle of shame he’d carried with him for over a decade and begin life anew. Perhaps, this Season, he might even find a suitable wife.
But the fire at Lyle had left him with responsibilities he couldn’t shirk. The first step in dealing with them was to disarm Lady Kate.
“I say, Your Grace—”
“Perry, I have asked you several times to call me Lyle. I can’t abide being ‘Your Graced’ every other minute.”
“You are very good, sir. But I hardly think it sits well with your consequence to eschew the niceties—”
Max looked down at him in amusement. “Are you actually presuming to tell me I’m not high enough in the instep, boy?”
“Well, sir, it is not my place to censure you, that’s true, but—”
“Oh, save your breath,” Max snapped, exasperated. “One day, you will learn that position and wealth have little to do with character, and which to value more.”
The late duke had been one of the most reprehensible men of Max’s acquaintance, and that included the many criminals he’d put to justice.
Past grievances were needless burdens. He must concentrate on the present. And the near future. And the question of Lady Kate.
He glanced at Perry and wondered if he’d regret this. “I do have a job for you, as it happens. A small matter of kidnapping . . .”
BY late afternoon, Kate sat with her maid Sukey in a hired post chaise bound for Richmond, where the Home Secretary would spend the week. Under her apparently idle questioning, her brother-in-law had let that detail slip.
She’d received the invitation to Mrs. Digby’s house party but politely declined it on the grounds of previous engagements.
Now, the rest of the world could go hang. She needed to see Sidmouth before it was too late. She’d dispatched a note to Mrs. Digby apologizing for her late change of plans. Kate didn’t doubt her hostess would welcome her; the Digbys had been friends with her family for generations.
“Will your duke be there, d’you think, my lady?” said Sukey.
Kate looked at her, startled. Had she and the duke become fodder for backstairs gossip?
“If you mean the Duke of Lyle, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he is there.” Guarding Sidmouth like a bulldog, no doubt.
Blackmail. An ugly word. In the heat of argument with Lyle she’d made hasty threats. With the opportunity to reconsider in the cold light of day, she wasn’t sure she had the stomach to go through with them. What if they tried her for blackmail, or even treason?
But wouldn’t that be alerting the world to the reason for the blackmail? That there were, indeed, secrets she kept that would damage the government if they became known?
No, Lyle was right. They’d deal with her quietly. They’d weigh the consequences of her carrying out her threats
against the evils of setting Stephen free. Once he was released she would never consider making those secrets public. They must know that.
But what if making these threats merely opened Pandora’s box? What if they no longer trusted her to keep her mouth shut? Perhaps she really was in danger, as Lyle had said.
Well, she wouldn’t take any chances. The first chapter of her memoirs would go to print if anything happened to her. She would have to make that clear to Sidmouth and anyone else with an interest in the affair.
Kate swallowed, and her hand trembled as she fiddled with the strings of her reticule. The insurance was useless if no one knew about it. Until she could communicate her plan to Lyle and his minions, she was at risk. She had hired outriders for the journey and made sure they were armed. Still, she could not rest easy.
“Are you all right, my lady? You look a bit pale.”
“I’m perfectly well, thank you.” She averted her face and stared out at the lowering dusk. “Just a little fatigued from last night, that’s all.”
True enough, she thought ruefully. Though it hadn’t been the ball that had tired her, but all that had followed.
The carriage lurched, throwing them both forward. Before Kate could recover, a shot exploded through the air.
“Stay down!” Kate grabbed Sukey’s wrist and yanked her to the floor between the seats. She crouched as best she could in her petticoats, with the hard wooden busk of her corset digging into her midriff.
They’d come already. They were going to kill her. She couldn’t breathe. Oh, think! Think! Were there pistols inside the carriage? She saw that Sukey gazed upwards at the empty holsters a second after she did. They both blew out disgusted breaths.
“Never fear. There are four men outside who are bound to protect us,” said Kate, forcing herself to sound confident.
“Hired men,” fretted Sukey. “They’d turn tail and run at a mouse’s squeak. Mark my words, my lady.”
Kate hoped to Heaven Sukey was wrong. She looked wildly around the carriage. “Is there anything we can use as a weapon?” If only it were winter, and they carried hot bricks to warm their feet, that would have been something, but no. The carriage was bare of anything useful.
“Only this.” Sukey held up her reticule.
“Unless you have a pound of shot in there, I’d say we’re sunk. We shall have to rely on the men. That’s what they’re paid for, after all.”
Shouts rang out from the coachman’s box and one of the footmen standing behind gave a strangled cry. A horse screamed and the carriage jolted and shuddered, throwing them against one another.
Gasping for air, Kate braced herself against the seat, hoping the coachman had the beasts under control. The men must be putting up a fight. But how would they, two lone women, defend themselves if her hired servants were overcome?
The carriage door flung open, and a masculine figure filled the doorway. Kate screamed at the top of her lungs but no one came to their assistance. The man reached in, caught Sukey about the waist, and hauled her through the opening.
With a flurry of skirts and limbs, Sukey fought like a wildcat, thrashing and kicking, but the man ignored her cries and threw her over his shoulder. He carried her off as easily as a sack of meal.
“Sukey! No!” Still yelling for help, Kate scrambled up, but the door slammed shut and the carriage bounded forward, throwing her back onto the seat.
Immediately, she yanked on the check-string, but the chaise hurtled on at a breakneck pace. She wrestled the window open and stuck her head out to shout to the coachman to stop.
But the man tooling the carriage was not the coachman she’d hired.
Deaf to her pleas, he hunched over his reins and whipped up the horses. Kate had to grip the windowsill to stop herself falling again. She reached for the hand strap and sat down with a thump as the carriage bounced over the uneven road.
What had they done with the men she’d hired for the journey? Where were they taking her? Kate’s palms were clammy and her pulse raced. She made herself take deep breaths, trying to calm down enough to think of a way out.
They rounded a bend too fast, and she hung on to the strap with all her might to stop being thrown. She could have sworn two wheels came off the ground.
Her heart beat so hard she could hear it, even over the rattle of the carriage and the pounding of hooves. Was someone trying to kill her? It was a strange way to go about it if they were. And what about Sukey? Why had they taken her away?
“Oh, God!” she whispered. “Please keep her safe.”
Forcing down her fear, Kate tried desperately to think. Green fields whizzed past in a blur. They’d left London far behind, and somehow, she didn’t think their destination was still Richmond.
Surely they must slow down at some point, but this coachman stopped for nothing, not even a yellow bounder that lumbered along the narrow road towards them. They passed the stagecoach with inches to spare.
Kate began to feel a mad kind of hope. Perhaps they’d crash and she could run away in the confusion. No, they’d catch her. How far or fast could she run, hampered by her petticoats, wearing thin slippers on her feet?
Where were they taking her? A suitable spot to kill her and dispose of her lifeless body? She started shaking, realizing that whatever the case, she was dealing with men who balked at nothing to achieve their aims. Not even murder.
She should have listened to Lyle.
The carriage horn blasted a warning and the vehicle slowed a little. Kate put her head out the window to see what had forced the driver to abate their pace.
In the distance, a shepherd was driving a large flock of sheep across the road.
Their pace slackened further, to a more normal speed, and determination clenched Kate’s jaw. She must get away. A jump from a moving carriage was likely to end in bruises and sprains, but the alternative would be worse if her surmises were correct. Even if she broke every bone in her body to do it, she had to get out of this carriage.
She spied a cottage by the road she could run to for help. She might even appeal to the shepherd, who now whistled to his dog to hurry his flock.
It was a slim chance, but the best she was likely to get.
Bracing herself so she wouldn’t tumble out before she was ready, Kate reached through the open window and found the door handle. Keeping an eye on the commotion up ahead, she eased the door handle around.
The sheep weren’t moving fast enough and the carriage drew ever closer. A shot rang out, and she realized the coachman had fired it over the sheep’s heads, trying to clear a path.
Was it her imagination, or had the carriage slowed a little more?
Another shot fired and the sheep scattered in all directions. The shepherd waved his hands and shouted while his dog barked in a frenzy.
The road was clearing due to the coachman’s heavy-handed tactics and soon they’d hit full speed again. It was now or never.
Kate turned the handle and the door flew out of her hand, swinging wildly. She watched the ground flow past beneath her and bile rose in her throat.
Fighting the urge to close her eyes, she took a deep breath and jumped.
The wind flew out of her when she landed. She tumbled and rolled down the grassy embankment, crying out as a sharp pain stabbed the back of her head.
The last things she saw were stars, swimming against a leaden sky.
KATE woke to the sound of vicious swearing. Some of the words were ones she’d never heard before, but they were uttered with such venom, she knew they weren’t polite.
Vaguely, she thought she ought to be afraid, but her head pounded with a vicious intensity that left little will for anything except trying to bear the pain without weeping. She felt as if a giant hand was crushing her skull and setting fire to it at the same time.
A small moan escaped her. Fighting the agony in her head, she dragged her lids open. And looked straight into a familiar set of hard gray eyes.
“Oh, you,” she mumbled, letting
her lids shut. “Go away.”
“You’d be in a fine mess if I did. Come.”
Hands slid beneath her shoulders and waist, and a pair of strong arms lifted her, effortlessly swinging her up against his chest.
One of his coat buttons dug into her side, but she hardly noticed. The pain and his warmth and strength overwhelmed everything else. A glimmer of reason said she shouldn’t trust him, but somehow, she simply felt safe.
Safe, but far from comfortable. Every movement was like a blow to her brain, and she felt unspecified aches all over her body. But for some reason, it seemed vital not to complain or betray her weakness. She gritted her teeth and didn’t so much as whimper as he carried her to a chaise— presumably the same one she’d been traveling in.
She let her eyes drift shut again once they were inside. Was Lyle her rescuer or her captor? The situation was too overwhelming for her confused brain to analyze. It seemed best to avoid dealing with it until her strength and reason returned.
He deposited her gently beside him on the banquette seat, arranging her limbs with impersonal efficiency, propping her against him. His arm slid around her. His hand settled at her waist.
A tap of his stick on the roof and the carriage leaped forward.
Kate couldn’t help crying out at the sudden knifing pain the jolting caused. Why couldn’t they slow down? She certainly wasn’t going to try jumping out of a moving carriage a second time.
Another starburst of agony made her moan into his big shoulder. She wished she hadn’t done it. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip and tasted blood.
Until dizziness swarmed over her, and consciousness slipped from her grasp once more.
MAX paused in the doorway, watching her, as he’d watched her all night from the chair by the fire. Lady Kate’s constitution was not as fragile as her ethereal appearance might suggest, but she’d taken a severe blow to the head as she tumbled from that carriage.
The Dangerous Duke Page 8
