by Jo Goodman
She caught his hand as he straightened."After today there will be nothing of a political nature that is not influenced by us. It is everything we have worked for. Our place in society is set. We have more ability to persuade others and fashion the outcome of events than if you had been named to the king's inner circle of advisors."
"As I most surely should have been."
"Of course," she said sincerely. "And as you will be soon. You are invested in schemes certain to bring about greater wealth than we enjoy now. That we will want for nothing is assured for our lifetime. I should be surprised if you are not to be granted a title more deserving of your stature. Marquess, for example."
"Duke."
"Or duke."
"Your point, Louise." He removed his hand from hers. "I hope you do not intend to refine upon my playing at cards. A man must have some pursuits outside of politics and society."
"I understand," she said quietly. "It is Elizabeth I wish to speak of."
"What of her?"
"I think she may still be of some use to us."
"Did you not just say that we have achieved what we wanted?"
"Well, yes, but that is not—"
"I have made my decision, Louise. And you agreed. As I recall, you were the one who first suggested that our association with Elizabeth had exceeded its usefulness. I was never as taken with the idea that she should marry Northam as you were. The man does not impress me as someone who can be easily controlled."
"That is why Elizabeth is valuable. He can be guided by us through her. You said yourself that he pledged silence in regard to Elizabeth's thefts."
"That is what he said."
"You don't believe him?"
"I don't trust him."
"He has the ear of Colonel Blackwood," said Louise. "We were never able to make Elizabeth's connection to him work to our advantage. This is a second opportunity."
Harrison sighed. "You are changing your mind, are you not?"
She smiled a trifle guiltily. "I confess I am. Please say you will indulge me, Harrison."
He regarded her shrewdly. "What is it you really want, my dear? And, pray, do not say it is only the colonel's ear. I know you too well to be gulled in that manner."
Louise's laughter trilled. "Your perception does you credit, my lord. I have been admiring Lady Everly's ruby bracelet for some time. With Elizabeth's help, it should not be so very difficult to acquire."
"You are incorrigible, Louise."
"Then you agree? The Gentleman Thief will venture out one more time?"
"One more time," he said. "Then it must end, Louise. Our association with Elizabeth must be finished."
"Of course. I will see to it myself." She smiled. "Don't I always?"
* * *
Elizabeth was more puzzled than frightened. She relighted the candle and carefully led North through the passage to the library. There was more space for them to stretch in the wider corridor that adjoined Battenburn's private reading room. "I think she means to kill me, Northam. I am to steal Lady Everly's bracelet for her and then she means to kill me. Do you not think that is her intention?"
North regarded Elizabeth's bemused features in the candlelight. His own were not so soft or bewildered, and there was nothing tentative about his response. "I think it is exactly her intention." He took the candle from her when her hand began to tremble. "Do not be afraid, Elizabeth. I shall—"
"Afraid? Not bloody likely. I am angry, North. Furious, really." Her eyes dropped to the pouch Northam had slung over his shoulder. "Do you have a pistol in there? I am certain I could use it."
He was not at all sure how serious she was. "No pistol," he told her. "I take it you are persuaded how intent the baroness is on making her acquisitions, whether it is jewelry or influence, and how little regard she has for anyone who has assisted her."
"Little regard? Clearly that is an understatement." Elizabeth's grave expression turned a little sad. "It has only been about more, hasn't it?"
"Pardon?"
"More," she said. "More wealth. More lands. More influence. A more prestigious title. More power." Elizabeth raised her hands helplessly, shrugging. "More."
His voice was gentle. "What did you imagine?"
She was quiet a moment, turning her face away from the candlelight. "I suppose I thought they had some grand plan, something they thought would change things for others, not simply for themselves. Even when they were doing their worst I wanted to believe their intent was noble."
"Noble?"
"Well, good, then."
"Elizabeth."
"Very well. I did not want to believe they were complete villains."
North found that he still had it in him to smile. "You are neither so cynical nor so worldly as you would have me believe."
"I suppose not." She was more than a little disappointed in herself. "You must allow that I have tried."
He put his arm around her shoulder and blew out the candle. "You certainly have."
* * *
Lord Whittington was finding it difficult to sit. His long frame did not fit easily into the overstuffed chair by the fireplace, and the spindly-legged, claw-footed appointments had never been to his liking. He got to his feet for the third time in three minutes. "It is beyond my comprehension that Battenburn would keep us waiting," he said to his companion. "Why the deuce we should have had to come so far is also beyond my ken."
Sutton sighed. His stocky frame was better comforted by the wing chair than Whittington's. "You are jumping about like grease on a griddle. Calm yourself, Whittington. I am sure Battenburn has planned every detail of this meeting. If we are to wait, then it has some purpose for him. You would do well to take it in stride. Apoplexy can be the only outcome otherwise."
The Earl of Whittington was not subdued in the least. "I want it over," he said, pacing. "Even the countess has remarked to me that I have been out of sorts, and my mood has never been of any importance to her."
"All the more reason for you to mind yourself."
The heavy doors to the library parted and Battenburn stepped inside. "I hope you have not been discommoded by your wait," he said genially. "There was a small matter requiring my attention that delayed me. I see you have refreshment." The doors were closed soundlessly behind him. "How was your journey? Did you travel together?"
Sutton raised one fiery red brow. "Not possible, Battenburn, and you know it. I was unaware Whittington was to come here until my carriage met his on the road. You did not intend us to know about the other before today."
"True, but one never can be certain. My caution to speak to no one aside, it would have been understandable if your association with the ambassador had prompted you to seek each other out."
Whittington pivoted toward Sutton. "That is why you are here also?" he asked. "The French ambassador?"
"It appears we both are," Sutton said mildly. "Is that correct, Battenburn?"
"I am delighted to say that is precisely the way of it." He carefully reached inside his frock coat and extracted two neatly folded sheets of vellum. He held one up in each hand. "Do not attempt to thwart me by destroying these. They are copies, written in my own hand. The originals are elsewhere. Quite safe. You will be able to attest to the veracity of the contents. I copied them exactly. Even the misspellings." He gave each man his own correspondence to prove the truth of his words; then he had them trade the letters and poured himself a glass of Madeira while they read.
Whittington was silent as he reviewed Sutton's missive. Lord Sutton only spoke once, and that was to remark on Whittington's lamentable spelling.
Battenburn tossed both letters in the fireplace when they were returned to him. They sparked immediately and were consumed in a flash of flame. "So there you have it," he said calmly. "Perhaps you did not realize how much you have in common with the other, but now I have brought it to your attention. Your correspondence with the ambassador can hardly be construed as diplomacy. It is more likely to be viewed as treasonous. Yo
ur interests are not those of the Crown and, in fact, fly in the face of the prime minister's ambitions. One can only wonder what you hoped to gain by putting such ideas to paper."
Agitated, Whittington began pacing again. His long stride quickly took him from one side of the library to the other. "How did you come by these letters? Sutton, do you know? He said nothing to me."
"Nor me." Lord Sutton looked to the baron for understanding.
"It is of no importance," Battenburn said. "What you should concern yourselves with is my intention to use them if we cannot arrive at some agreement."
"Agreement on what?" asked Sutton.
"My proper place among the king's advisors."
Whittington stopped pacing abruptly and stared hard at Battenburn, surprised and somewhat relieved. "Is that all?"
Sutton was equally comforted. "Why did you not say so? It is easily enough arranged."
Battenburn was not appeased by their willingness to oblige him. In fact, the mere effortlessness with which they could give him what he coveted so dearly enraged him. He drank deeply from his wineglass to calm himself. "There may be certain monetary requirements from time to time," he said. Until this moment he had not considered asking them for a single farthing. It was really beneath him. It was also an insult to them, since he clearly did not require their money. "Only from time to time, my lords."
"Now see here, Battenburn," Whittington blustered. "I will not—"
Sutton held up one hand, interrupting the earl. "You will, Whit. We both will. We know it and Battenburn knows it. I read your correspondence and you read mine. Perhaps we were too trusting of the ambassador. It may be that he betrayed us."
"I cannot believe that." He looked to the baron for some hint that this might be so. Battenburn's cool blue eyes were without expression. "I will want the original letter. The one in my handwriting."
"Of course," said Battenburn. "I will return it... eventually."
The Earl of Whittington remained insistent. "I will see it now."
"I shall have to do the same," Sutton said. "You understand we must know with certainty that it is in your possession. There would be no point in acceeding to your wishes otherwise."
Battenburn was regretting his last demand. Clearly he had pushed both men into taking this stand. "Very well," he said easily. "My wife will bring them. Louise? You heard our guests. They want to see the documents."
Sutton and Whittington regarded their host in some confusion. His speech, it seemed, was made to the air. Their attention shifted simultaneously when a panel of bookshelves suddenly separated itself from the wall and swung open into the room. Their alarm was not entirely feigned when they saw who came through the opening.
Northam stepped into the library, his hands held level with his shoulders. Behind him was Louise. She held two vellum sheets in one hand. The other held a primed pistol.
"You will not credit who I discovered in your reading room, my lord," Louise said. She nudged Northam forward with the pistol. "He has heard every bit that I have, I'm afraid. And he did not seem to be overly surprised. I fear we have uncovered a problem we did not foresee. I am convinced they are all in league, Harrison."
"What?" Battenburn's eyes darted between his guests and his wife's prisoner. "In league? How do you mean?"
Louise tossed the documents to the table at her side. "These are fakes," she said."Certainly they were written by our guests, but I am now persuaded that they were engaged to do so. Is that not correct, Lord Sutton?"
"If you say so, my lady," he said easily. "It does clear me of any wrongdoing. I am in favor of that."
The baron regarded Whittington. "Is this true?"
"I am also in favor of redemption," he said. "If you prefer to think of my letter as a fake, then it pleases me."
"They are making light of us," said Louise. "Northam's presence is telling. Elizabeth has betrayed us to him. He could not have found the passage without her aid and he would not be here, not at this time and place, if these two had not informed him of this meeting. We are found out, Harrison. They meant to trap us."
Battenburn put his drink down and picked up the letters. He was certain Louise was right. It was only a question of how to manage an outcome that was to their advantage. He jerked his chin toward Northam but addressed his wife. "Was there any sign that Elizabeth accompanied him?"
"Do not be foolish, Harrison. He would not permit that."
Northam smiled thinly as Battenburn flushed. "I certainly would not."
Harrison said nothing. He opened the middle drawer of his secretary and removed a small pistol. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sutton and Whittington exchange glances. "You must revise your plan to overpower me, my lords, for I assure you, I will not hesitate to shoot." He exchanged pistols with Louise because the one he had was better suited to her small hand. "What is to be done, my dear?"
"We must be rid of the evidence and the witnesses, of course."
"My thoughts also." He walked to the fireplace and tossed both original letters into the flames. "I will get the others. I assume they are also fakes." Battenburn did not have to leave the library to retrieve them. He walked briskly to the bookshelves and chose Schlegel's Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature. Opening it, he removed the pages that were not bound and tossed them onto the fire also. "That is the evidence," he said, with no concern that anything had been lost. "These three present a slightly different problem."
Northam raised a single brow. "Not so easily thrown in the fire, are we?"
It was Louise who answered. "No, not into the fire, my lord. I have something else in mind. You will proceed." She jabbed him in the small of his back with her pistol. "Through the doors, please."
Northam realized she did not mean for him to go back the way they came, but to head toward the hallway. Battenburn indicated Sutton and Whittington should follow. Louise closed the shelves that led to the reading room and then caught up quickly to her husband.
"Up the steps," she said, pointing to the main staircase.
Northam continued to take the lead. He suspected their direction was the parapet, but he paused dutifully at each crossroads in the hall, waiting for instructions from Louise or Harrison. Could Elizabeth hear them? he wondered.
It was something of a miracle that Louise had not stumbled on her in the passage. North had already moved into the baron's private library, leaving Elizabeth behind in the corridor with orders to stay there, when Louise had come into the small reading room using the same entrance he had. Her approach had been silent, but then he had also been listening to Sutton and Whittington discuss their arrival before the baron met with them. He was impressed that they had gamely accepted the roles the colonel assigned to them. The usually unflappable Earl of Whittington was suitably agitated by the impending interview. Lord Sutton was more at his ease but equally prepared to allow Battenburn the upper hand until they had the documents.
Northam had expected Louise to appear, but not in the way she had. Elizabeth, wherever she had gone, had not been able to warn him of the baroness's approach. Now she could be anywhere in the house and equally uncertain of his whereabouts. She was in possession of his pouch, however. It could offer her some protection if she but looked inside it. What he would do remained a mystery to him. Saving himself would be difficult enough, but he had Sutton and Whittington to think about as well.
A rush of frigid air met them as North pushed open the door to the roof. He stepped out, his chest tightening upon drawing his first deep breath. Behind him, Sutton coughed. Whittington began stamping his feet in an attempt to warm himself. When North glanced back it seemed to him that neither Lord nor Lady Battenburn were affected by the cold. It came from having ice water in their veins, he supposed.
Louise waved her pistol to the left and ahead of the small party, indicating the perimeter of the crenelated wall. "There," she said. "At the battlement."
Northam was of no mind to hurry the journey. "You do not really believe you can succe
ed in this, Battenburn." His voice was carried on the back of the wind. "More than the three of us know of the letters you took from the ambassador's library."
"I took?" asked Battenburn. "You have mistaken me for your wife. She is the thief, Northam. Not I."
"The documents were already gone when she arrived."
The baron chuckled. "Is that what she told you? It's not so. She put them under her turban and carried them out. A bit of misdirection, I'm afraid." He was watching North closely and saw the slight pause in his step and the stiffening of his shoulders. "What else didn't she tell you?"
Aware he was being goaded, North did not reply. Sutton and Whittington were similarly silent, both of them looking for an opportunity to seize the moment.
"She will have told you about her child, of course," Battenburn went on. "Some explanation for her less than virginal state would have been in order on your wedding night."
It pained Northam that Sutton and Whittington were privy to the baron's discourse. Since he fully intended they should escape unscathed, it meant that Elizabeth's secret would hardly be that any longer. He believed he could rely on their discretion, yet he hurt for Elizabeth.
Louise gave her husband a quelling look. She did not approve of this talk in the least. It was a measure of Battenburn's anger that her silent entreaty went unheeded.
"Turn around," the baron said as Northam reached the crenelation. "All of you." Northam's body filled the space between the stone merlons, making him vulnerable to a frontal charge. Battenburn could envision himself heaving North through the embrasure and then leaning over to watch his body hurtle toward the ground. He would take some pleasure in it, in fact. "But did she tell you everything?" he asked as if there had never been a pause in his thoughts. "Did she tell you about her child's father?"
North's mouth tightened imperceptibly. On either side of him Sutton and Whittington were pressed against the stone battlement. Icy fingers of air tugged on the back of his frock coat. The sensation of pulling and pressure was so real that North almost turned to look behind him. A frisson took hold of his spine and he clamped his teeth together, steadying himself solidly to block the opening in the wall.
