by Anna Bradley
“Go home, Haslemere. Whatever your business is, it can wait until tomorrow.”
“No, it can’t. Look here, Brixton—”
Benedict didn’t get any further before Brixton gave him a shove. Benedict wasn’t a small man, but he was obliged to shift his foot from the doorway in order to keep himself from toppling backward down the steps. By the time he caught his balance and righted himself, Brixton had slammed the door in his face.
“Bloody savage.” Very well. If he couldn’t get past Brixton, he’d go around him.
Benedict ran back down the steps and rounded the side of the school, pausing to pluck up a few pebbles from the ground as he went.
The entire house was dark, including Georgiana’s window. Benedict winced as the first pebble hit the side of the building with a crack that sounded much louder than he’d anticipated. He waited, but there was no sign of either Brixton or his pistol, so he tried again. This one didn’t strike the window either, but hit the brick about a foot below it.
Surely, he could do better than that. He’d been one of the best bowlers on his cricket team at Eton, damn it.
He closed one eye, focused on the window with the other, and let another pebble fly. This one hit the dead center of one of the panes. A moment later he saw the drapes twitch, heard the window slide open, and then Georgiana’s head poked out.
“Lord Haslemere? What are you doing down there?”
In spite of his worry, Benedict’s lips curved in a helpless smile. “I’m standing outside your window like some sort of demented Romeo, Georgiana. Under the circumstances, one would think you could see your way clear to calling me Benedict.”
“Is that why you’ve come? To tease me once again about calling you by your Christian name?”
Even from down here, Benedict could see the prim pinch of her lips, and his grin widened. If she thought that severe frown would scare him off, she was very much mistaken. All it did was make him want to kiss her. “No, but I thought I’d just mention it, since I’m here.”
She glared down at him. “Why are you here? For pity’s sake, I would have thought you learned your lesson the last time you tried this.”
“I did learn my lesson. If you recall, the last time I threw pebbles at your window you came downstairs to scold me, and I coaxed you into helping me with Jane. Even better, I got to see you in your night rail.”
“No, you didn’t. I was wearing my cloak and a hat, and I distinctly remember you saying neither flattered me. Now, will you listen to reason this time, or will I need to come down there again and make you go before Daniel catches you?”
“No, don’t come down.” If she did, Benedict wasn’t sure he could let her return to her bedchamber without begging her to take him with her. Better not to risk it. “I only want to tell you something.”
“You do realize you can tell me things during the day, don’t you?”
“This couldn’t wait. Kenilworth followed us here from Lady Archer’s tonight. I saw his carriage sneaking out of the mews behind the school. He knows where you live and that you’re associated with Lady Clifford, and very likely knows who you are.”
Georgiana hesitated, then shrugged. “Well, it was inevitable he’d find it out sooner or later. I don’t see that there’s anything we can do except inform Lady Clifford and Daniel, and carry on as we have been.”
“Carry on? No, Georgiana. Do you have any idea how much power a man like the Duke of Kenilworth has at his command? Now that he knows who you are, I don’t want you anywhere near him. It’s no longer safe for you.”
“What? You can’t mean you expect me to simply drop it! What about Clara Beauchamp? We still haven’t figured out how she fits into this, and what of your sister, and your nephew? I can’t just walk away—”
“You can, and you will! Do you understand me, Georgiana? You’re no longer my employee—”
Benedict broke off as a light suddenly illuminated one of the rooms on the ground floor.
“Now you’ve done it,” Georgiana hissed, her head so far out the window she was an inch from toppling to the street below. “You’ve woken Daniel with your shouting.”
“Get back inside, Georgiana. I’ll deal with Brixton.”
As usual, she ignored him. “I’m coming down. Someone has to keep Daniel from shooting you.” With that, her head disappeared, and a moment later the dull glow of candlelight lit the window.
“Damn it. That woman is going to drive me straight to Bedlam.” He had half a mind to climb up the trellis that led to her bedchamber window to stop her coming down, but before he could execute that ill-conceived plan, he heard the clop of horses’ hooves, and the rattle of carriage wheels drawing near.
Georgiana’s head appeared at the window again. “Who’s that?”
Whoever it was, they were moving quickly. Benedict waited, and a moment later, his own carriage came around the corner and shuddered to a sudden stop on Maddox Street.
“Lord Haslemere!” Grigg shouted as soon as he caught sight of Benedict. “Something’s afoot with the duchess and the little lad. You must come at once!”
Chapter Fourteen
Georgiana was shouting out the window at Lord Haslemere. Lord Haslemere was shouting at the coachman, who was babbling incoherently in reply, and Daniel was standing on the pavement in his shirtsleeves, his pistol stuffed into his waistband and one enormous fist cocked and aimed at Lord Haslemere’s head.
This was the scene waiting for Lady Clifford when the commotion at last drove her from her bedchamber to the doorway of the Clifford School. She took one look at the chaos, planted her hands on her hips, and started barking orders. “Daniel, kindly refrain from assaulting Lord Haslemere. Georgiana, it is not at all ladylike to shout into the street from your bedchamber window. You, young man.” She pointed at the coachman. “Silence, if you please. As for you, Lord Haslemere, this is hardly the proper time for a call. What are you doing on my doorstep in the middle of the night?”
“Georgiana…Kenilworth…my sister and nephew…” Benedict began, but when he tried to explain himself to Lady Clifford, he realized he hadn’t any bloody idea what was going on. “Explain yourself, Grigg,” he demanded, tugging poor Grigg into the midst of the melee.
Grigg stumbled forward, his wide-eyed gaze moving between Benedict, Lady Clifford, and Daniel Brixton’s pistol. “Erm, well, I went off to the duke’s like ye told me to, my lord, and what do ye suppose I found?”
“That’s what we’re waiting to find out, Grigg.”
“Right. Well, the duke’s house was all lit up, an’ servants all scattering this way and that, and there was a traveling coach waiting outside.”
Benedict’s blood went cold. “What’s Kenilworth want with a traveling coach at midnight? Was there anyone inside it?”
“Nay, my lord, but someone was going somewhere, right enough, because the servants were shoving all sort of packages and bundles and whatnot inside.”
“Jane and Freddy.” Benedict’s frantic gaze met Lady Clifford’s. “He’s sending them away from London.”
“We don’t know that, Lord Haslemere, but he’s certainly sending someone somewhere.” Lady Clifford tapped her lip, thinking. “Is the duke likely to hurt either the duchess or their son?”
“A week ago, I would have said no. Now?” Benedict’s hands clenched into fists. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. “I think it’s possible, yes. At the very least, he has the means to hide them. He has dozens of homes in England, and several more in remote parts of Scotland. If he succeeds in getting them out of London, we’ll never find them.”
That was enough for Lady Clifford. “Daniel, ready yourself while I fetch Georgiana.”
“No!” Benedict’s voice was harsh. “I don’t want Georgiana involved in this any more than she already is.”
“Does the duke know who Miss Georgiana is?” Brixt
on’s face was like stone. “He knows she works with Lady Clifford?”
“Yes. He had us followed from Lady Archer’s. I saw the carriage hidden in the mews. I came back here to warn her, but thanks to you, Brixton, we’ve wasted precious time.” But as much as Benedict wanted to blame this whole mess on Brixton, he knew this was all his own fault.
He’d endangered Jane, Freddy, and Georgiana when he’d insisted on paying that call at Grosvenor Street this morning. That devil Bagshaw must have eavesdropped on their conversation, then wasted no time telling the duke all about it. There was no other explanation for why Kenilworth had turned up at Lady Archer’s when he never wagered. He’d never appeared at any of her entertainments before.
The duke had come to Lady Archer’s tonight specifically to find out who Georgiana was, and he’d succeeded. Once he discovered she was part of the Clifford School, it would be easy enough for him to deduce she was prodding into secrets he’d prefer remain buried.
There were discreet rumors about the school, and rumors about Lady Clifford. There were always rumors, but only those people who had reasons to hide their behavior knew precisely what she did. Benedict had made a grave error assuming Kenilworth wasn’t one of them.
How much would his inattention cost him? How much would it cost Georgiana, Jane, and Freddy? What was Kenilworth hiding? Whatever it was, he was going to great lengths to keep anyone from discovering it. First Draven, and now Jane and Freddy. The thought of his sweet, gentle sister and young nephew at the mercy of such a man made Benedict shudder.
“What’s happened?” Georgiana was hurrying down the stairs. “It’s not the duchess, is it?”
Benedict gave her a grim nod. “Both Jane and Freddy. Grigg saw a traveling coach waiting outside the Grosvenor Street mansion. Kenilworth’s sending them away from London. I know it.”
“Dear God. Quickly, then. They’ll have a start on us.”
“I want you to go with them, Daniel,” Lady Clifford said. “Do whatever you must to prevent their leaving London. Once you’ve recovered them, bring them back here. I’ll make arrangements to keep them safe while we decide what to do.”
Georgiana was halfway out the door, but Benedict caught her arm. “No, Georgiana. You’re staying here. Brixton and I will go.”
“No. I’m going with you.” Georgiana jerked her arm free. “The duchess came to me for my help, my lord. I’m not going to abandon her now when she needs it more than ever.”
“For God’s sake, Georgiana, will you listen to reason? It’s not safe. How can I focus on Jane and Freddy if I’m trying to keep an eye on you?”
“You don’t need to keep an eye on me. I’m perfectly able to take care of myself.”
Benedict glanced at Lady Clifford, hoping she’d support him, but she was looking at Georgiana with an unmistakable look of pride on her face. He threw up his hands in frustration. “You’re all mad, every last one of you.”
“Benedict, please. I can’t just stay here, waiting and worrying. I promise you I can take care of myself.” Georgiana touched his arm, a wry twist to her lips. “I may even be able to help.”
“We’re wasting time, Haslemere,” Brixton growled. “Let the lass come.”
“It doesn’t look as if I have any choice.” Benedict was far from reconciled to the idea, but for once, Brixton was right. There was no time to argue about it.
They didn’t speak as they hurried into Benedict’s carriage and Grigg drove them to Grosvenor Square. Benedict could hardly think as they rattled through London. What would they do if Jane and Freddy were already gone? It had been nearly half an hour since Grigg appeared in Maddox Street. How would they find them then? Even if they did have the good luck to catch up to them, how would they get them away from the duke—
“Look,” Georgiana said softly, laying her hand on Benedict’s arm. “Just there.”
Grigg, who knew to be cautious, had stopped the carriage on the corner of North Audley and Brook Street, out of sight of the Kenilworth mansion, but close enough so they could see what was happening on the other end of Grosvenor Street.
Brixton grunted. “If the duke wanted to hide ’em, he should have had ’em taken out through the mews. Fool.”
Benedict had gone still, anger rushing like poison through his veins. Just as Grigg had said, a traveling coach was waiting in front of the house. It was luxuriously appointed, but black, and unmarked.
“It looks as if the duke intends for them to take a lengthy journey.” Georgiana watched out the window as two servants dragged out a heavy trunk and loaded it onto the coach.
“A lengthy, secret journey,” Benedict said. “There’s no crest on the door. That’s a hired coach.”
There was no sign of Kenilworth, but a burly footman was hurrying a petite lady down the front steps to the open carriage door. A veiled hat covered her face, but it was certainly Jane. A second footman followed, half-dragging a little boy behind him. The boy was similarly disguised with a cap pulled low over his face, but Benedict would know Freddy anywhere.
“That villain.” Benedict scrabbled for the door, half-crazed with fury and fear. “I’m going to bloody kill him—”
Brixton stopped him. “Nay, my lord. Stay where ye are, and let them go.”
“Let them go? Damnation, man, you’re mad if you think I’m going to let that blackguard kidnap my sister and nephew!”
“Nothing ye can do about it, Haslemere. Kenilworth’s her husband. He wants her to go, she goes, no matter if ye like it or not. You try and stop it, the duke will have ye taken up, and then what?”
Georgiana squeezed his arm. “Daniel’s right, Benedict. There’s nothing you can do just now.”
Benedict sucked in a breath, struggling to get control of himself. Brixton was right, damn him. He’d only make it worse if he charged into the middle of it. “What do you suggest then, Brixton? Because I’ll be damned if I let that scoundrel take my family.”
“They won’t get far. We’ll let ’em get out of London. It’s dark, ye see?” Brixton’s mouth stretched into a bloodthirsty grin. “It’s not safe, traveling in the dark. Anything can happen once ye get onto a deserted country road, eh?”
Benedict blinked. He’d never seen Brixton smile before. It was…disturbing, but what the man said made sense. It would be much better to follow the black carriage at a discreet distance, and strike when there were no witnesses about. There were only two footmen and the coachman, and they wouldn’t be expecting an attack.
Even so, it took every shred of Benedict’s control to sit still while Jane and Freddy were shoved into the carriage. The footmen climbed in after them, and a second later the coachman brought the ribbons down on the horse’s backs.
The black carriage headed southeast out of London, and from there further south, toward Bromley. Mile after mile they went, the black coach rumbling ahead of them. They didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry, nor did they give any indication they were aware they were being followed.
One of the benefits of being a duke, Benedict thought, bitter anger flooding his chest. It would never occur to Kenilworth he couldn’t do precisely as he wished, no matter how heinous it was. It made Benedict’s stomach roil to think about how many times Kenilworth must have done something as fiendish as this, all while Benedict was oblivious to his perfidy, and all of London was singing his praises.
“There’s a bend in the road up ahead,” Brixton said, startling Benedict from his thoughts. “It’s narrow—too narrow for both carriages to stay on the road.”
“You’re thinking we should come along beside them, and force them into the ditch?” Georgiana peered out the window. “I don’t know, Daniel. That ditch looks deep. The coach may overturn.”
“Nay, we won’t run ’em off. We can’t risk hurting the duchess and the lad. We’ll get in front of ’em and force ’em to stop once we get to the bend. They can’t ge
t around us there. We’re lighter and quicker than the coach, so it won’t be any trouble to get by ’em, but if they hit us, your carriage may not escape without a battering, Haslemere.”
“I don’t give a damn about the carriage.” All Benedict cared about was keeping Georgiana in one piece, and getting Jane and Freddy safely out of the duke’s hands.
“What about Grigg?” Georgiana asked. “Do you suppose he can manage it? As soon as he gets the carriage into position he’ll need to leap down from the box, just in case they do hit us.”
Benedict stared at her, amazed to hear her discussing a coaching accident with such sangfroid. But then, she was one of Lady Clifford’s girls, and had likely seen things not many young ladies her age had seen.
Ugly things.
He watched the dim shafts of moonlight moving across her face. It was peculiar to him, how she was so experienced in some ways, yet so innocent in others. He’d never known a woman like her—doubted there was another woman like her. His chest pinched at the thought, and for a moment he couldn’t catch a breath.
“Benedict?” Georgiana’s brows drew together. “Are you all right?”
Benedict jerked his attention back to the matter at hand. “Yes, I’m fine, and Grigg is capable.” He and Grigg had been in a few scrapes during their time together, and Grigg had more than proved his skill with the ribbons. Benedict trusted him implicitly. “How far along is the bend?”
“Just up ahead. We need to warn yer man.”
Benedict slid the panel open and called to Grigg, who listened to Brixton’s instructions with unmistakable relish. Grigg was fond of a good dustup now and again, and nodded his agreement.
“Once he’s stopped the carriage, everyone gets out. Lass, you get to the side of the road while Haslemere and I get into the coach and—”
“I won’t be of any use to anyone standing on the side of the road, Daniel. No, I’ll follow you to the coach, and see if I can get the duchess and Freddy out of—”
