Earth, Air, Fire, and Water 04 - A Treacherous Proposition

by Patricia Frances Rowell

  “Didn’t want a position, I’ll warrant.” Sudbury went back to the buffet.

  “Hardly.” Vincent joined him and they both refilled their plates while Diana watched in awe at the amount of food they ladled out. Both of them were trim and Justinian was actually thin. Would Bytham one day eat that way? “He had no skills and so was assigned to the scullery. But he might have improved himself. Instead he remained surly with me, impudent to Durbin, and disobedient to Cook.”

  “So you were forced to dismiss him.” Diana pushed her plate away and sipped her coffee.

  “Not exactly. Eventually he ran away and went back to his home.” Again a look of sorrow filled Vincent’s face. “He was using his anger at me as an excuse for bad behavior. I, of all people, understood that, but—” He broke off and shook his head.

  “More fool he.” Sudbury picked up the coffeepot and offered to pour for Diana. “Did what you could.”

  Diana held out her cup and Justinian filled it. “What will you do with him?”

  Vincent rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. “That’s where the devil’s in it. I don’t know.”

  “Send him to the magistrate.” Justinian blew gently on his fresh cup of coffee.

  “I could, I suppose.” Vincent stared out the window. “But that would entail more explaining than I wish to do. And…”

  “And you still feel guilty.” Diana glanced at him in sudden understanding. “You wanted to do for him what your uncle did for you.”

  “He needs someone.” Vincent’s sad face turned toward her. “But no, I don’t feel guilty. I am sorry for what I did, but I have done all I can do to make it right. I just don’t want to make more trouble for his mother.”

  “Not you doing it.”

  Vincent looked at Sudbury. “That’s true. Tobias must take responsibility for his actions, just as I had to do. But I am also afraid, that if I let him go, the person to whom he has been reporting will not miss his next shot.”

  Sudbury’s eyes narrowed in thought. “You have the right of that.”

  “So you had best keep him here.” Diana rose and the two men quickly came to their feet. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I must go up to the children and also look in on Throckmorton. He is insisting that he is fit for duty, but…”

  “I’m sure he is.” Vincent escorted her to the door. “He seems to be a very durable individual.”

  “I suppose.” They stepped into the hall. Diana peeked back into the breakfast parlor. Justinian had gone back to his coffee. “Vincent, I need to speak with you privately…when you get the opportunity.”

  “This afternoon, after I deal with young Hawkins. You are correct. He must stay here for a while, like it or not.” He glanced around quickly and, seeing no one in the vicinity, dropped a quick kiss on her lips. He lowered his voice. “I missed you last night, my love. Let us hope that we will have no further alarms this evening.”

  Diana smiled up into his face. “Surely we will not.”

  If any more unwanted guests appeared on his doorstep, where would he put them? Perhaps he should lock Tobias Hawkins, Justinian Sudbury and Henry Delamare all up together until he had sorted them out. Vincent had wanted his enemies to show themselves, but he had hoped for better definitions as to who they were.

  He had spent the morning glowering at Tobias, questioning him about his recent employment. Being the target of a bullet definitely had a salutary effect on one’s attitude, Vincent reflected. While still sullen, young Hawkins was clearly reconsidering the wisdom of his loyalties. Unfortunately he had little of value to impart and he imparted that reluctantly.

  His description of the man who had approached him for information did not sound like anyone of Vincent’s acquaintance, and other than the fact that the man’s master was a “prime lord,” Tobias knew nothing about him. He admitted to helping create the invasion of the bats. In fact, he sounded rather proud of that accomplishment. Vincent wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled.

  Or take a riding crop to him.

  In the end, Vincent had Hawkins taken to a servant’s room on the top floor and locked in where he could make no more mischief for a while—or get himself killed. Of course, if he tried to escape by the window, he would very likely break his neck. Which will save me the trouble, Vincent thought grimly as he made his way back to the drawing room. The young rascal had cost him far too much time and trouble.

  Just when Diana wanted to speak privately.

  The thought that she might be ready to take him into her confidence lightened both Vincent’s mood and his step as he made his way up the stairs from the storeroom where Tobias had spent the night, but a wave of disappointment washed over him as he entered the sitting room. Delamare sat on the sofa beside Diana, his knee touching hers, regaling her with an exciting tale of a sea adventure in which he seemed to figure as the hero.

  Vincent stood in the doorway for several heartbeats and listened. Damn the man! Somehow he told the story without ever sounding like the braggart he, in fact, was. Still, he subtly wove his own role into it in a way that would surely stir any lady’s heart.

  Or loins.

  Vincent clenched his teeth.

  It proved to be one of the more frustrating afternoons of Vincent’s life. No sooner than he had arrived at the drawing room than Durbin announced that a nuncheon was being served. They had little choice but to invite Delamare to partake, and of course, Justinian Sudbury also joined the party. The only private communication he had with Diana was a shrug and a glance that reflected his own exasperation.

  Unfortunately, if he wanted to learn the truth about Henry Delamare, Vincent had to tolerate his presence. But he didn’t want to do it when he needed to have some time with Diana. The truth, of course, was that he didn’t want to do it at all. Whether or not the man was who he said he was, Vincent knew him for an enemy—someone who wished to deprive him of his position.

  And, apparently, his woman.

  Brother or no brother, he would soon have a word with Mr. Delamare.

  As they were finishing their meal, a footman appeared with a message for Diana from Nurse, asking for her to come up.

  “I hope you will excuse me.” Diana rose and laid her napkin aside. “I best go and see if something is amiss with the youngsters.”

  She had only been gone for a few minutes when, as the gentlemen sat savoring their wine, Nurse herself came to the door of the dining parlor. “May I speak with you, m’lord?”

  Vincent excused himself and stepped out into the hallway. “What is it? Are the children ill? I though perhaps Bytham was coming down with the sniffles yesterday. Is he…?”

  Nurse waved a hand. “No, no. Bytham is right as rain. Their mother is with them—and Throckmorton, bandage and all. I just thought mayhap… If you think it fitting, that I might have a bit of a chat with Mr. Delamare. If he is not who he says, I will know.”

  Now why hadn’t he thought of that? He had too much on his mind of late. Of course Nurse would be the most likely living person to recognize his brother—or to unmask an impostor. “That is well thought of, Nurse. Why don’t I suggest a walk in the garden? I’ll go with you and hear what he has to say.”

  He turned back into the dining parlor. “Delamare, Nurse Marshaw would like to renew acquaintance with you. Are you available this afternoon?”

  “Certainly.” Delamare came to the door, winked at Vincent, and dropped a kiss onto Nurse’s wrinkled cheek. “I have been looking forward to the opportunity.”

  “Don’t mind me.” Sudbury stretched. “I’m for a nap.”

  He headed up the stairs, and Vincent, Nurse and Delamare made their way out of doors. They strolled together for much of the afternoon, exchanging stories of the boys’ youth, laughing at most of them. A few of the incidents Nurse related, Delamare said he did not remember. Most of them he professed that he did and even provided occasional details. Vincent did not know what to think.

  He didn’t remember all of those occurrences hims
elf.

  Diana wanted to scream with frustration. Every time she tried to speak with Vincent, someone or something interrupted. She could not discuss something so potentially disruptive in a few stolen minutes. Tonight, after he had come up to bed, she would tell him about Deimos if she had to stuff a stocking in his mouth to keep him from kissing her. If he kissed her, Diana knew she would lose her resolution again.

  Dear God, she only hoped that he would still want to kiss her later.

  They enjoyed a quiet dinner in the small dining salon with Justinian providing most of the conversation. Delamare had gone back to the Blue Boar after his walk in the garden with Nurse. Vincent seemed preoccupied, but managed to send her an intimate glance now and again. She was certain that his fingers brushing her shoulders as he held her chair had been no accident. She smiled back at him, her heart aching with love and heavy with dread.

  Just as the last course was being served, a footman came into the room from the kitchen. “My lord, James Benjamin is asking for you. He says it is important.”

  “Very well. If you will excuse me, Diana…”

  Oh, no! Not another complication. Diana laid down her fork as Vincent stood. What little appetite she had, fled. Vincent did not wait for an answer, but hastened out of the room behind the footman. Justinian, apparently unperturbed, continued to eat.

  Only a few minutes passed before Vincent reappeared. “Forgive me. I am going to have to go. I don’t know when I shall be back.”

  “Trouble?” Justinian was on his feet.

  “Possibly. But don’t disrupt your meal.”

  “Don’t mind.” Sudbury followed close on Vincent’s heels as he hurried out of the room.

  Oh, dear! Something else had happened. In all likelihood something dangerous to Vincent. And Justinian? Would he harm Vincent? In the next heartbeat Diana’s breath almost stopped as another idea struck her.

  This might be another distraction. They might again be trying to reach the children. Throckmorton was hurt and…

  She leapt out of her chair and dashed up the stairs.

  Vincent and Sudbury joined James Benjamin at the stable. He was kneeling, examining a small dog. He looked up when they entered. “I think this is one of the ratcatcher’s dogs, m’lord, and he’s got blood on him. A lot of it.”

  “Rat blood?” Sudbury peered down at the terrier.

  “Nay then, mighty big rat, to bleed this much.” James Benjamin ran his hands through the fur. “And I don’t think this little fellow is hurt.”

  Vincent got down on one knee. “Aye, he’s soaked.” A cold lumped formed in his stomach. His man was hurt. They had to find him. But of course, he could not say that. Instead he said, “It may be his master needs help.”

  “Think he will take us to him?” Sudbury stared speculatively at the dog.

  Vincent thought for a moment. If only he could be sure of Justinian, he could certainly use his help. But where had he been all afternoon? He could represent a threat to the man Vincent wanted to save.

  He would have to chance it. Considering the amount of blood, they might have little time. “It’s worth a try.” Vincent stood. “We’ll have to go on foot. James Benjamin, call another man or two and bring horses. We may need them.” He walked to the stable door, turned back to the terrier and snapped his fingers. “Come on, lad.”

  The little dog came to him, wagging its tail. Vincent took another step and murmured coaxingly, “Come on. Take us to him.”

  As if he suddenly understood, the ratter ran past him and into the twilight. Vincent and Sudbury took off in pursuit. James Benjamin shouted at a pair of grooms and ran for his horse. For a moment Vincent lost the little terrier in the gloom, but then he spied him waiting a short distance away. The three of them dashed off again in the direction of the lane.

  Every time Vincent thought that the dog had outdistanced them, the creature would coming running back, impatiently darting off again when they came into view.

  “By Jove.” Sudbury puffed. “I think he knows.”

  “He seems to,” Vincent agreed.

  At that moment they again lost sight of their quarry. They paused to catch their breaths and heard barking a short distance away. They followed the sound off the path, across the ditch and into a small copse of trees. Both terriers sniffed at a dark shape on the ground. Vincent ran to it and knelt. Oh, God. It was as he feared. A man lay on one side, a knife protruding from the vicinity of his shoulder blade. Blood soaked his shabby brown coat.

  Vincent touched his arm and the man moaned but did not move. Relief flooded Vincent. “He’s alive.”

  “Won’t be for long.” Sudbury touched the bloody sleeve of the coat. “Bleeding too much.”

  Vincent reached toward the knife, but Sudbury caught his wrist, stopping him. Vincent stiffened, but Sudbury said, “Leave it. You pull it out, it will gush. Get him to the house.”

  Acknowledging the wisdom of this advice, Vincent shouted for James Benjamin. He and the other grooms with their horses had waited on the path, but at the hail, James Benjamin jumped the ditch and guided his mount into the copse. He dismounted, bending down to the man on the ground.

  “You want him across the saddle, m’lord?”

  Vincent hesitated, glancing at Sudbury. “What do you think? That would put him head downward. I’m afraid he might bleed more.”

  Sudbury nodded. “Better hold him up.”

  Vincent climbed into the saddle. “See if you can pass him up. I’ll pull.”

  With some difficulty the three of them managed to get the dead weight of the injured man onto the horse. Vincent held him tightly with one arm, but the man slumped forward, his head resting against the horse’s mane. He had not made another sound.

  “Come on, hurry. Ride double.” Vincent carefully walked the horse across the ditch rather than jump it. “One of you ride ahead and get Nurse Marshaw. Tell her to make ready the room we had Throckmorton in. I’ll come as fast, but as easy as I can.”

  If the man survived, Vincent wanted him to be where they could guard him without spreading his men too thin. Damnation! If his forces took any more casualties, he would have to install an infirmary. The horse carrying James Benjamin and another groom galloped off into the dusk.

  Sudbury, riding with the third groom, came up beside Vincent, and Sudbury extended a hand to steady Vincent’s burden. It made for awkward going, but it helped hold him still. An eternity later they reached the building. Several men waited with a hurdle and Vincent eased the man down to them.

  “Should I ride for Dr. Dalton, m’lord?”

  “Aye. And as fast as you can.” Vincent nodded at the groom and followed the men carrying his friend up the stairs—a friend he could not even acknowledge. Vincent’s heart ached.

  Both Nurse and Diana, with their full contingent of guards, were waiting for him at the bedchamber. They worked the limp figure onto the bed and rolled him to his side. More blood leaked around the blade.

  Diana looked at Nurse. “We must stop the bleeding.”

  The old woman nodded, but frowned. “Can’t with the knife in him.” She turned to a footman. “Get my scissors.”

  He ran to obey, but Sudbury pulled a heavy blade out from under his coat. Vincent’s every sense came to full alert.

  Sudbury met his gaze for a heartbeat, then handed him the weapon. “Better to cut his coat off.”

  Vincent took the knife and began slicing away the heavy fabric. When Nurse’s scissors arrived, she attacked the thinner material of the shirt and together they laid bare the man’s back.

  Vincent glanced at her inquiringly. “Can we wait for the doctor?”

  She shook her head. Vincent sighed and looked at Sudbury.

  “Tricky.” Justinian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “No choice.” He reached across the bed and grasped the man’s shoulder firmly. Diana stood by with an armful of towels. Vincent breathed a prayer and took hold of the knife. God, let this be the right thing to do.

  He pulled.r />
  The knife hung in the bone for a second, then came free. Vincent took a sudden step back before catching his balance. True to Sudbury’s prediction, blood gushed from the wound. Diana moved in with the towels and pressed them against the gash. They began to turn red.

  “Harder.” Vincent moved her hands aside and leaned against the towels with his own. Sudbury braced the shoulder from the other side. Nurse folded more towels into a pad and slid it into position. Vincent pressed harder. Gradually the flow seemed to subside.

  “Don’t let up,” Nurse said beside him. “Not until the doctor comes and sews it together.”

  Vincent glanced at Justinian and they both nodded grimly.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It had been a long night. Dr. Dalton had finally arrived and done the necessary needlework. He complimented their efforts in stopping the bleeding and tried to send them all away, but met with resistance from Vincent. The doctor scowled at him. “I’ll sit with him, my lord. No need for you to exhaust yourself further.”

  Diana also offered to keep watch with the doctor to relieve Vincent, but he had stubbornly refused, and surprisingly, so had Justinian. At last the three men settled into the sickroom and Diana gave it up and went to bed. Another night in which she would have no opportunity to speak with Vincent.

  Would this never end?

  And today she was expecting a visit from Lord and Lady Caldbeck and their children. She had been looking forward to it. She liked Catherine, and Bytham would especially enjoy having another little boy to play with. Like all little girls, Selena was fascinated with babies. Perhaps Catherine would let her hold her infant daughter. It would have been a treat for all of them had Diana been less tired and worried.

  She did not know how Vincent could keep going. He had been without sleep for most of two nights, although this morning he had gone to his own room for a nap. The ratcatcher had roused with the dawn and Dr. Dalton had ordered that he be fed beef soup and red wine.

  “We must replace and strengthen his blood,” he explained when Diana had looked in on the patient.