Good God! Sophie could hardly take this to mean anything other than the obvious. The two men who had been following them earlier had just been instructed by Mr. Fitzgelder to go commit murder! What in the world had she gotten herself into?
“Aye, we got it, sir,” one of the men assured. “I can make it an accident, all right, but are you sure you want this? It’s rather permanent, you know.”
“Hell, it had better be permanent,” Mr. Fitzgelder snarled. “My cousin isn’t worth the paper his damn patent comes written on.”
Miss Sands drew a sudden sharp breath. Sophie slid another glance her way. The woman’s face was distinctly pale in the dim light here behind this cabinet. Sophie could well understand how she felt. She did, however, wish that the actress was not digging her fingernails so sharply into her shoulder where her hand had been resting.
“Well, he won’t be enjoying that lofty title much longer now, will he?” One of the murderers chuckled.
Mr. Fitzgelder concurred. “He’d better not. Here, can you read?”
There was the sound of papers shuffling. “I can, some. What’s this?”
“It’ll give you directions to meet up with him,” Fitzgelder explained. “Now I’ve already helped you by getting things in motion. My cousin’s off at some bloody wedding north of Warwick, but very soon I expect he’ll head for home. I’ve made things, shall we say, difficult for his darling mother and simpering little sister. He’ll no doubt feel the need to come rushing back to them here. That will be your chance. Get him while he’s on the road from Warwick; that’s the easiest.”
“Shot by highwaymen?”
“Whatever. Just do it. The only way I want Anthony Rastmoor returned to his family is as a corpse.”
Miss Sands let out a squeak. Yes, it was indeed disturbing to hear the man speak such horrors, but really, did the actress have to turn to absolute jelly over it? She’d seemed far more formidable than that. Just now it was of the utmost importance they maintain their silent composure. Perhaps the woman needed comforting. Sophie shifted her hand to reach up and touch the actress’s, which was still exerting quite a good deal of pressure on her poor shoulder.
It was an unwise move. The bundle of her belongings that she had clutched to her shifted and slipped out of her grasp. It thumped to the floor. The precious scissors she had carefully wrapped inside slipped out and clanged against the cabinet. Instinctively her hand shot out to rescue them, but it could not be done without noise. Too late she realized the voices outside had stopped.
“What the devil was that?” Mr. Fitzgelder growled.
Sophie desperately scanned the little room they’d been hiding in for any way of escape. What she saw made her draw her breath and utter a squeak very reminiscent of Miss Sands’s. The distinctive dark form of a man appeared in the far corner of the room and moved suddenly toward them.
Before she could so much as draw breath to scream, light from the corridor fell onto his face. Lord Lindley.
He’d been hiding in here with them all along? Good heavens! They’d been discovered right from the start! And now he would inform his awful friend.
Yet his eyes met hers and he put one finger to his lips. He stepped past them and into the doorway just as footsteps approached from the corridor. Mr. Fitzgelder and his henchmen were coming!
“Lindley!” Fitzgelder exclaimed. “By God, what are you doing in there?”
Lord Lindley stood in the doorway, securely blocking the view of anyone who might try to peer into the small room. Sophie didn’t take much chance, though. She and Miss Sands cowered in the shadows, barely breathing.
Lindley gave a grunt and readjusted his clothing. “I availed myself of one of your little housemaids, old man. Quite accommodating, she was.”
Sophie could hear the shifting footsteps. Mr. Fitzgelder was trying to look into the room!
But Lindley just laughed. “Sorry, she’s been gone these last minutes. Sent her on her way so I could put things back in order, so to speak. How about you? Got all your business tended to?”
“It will be soon enough, I anticipate,” Mr. Fitzgelder said. “My friends here will see to it.”
“Ah, good thing. I say a man needs friends he can trust to take care of things for him. Good work there, men.”
Did Lord Lindley have a clue at all what he was complimenting here? Could it be he was a party to it? Either way, it was clear Mr. Fitzgelder trusted Lindley and was comfortable with whatever he may have overheard. That in itself spoke guilt for the earl. Oh, how could she have ever thought him anything less than pure evil? He was everything Fitzgelder was and worse, because he was so casual about it.
“All right then, be off with you,” Fitzgelder said, presumably to the criminals he’d just been commissioning. “You’ve got your directions. Now don’t disappoint me!”
The men mumbled their assurances, and their footsteps sounded in the corridor as they left to carry out their deadly orders. It was dreadful, knowing that someone would soon perish at their hands. If only there was something she and Miss Sands could do; but of course there was nothing. They’d be lucky to leave here alive themselves, as a matter of fact.
“So, are we off to join the others for some revelry? Where is it we are headed next, old man?” Lindley asked his friend when they were alone.
“Haven’t you had enough sport for the night?” Fitzgelder scoffed.
“Hardly! That little maid I found was barely amusing. Honestly, I don’t know what you saw in her this afternoon.”
“What? You shagged my little seamstress?”
Sophie was quite sure her gulp had been audible to anyone in this half of the house. What on earth was his lordship saying?
“Is that what she is? Well, let’s hope she sews with more than a halfhearted effort. Lord, quite enough to bore a man.”
Ooo, how dare he! It was bad enough he was accusing her of engaging in illicit intimacies, but he was insinuating that she was not at all good at it! Most insulting and very uncalled for.
“Damn the little minx. She’s been denying me since I brought her here!” Fitzgelder grumbled.
“Well, maybe that’s the trouble then. She’s worn herself out playing hard to get with you, so she had nothing left for me.”
“Hell. If you wouldn’t have barged in on us up there earlier I…Say, you didn’t by any chance notice whether the little slut was wearing a rather fine piece of jewelry, did you?”
“What? No, I didn’t see any jewelry. Can’t say I was particularly looking for any, if you know what I mean. Why?”
“Damn chit stole from me, that’s all. No matter. I’ll get it back. I’ll find her.”
“That’s right. Let her rest up a bit for you, eh? So come, there are plenty more rabbits to be snared, Fitz. Let’s go set up some traps.”
Fitzgelder muttered a string of uncommonly harsh profanity, yet Lindley did nothing but laugh over it. Still, he never gave a hint that Sophie and Miss Sands were hiding in this very room. In fact, his good-natured insistence that he and Fitzgelder go trolling for entertainment and pleasure elsewhere must have successfully swayed Fitzgelder into agreement.
“Hell, I deserve a night out after all this,” Fitzgelder remarked.
“Indeed you do,” Lindley encouraged. “As I always say, when the time is right, one must disappear into the night.”
“You always say that, do you?”
“Oh, yes. Quite frequently.”
“Well, I’ve never heard you say it.”
“There are a great many things you’ve not heard from me, my friend,” Lindley remarked. “Perhaps someday you will.”
With that Fitzgelder grunted but allowed that a night out was in order. Nonchalant and as innocent as babes, the two men seemed in high spirits as they set off. It was not at all as if one had just boasted of rape and the other plotted murder only moments ago. Vile, terrible creatures. Sophie did not even want to know where they were going, just that they were gone.
What on
earth had Mr. Fitzgelder been saying about some jewelry? He claimed she had stolen it from him? Why, that was ludicrous. She’d never stolen in her life, and certainly not from an ogre like Fitzgelder. Why, he’d likely kill anyone who stole from him! Heavens, did he truly believe she had? This was dreadful.
The women huddled silently until the last footstep faded away. Were the men gone? Sophie listened. The house was quiet around them.
“I can’t let it happen,” Miss Sands whispered softly.
“Can’t let what happen?” Sophie barely breathed in question.
“Rastmoor,” the actress said quickly, creeping out from behind the cabinet. “I’ve got to go warn him.”
“Who on earth is Rastmoor?”
“Fitzgelder’s cousin; the man he plans to have murdered!”
“Oh, but Miss Sands! You certainly can’t mean to involve yourself in this business!”
“I’ve been involved for years. Now come out. Your friend Lindley was right; this is the perfect opportunity to disappear into the night.”
Sophie frowned. What on earth was Miss Sands getting them into? The woman would be dead wrong if she thought she could prevent what Mr. Fitzgelder had planned. And indeed, she was wrong about Lord Lindley, too.
True, the time could very well be right to disappear into the night, but Sophie would never think of that man as her friend. All he would ever be to her was a liar and a very poor poet. And the man who likely stole her most expensive pantalets.
DAMN, BUT HE WISHED FITZGELDER WAS DRUNK. THE man was so much easier to control when he was well into his cups. For now though, at least, he had him out of the house. With luck, Miss Darshaw would heed his warning and take herself away from there while she had the chance. With even more luck, she wouldn’t entirely disappear. He should very much like to find her again, for various reasons.
Just now, though, Lindley had his hands full enough. He led Fitzgelder to the carriage he’d arranged for him. Pray to God Eudora was holding up her end of things and was already inside it.
She was. The still-stunning Madame smiled coyly when Lindley pulled open the door and peered inside. Even in the dark of night her creamy complexion and dazzling teeth glowed. The evocative scent of exotic perfume tinted the air around her. It was a temptation Fitzgelder surely could not resist.
“I say, Fitz! Look who’s come ’round to visit,” Lindley said, as if surprised at finding her there.
“I heard things were getting a bit dull for our lively Mr. Fitzgelder,” she cooed in that warm, sultry voice she’d long ago perfected. “I was hoping I could help out.”
Fitzgelder’s shameless gawking and the leering anticipation in his eyes announced plainly that he was convinced she might be able to do just that. “I do believe this night might not prove a total waste, after all. Good evening to you, Eudora.”
He climbed into the carriage and situated himself beside the alluring woman. Then he motioned for Lindley to join them on the bench opposite.
“Come, Lindley. Madame can surely make room for both of us.” Then he laughed at what, apparently, he thought was a most humorous double entendre. “Though not at the same time, I daresay! Although I bargain we could both work at parts of her together. What do you say? The three of us, old man?”
Never in a million years! “Not tonight, I’m afraid. I’ll meet you at the house.”
Fitzgelder laughed again. “Need time to recuperate from that little seamstress, I take it?”
Lindley cringed. Eudora’s eyes went just the slightest bit rounder. “Seamstress?”
“That little doxy I took from your place,” Fitzgelder explained. Damn him. “She’s been running me a merry chase, too. Somehow Lindley got her alone tonight. Bloodied my lip, the bitch did, but it would seem Lindley’s got a better way with females like that.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed he does have an eye for seamstresses,” Eudora said.
“My carriage is waiting,” Lindley said, ignoring Madame’s comment. “I’m sure you won’t miss my company at all.”
Fitzgelder laughed. This was all just a game for him, wasn’t it? Others might suffer—hell, he’d pegged his own cousin for murder—but yet Fitzgelder could laugh. No vengeance could come swift enough, as far as Lindley was concerned.
Still, he had to be patient. Eudora would help. She knew how to keep the man occupied tonight, although it pained Lindley to think to what ends she might have to go. Best not to think of that, he decided. Besides, no one forced Eudora to do what she did not wish—though it did seem the woman wished quite a bit.
Lindley, however, did not. Justice would be the only thing on his mind when he made his appearance at the house where Fitzgelder’s revels would continue tonight. And no one would even notice that Lindley chose not to participate in the sordid events in Madame’s exclusive rooms. He would have ample time to arrange things as needed to suit his own purposes.
Wishing Fitzgelder had at least waited for Lindley to shut the carriage door before he pounced on Eudora, the earl was finally rid of the man. The carriage clattered off and Lindley made his way back to his own carriage that waited nearby. His man Feasel stood beside it.
“Do we follow, milord?”
“No. I’ve got something else for you, Feasel.”
“Anything.”
“A young couple should be coming from the house at any moment. They will be trying not to be seen. I need you to follow the girl—the one in the dress, that is—at all costs. You’ll recognize her. It’s Miss Darshaw.”
His man nodded. “Ah, so she’s finally leaving this place, is she?”
“Yes. Report back where she goes, who she meets.”
“And the young man?”
Feasel didn’t even bat an eye when Lindley explained. “The man is a woman; an actress. Any information on her would be helpful, as well.”
“Mind if I take Tom?”
“By all means. Whatever you need,” Lindley replied, then made sure to meet his servant’s eye. “This one’s important, Feasel.”
“They all are, sir.”
“Yes, but this is more so. If Miss Darshaw does not come out of this house, find some excuse to get her out. She cannot be here when Fitzgelder returns. Things have gotten too risky.”
“I’ll take care of it, sir.”
That was enough. He knew his man wouldn’t let him down. Lindley nodded and climbed up inside his phaeton. He heard Feasel give one sharp call and Tom hopped off his post on the back of the carriage. The boy was a good help. It had not been easy finding servants he could trust to carry out his clandestine efforts, but Feasel and his son, Tom, had proven invaluable. They’d follow Miss Darshaw. She might think she was disappearing into the night, but Feasel would find her.
And then he would report to Lindley what she was about. She’d not seen the last of him, no indeed. Lindley would find Miss Darshaw at some point and the girl would tell him all and would enjoy doing it, too. He knew ways to make women talk. Rather pleasant ways. And despite the lies he’d told Fitzgelder just moments ago, Lindley suspected she’d be more than competent.
But first things first. Not only did he have the rest of tonight to endure, he had a wedding in Warwick to attend. He’d best leave first thing in the morning for that. Fitzgelder’s men were already on their way to lay the trap. In less than two days’ time Rastmoor would be returning on the very road where those killers awaited him. Lindley would have to get there first and convince Rastmoor that London could wait. It could be the only way to prevent Lord Anthony Rastmoor from being murdered by his own cousin.
Lindley’s anticipated meeting with Miss Darshaw would simply have to wait. He could certainly use his time to plan an attack, however. Indeed, he would contemplate long and hard the many things he might do to encourage the girl to talk. Among other things.
Chapter Four
Sophie was too tired to even speak. They’d managed to get away from Mr. Fitzgelder’s house, but the night had been long and nerve-wracking. Sophie simply
could not get over the feeling someone was following them, lurking in every shadow around them, though of course it could not be. Miss Sands promised her they were quite safe, taking refuge in the storeroom of a shop belonging to a couple who she claimed were friends of the family.
Unfortunately, these friends had gone home for the night. Miss Sands and Sophie were trespassing. It was a most dreadful, anxious feeling.
But even worse was the feeling Sophie had when she pulled her aching foot up onto her lap to rub it. Something fell from the pocket of her apron. Something metal. Something shiny. Something very much like the locket she had seen Mr. Fitzgelder holding when she mistakenly walked in on him in the linen cupboard that evening.
“What’s that?” Miss Sands asked, seated on a box of potatoes and trying in vain to yank off her left boot.
“Mr. Fitzgelder’s locket!”
“What? His locket? By heavens, you did steal jewelry from him!”
Sophie grabbed up the glinting object and balled it into her fist. “No! I swear, Miss Sands, I don’t know how it came to be here.”
Her companion merely laughed at her panic. “I’m not condemning you, Sophie. I think it’s marvelous, actually. Serves the ogre right.”
“But it’s true, on my mother’s grave! I didn’t take it. It must have fallen into my apron on accident when he…when we had a disagreement.”
“When the rutting brute blackened your eye, you mean.”
Sophie couldn’t help but put her hand to the place. It was still tender. “I must look a sight.”
“It’s fading,” Miss Sands assured her. “Clearly he’s inept even at abusing women. But now that you’ve taken his locket—”
“I didn’t take it!”
“Now that you’ve ended up with his locket,” Miss Sands corrected, “you’d best be extra careful that he doesn’t find you. I doubt he’ll be so understanding.”
Sophie shuddered. “Locket or no, I have little intention of letting him find me. He’s a murderer!”
Temptress in Training Page 6
