Chance the Winds of Fortune

by Laurie McBain

  “I just don’t want her dead, that’s all, m’lady,” Waltham replied, eyeing the heavily drugged form wrapped in a cloak and held protectively against Rocco’s chest.

  “Well, I just hope this deal doesn’t fall through like the last one you set up,” Kate told him, her tone leaving him in little doubt of her opinion of his abilities. “My God, I could scarcely believe my ears when I heard that fool fall down the stairs. I did tell you to be discreet, but what do you do?” Kate said, warming to her grievance like a cat settling herself on a hearth. “You invite some drunken clown to meet you in my rooms! That biddy, Farquhar, is already getting suspicious about the chit. I’m not sure she even believes my story that the brat is my niece. And I’m sure she didn’t believe me when I told her she was suffering migraine, and that was why I had to keep the room quiet and dark. I think she suspects us of smuggling in the pox. I caught her snooping outside my door last night, so I’d just as soon not have to take the girl back there,” she warned her accomplice.

  “Aye, ’tis tonight or never for her,” he agreed. “But you needn’t worry that soft heart of yours about doin’ her in, ’cause I’ve already talked to my friend, and he’s very interested in the merchandise. There will be no problems this time.”

  “There had better not be, my good man,” Kate remarked, unimpressed by Waltham’s reassurances. “Who is this fellow?”

  “He’s a supercargo on board a merchantman sailing between London and Charles Town in the colonies. His cargo ain’t always dry goods. Seems there’s quite a profit in the trafficking of indentured servants. He figures he can take on one more passenger this trip. And they’re weighing anchor with the tide. Just to whet his appetite for the deal, I also didn’t neglect to describe our little beauty very enticingly. He is already counting his profit when he sells her in the colonies.”

  Kate startled him by clapping her hands. “The colonies!” she crooned, her harsh, unbridled laughter filling the coach. “Lud, but that’s rich! The grand Duke of Camareigh’s daughter being sold as a servant. Ha!” She chuckled, her shoulders shaking with mirth. “Oh, you have surely surpassed yourself, Mr. Edward Waltham. You and Percy really should have met. He would have loved this.”

  Waltham frowned, thinking that if this Percy fellow were anything like her ladyship, then he would just as soon prefer not to cross paths with him. “We’re to meet my friend near a place I know along the river,” he told her.

  “Very good, Mr. Waltham,” Kate said, tapping on the roof of the carriage. “Give the coachman the directions.”

  “Oh,” he added, pretending that something had slipped his mind. “I take it that you, personally, shall be handing the girl over to my friend?” he asked with a meaningful glance at Rocco. “After all, you do have a way with him, don’t you?”

  “Indeed, Mr. Waltham,” Kate replied, unworried. “There will be no difficulties; that I can promise you.”

  “Good,” he replied with an equal show of unconcern. But he didn’t at all care for the tone of her ladyship’s voice.

  They left the coach some distance down the lane where it would draw little attention from passersby and proceeded on foot up the cobbled street. Then they turned into a narrow, garbage-strewn alley.

  Waltham could almost hear her ladyship fuming as she carefully picked her way through the stinking refuse thrown down from the windows above.

  “A fine place, indeed,” she muttered as she felt her satin shoe slide into something indescribable.

  “You said you wanted me to be discreet,” he reminded her, with great pleasure. Blowing on his cupped hands, his breath vaporizing, he tried to keep warm, but he could feel the drizzle and mists that were drifting in off the river seeping into his clothing. The sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention and he walked toward the end of the alley, leaving her ladyship behind with Rocco and his armful.

  But as he neared the end of the alley, the footsteps continued on past without hesitation. Sighing, he started back. Then he heard the low murmur of voices and recognized her ladyship’s impatient tones. He smiled slightly, for it looked as if her ladyship wasn’t finding it as easy as she’d thought to convince Rocco to part with the girl. With a slight chuckle, he bent down to straighten his damp stocking as it began to sag; then he jumped a foot when the loud report of a pistol rang out, the echoes growing louder and louder in his ears as the seconds passed. He stared in amazed silence as the big footman suddenly toppled over like a fallen tree. Waltham sucked in his breath. Then he somehow managed to recover, and hurried toward the frozen figure of the veiled woman.

  “Damn you, woman!” he hissed, glancing up and around nervously. But no windows had been flung open, or curious heads stuck out, and he suddenly realized that the loud singing and laughing coming from a tavern across the lane had successfully hidden the sound of the pistol shot. Either that, or everyone around here was dead to the world, as indeed was Rocco. With horror, Waltham contemplated the dead footman; then he looked up again to the silent woman who had fired the pistol that had put a hole in the man’s broad back.

  “What the devil did you do that for?” he demanded.

  “He refused to give me the girl. He had turned his back on me and was walking away,” she said incredulously. “I had to stop him, and you don’t think you could have done any better, do you? Besides,” Kate added indifferently, “he had served his purpose and he was no longer dependable. He had betrayed me—the woman who gave him a home and food and put fine clothes on his back to replace the rags. And so how does he repay my kindnesses?” Kate demanded, her voice rising with wrathful indignation. “He betrays me for that angelic-faced miss who has never done a damned thing for him—except get him killed. Some sacrifice, eh, Mr. Waltham?” Kate asked sneeringly as she stared down at her late footman, who, even in death, was still cradling the girl in his arms.

  Waltham swallowed the bile rising in his throat. God, but she was a cold bitch, he thought, keeping an eye on the pistol that was still in her hand. And knowing her ladyship, she’d probably have another warming in her bodice. If she could so cold-bloodedly murder a man who had faithfully and loyally served her for God only knew how many years, what would she do when Teddie Waltham had served his purpose and was no longer needed?

  “Teddie Waltham? Teddie Waltham, is that ye back in there?” a voice called through the darkness. “If ’tis, then ye better be answerin’!” the voice warned. Whether this were friend or foe, only Teddie Waltham knew for sure.

  “Aye, ’tis me, ye old sea dog,” he replied, letting his breath out slowly as he recognized his friend’s voice.

  He stepped over the dead footman and hurried to meet his friend, who had already entered the alley. He ignored Kate’s hissed question of what they were to do with the body. Let her worry about it, seeing how her ladyship had got them into that fix, he thought maliciously as he glanced back and saw her struggling to pull the girl from Rocco’s death hold.

  “Daniel!” Waltham greeted his acquaintance like a long-lost friend. “Been a long time, it has. Figure you just got to have salt in your blood to go to sea. Me”—he laughed, turning his friend around by flinging an arm across his shoulders—“well, I get seasick just crossing over the Thames!”

  “’Tisn’t a bad life, Teddie,” his friend replied. “And it certainly beats rotting away in debtors’ prison. Ye’d be knowing about that, though. Reckon ye been in there enough that ye know the best and worst cells,” he said.

  “They’re all bad, friend,” Waltham replied seriously, vowing to himself that he’d never let himself get locked up behind bars again as long as he lived.

  “Aye, right ye are, Teddie,” Daniel agreed, swinging away from Waltham’s restraining arm and taking a good look down the alley. “Wha’s the matter wif him? Gawd, but he’s a big’un. Glad he’s not on his feet in this dark alley, fer he’s the one gent I’d not care to be meetin’ up wif anytime, and come
to think about it, I’m not too comfortable even wif him stretched out like he is,” Daniel added, eyeing the footman suspiciously.

  “Dead drunk, he is,” Waltham proclaimed in a loud whisper that carried to Kate. “He won’t bother us for a long time to come.”

  “Ummm, guess that sets me mind at rest,” Daniel said, moving a bit closer. “Who’s that female? Not the one going t’colonies, is it?”

  “’Tis a pity that all of our prayers can’t be answered,” Waltham murmured beneath his breath, thinking of an ocean between himself and her ladyship. “No, ’tis the one on the ground. Drugged, so she won’t be giving you any trouble, Daniel,” he explained as he knelt down beside the still figure.

  “Be wantin’ t’see what I’m buyin’. Won’t pay for some pig-faced chit, nor some prune-skinned hag,” Daniel warned, keeping a curious eye on the caped figure standing quietly to the side.

  “Never fear. Has Teddie Waltham ever let down a friend of his?” he demanded as he pulled out his tinderbox and struck flint against steel to ignite the tinder. When the light flared, he lit a stubby piece of candle that he’d pulled from his coat pocket and held it over the still figure, revealing the innocently sleeping face of Lady Rhea Claire Dominick, daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Camareigh.

  Daniel nearly choked on his own breath. His surprise was quite evident in his prolonged silence. “God, but she’s a beauty. How did ye ever get ye hands on a sweet thing like this?” he demanded incredulously of Waltham.

  Waltham ignored his friend’s question. “So, like I said, Teddie Waltham never lets a friend down. Does she go to the colonies, or do we find another buyer for her?”

  Daniel got to his feet and thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his coat. He rolled back and forth on his heels, as if unsure of the value of the product being offered.

  “Come on, we haven’t all night.” Kate spoke for the first time, her patience running out with this senseless bargaining. They all knew the fool would take the girl.

  Waltham shot her a damning glance, but Daniel was cold too, and he didn’t care for the unnaturally silent shape of the big man lying on the ground at his feet. Seemed a bit too quiet for his peace of mind, since there was no snorting or snoring to show the man was even alive. But then, Daniel Lewis speculated, it must have taken a powerful lot of gin or rum—maybe both—to put that giant bloke under.

  “Reckon ’tis a deal, Teddie. How much?” he demanded abruptly, growing suddenly fearful of the dark alley and the huddling shapes closing in around him. He bit his tongue before he could demand a lower sum than Waltham’s offer, for he knew he could double it three times over in the colonies with a girl as pretty as this one. So bargaining be damned. He accepted Teddie Waltham’s first offer.

  The coach seemed oddly empty as Kate and Waltham returned to the King’s Messenger Inn. They had concluded their business in almost record time, because their customer had bought as soon as he’d set eyes on the goods for sale. The silence in the coach was oppressive as they sat in their respective corners, not saying a word, each acting as if the other one did not exist.

  Suddenly Kate’s voice penetrated the silence. “I think we did rather well tonight, Teddie,” she stated smugly, and Waltham could almost see her expression beneath the concealing veil.

  But he didn’t waste time thinking about that, for her using “Teddie” had him concerned. “Aye, ’twas a good enough deal,” he commented.

  Kate laughed with pure enjoyment. “I must admit, and against my better judgment, that I am beginning to have a fondness for you, Teddie,” she said, much to Waltham’s dismay. “Yes, indeed, I truly do think we shall deal quite famously together.”

  He felt an uncomfortable tightness in his throat. “Well, m’lady, the way I see it, I’ve pretty well done my job. Don’t see that there is much more for me to do.”

  “Oh, Teddie.” Kate laughed. “We have hardly begun our fun.”

  Waltham nodded his head in the dark, not really understanding. “Might be a bit difficult for you, now that you’ve lost your footman. S’pose he was pretty handy to have around. Maybe, since you’ve succeeded in getting your revenge on this duke fellow, you could justly feel that you had cleared off old scores?” Waltham suggested hopefully.

  “Oh, Teddie, you are so wrong,” Kate said softly, already thinking about and planning her next move against the Duke of Camareigh. “I feel quite wonderful! I have no fears, no doubts, for although I have lost Rocco, I now have you, Teddie.”

  Waltham seemed to shrink into the corner of the coach when he heard her words. To be tied up with this madwoman was the last thing he desired; she was destined to come to an untimely end, and although it wouldn’t be undeserved, he didn’t want to be with her when it happened.

  “Ah, Teddie,” Kate was saying now with a deep, satisfied sigh. “I do believe I feel like quite a feast this evening. What say we order some of Farquhar’s famous pigeon pie? And I shall make sure that you have plenty of rum to wash it down. Yes, indeed, tonight is certainly cause for celebration.” Kate chuckled. “Although I doubt they are celebrating at Camareigh. Don’t you think, Teddie, that they would have received my little surprise package by now?” she asked, not waiting for a reply before she started humming the song “Greensleeves” beneath her breath. Teddie Waltham didn’t have to see her face to know that she was smiling.

  * * *

  “I cannot bear the thought of yet another tasteless meal,” the duchess said as she contemplated the butler who was announcing luncheon. “And yet I must proceed as if nothing has happened, even though whenever I happen to glance up, I catch a half-a-dozen pairs of hopeful, frightened eyes watching my least little move. At times I feel so helpless I could cry, but I’ll not do that to them. I’ll not destroy the children’s belief that everything will turn out for the best. Soon enough I shall have that unpleasant duty, but not now, not yet,” she said vehemently. “I will not concede defeat, Mary. I will not bow down to an enemy whose face I do not even know.”

  Mary smiled sadly. Her eyes were shadowed, for the last couple of days had taken their toll on her as well as on her sister. “That is why I have always admired you so, Rina. You never give up. You keep on struggling, no matter what the odds. It was years and years ago, but I can still remember praying for just a little of your strength of mind and spirit. I used to think, and indeed still do, that they were indomitable.”

  The duchess reached out and lightly touched her sister’s hand. “Sweet Mary,” she murmured, her voice full of love. “You have always known just what to say when I needed it most. You shame me with your words, for I feel such a coward inside,” the duchess confided. It was to very few people that she would admit such a thing.

  “Only a fool knows no fear, Rina.”

  “Then I am certainly no fool,” the duchess proclaimed with a wry smile as she took a sip of her sherry. “If only I did not have to sit here doing nothing. I wish I were with Lucien right now,” she added impatiently.

  “Perhaps they will discover something,” Mary said, daring to voice her silent prayers.

  “I think not,” the duchess said flatly. “You have heard of a wild goose chase?”

  “You don’t believe Caroline’s story, do you?”

  “No, not one lying word of it,” the duchess admitted, an angry glint in her violet eyes. “Gyspies!” she spat scornfully. But her scorn was not for the much-maligned gypsies. It was reserved for the person responsible for such a tale, and a Canterbury tale it was in the duchess’s mind. “We haven’t had gypsies at Camareigh in over a fortnight, I doubt whether there are any in the valley at all, and hardly any who would kidnap a young English girl. They don’t care to have anything to do with anyone outside their tribe. Besides, Lucien, as well as his grandfather before him, has always let the gypsies camp on Camareigh land. He says it brings good luck. There has never been much trouble with them; in fact, we seem
to have more trouble with the locals, especially the younger farmers, who go out to the gypsy camp just looking for trouble. The gypsies know Rhea, and they would never betray Lucien or me by kidnapping her. That is why I do not believe this fairy tale of Miss Caroline Winters,” the duchess said sharply.

  Mary sighed. “Then why should Caroline lie about what happened? It is absolutely wicked. I cannot understand how anyone could be cruel enough to do such a thing,” she said, the stitches she was making in her embroidery became uneven with her worry. “Oh, dear,” she murmured, rattled by the disorder she had created, “Aunt Margaret would be so ashamed of this.”

  “You always look for the goodness in a person, Mary. You are seldom suspicious of them like I am. But you ask me why Caroline should lie about what happened. I suspect,” the duchess continued thoughtfully, “that Caroline rather enjoys being the center of attention. And for the last few days she has been showered with constant care and solicitude. And since she awoke, poor Jeremy has been at her beck and call night and day. I think it despicable the way she abuses his genuine love and affection for her. So what happens? She hears that Rhea Claire and the Earl of Rendale are missing, which puts them in a far more perilous situation than she now finds herself in. Especially if she can shed little light on their disappearance. What could be better than to fabricate a story about gypsies? So, because Caroline must satisfy her own greed for attention, I am now in more doubt than ever about what happened to my daughter. Can you doubt that I must restrain myself from strangling the life out of the girl whenever I see her?” the duchess asked, and whether or not she were serious, even Mary, her own dear sister, could not be certain.

  “I wonder when Lucien and Terence will return?” Mary asked, not knowing how far they would have to ride to find the gypsy encampment.

  “Well, whatever the distance,” the duchess commented, “it will take them away from this area. I still think they should keep looking around Camareigh. They have searched for two days now and found nothing. I realize that they have just about exhausted all areas around here to search, but still…” The duchess’s voice trailed away in doubt. “I just have this feeling they should keep looking. That is why I resent so much this damned tale of Caroline’s. It is such a waste of valuable time.”