Foolish, beautiful, stubborn woman.
By killing Valère, he had removed a vital piece of Napoleon’s grand scheme, protected the woman he loved, and freed himself from a terrible mistake. Whatever decision she had made in that rat-infested cell below did not stand a chance against their age-old connection. He would break through whatever barrier she had erected. In the drawing room, she told him she loved him, and he would never let her forget it.
Jack squeezed passed Bingham, Dinks, and Somerton, toting a redheaded poppet beneath his arm. “Miss Cora?”
Cora glanced between the two, and her face lit with joy. “Grace?”
Jack nodded.
Cora strode forward and started to place her hand on the young girl’s cheek, but thought better of it. “Excuse my abominable appearance, Grace. I had an altercation with some rubbish.”
Instead of smiling, the girl rooted farther into the safety of her brother’s embrace.
Cora tried again. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman while I was abroad.”
Jack covered the girl’s fingers twisting one of the buttons on his coat. “Gracie, you remember Miss Cora now, don’t you?”
The girl shook her head.
“Jack, I am rather altered since last she saw me. It’s no matter.” To his sister, she said, “You’re safe now, Grace. We shall not let anything happen to you. I vow it.”
Jack squeezed his sister’s shoulder. “Miss Cora always keeps her promises.”
The girl sent Cora a timid smile.
Straightening to her full height, Cora sent Jack a questioning look. She did not want to upset the girl by making inquiries about her well-being.
Jack understood her silent communication and responded with a slight nod. Although relieved, she would send for a doctor to see to the girl.
“How did you find this place?” Cora asked Guy, changing the focus away from the girl.
He nodded toward Jack. “Your friend followed Valère’s man then led us back here.”
Pride shone in her eyes, and she kissed both the footman’s cheeks. “Thank you, Jack.”
A flush blanketed Jack’s face. “Was the least I could do after all the trouble I caused.” He lifted guilt-stricken eyes. “Can you ever forgive, Miss Cora?”
She sent the footman a warm smile. “It is already done. We shall speak of it no more.”
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Perhaps we would all be more comfortable back at the hunting box,” Guy suggested. “There is plenty of room, and nothing more to be done here, except call the local constable.”
“A fine idea,” Somerton agreed, ushering everyone from the kitchen. “I’ll leave a few guards and return to deal with this later.”
Danforth threw an arm over Cora’s shoulder. “Come on, runt. Let’s see if we can find you a hot bath. You smell like someone dropped a slop bucket on you.”
Guy’s jaw clenched, and he stepped forward to intervene. His friend had no idea of the horrors Cora faced below.
Cora punched her brother in the stomach.
“Ow!” he said, not feigning the pain.
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m well aware of how foul I smell, you dolt, as is everyone else. I do not need you to express the obvious.”
Guy could not hold back his smile. He should have known the little spitfire would not need his help. She had managed her brother’s speak-first-think-later attitude far longer than Guy had.
She sent Guy a sidelong glance, her cheeks rosy despite her chiding words.
“So does that mean you don’t want a hot bath?” Danforth quipped.
Before she could whack him again, her brother bolted awkwardly from the room, leaving a devilish laugh in his wake.
“Ethan!” Cora yelled, fast on her brother’s heels. Both of them hobbled more than ran.
Guy’s smile grew wider, and he noted the others’ expressions had lightened. The siblings’ antics were reminiscent of when they were children. How they had all cherished those few years when grief no longer suffocated them and duty had yet to call.
He hoped their laughter was a sign that the healing process had already begun. When he recalled Cora’s withdrawal, his good humor darkened.
But only for a moment. He had a barrier to breach. And this time, he would leave nothing behind for her to reconstruct.
Forty-Two
After Cora’s bath, Dinks wrapped a tight length of linen around Cora’s rib cage and bundled her arm in a new sling. She then applied a thick ointment to Guy’s sliced wrists before covering them with a secure bandage.
Guy gently squeezed each wrist. “What did you put on my wounds? Stings like the devil.”
Dinks smiled. “Means it’s working, my lord.”
At Somerton’s request, Jack poured healthy levels of rum into glasses of various sizes for everyone. The small saloon’s occupants diligently finished their drinks while watching Dinks move from one patient to the next.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Danforth,” Guy said. “But where the hell have you been?” Knowing Specter watched over the hothead for several days, he asked the question more for Cora than himself.
“Searching for Valère, of course,” Danforth said, toying with a long stalk of grass he’d picked from the unkempt grounds surrounding the hunting box.
“Indeed.” Somerton leveled a do-not-try-my-patience look on his former ward.
Danforth sighed. “After we returned from France, I started making inquiries at various ports about Valère’s whereabouts—official and otherwise. A few days later, the Frenchman’s men plucked me off the street, and I gained intimate knowledge of their carriage’s boot. Quite uncomfortable, I might add.” He paused for a moment, his brow knitted in a scowl as if reliving the ride.
“Do not dawdle, Ethan,” Cora admonished. “Tell us what happened next.”
Guy smiled. He had tried to get her to rest, but she had tucked a pillow against her injured side and insisted on staying.
“It is not a pretty tale, Sister.” Danforth glowered at Cora.
“Spare me your melodrama, Brother. I have seen worse, I’m sure.”
Danforth sobered at the reminder. “Seen and experienced worse, I have no doubt.”
Cora’s flush was all the confirmation they needed.
“Once we reached our destination near the docks,” Danforth continued, “three Goliaths gave me a sound beating and left me for dead in an alleyway.”
“Since you did not perish,” Somerton said, “I assume you received an act of kindness from a dock worker.”
“I’m not altogether sure,” Danforth replied with a furrowed brow. “Someone pulled me from the alleyway and transported me to an abandoned building. I have only flashes of memory from those first few days of my recovery.”
“You never saw who saved you?” Guy had a hard time visualizing his brawny friend incapacitated.
Danforth’s lips thinned into a frustrated line, and he slapped the stalk of grass against his chair.
“Come now, Danforth, you had to have seen something,” Guy pressed.
A crimson flush suffused Danforth’s ears. “What I remember makes no sense.” He looked around the room. “I remember a cloaked figure with gentle hands in the alley, then nothing. When I returned to awareness in the abandoned building, a pretty maid, rather than my savior, greeted me. And then she disappeared once I started asking questions about the cloaked figure. Damn me, but I would like to thank the chap.”
A fierce scowl blanketed Cora’s features. “They left you there to fend for yourself?”
“No.” Danforth stared at the amber liquid he swirled in his glass. “I don’t think I was ever left alone. I had adequate food and clean bandages at all times.”
It did not surprise Guy that his informant had avoided Danforth, especially once Cora’s brother began asking probing questions. Specter’s motives for helping Guy over the years had never been clear, but the informant’s demand for secrecy had been quite explic
it.
Guy shrugged. He had stopped pondering the mystery of Specter some time ago. Danforth was returned to them safely. That was all that mattered.
Guy looked to Somerton. “I assume you learned of Lord Latymer’s part in all of this.”
“Indeed, I did,” Somerton said. “A timely note alerted me to be careful of the man. Dealing with the intricacies and layers of Latymer’s involvement forced me to stay in town longer than I had anticipated. I sent a note ahead, but my messenger’s horse went lame. By the time he arrived at The King’s Arms, you were already gone.”
Somerton stared at his empty glass. “I trusted him. Information I had supplied to him became instruments of death. I was charged with protecting England, not be a source of its downfall—” The older man broke off, swallowing hard.
Guy suspected greed lay at the heart of Latymer’s enterprise, its claws always a powerful persuader. He was gratified to learn Specter had succeeded in both endeavors, finding Danforth and alerting Somerton. The informant continued to be a powerful ally.
Cora reached across the short distance and laid her hand over Somerton’s. “You could not have known.”
Somerton’s smile was self-deprecating. “Could I not?”
He patted her hand and rose from his seat to pour himself another drink. By the time he turned back to the room, all sign of emotion was gone. “The Foreign Office is still sorting through Latymer’s web of deceit. Unfortunately, they will have to do it without the traitor’s confession.”
“Why?” Danforth asked.
“Because he escaped.”
Silence shot through the room.
“When?” Cora asked.
Somerton sighed. “Not long after I left London. A messenger tracked me down on the road to Latymer’s estate.”
Five minutes ago, they had believed the case closed. Now everyone recognized that Latymer’s disappearance left a gaping hole that would need to be sewn shut. Soon.
“Why did you not notify any of us that you planned to investigate on your own?” Cora prompted her brother in an obvious attempt to change the subject. And probably because she wanted to rattle his wits.
“There was not time,” he said vaguely. “For the first sennight, I was following one false clue after another. Every time I thought I was close to a breakthrough, I met with another wall.”
“Had you followed protocol,” Somerton said in an even voice, “you could have saved yourself a beating and a great deal of wasted time.”
“And your family a great deal of worry,” Cora added.
Danforth tipped back the rest of his rum. “There is that. Sorry, runt.”
“Helsford,” Somerton said. “Why don’t you take Cora and Grace to the village inn for the evening? Danforth and I will deal with matters at the house.” He turned to the coachman standing uncomfortably by the door. “Bingham, would you be so kind as to bring the carriage around?”
“Yes, m’lord,” Bingham mumbled, obviously relieved to return to familiar tasks.
“Come, Miss Cora,” Dinks said, helping Cora rise from her chair. “I brought along something a wee more appropriate than that borrowed wrapper you’re wearing.”
Cora turned to Somerton, “I have not had an opportunity to thank Mrs. Pettigrew for her help. She intervened at a most opportune moment, and I shall never forget her kindness.”
Guy’s muscles tensed at the implication buried in her words. He had wanted to beat Valère with his bare hands, to have felt the give of the man’s flesh and bones beneath his knuckles. The bastard had died too quickly. He had wanted him to suffer in the same way Cora had suffered.
He tamped down his anger. “The housekeeper and the little maid helped me, as well. As did our fair Dinks.”
The corners of Dinks’s mouth turned down. “Not before I sent you a wild-goose chase, my lord.” She averted her gaze from Cora’s. “Wasted precious time on an old woman’s memory.”
Cora kissed her cheek, which brought forth a handkerchief.
Guy said, “Your memory was faultless, Dinks. Latymer’s bedchamber was already going to be my first stop. Your instructions got me there much faster than my bungling about.”
Dinks flapped her handkerchief at Guy. “Don’t be wasting your charm on me, my lord. I’ve got my sights set elsewhere.”
Somerton smiled. “Thank you, Dinks. As for Mrs. Pettigrew and—
“Lydie, my lord,” Dinks said.
“And Lydie, I will convey our collective gratitude.”
Cora stood to leave. “We’ll return in a few minutes—”
“Ow!” Danforth yelled.
Guy turned to look at his friend. At first, he did not know what to make of Danforth’s sprawled position. The viscount’s arms were spread wide and his right leg was hiked high in the air. But it was his friend’s look of horror that had Guy doubling over with laughter.
“My boot!” he exclaimed. “Get it off.”
Cora rushed to her brother’s side and gently pried the little white kitten from his expensive boot. From ten feet away, Guy could hear the scratch of leather beneath the kitten’s claws.
“Ack! Be careful, will you?”
Cora ripped the grass stem from Danforth’s hand. “If you thought you could do better, you should have.”
“I’m not touching that stray,” Danforth said. “Probably carries rabies or some other foul disease. How did it get in here, anyway?”
Dinks hurried forward. “We have the doors open, my lord, to air out the place. The kitten must have made its way up from the barn. What a curious and brave beastie.”
Danforth stood, backing away. “Shouldn’t the animal be afraid of humans?” He bent forward to inspect the damage to his Hessians while keeping one eye on the kitten.
“Ethan, it’s just a kitten, for goodness sake.”
“Blast,” he said, finding the gouge marks in his boot. “The damned—”
“Ankle-biter,” Guy offered.
“Right. The damned ankle-biter ruined my boot.”
“Such a pretty little thing,” Dinks said, ignoring Danforth’s outburst. “All that snowy white. Oh, and it has two gray boots.”
Guy watched Cora turn the kitten around and peer into its face.
She glanced at Guy with a luminous smile. “Green eyes,” she said in a shaky voice.
His heart clenched, knowing she was thinking of Scrapper. “And gray boots.”
“Shall we keep him, Miss Cora?” Dinks asked eagerly.
“Hell no—” Danforth began.
“Yes,” Cora said over her brother’s protest.
Then, as if communicating its thanks, the kitten rested his gray-booted paws against Cora’s cheeks. A startled expression flashed across her face, and to Guy’s surprise, a tear rolled down her cheek.
Dinks pulled her ever-present handkerchief out of her skirt pocket and offered it to Cora. “Up with you, little mite. We must get you dressed.”
Cora rose and made her way toward the door, with the kitten in her arms and Dinks by her side.
“Cora,” Guy called.
She glanced over her shoulder, happy in a way he had not seen her in a very long time. “Yes?”
“What will you name your new friend?”
Her smile turned mischievous. “Fang. The name has a certain poignancy to it, don’t you think?”
Guy sent her a knowing smile. “Indeed, I do.”
She laughed, and the trio retreated to an upstairs bedchamber.
“What the hell was all of that about?” Danforth demanded.
Guy tossed back the rest of his rum. “A small jest between your sister and me.”
Danforth’s eyes narrowed. “Now, listen here, Helsford—”
“What happened in the cellar?” Somerton asked.
Guy’s pleasant mood fled at the thought of retelling the events that led up to Valère’s death. Although the bastard received the comeuppance he deserved, he did not know how Cora would cope with her part in the man’s death.
Somerton eyed him. “What do you mean?”
“As Cora mentioned, he was sent here to kill you, not her. She was merely a decoy to lure you to Latymer’s estate, where he could make your death look like an accident.”
Somerton rubbed his eyes, looking as if he had aged ten years. He dropped his hand and met Guy’s gaze. “I will get the full details later. For now, I need to ask a final favor.”
“Name it.”
“I would like for you to take Cora away for a few weeks. There is a great deal to be done with this mess yet, and I would rather she not be around while this incident unfolds. She has been through enough.”
“There is no need to bother Helsford with this anymore,” Danforth said. “I will take care of my sister.”
Guy eyed his friend, his teeth clenching. Had Danforth noticed their sidelong glances and shared smiles? Had her brother’s protective instincts kicked in? Against him?
“It is no bother at all,” Guy rejoined, returning Danforth’s hard look with a more determined one.
“See here, Helsford,” Danforth growled. “I don’t like the way you have been looking at Cora tonight. If you lay one hand—”
“Calm yourself, Danforth,” Somerton said. “Cora’s reputation will not suffer under Helsford’s care.”
Somerton slanted Guy a commanding look, his message clear. Don’t disappoint me.
A pang of chagrin thwacked Guy in the stomach. He hated to take advantage of his mentor’s trust, but in this case, where Cora was concerned, he would use every opportunity to draw her closer. To awaken her body and deepen her trust.
To remind her of her words of love.
Warmth settled in his bones.
Cora chose that second to step back into the room, wearing a lovely blue dress.
Their gazes met. Cora’s eyebrows flared high, and a flush of crimson blanketed her features. Guy tried to stem the tide of affection he felt for her, tried to shield her from its impact. But she had caught him at a vulnerable moment, and he could only yield to the rush of emotion.
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