It was not a long ride back to the Hart.
Jem the ostler ambled across the yard to take their horses, and the large, amiable figure of the innkeeper filled the front door as he welcomed them.
“Is Mr. Lacey here yet?” Sydney asked.
“No, sir. But—”
“We’ll need the parlor,” Sydney said.
“It’s yours, sir, in just a few minutes. We’ve just had a party of travelling gents in there and my wife’s cleaning it up. Go into the coffee room while you wait and I’ll bring you refreshment. You’ll find their graces there already.”
“What, really?” Eagerly, Henrietta rushed into the coffee room and all but danced up to Charlotte and Alvan. “How wonderful!” She threw her arms around Charlotte’s neck, whispering, “You sent Sydney to me—thank you!” Then she hugged Alvan for good measure.
“Yes, well,” Charlotte said, “whatever you’ve been up to has just become more complicated, because everyone is now convinced you’ve eloped with Matthew.”
Henrietta blinked.
“What?” Matthew exclaimed in horror.
“With Matthew?” Henrietta repeated. “But why would anyone ever imagine such a thing?”
“Because Mrs. Lacey saw you go off together—embracing, as she put it—at Seldon Manor.”
“We were just congratulating each other on being in love with other people!” Henrietta said indignantly.
Sydney laughed, and laughed all the harder as Henrietta glared at him. Reluctantly, she allowed the smile to break through.
“Very well, it’s funny,” she allowed, “But what the devil are we to do now? Poor Eunice will be devastated and hate me all over again.”
“Ah, Eunice is the object of your passion,” Charlotte exclaimed to Matthew. “I wondered what in the world she was doing with us.”
“Well, we had enough secrets to discuss without dragging in Matthew’s, too,” Henrietta said. “This is Mr. Charles Cromarty, by the by, Sydney’s cousin. We’re waiting for Mr. Lacey to come and question him. Mr. Cromarty, my brother and sister, the Duke and Duchess of Alvan.”
Charles’s mouth fell open. He barely managed a sketchy bow before Sydney casually shoved him onto a chair.
“Um, I am, of course, delighted to see you again,” Sydney said to Alvan. “But if you are here, who is watching Rudd?”
“He was packing, last I heard, in high dudgeon,” Charlotte answered. “I expect he’s on the Great North Road by now, hoping to catch Henrietta before she reaches Scotland. I have to say, I don’t understand the man’s motives. You’re not a great heiress, and he appears to have no affection for you whatsoever.”
Henrietta frowned. “Power. He likes people to cower before him. His greatest possible pleasure in life appeared to be the possession of a wife who hated and feared him.” She shivered. “Do you know, I think I would have killed him with my scissors before I ever married him.”
Sydney’s arm slipped around her shoulders, hugging her to his side.
“Scissors,” Charlotte repeated, thoughtfully.
“Well, they are always around and beautifully sharp,” Henrietta explained.
“Stop giving your sister ideas,” Alvan begged.
Charlotte laughed and kissed his cheek with great natural affection. “Not for you, my dear.”
Sydney’s gaze lingered on the pair, a faint, fascinated smile playing around his lips. Of course, Charlotte and Alvan had always been a beguiling couple, but Henrietta thought he was wondering about his own future with her and envisioning such happiness. As if he hadn’t previously thought it possible for aristocrats.
Charles was staring from face to face in bafflement, as though he thought everyone was insane.
“My father’s here,” Matthew reported from the window. “With his constables. And they have someone with them. A fat little man who looks terrified.”
“Ah, the excise man,” Henrietta said with satisfaction.
“Oh, God,” Charles said in misery.
“You made a mistake,” Sydney growled. “At least face up to the consequences like a man.”
A few moments later, Villin, looking none too pleased, ushered in Mr. Lacey and the two constables with their prisoner.
“Forget about the parlor, Villin,” Sydney said. “It will be too small. We’ll just stay here if that won’t put you out.”
“Or even if it will,” Lacey said sternly. “This is the King’s business. Your grace!” he added in surprise, catching sight of Alvan. “Charlotte…I mean, your grace, too! What in the world brings you here?”
“Henrietta and Matthew,” Charlotte replied.
“Everyone thinks we’ve eloped,” Matthew said gloomily.
Mr. Lacey frowned. “Thinks you’ve—” He broke off, shaking his head. “Never mind, we’ve no time for such nonsense right now. Where’s this cousin of yours, Cromarty?”
“Here,” Charles said, rising to his feet with conscious bravery. “I’m Charles Cromarty.”
“And do you recognize this man?” Lacey snapped his fingers, and his men dragged their prisoner forward.
“Yes. Eric Pollard. I bribed him to shoot my cousin Sydney, and to inform his colleagues where the contraband would be landed.”
“How did you know about the contraband?” Lacey asked.
Charles hesitated, looking even more miserable. “Lady Carew,” he said at last.
“Dear Susannah,” Sydney said fondly.
“And you,” Lacey turned to his prisoner. “Do you deny what he says? Did he bribe you?”
“He gave me money, him and the other gent, but I shot wide, sir,” Pollard the prisoner whined. “I’d no wish to kill anyone.”
“Sit him down there,” Lacey said wearily, “while we sort all this out.”
“I think we need tea,” Charlotte said to the innkeeper’s wife, who had just stuck her head in the door. “If you’d be so good.”
“On its way, your grace!” Mrs. Villin beamed and departed.
“This is wonderful,” Sydney murmured a few minutes later as tea was set out on the tables. Laughter vibrated his voice, making her smile. “A hearing with a tea party. Is life around your family always like this?”
“This is your doing, not mine,” she denied. “But we do have fun. Pass the scones, Charlie!”
At that moment, a muffled cry cut through the general conversation. An instant later, the coffee room door burst open and Lord Rudd walked in. Close on his heels came his valet, Claude, with his arm around the throat of the innkeeper’s daughter, Lily. And a pistol was held to her temple.
Sydney leapt to his feet. Matthew dropped his teacup with a clatter.
“Dear God,” Mr. Lacey uttered.
“Let her go,” Sydney said. “There is no need to involve her.” He stepped forward, spreading his hands. “Here I am.”
“What do I want with you, vulgar cit?” Rudd said contemptuously. “I have come for my wife.”
“Did we miss your wedding?” Alvan asked, standing more slowly. “Felicitations.”
“Wife, wife-to-be, I think we may regard them as the same thing,” Rudd drawled, his gaze finding and fixing on Henrietta.
Already terrified for Lily who stood in the valet’s grip with her eyes tightly closed, Henrietta felt an echo of the old wave of revulsion and fear. But it was only an echo, because Sydney had been right. Rudd was nothing but a bully and a flim-flam man.
And she had a pair of sewing scissors in the purse attached to her wrist.
She stood, edging away from Sydney who might stop her. “So, if I come to you, you will let Lily go?”
“Clever girl. I knew there was a reason I chose you.”
“Henrie,” Sydney warned.
Henrietta kept her gaze on Rudd and continued to walk. “Take the gun away from her head and I’ll come.”
“An inch back, Claude, and don’t touch the trigger,” Rudd ordered. “Stand still or she’s dead!” he snapped at Sydney who had moved to intercept Henrietta.
<
br /> Sydney stilled. Only his gaze darted wildly around the room as though looking for solutions.
“It’s fine,” she said, trying to will him to understand. “Everything will be fine, once he lets Lily go,”
He seemed to relax, and she kept walking slowly toward the still open door. Behind Rudd, she could see Lily’s parents wringing their hands with helpless fear. A nightmare for any parents.
“You know if you shoot her, you will hang,” Lacey offered.
“I? Hang for killing a tavern wench? I don’t think so.”
“A trial of your peers won’t save you,” Alvan said conversationally. “I, personally, will see to that. Let her go, now.”
“Don’t be silly, my lord duke. You would not convict your wife’s brother-in-law. Rather, you will sweep it under the carpet. Hurry up, Henrietta, I don’t have all day, you know.”
Henrietta drew nearer.
“Let the wench go, Claude,” Rudd instructed. Claude released Lily with relief, and Rudd snatched Henrietta’s arm. As Lily stumbled forward with a cry, Rudd snapped at his valet. “At the girl, at Miss Maybury!”
But before the valet could obey, a bizarre vision loomed in the doorway. The ancient figure of the Earl of Silford, his cane raised high. It came down sharply on Claude’s head and the valet fell forward. As he landed on the floor, the pistol exploded, and several people screamed.
The room was suddenly full. Sydney plunged past Henrietta, battering Rudd into the wall with his hand around his throat.
“Now, now, my boy,” Silford said. “Ladies present, you know.”
Sydney yanked his captive forward and all but threw him into the chair beside Lacey’s constables, with such force that it rocked backward. And then she was in Sydney’s arms, clinging, crushed against him. Over his shoulder, she saw Lily with her parents. And her father looking utterly flabbergasted, with Mrs. Lacey staring from her to Matthew. And Eunice Blackridge trailing in behind them, her eyes large and round like saucers.
Chapter Nineteen
With an obviously huge effort, Sydney released her and strode out the door to speak to the Villins.
Beside her, Matthew said, “Dash it, Henrie, that was the bravest thing I ever saw.”
“I couldn’t let Lily die for us…but I was so afraid Sydney would stop me.”
“He might have,” Matthew allowed, “even we hadn’t seen out the window that Lord Silford and your father had just arrived with your two massive footmen—who didn’t get a look-in at the end. Who’d have thought Silford would save the day? Oh,” he added unnecessarily, “and my mother is here.”
“And Eunice,” Henrietta reminded him as they turned together to face the room.
“Henrie, what the devil is going on?” her father exclaimed. “I’ve been in some odd situations in my life but this is like a madhouse. I must say I’m surprised to see you in Matthew’s company after all.”
“I’m not,” Mrs. Lacey said stoutly. “I told you how it was!”
“And how is it, exactly, Mama?” Matthew dared her, meeting her gaze defiantly.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” his mother commanded. “What are you about to behave in such an ungentlemanly way? We brought you up to be better than this!”
“Indeed, ma’am, he could not have behaved better,” Henrietta assured her. “He has been most gentlemanly all day and he could not have been more helpful.”
This accolade, meant with the best intentions, struck Mrs. Lacey speechless.
Her husband used the opportunity to say testily, “May we please get on with business?”
Ignoring him, Mrs. Lacey burst out, “Matthew, if you wished to marry Henrietta, why did you not speak to us? To Lord and Lady Overton? Why this vile elopement?”
“Of course I don’t want to marry Henrietta,” Matthew scoffed.
Mrs. Lacey stared at him in bewilderment. “You don’t?”
“No, I want to marry Eunice.”
“You do?” Eunice blurted in amazement.
Matthew grinned at her. “Of course I do.”
“Then what are you all doing here?” Mrs. Lacey demanded.
“It’s a matter of the law,” her husband growled, “so anyone who wishes to discuss other matters, please go away, now! Lord Rudd, do you know this man?”
Rudd followed the magistrate’s pointing finger to Eric Pollard, the exciseman. “Never seen him before in my life.”
“He says otherwise.”
“Who cares?” Rudd said coolly. “You have no powers to detain me, sir, let alone try me, so I’ll be on my way.”
The large figure of the innkeeper loomed in the doorway, shoving Claude inside. The valet seemed to have acquired a cut lip and a rapidly darkening eye.
“He was trying to escape,” Villin said, gazing ferociously at Rudd who promptly sat back down.
“I’ve seen and heard enough,” Lacey said disgustedly. “As far as I can see, they are all guilty enough to be committed for trial. The question is, what should we do about them?”
“About us?” Rudd said. “What about the man who has made up all these accusations? The damned smuggler who’s pretending gentility. He can and should stand trial!”
Sydney, who had just come back into the room and stood beside Henrietta, laughed.
“Wrong,” Lacey snapped. “Captain Cromarty does what he does with government approval.”
“What, the government of his bank?” Rudd sneered.
Unexpectedly, Lord Silford roared, “No!”
Everyone stared at him, and he hauled himself to his feet, waving his stick at Rudd. “The government of my country and yours, sirrah! And I have held my peace long enough. What in God’s name is wrong with you?” He swung on his grandnephew. “And with you? You run out of money so you use someone else’s to pay a man to shoot your cousin? Just so you’re one step closer to inheriting mine? And you, Lord Rudd, wealthy peer of the realm, seem to think you can freely threaten women to get what you want, to feed your perverse pride or pleasure or whatever unsavory urge possesses you. Yet there you sit convinced that my grandson is beneath you? That he is vulgar?”
In his passion, he had stormed across the room and now glared down at him. “You think there are no consequences. Well there are. I am living proof of that. And you, sir, are the excrement under my boot!”
At that, Rudd sprang to his feet, the blood rushing into his face. Henrietta doubted anyone had ever dared offer him such an insult and his persistent pride could not swallow it. Before the constables could seize him, he lashed out.
But his blow never reached Lord Silford. Sydney leapt between them and blocked it on his arm. He stared into Rudd’s eyes, and said something soft and challenging that Henrietta couldn’t hear. Rudd sat back down with a bump.
Sydney and his grandfather had stood up for each other. It was a beginning that warmed her heart, but when her gaze shifted to the earl, her stomach twisted.
“Sydney,” she said urgently, for the old man stumbled and all but fell into the nearest seat. His face was white and twisted in pain.
*
Two months ago, Sydney could have imagined no scenario in which he carried his grandfather upstairs and put him to bed, let alone one in which he actually cared a jot for the outcome.
But he did care. The sneaking liking had already begun when the little scene with Rudd had somehow made recriminations and apologies unnecessary. Blood, it seemed, was thicker than water, for he stayed by the earl’s bed until the doctor came, leaving Lacey to sort things out below as he saw fit. After all, he was the magistrate. Sydney had merely interfered for his own purposes.
Henrietta. Once more in the protection of her father and further away from him than ever.
“Ah, there you are,” he remarked to his grandfather, hiding his relief when the earl finally opened his eyes. “I thought you were going to sleep around the clock.”
“I feel as if someone’s kicked me in the chest. They didn’t, did they?”
“No,
sir, no one has the guts. The doctor is sent for.”
A soft knock sounded at the door. Sydney rose and crossed the room to open it.
Henrietta smiled at him. “How is he?”
Immediately, his heart soared. “He’s awake and talking. Sir, do you want company?”
“She can come in,” Silford said, and Henrietta went to sit by his bed.
“How are you, sir?”
“Tired, but I have no intention of turning up my toes just yet. What’s happening downstairs?”
“They’re all being hauled off to the cells in Finsborough for tonight at least. I suspect they will all go free in the end, because my father won’t have my name dragged through the courts. But word will get out. Rudd will be socially ruined, the harshest punishment it is possible to give him. Mr. Charles Cromarty is probably savable, according to Sydney.”
“Keep him away from his mother,” Silford advised. “She may be gently born but the woman is still a harpy.”
“I agree,” Sydney said from the window. “The doctor has just arrived.”
“Damned quack,” Silford said ungratefully, although he did not refuse to see him.
Sydney and Henrietta vacated the chamber to give the earl privacy. Mrs. Villin, who had shown the doctor in, hurried downstairs in front of them. Abruptly, Sydney took Henrietta’s hand and sat on the stairs, pulling her down beside him. She came willingly, even rested her head on his shoulder, and he ached with happiness.
“I don’t want him to die,” he said abruptly. “Not yet.”
“Because you want this time with him? Or because his death would force you to a decision?”
“Both, I suppose,” he said ruefully. “But my decision was made by the night of your party, the night your engagement was announced. I will learn to be the earl.”
His declaration was not greeted with the floods of joy he expected. Instead, she searched his face, a frown between her eyes. “Don’t do it for me, Sydney,” she warned. “I’ll go with you anywhere.”
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “And I hope you will. But it will be so much more comfortable if we do things this way. Besides, it isn’t just for you. I need to do this. For my father’s sake and my own. I doubt I will ever be a conventional nobleman, but I can be a decent earl in my own way, if only we can escape occasionally.”
The Unmarriageable Collection (Books 1–3) Page 63
