by Ann Chaney
He shook his head in resignation before answering Sturmbridge. “Because Serena bashed him with a fire poker.”
His friends whooped with laughter. He had no choice but to stand there. Crossley, normally ever so proper, could not stop laughing. Richard would have relished the sight of his normally somber friend chortling like a schoolboy if he had not been the cause of the laughter. Sturmbridge tried to stop carrying on, but every time he tried to stop laughing, he’d look at Richard and start laughing all over again.
“So much for your skills as an agent of the Crown,” Crossley said as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “Bested by a lady of the Ton.”
“I was not bested by anyone. I was assisted when I did not require assistance. Serena jumped into the fray without thought. Life would be much simpler if the chit would just stay out of my way.”
Caught up in disclaiming he’d needed Serena’s interference, Richard failed to notice his friends had stopped laughing. Both men stood ramrod straight with eyes trained on something or rather someone over his left shoulder. He didn’t have to turn around to know Serena stood behind him.
Crossley, the traitor, recovered first. “My lady, may I be of assistance?”
Richard stiffened. He knew better than to speak without checking who was close by. Surrendering to whatever diatribe she was about to unleash, he turned around.
To his surprise, she looked put out with him but waved off his words. “You said nothing you haven’t already rained down on my head. We’ve a bigger problem to deal with. Did Moreham remain behind to oversee Arnold’s interrogation?”
Crossley answered, his voice laced with trepidation, “Yes, he did. Why are you asking?”
She quickly explained her theory about Arnold planning an escape. Moreham was correct in his assessment of Serena’s skill as an analyst. She saw what he and the others had never considered.
Without a single word of dissent, he took her hand and helped her enter his coach before turning back to his two friends. “We must remain together to prevent Arnold’s confederates from attempting to free our prisoner. Keep an eye out for trouble.”
Their coachmen snapped their whips over the heads of the horses and drove rode all out for Swithin. Richard kept watch for anything out of the ordinary while the ladies whispered. No doubt, Nettie was giving her mistress a lecture to end all lectures. Not that such a talking to ever worked with Serena. He knew that better than anyone.
Chapter 9
Within the hour, they turned off the main road onto the dirt lane that led to Moreham’s pink-confectioned dower house.
“We’ll be with Moreham in a few minutes.” Richard reached into a cubbyhole in the side of the coach wall and withdrew a pair of dueling pistols. He handed a pistol to Serena and the second to Nettie. “We don’t know what we will find when we arrive. I want you both to have some protection. Unlike the old pistol in your reticule, Serena, this pistol is loaded and primed. Pull the trigger and you will fire a bullet into something.”
“How did you know I had Thorne’s dueling pistol?”
“I always expect you to do the unexpected. You had the old relic when I entered your bedchamber, so it would only stand to reason you would bring it along today. Am I wrong?”
She sniffed but remained quiet.
“Just as I thought.”
“I thought I could swing my reticule at a ruffian’s head if I was in danger.”
“I told you the old dueling piece was a bad idea,” Nettie muttered.
“Enough of you both chastising me. We are all safe. Doesn’t capturing another traitor and our continued wellbeing mean the day has been a success? Thank you very much for acknowledging my contribution.”
The woman was a walking invitation to mayhem. He sought to remain calm. A condition he seldom experienced when in Serena’s company.
Before he could reply, his attention was snagged by Nettie. The sight of the old servant examining the dueling piece with a thoroughness of a seasoned soldier spoke of her past experiences at Lady Philly’s side. The maid and lady were legends within Whitehall.
He doubted that Serena knew about the secret lives of the two women. The sight of Nettie handling the dueling pistol so well would surely cause Serena to engage that intuition of hers. What would she say when she learned the truth?
Nettie slid the long dueling pistol into a pocket hidden in the folds of her dress. He’d say the old stick had proven she was the more competent one to be holding that pistol. He bowed his head to relay his approval.
With the matter of protection dealt with, he now had to address a much trickier subject. Serena would not be pleased with him. “First, we will go to the dower house to see how Moreham and his guards are faring. Should all be well I’ll escort you and Nettie back to Hanover Square.”
“I don’t think that decision is yours to make. Moreham may want me to remain to assist in the interrogations of both his prisoners.”
“Moreham will send you packing. Of that you can be certain.”
“This may shock you, but you are not in receipt of all the facts about my dealings with Moreham.”
“You have exactly one minute to explain your words.”
“Very well, I have what Moreham calls an uncanny ability to decipher a person’s truthfulness.” She waited a moment for him to comment, but he motioned for her to continue. “I know when a person is telling the truth. I analyze behavior and body mannerisms to make an informed opinion.”
“You? A pretty little thing who is known for her ability to discern which ribbon goes best with a particular dress or bonnet? Forgive me, if I find that a bit difficult to believe.”
“Why do you think Moreham accepted my theory on Arnold’s claim of a mother was false? The other three of you didn’t believe me. If you remember, Moreham accepted my deduction without asking a single question.”
He had to admit she did have a point. Moreham had accepted her impression of what would happen without asking his customary multitude of questions. Why hadn’t he noticed before? Probably because he’d been so busy trying to keep her out of the quagmire that was Arnold and his associates. He’d missed the obvious.
“I’d wager my quarterly allowance you haven’t been told the extent of my role in this business. Mrs. Fletcher, yourself or one of your friends would be dead if I had not remembered Gillian speaking of Percy’s mother’s death. Now, we have two prisoners to interrogate. All because of me.”
He did not know how to convince the headstrong woman to abandon this madness. He did not need her help, no matter how intuitive she was. He told himself he was honor-bound to ensure her safety. A belief that rang false when he’d seen proof the lady could take care of herself in a dangerous situation. Richard fought the need to join into the conversation her as she and Nettie whispered back and forth.
Not wanting her to see his interest, he canted his body towards the window. He still knew her every move out of the corner of his eye. His body and mind attuned to her every gesture. He’d never been as entranced by a woman as he was Serena. There, he’d finally admitted his attraction. His need to have her as his own. She was the last lady he should desire.
Her tendency to be headstrong, impulsive and in possession of above-average intelligence caused her to be unpredictable and dangerous for him and anyone else who ventured into her proximity. He found himself mesmerized by the movement of her hands as she talked to Nettie.
Serena turned in his direction and smiled. Not the toothsome grin of a friend, but rather a triumphant gleam that said she knew he was thinking about her. The infuriating woman would be his downfall of that he was certain. Another sign she did not belong in the middle of this 1804 Social Club business.
Worry for her wellbeing battled with his awareness of her every move. Her perfume wafted across the coach. He fought the need to stop the coach and hand Nettie off to Sturm and Crossley. To have Serena to himself was an intoxicating notion. A foolhardy idea he shoved into the deepest recesses of his brainbox
.
He leaned forward and with one finger lifted her chin so he could see her eyes before speaking. The feel of her skin sent a flash of awareness through his body. A reaction he swiftly tamped down.
This was the reason he had kept his distance for the last four years. He would not succumb to this combustible physical attraction they shared. He would not be dependent on her for succor.
He waited to respond until the coach stopped. “We? No, sweeting. We do not have anyone to question. There are men trained in all manner of way sot to interrogate those who seek to undermine the government. I will be assigned to a new investigation. Your part in this is done. I will see you and Nettie back to Burley House. You’ll return to the ballrooms with no one the wiser.” Pleased he’d had the final say for once, Richard reached for the door latch and opened the door himself. He left the footman to assist Serena and Nettie from the coach. The headstrong hellion wouldn’t be staying. Time for Moreham to send her home where she belonged.
Richard hurried into the dower house. The sooner he apprised Moreham of Serena’s desire to remain an active participant the quicker she and Nettie would be on their way back to Hanover Square. He turned the door handle to the sitting room and was assaulted by the foreboding quiet. Moreham sat in one of the pink chairs, while Crossley and Sturmbridge stood over him.
Moreham spoke first to no one in particular. “I should have known.” The spymaster stood, pacing back and forth. A nervous energy radiated from his body. “I was played from the moment we captured Arnold. Serena said this could happen. When will I learn to listen to her?”
“What happened?” Richard demanded, feeling his blood freeze in his veins.
Crossley answered in a voice devoid of feeling. “Moreham received a note to report to Whitehall. While he was gone, Arnold somehow overpowered the guards and escaped. I would venture to say he had help.”
“I came back to learn the guards were found unconscious in the corridor and Arnold gone,” Moreham explained.
“You said so yourself. We fell into a trap.” Crossley’s attempt to reassure their leader fell flat. They all knew the repercussions of the escape would have to be dissected and explained to their superiors at Whitehall. In their line of work, there was no room for error. Men died when mistakes were made.
“Enough. We must find Arnold. We do have our attacker in custody. Did he say anything on the ride back to help us at all?” Richard stepped into the room and almost had the door closed when Serena slipped through the doorway.
He shot her a hard look which she pointedly ignored. She joined the others and remained silent. He had to give her credit for not asking questions. A pall hung over the room. He didn’t know if he’d ever felt so low.
Crosley grimaced. “No, he’s still unconscious. The surgeon is examining him now.”
Moreham leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands. “Both guards had bumps on the back of their heads.”
Richard opined, “I assume you’ve questioned the staff?”
Moreham nodded. “I did. No one heard or saw anything. One of the footmen came above stairs to see if the guards wanted luncheon served. The door to the room was open. He found them on the floor, unconscious and no sign of Arnold. I ordered the house searched. A maid found a broken window in the dining room.”
“Our bolt hole has been compromised,” Sturmbridge stated the obvious.
“I’ve ordered the staff to close up the house. We’ll move our prisoner and the injured guards to my townhouse,” Moreham replied.
“How are the guards faring?” Richard asked to no one specifically.
Moreham answered. “Still unconscious. The doctor has examined them. He says we have to wait and see if they wake up. Not a promising diagnosis, I would say. A second pair of guards are watching over your attacker across the hall. I hope they can keep an insensible man from slipping out the front door.” Moreham looked at each man. “We are at a disadvantage and that will stop as of this moment. We will travel in pairs. No exceptions.”
Richard nodded, as did the others. “We ran the horses all out on the return trip after Serena puzzled out Arnold’s possible ulterior motive for sending us in search of his mother. Sorry we were too late.”
“At present, we have lost Arnold and gained an assassin whose name we do not know. Enough ruminating on our poor prospects. Time to take control,” Crossley summarized drily.
“As for our captive, I hit him fairly hard, but not that hard, I assure you.” Richard frowned. “Something’s not right.
“He could be pretending to be unconscious to give Arnold more time to escape. To one of the ports most likely,” Serena offered. Each word coming faster than the last.
They all looked at each other then headed for the door. Richard started to follow the others but stopped. Once again, Arnold had outsmarted them. Was Arnold this cunning or did he have help from within?
Chapter 10
Serena stepped into the same room where Percy had been held. Moreham and Crossley had rushed around her to enter the room first. Sturmbridge closed the door behind her.
Where was Richard? Odd that.
Moreham grabbed their attacker’s shirt and hauled him, chair and all, to his feet. A quick shake was all that was required to have the man yelling.
“What are you doing? Trying to strangle me?”
“No, I wanted to see if you were truly unconscious or merely pretending. I’ve found there’s nothing like a blocked windpipe to bring a man around.” Moreham jerked his hand back. The chair dropped to the floor with a clatter and their captive groaned.
Moreham nodded to the guards. The men came forward and set the chair to rights. The door behind her opened and the next moment Richard was at her back. Instantly, she felt better. When would she learn to ignore him?
Moreham looked over his shoulder at her. “I think you should ask the questions.”
“Very well.” She closed the gap to stand an arm’s length from the trussed-up man. “We meet again. I hoped I’d have this opportunity to find out who you are and why you would accost such a sweet lady as Mrs. Fletcher. What’s your name?”
“You again? Didn’t you do enough harm already?”
Serena laughed. “I did nothing unprovoked. You were trying to harm my friend. No one is allowed to do so. We all know your only complaint about my participation is because I’m a woman who got the better of you. Today, luck is with you. If one of the others were asking the questions, you would suffer greatly. My friend is being magnanimous to allow me first crack at you. Now, one more time. What’s your name?
The man glowered at her for a moment before looking away. “Thomas Jones.”
“Who sent you?”
“I don’t know,” he muttered. “I received a note telling me to go to that house. Men from Whitehall would be calling on the lady living there. Note said to rough them up a bit.”
“You didn’t have orders to kill whoever called?”
Thomas Jones shot her an incredulous look. “I know you may think different but I’m no killer, not for any man. All’s I was to do was throw a few punches to delay you from returning to Town. No harm, no foul. I would collect my coin with no one the wiser. You were a surprise. Coming in there acting all grand Society dame. You are the bloodthirsty one. Attacking me with a fire poker. Not honorable to attack a man from the back. Can’t defend himself. I think my jaw is broken thanks to your friend behind you. You two are quite the pair.”
“I offer my apologies for not fighting fair. I assumed when one was accosted all the rules changed. You have no idea who sent you? Do you know Percy Arnold?”
The disheveled man glared at her with venomous eyes. “I’m through talking to you.”
Moreham moved her to the side. “You are lucky, your jaw is not broken. Our doctor examined you when they hauled you in. This lady and the gentleman are our best agents. You’re fortunate to be alive.” The earl reached for one of the guards’ straight-backed chairs. He positioned
the chair directly in front of Jones.
“Now, Mr. Jones, I don’t believe you are just a fellow who happened to be paid some blunt to scare an old lady to death before confronting my friends. I think you are part of this 1804 Social Club Arnold is known to frequent which means you are acquainted with Arnold.” Jones’ head jerked in surprise when Moreham uttered those words. “I also think you know more than you have intimated.” Moreham leaned closer. “I advise you to stick to your story. Should Percy Arnold harm a single British citizen, I will make it my life’s work to see you hang for treason. No trial. No plea. Ever see anyone hanged?” Moreham questioned and stood to leave.
Thomas spoke up. “I don’t belong to any social club. Do I look or sound like one of those lofty blades who frequent your clubs? I do hire out for the occasional job. Being a big man, I can make a body do what I want. A man, and I don’t know his name, offered me coin. In my line of work, better to not know too much.” Jones looked around the circle. His eyes never met Moreham’s or anyone else’s for that matter. “Like I said, he needed some folks occupied. He paid me. Gave me the direction. You know the rest.”
Serena watched Jones. The man kept looking all around the room but never looking at her. A sure sign he was lying. She’d used the ploy many a time herself when Nettie demanded answers.
She leaned closer to Moreham and whispered, “He knows more.”
Jones’ eyes widened. He’d heard her.
Richard stiffened behind her. Sturmbridge muttered a curse while Crossley growled. Moreham was the only one of the three to take in her assertion with all seriousness. Smart man, Moreham. She shrugged. “Do you gentlemen think your gender received all the brains when God created Adam and gave him Eve to wife? Who enticed whom to eat the apple?”
Sturmbridge laughed. Moreham shot each man in the room a stern look before turning back to Jones. “You heard the lady. Talk. Tell us all and transportation to Botany Bay may be a possibility. At least you will have the chance to continue breathing.”
