by Ann Chaney
After two days of nothing but bread and cheese, he wished he had a bowl of whatever it was they had been eating earlier. No decent food was in his future. He would be lucky if he managed to escape with his life after he killed Wellington. Surrounded by thousands of soldiers brought home the reality of his chance of success and escape to France.
A couple of soldiers told him Wellington and his staff officers were not in camp. The officers were expected back at any time. No doubt, Weatherington would be summoned to the great man’s tent. Another wrinkle in his plan. All he could do was wait for an opportunity. He was good at waiting however long it took to accomplish his aim.
Chapter 21
Richard turned toward the sound of the tent flaps being thrown back. Who was that lady? He must look like a trout on a silver platter with his open mouth and bugged-out eyes at the sight of Serena once again in a gown. Assuredly, it had not been that long since he had seen her in a dress. To be exact, the last time had been seven days previously at Moreham’s little dower house. When she had worn a gown of the finest white muslin with small flowers embroidered on the skirt. The gown she now wore was much simpler. After five days of seeing her in breeches, the sight of her in the simple day gown of white muslin sent blood rushing through his veins. she’d never looked lovelier.
Evelyn Carlton spoke first. “I did not realize what beauty hid under those old dusty breeches and shirt. I do like your hair.”
Richard knew he had to say something. He rose to his feet, moved to Serena’s side and drew her forward.
“Mrs. Carlton is correct about how beautiful you are. A fact I forgot since we started our journey together. The gown is a nice reminder.”
Richard dropped her hands and took a step back to render his best bow.
“Thank you, my lord, you are indeed silver-tongued this morning.” She leaned forward and whispered, “There is also a pocket in my skirts for my pistol.”
Richard laughed at her interest in such novelties. Before he could speak, Bella threw herself between them and hugged Serena around her knees.
“Lady Serena, you are the most beautifulest lady I have ever seen.” The little girl’s eyes got huge and she turned back to her parents. “Oh! Mama! You are the most beautifulest mama!”
The adults laughed at Bella’s effort to be diplomatic. The warmth of the affection they shared filled him with hope.
“Colonel.”
Richard jerked his head around to see a subaltern holding out a piece of foolscap to Howard Carlton. The colonel read the message before returning the salute and dismissing the lad. “The general has returned. I am to take you to him at once.”
Serena nodded in the direction of the headquarters tents. “I need to borrow a bonnet from Evelyn. I don’t want to shock the general’s sensibilities. I will follow along in a minute.”
“You are not fooling me. You want to delay your reunion with your brother as long as you can.” Richard winked.
Her lips turned up in a playful grin. “Why would I not want to be reunited with my dearest brother?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe your ruinous behavior for the past week? Maybe, his mistaken belief you are a precious flower of maidenhood who sits and writes him letters every day in the safety of his father’s house. Poor Thorne is about to come face-to-face with his worst nightmare.”
Evelyn Carlton waved her hand in Richard’s direction, dismissing his words. “No matter what the outcome of your meeting, you must return here. Don’t allow the gentlemen to spirit you away before we can say our farewells.”
Evelyn stood on the tip of her toes and kissed her husband on the cheek. “Howard, you will be sure to inform the general of their rescue of our baby girl.”
Evelyn turned her attention back to Serena. “Arabella has always been a favorite of his. She calls him Wellie. He loves the sobriquet. I suppose it is badly done of us to not put a stop to such a silly nickname, but we have learned not to worry about trivialities. Very well, off you all go to serve King and Country.”
Carlton kissed his wife and child before leading the way up the hill to the headquarters’ conclave of tents. Both men remained silent as they wove their way through the rows of small white tents and campfires. Richard looked behind him expecting to see Serena and Jedediah hurrying to catch up. How long did it take for a lady to don a bonnet and tie a bow?
Serena drew back the flap of the Carlton’s tent. The interior was dark. The only light was the sunlight shining into the ten from behind her which was enough to see the traveling chest where Evelyn had laid out her poke bonnet for Serena to use. Once she stepped into the tent and the tent flap closed, she was enveloped in darkness.
Serena misjudged the location of the chest by a couple of steps and ran into the object and stubbed her big toe. “Ouch!” She sat down on the chest and rubbed her injured digit before reaching for the bonnet.
“Put the offensively plain thing on your head. Time’s wasting. Weatherington is telling all. We must make haste.”
Arnold.
She took her time tugging the bonnet on her head and tying a little bow under her ear. She knew he was behind her from the sound of his voice. She needed a better sense of his location. “Mr. Arnold. I had forgotten about you.”
“My lady, I am hurt at your disregard. I arrived before you and your swain. Saw you with Carlton and his brat. Have spent the last day watching you socialize with the colonel’s wife. You seem to be getting on like a house on fire. Has anyone ever told you that you live a very droll life?”
He was directly behind her. The man mostly likely had a pistol at her back. She had to get him out of the tent. They could not go out the front or the others would be in danger. The thought of Arabella witnessing another violent act filled her with determination. She had to think fast to come up with a way to not have that happen. She needed time.
“No, as a matter of fact, I have been told I am a most lively lady with a vivid imagination. I am rather proud of that imagination.” She hoped he would not realize she was rambling. To her, she sounded like a ninny.
“You may have caused my plans to be altered, but in the end, I am exactly where I intended to be all along.”
“Here with me?”
“No, you empty-headed twit. Here, as in Wellington’s encampment. I am mere moments away from assassinating the great man. Securing Napoleon’s victory and conquest of Europe.”
The metal of his pistol nudged her spine. “I beg to differ, in my opinion, you are rather at a loss at the moment. We are in a tent with only one way out. There are thousands of soldiers on the other side of that tent flap. All I have to do is scream and more firearms than you could ever imagine will be aimed our way.”
“Fortunately, there is another way out of the tent compliments of my blade. Now, you have stalled long enough.” Percy shoved the pistol deeper into her back. “We must make our way to the headquarters.”
She could not stop her gasp as the man grabbed her arm and tugged her backwards off the chest. She thought of fighting him but kept silent and compliant out of concern for her friends. She stumbled behind him until he pulled her downward and she felt the air and saw she was indeed outside at the rear of the tent.
Percy drew her against his body and whispered in her ear, “We are going to stroll to the headquarters enclave. Anyone gets in our way; I will shoot. Not you, you are one of those noble sorts who would relish giving your life to save others so don’t think to martyr yourself.”
In the sunshine, she saw the Percy Arnold she’d met in Whitney’s ballroom no longer existed. Gone was the dandified gentleman. Dusty clothes and bearded face spoke of his own journey from Lisbon. He took her arm and entwined it with his free hand. She could feel his pistol pressed in her side. His fingers bit into her arm.
“Call to Mrs. Carlton, tell her you and your escort are off.”
She called to Evelyn as he directed. The other lady waved to her. She had to put distance between them and Evelyn.
“
My lady, you do realize you deserve this and more for leaving the drawing rooms of London. You and Weatherington have done nothing but plague my endeavor from the start. Your actions have led to my loss of a hefty dowry. From my view, you are the reason I’m here. A gentleman has to make a living.
“You are no gentleman.”
“You wound me.” He shook his head. “I know what you are doing. This banter will not stop me from killing Wellington. Lord Richard, most assuredly, is at this very moment warning the great man of my intentions, I would have rather the commander not know, but the fact he does has no impact on my actions. I will succeed.”
“You will not. Weatherington, my brother, or any of these men around us will kill you first.”
“Not with you at my side. You, my lovely lady, are the means for my escape, once again.”
“You are a coward as well as a traitor?”
“I prefer to regard myself as a pragmatic man. Better to live another day and all that.”
Arnold stopped, shoved her into the side of a tree, leaning lin. No one would see either of them as his clothes provided the perfect foil. A group of officers passed by them. From the bits and pieces of their conversation, the men had just left Wellington’s presence. Richard and possibly her brother, as well, would be with the general. She had to do something. All three men could die, if she did not come up with a plan soon. Percy moved them back on the path.
“Serena?” Richard’s voice jarred her. She looked up to see him standing outside a tent holding the flap open. She watched as he spied Percy standing at her side. She saw the trepidation in his eyes.
“My lord, what a delight to run into you and Lady Serena here. I thought I left you dead in Lisbon, then our stand-off in that grove of apple trees. Imagine my pique when you rode into camp. Getting in my way once again. You are a tiresome pair.”
To her horror, none of the other soldiers paid any attention to Arnold’s words. The killer’s voice carried a nuance of boredom while his body against hers was taut with tension as he stared at Richard. His demeanor reminded her of how he’d behaved in the receiving line at the Whitney ball.
The Whitney Ball? The gazebo. The steps.
An enormous tree sat between two tents with its roots exposed, creating little steps much like the steps up to the gazebo. She tried to get Richard’s attention, but his eyes were focused on their prey who regarded Richard just as intently. She had to act. Now!
Serena felt with her foot for a root and jammed her foot into the dirt and fell forward. Her body’s momentum wrenched her from Arnold’s grip. To her horror the man fell on top of her with his pistol still pressed against her ribs.
She closed her eyes and waited for the pain of his bullet tearing into her body. Arnold tried to pull her back to her feet. She fought him with all her might. The only way Richard could reach them was if she kept Arnold’s attention on herself. Screaming for help, she lashed out with both feet. If nothing else, every soldier within hearing knew she wasn’t with the man of her free will.
All would’ve have come right except for Arnold’s pistol still pressed into her side. “My lady, I tire of your company.”
Serena summoned every bit of strength she possessed and shoved the fiend away. His pistol rang out. The hot metal of his spent pistol burned into her side. How dare the greedy no-account blighter shoot her?
Shouts blistered the air all around her. Richard’s strident voice rang out above all others. A swarm of soldiers descended on them and pulled Arnold’s body away. Richard pulled her into his arms and held her so tightly she wondered if she would have even more bruises.
“Are you hurt? The gun went off. Where did he shoot you? Did he shoot you? Let me look.” Richard frantically ran his hands over her body.
She could not get a word in between the rapid fire of Richard’s questions. She slapped his hands away from her body and tried to stand. Serena looked down at her pretty gown and moaned. “Richard, my gown is ruined. I only have one more dress with me.”
“My lady, I shall see to it that the dress is replaced. I do have a bit of influence.” A disembodied voice from somewhere above her said.
Serena looked up and leaned back in Richard’s arms to see if who she thought had spoken was indeed who had done so. Standing beside her was General Lord Wellington.
“Richard, let me up. I cannot greet Lord Wellington sitting in the dirt!”
Richard put his arm under her knees and lifted her up into his arms. He did not care if the general approved or not. She was not getting out of his arms ever again. There had to be a chaplain nearby to perform a marriage ceremony. She could have another wedding in London. His mother would like that. A wedding would provide Aunt Philly with an excuse to purchase another turban for the occasion.
The vision of her with Arnold’s pistol pressed into her side had filled him with rage. Her quick thinking to stumble saved her. He had never been prouder. The sound of the killer’s pistol discharging nearly took him to his knees. Only the knowledge he had to get to her kept him upright.
He shifted her in his arms as she smiled at Old Hookey. Ever the charmer, the general took her uninjured bare hand and kissed it. Richard did not like the gleam in Serena’s eye at the gallant gesture. Jealousy flared. He gave the great man a pointed look.
A surgeon arrived and leaned over Percy’s still body. The medical man shook his head. Any doubt was put to rest as the surgeon pressed his hand over Arnold’s face, closed his eyelids, one last time.
An officer directed the removal of the would-be assassin’s body from under the tree. No one spoke a word until the body was gone from their sight. Richard tightened his grip around Serena. He knew she’d be better with Evelyn Carlton, but he couldn’t let go of her.
Arnold’s death was a blow to their mission to expose Arnold’s compatriots. He knew it was important they’d prevented the General’s assassination, but there were still Society members committed to overthrowing the Government by any means necessary. He also knew after he and his friends rousted this band of treasonous snakes there would be another equally as committed to their cause. He’d had enough.
He wanted to grow old with Serena. He looked down at her somber face. It was time to take his soon-to-be wife home to Camberley.
“Thorne’s here.” Serena’s muttered warning penetrated his consciousness like a blade to the gullet.
He watched as his best friend made his way through the gathering crowd of officers and soldiers. Richard refused to flinch as Captain Lord Abingdon resplendent in his scarlet and gold uniform took in the sight of Serena in his arms wearing the bloodied dress.
Thorne moved forward only to be halted by Wellington. The general gave his aide de camp a slight shake of his head before motioning for Richard to come with him. “Please join me in my tent. My surgeon can attend the lady’s scratches while we sort out the situation. I am sure Weatherington’s tale will take a while to tell. Colonel Carlton, would you send for your lady to serve as Lady Serena’s chaperone?”
Wellington led the way, while Thorne fell in step behind him. His best friend did not speak to him. Serena reached out with her good hand and touched her brother’s face and smiled. Richard sat her down on a chair next to the general’s desk. He remained standing behind her chair with his hand on her shoulder. When Thorne moved forward, Richard waved him away. Carlton laughed. Even Wellington chuckled.
“You both look like two cockerels poised to fight over a hen,” Serena observed.
“Abingdon, tell the officer of the day we are not to be disturbed.” Wellington turned his attention to them. Richard had been in the man’s presence before. Still, the viscount’s intent gaze was always a surprise. He felt that stare to the depths of his soul. No one else had ever had such an effect on him. Not even his father.
Wellington motioned for everyone to take a seat. “Colonel Carlton’s report stated you are an emissary from Sir Perceval, my lord. I am most curious how you and your lovely traveling companion came to my he
adquarters when you could have left a message for me with the consulate for the next dispatch.”
A low growl came from the back of the tent signaling Thorne’s return. Wellington smiled at his aide’s reaction to his words. “You will be happy to know I will keep Abingdon from doing you bodily harm, for now.” The general spoke in a soft tone with laughter in his eyes. Richard was glad the man found their situation humorous. He was most certain neither he nor Thorne shared the legendary soldier’s sentiment.
“A sennight ago, the Home Office detained a man named Percy Arnold. An assistant in the Quartermaster General’s Office at Whitehall. Arnold was reported to be a French sympathizer. Suffice to say, we underestimated the man and he escaped. The subsequent capture of an accomplice did identify Percy as a skilled assassin.”
Wellington smirked. “Misguided gentlemen with more concern for their purses and way of life than for freedom. How can anyone think they would remain as they are under a French rule? What a pity the Corsican has fooled so many.”
A swish of the tent flap and Evelyn Carlton and the surgeon entered. The general waved them into the tent then motioned for Richard to continue. The surgeon moved over to Serena while Evelyn sat down on a campstool near Carlton and Thorne.
“The accomplice also told us you were his next target.”
“You can add that fellow’s name to a long list of names who want to do me harm.” Wellington grinned and rolled his eyes.
“Ah…well, we did not know when Mr. Arnold would sail for Portugal and we wanted to warn you with all expediency. We sailed on the next tide on The Vigilant.
“Captain Fleming’s vessel. Used it myself a few times.”
“You said we sailed?” Thorne’s voice cut through.
Richard made ready to jump to Serena’s defense as her brother directed his attention in her direction. To her credit, she returned her brother’s stare with an equally hard glare. “Yes, I joined him. Unbeknownst to Weatherington, I boarded the ship with forged orders provided by Aunt Philly.”
