“The evidence, please, Mrs. Kean. What is it?”
She saw no reason to disoblige him. Even if someone else saw it, she doubted they would understand the significance. They would certainly not know who had put the blood stain there.
She told him about the stain and reminded him that he had touched her on the shoulder before he had handled Sir Humphrey’s corpse.
“Ah...yes. And I thought that the curtain would protect me from any splatters. I was unhappy to discover I was wrong, but you see, I had to hold Humphrey up for a few moments and his blood ran down the knife. I did not feel it in all the excitement. But you nearly caught me once before, you know. I flattered myself that I had convinced you that it was innocently taken up.”
“You had.” Hester wished she could struggle out of his arms, but did not dare to tempt his blade. “If you hadn’t, do you think I would have received you the way I did?”
He chuckled and pulled her closer. To her horror he kissed her on the neck. “I believe I detect a note of pique. So you were in love with me—I hoped so. But my attentions to you were necessary. For you see, even before I decided to kill poor Humphrey, I discovered that you had a brain, unlike your foolish cousins. And once I decided to kill him, I knew that you would be the only person for me to fear.
“And, sadly, I was right.” As he recollected this, he gave her a hug that was far from gentle.
Her ribs ached in protest.
“Tell me about this gown. Have you shown it to anyone else?”
“No, I just discovered it. That’s why I was writing the letters.”
“Just so. And I doubt that anyone will notice it until long after we have gone—certainly not your cousin or her very unappealing mother.”
He moved his knife to her throat and started pushing her towards the door. Hester went. She could not be sure that he would not kill her in front of the servants now, not after hearing how ruthless he was.
He told her that they would walk downstairs together—she, a step in front. He would hold the knife in his coat with its blade pointed between her ribs. If she tried to alert anyone, he would first kill her and then the servant.
Hester told him that she would not try to give him away, and they left the parlour, walking in lock step down the stairs.
The footman at the door could not hide his surprise on seeing Mrs. Kean leave on the arm of one of her ladyship’s swains, but Lord Lovett mentioned that Lady Hawkhurst had sent him on an errand to fetch her waiting woman. Hester had the impression that he purposefully referred to her serving position in order to humiliate her for accepting his advances the way she had. But she was long past that shame. She was much too worried about her survival to waste precious thoughts to chastise herself now.
Lord Lovett’s coach was standing in the courtyard. One of his own footmen held the door open for her, and she climbed in with Lord Lovett right behind her.
As the coach pulled away from the house, she wondered how long it would be before anyone noticed that she was gone. And even then, there was nothing to say that they would search for her. She would be believed to have run away with Lord Lovett to the Continent, either to be his mistress or—but this was highly unlikely—his wife. In either case, she would be believed to have acted of her own free will, so who would wish to save her? Mrs. Mayfield would rage about her ingratitude and about her daring to think herself fine enough to be the mistress of the baron. Isabella would pout over the loss of her lover and be hurt, perhaps, that Hester had stolen him from her. Dudley would think it all a wonderful joke, and Harrowby would rejoice in having one less mouth to feed.
She had turned her thoughts to St. Mars, when passing through the gate, she saw Katy, waiting just outside it, staring after her in dismay. Hester smothered an involuntary cry. She glanced quickly over her shoulder at Lord Lovett, before curling her fingers over the lowered window and gazing imploringly back. She did not dare call out or even make a sign. But, at least, Katy would tell St. Mars that she had left, and sooner or later he would discover the truth.
Now, all she had to do was stay alive until he found her.
* * * *
Hester did not know, but she had underestimated Katy’s resourcefulness. She had been waiting to approach Hawkhurst House again, but had been put off, first by the departure of the ladies and gentlemen of the house, then by the arrival of the black-browed gentleman. Knowing that Mrs. Kean was likely to be the only person in the house to receive a guest, she had waited for him to leave before speaking to the porter again. She’d been very much surprised to see him put Mrs. Kean inside his coach—and that was exactly how it had seemed, for Mrs. Kean had not looked as if she’d gone very willingly.
The leap of hope in the lady’s eyes when she spotted her told Katy that her hunch was right. She knew that her master had sent her here to warn Mrs. Kean about a man by the name of Lord Lovett, so sidling up to Rufus, she asked him who the handsome gentleman was with Mrs. Kean.
Lord Lovett’s name was no sooner out of his mouth than she turned and ran after the coach, leaving Rufus with his jaw hanging open. Throwing down her basket so she could hold onto her cap, she ran as fast as her hardworking legs could carry her around the far corner where the coach had disappeared.
There, she ran into a bit of luck. A jam of carriages and a waggon pulled by four teams of horses had slowed the traffic to a stop. While the drivers untangled the mess, she was able to catch up with Lord Lovett’s coach, though she realized that she must not seem to be chasing it. If she did not care, the footmen clinging to back would be sure to notice her. She ran on until she passed it, before slowing to a walk. Then she walked on down the street, glancing occasionally over her shoulder to make sure that it was following.
Unfortunately, she reached the bottom of the street before the carriage did, so she had to wait to see which way it would turn. Just before reaching the corner, she noticed a magnificent edifice, which gave her something to pretend to gawk at, while Lord Lovett’s vehicle turned to the left. As soon as it did, she hitched up her skirts and ran again.
They passed a landmark she knew, Charing Cross, which gave her some hope that she would find her way back. The master was waiting in Westminster Abbey, but she was certain that he would want her to see where Mrs. Kean was taken before fetching him.
By the time the coach drew up in front of an elegant, new house, Katy was hot, dirty, and gasping for breath. She collapsed against a lamppost on the corner and tried not to be seen, as Lord Lovett took Mrs. Kean firmly by the arm and marched her out of his carriage and into the house.
Chapter Twenty-one
In Parts superior what advantage lies?
Tell (for You can) what is it to be wise?
‘Tis but to know how little can be known;
To see all others’ faults, and feel our own.
IV. vi.
Gideon had waited impatiently for a reply to his message. Sitting in the cool dark of the nave, he had nothing with which to entertain himself but his thoughts. Over most of one day, these had been divided between the failure of James’s cause and the danger in which Mrs. Kean had embroiled herself.
Both made him angry. Not at James or at Mrs. Kean, but at others who played their dangerous games around them, and at the selfishness and greed that could cause such unhappiness.
What had possessed Ormonde to offer himself as general of James’s troops, if he was not committed enough to organize the rising?
And why did people like Lord Lovett believe that their self-interest was more precious than other men’s lives?
He was still fuming when Katy came hurrying around the stone pillar in the aisle. Her cap was loose, her cheeks were flushed and shining with heat, and she could hardly speak through her gasps.
Gideon hastened to his feet to meet her then pressed her into a pew. “Get your breath first, then tell me what has happened.”
“He’s got her, sir,” she gasped out. “I saw him enter your house, but I didn’t know who he was�
��till I saw ‘em both get into a coach. Then I asked, and your porter, he told me—it was Lord Lovett. I could tell, she didn’t want to go with him, sir. So I ran after ‘em. Ran the whole way! But I can take you. They’ll still be there.”
Gideon heard her out, first with fear, then with a fury that threatened to explode. He cursed himself for taking the time to ride to Richmond Lodge, when that one day’s delay had put Mrs. Kean in danger. He would not waste his anger here, but he would guard it to fuel himself for a fight.
As much as he wanted to rush, he could see that Katy was spent.
“You won’t have to take me,” he said, “if you can tell me where they are.”
She looked up anxiously. “But I don’t know the names of the streets.”
He tried not to be impatient. “Can you tell me the way? Is it far?”
She shook her head to this last, and her look turned eager. “It’s in a street full of pretty, new houses. They’ve all got roofs over the steps—like little crowns—and steep, pitched roofs.”
Gideon was about to ask her where it was relative to the park, when she tapped herself angrily on the forehead.
“I’m that worn out, I almost forgot. There’s a low wall with an iron railing at the bottom of the street and a statue of the Queen, too. I’m that stupid, I should have thought of the statue first.”
Only one street in Westminster fit that description, and it was very near by. “I know it,” he said. “You have done extremely well. Now, as soon as you can walk, I have one more favour before you can rest.”
Exhausted as she was from all her running, Katy made no protest. She was a strong woman, and she rose soon enough even to satisfy Gideon’s impatience to be gone. As he led her into the Palace Yard, he told her to find Tom and send him to Queen Square just south of Birdcage Walk. “Tell him to bring Looby saddled, and my weapons, in case I should need them.”
Katy would have run off directly, but he put her into a hackney coach and handed her money for the driver and the waterman. Then he told the coachman to drive her to Parliament Stairs to take a boat.
If Gideon had not been so eager to rescue Mrs. Kean, he would have been amused to see Katy’s round eyes, but he wasted no more time before covering the short distance to Queen Square.
As he arrived in the street, which was lined with new houses, he noticed a commotion in front of one on the south side. A crested coach stood in front of it, and servants were hurrying in and out, packing it with chests and boxes for a journey. Gideon asked a passing groom if he knew behind which of the doors Lord Lovett lived, and he was pointed to the house where the bustle was going on. Not surprisingly, the curtains were drawn and there was no visible sign of Mrs. Kean.
Gideon found himself in an intolerable quandary. He would be smarter to wait for Tom, in case he needed reinforcements. Expecting to meet Mrs. Kean in Westminster Abbey, he had not brought his sword. It had suited his foppish disguise to carry a cane instead, and he would not be able to subdue a trained swordsman and his servants with no better weapon than a cane.
But against these prudent thoughts, he could not bear the thought of what Lord Lovett might be doing to Hester. He could tell himself that Lovett would be frantically busy, getting ready to flee, now that he had been seen taking her from Hawkhurst House. But Gideon could not forget the look of stunned surprise that he had seen on Colonel Potter’s face.
While he stewed briefly over his course of action, a post-chaise clattered around the corner and pulled to a stop behind the coach. The groom who had been sent to fetch it stepped down, and instructing the postillions to wait, ran up to the house.
It seemed that now would be the only chance Gideon would have unless he could stop them on the road. And not knowing how long it would take Tom to find him, he simply could not take that risk.
He pulled the handkerchief and snuffbox out of his pocket and posed them elegantly in his left hand. In his right he carried the cane, as he sauntered up to Lovett’s door.
“Here, you scoundrel!” he said, in his most affected voice to a footman he met on the steps. “I insist upon seeing your master on a matter of urgent business.”
Before the servant, who was toting a heavy box to the coach, could think to block his path, Gideon dodged him and headed up the stairs. He moved quickly, ignoring the protests that floated up behind him. Then, at the top, he hesitated for only a moment before trying the first closed door he came across.
His guess regarding the location of the withdrawing room was correct. Inside, Lord Lovett halted abruptly on his way to the door. He had a wicked grip on Mrs. Kean’s right arm, and it appeared that he had been dragging her across the room.
Both looked up when Gideon burst in, and Mrs. Kean’s face lit with a mixture of hope and fright. She did not seem to have been harmed, but the relief in her eyes told him that he had not been wrong in believing her in danger.
Annoyed and impatient, Lord Lovett had paused in the centre of the room, but now he raked Gideon’s figure with scornful amusement, taking in the extreme fashion of his garb.
Gideon believed his only chance would be to disarm him with a lie.
“Ye gods!” he exclaimed, taking a few swaying steps into the room, while throwing the door closed behind him. “I thought that I saw you coming in here, Mrs. Kean, but I could not credit my wits! This will not do, ma’am, y’ know! I beg you will reconsider. Think of the scandal for your poor family!”
Lord Lovett did not even blink. “This gentleman is a friend of yours, my dear?” he asked, drawing Mrs. Kean close. “Curious, isn’t it, that we have never met?”
Gideon did not trust his smoothness, nor did he care for the flash of fear in Mrs. Kean’s eyes.
“I was a friend of Mrs. Kean’s father, sir, in Yorkshire. I hope you do not mean to deny it, madam?”
He had been almost certain that Lord Lovett had seen through his pretence, but his righteousness had planted a doubt. It was not beyond the bounds of reason that Mrs. Kean would have acquaintances from her former life in Yorkshire whom he would not know.
“I see,” Lord Lovett said, changing his tactics. “Then, I can assure you, sir, that you have nothing to fear on Mrs. Kean’s account. We are on our way to be married, so there is nothing for her family to be upset about.”
“Married! By gads! Well, why did you not say so, my dear! I’m certain your old father would have been pleased. May I be the first to shake your hand, my lord?”
With that, Gideon started to mince his way towards them, the cane gripped tightly in his fist.
He had meant to raise it and bring it down hard on Lord Lovett’s head, but something gave him away—either the white of his knuckles or more likely the intention of violence in his eyes—for before he could lift the cane half-way, Lord Lovett took a sudden step backwards, pulled out a dagger, and slipped it in front of Hester’s throat.
She gave a startled cry.
Gideon froze. He gaze flew to hers, but all he could read in it was an apology for getting him into this danger.
Lord Lovett had moved without a word, but now he courteously remarked, “May I assume that this is the Mr. Mavors in your letter, my dear? You will pardon me, I hope, if I express a bit of disappointment. I had expected you to have better taste.
“Now,” he said, “if your friend will excuse us, we have a carriage waiting.” He began to edge with Hester to the door, keeping a watch on Gideon’s eyes, as they turned with him.
Gideon knew that he was confronting an experienced swordsman. Only a swordsman would have known to read his opponent’s intention in his eyes. He dared not try any tricks, for the blade was already pressing into Mrs. Kean’s throat so hard that she could barely swallow.
He was finding it difficult to swallow, himself, out of fear of what Lord Lovett might do to her.
They passed close to the chimney, where Lord Lovett paused. He told Gideon that if he did not wish to see Mrs. Kean’s throat slit right there, then he should turn to face the wall.
He heard a clank of iron, heard Mrs. Kean shriek, “No!” and in the next painful instant, all around him went black.
* * * *
Hester was so shocked by the sound—something between a crack and a thud—when the poker hit St. Mars’s skull, that she went completely stiff. This made it easier for Lord Lovett to half-carry, half-drag her to the chaise.
She did not fight him. Even in her dazed state, she sensed that the best thing for St. Mars—if he was still alive—would be for his assailant to be miles away. She had no doubt that Lord Lovett would kill him with no compunction if he proved to be more trouble.
The fear, that he might already be dead, made her stomach roil so violently that she could barely separate this sensation from the rolling of the vehicle. She could not imagine a world without St. Mars.
She had not realized that he was unarmed until she had seen him lying on the floor with no sword at his hip. She had always known him for a courageous man, but that he should attempt to free her with no weapon at his command stunned her with the selflessness of his daring.
She stayed in a sort of trance for many minutes. Before she became aware that time had passed, they were rumbling across London Bridge. She might not even have wakened then, but for the shouts of the vendors on the bridge. Then, she started and looked about her, jerked to the reality of her situation by the sight of Lord Lovett, lounging against the opposite wall and staring at her with an intrigued expression.
“I trust you have recovered from that unpleasant incident?” he said, as if she had just witnessed a family spat.
Hester decided that she would no longer play his game of politeness. “It amazes me that you can speak of murdering a fellow creature as if a human life were nothing more than an inconvenience.” She heard a quiver in her voice, but it was from fury, not fear. Her only concern at this moment was for St. Mars.
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