by Tracy Grant
"I know." Sheriton looked up and met Adam's eyes. "About Emily. It wouldn't have made any difference to me. I would have been proud to make Caroline my wife. Forgive me, Durward. I wanted to make that clear. I didn't mean to offend you."
Adam smiled, though he felt a surge of fear. "No offense taken." Sheriton had surprised him once again. Men of his kind did not take tainted women for their wives. Yet he was ready to accept Caroline, a confessed adulteress, to put it bluntly, and her bastard child.
Sheriton leaned forward, hands clasping his knees. "What I don't understand," he said with sudden passion, "is how Talbot could have dragged her secret into the open, before her family. Jared was the only one concerned, and he accepted Emily. That ought to have been enough for anyone. I tell you, Durward, Talbot was my friend, but if I see him again I don't think I can answer for the consequences." He drew a deep breath. "Durward, if there's anything I can do..."
It was what Adam had come for. "As a matter of fact, there is."
Caroline was in the drawing room on her knees before a chintz-covered chair, mending a rent in the fabric, when Adam found her and described his meeting with his friend Rathbone from the Home Office and his earlier meeting with Lord Camden. "I want you and Emily out of London," he concluded abruptly.
Caroline was shaken by the disclosures, though they made a kind of terrifying sense of what had happened in Spain. If Talbot had been involved in treasonous activities, he would have had nothing to lose by committing murder to keep his involvement secret. "I won't go," she said.
"If you think Jane won't have you, Sheriton is sure he can persuade his mother to take you in."
Caroline stuck the needle in the cloth and got to her feet, annoyed at his obtuseness. "Jane isn't the problem. The problem is that I'm not going to go away and leave you to face Talbot alone. You're his target now."
Adam did not say that there was nothing she could do in any event, though she knew he would be justified in doing so. But if Adam was in danger, she could not bear to be away from him.
"I'm not invulnerable," he said, "but I like to think I'm a match for Talbot. But if he tries to get at me through you—or God forbid, through Emily—then I'm helpless."
Caroline shivered. It was an argument she could not withstand. Were Emily to be taken again... She pushed the thought away. She still had dreams about Salamanca, but she could not face those memories in the light of day. "Very well," she said, her fear for Adam warring with her fear for Emily. "We'll go to Jane. But Adam, it mustn't be for long."
For answer he took her in his arms and held her close. She clung to him tightly. There were no thoughts of bed now to distract her. She was suddenly terrified. And Adam was wound as tight as a spring, his muscles tense against her face and breast. "It won't be long," he murmured against her hair. "God help me, if I have to kill him myself, this thing must come to an end."
Caroline drew away, shocked at the intensity in his voice. "Don't say that."
Adam's smile was rueful. "No, I'm not a man of violence, am I?"
Caroline was suddenly curious. "Adam, have you ever killed anyone?"
He hesitated. "I've come near it on two or three occasions. With my fists and legs and body. I don't carry a gun."
"No, of course not," Caroline said, remembering that his mother and father had been shot by soldiers with guns. Talbot was a soldier and Talbot carried a gun without question. But not in London. Surely he would not turn a gun on Adam in London.
Adam returned to the problem at hand. "I think Elena had better go with you. Hawkins would never forgive me if I didn't see to her safety as well."
His words made the threat even more real. "What about Aunt Margaret?"
Adam smiled. "Even Talbot wouldn't dare. But I'll tell her to be careful." He took her face between his hands, his eyes intense, his fingers gentle. "Caro, nothing will happen to you or Emily. I swear it."
Caroline opened her wardrobe and selected a straw bonnet with dark blue ribbons. It seemed an appropriate choice for their drive with Sherry. The bonnet would hide most of her face, and while she did not intend to go in disguise, today's outing was intended to deceive. Adam had told them that he was being followed, and for the benefit of this unseen observer they were going to play out the fiction that Sherry was taking Emily and the two women to Richmond for a picnic.
It was what they had told Emily as well, lest some idle remark on her part give the game away. Time enough when they were safely away from Red Lion Square to tell her Lord Sheriton was driving them to her Aunt Jane's.
Caroline tied the ribbons on her bonnet, picked up her reticule, and ran downstairs to the entrance hall. Elena and Emily were waiting for her. The door was open and Caroline could see the landau drawn up in front of the house. It was a clever choice on Sherry's part. The landau was a pleasure carriage, not meant for long drives to neighboring counties. But though the day promised to be fine, Sherry had not put the top down, giving them privacy from any curious eyes.
Sherry hastened up the steps to help the women into the carriage. Emily caught sight of a man in a fawn-colored coat who had stopped before the house next door to make some adjustment to his boot, and informed him they were going to Richmond. The man grunted, averted his eyes, and moved father down the square. Then Adam came out of the house bearing a wicker hamper. "Is that our picnic?" Emily asked, bouncing up and down on the seat of the landau.
"It is," Adam said, handing it to Wilkins, Sherry's elderly coachman, who stowed it in the boot. There was in fact a picnic basket in the hamper containing sandwiches and some wine—Caroline had packed it herself—but the hamper was otherwise filled with their clothes and toilet articles. Caroline looked into Adam's eyes, her mouth framing a voiceless question. "Well done," he said. She knew he was referring to the man who was now crossing to the other side of the square.
Sherry sprang into the carriage and took a seat by Emily.
"Safe journey," Adam said quietly. He leaned inside and kissed Caroline full on the mouth, an urgent kiss that told of his fear and his commitment. Then he closed the carriage door and stepped back to stand by Hawkins, who had also come out to watch them leave.
By the time the carriage reached the far end of the square, Adam and Hawkins had vanished. There was also no sign of the man in the fawn-colored coat, who seemed to have melted into nothingness. The only person in sight was a housemaid who had emerged from one of the houses with a broom and begun to sweep the front steps with vigorous strokes.
Caroline turned back to her companions. Elena now knew as much about Talbot as she did herself. Sherry knew that Talbot was a danger to herself and Emily—Adam had told him what had happened in Salamanca and after—but he did not know of Talbot's treasonous behavior. Whatever Talbot had done, Sherry had been his friend.
Elena kept up the conversation, asking questions about every building of interest they passed and making acerbic comments on the style and domes and probable character of the men and women walking on the pavements. Emily had her own point of view to express. Sherry was soon dissolved in helpless laughter and Caroline forced a smile to her face. Then the smile became genuine and the knot of pain that had been in her stomach when she woke that morning had eased.
They followed the Thames out of London, then turned south toward Sussex. "How long till we get to Richmond?" Emily asked. They had been on the road no more than half an hour, but Emily was far more restless in a carriage than riding on a horse in front of Hawkins or Adam.
"We aren't going to Richmond," Caroline said.
Emily's face crumpled. "You promised!"
"We're going to see Aunt Jane."
Emily brightened at once. "We're going to see Aunt Jane," she announced to the others. "I can play with Rags and Sally and Lizzie." Emily was delighted with the companionship of Jane's children, but the dog came first in her affections. "Can we sleep there?"
Caroline smiled at her daughter, though all her anxieties had returned. "At least one night. Maybe two or thre
e."
Emily threw herself happily back in the seat. Then a look of calculation came into her eyes and she sat up very straight. "What about the picnic?"
Sherry laughed. "Are you hungry already?"
"I'm always hungry," Emily said.
Caroline remembered how little her daughter had eaten during all those months in Spain. But here in London, where food was plentiful, she had developed an enormous appetite though she remained as thin as ever. Caroline looked at Sherry.
"I don't see why we shouldn't stop for a picnic," he said. "But not yet," he warned Emily. "Another hour at least."
"Show me on your watch," Emily demanded.
Sherry pulled an antique gold watch out of his waistcoat pocket. "This belonged to my father," he said, "and to my grandfather before him."
The watch and the lessons in telling time occupied Emily for the better part of the required hour. They had passed Croydon by then and Sherry rapped on the carriage roof and called Wilkins to pull the horses to the side of the road. A pleasant meadow lay beyond and farther still a fenced enclosure containing half a dozen brown-eyed cows who came and watched the intruders settle themselves on the grass and withdraw several packets of sandwiches and a bottle of wine from the picnic basket in the hamper.
Emily took a sandwich to Wilkins and then asked her mother for two more to feed the horses. This last request Caroline denied, pointing out that there was grass aplenty to take care of their needs. The three adults sprawled on the ground while Emily ran off to investigate the cows. It was a warm day with a slight breeze that brought the mingled scent of cows and clover and grass. They were alone save for an occasional vehicle on the road: a farm cart laden with cabbages, an ancient, slow-moving barouche whose occupants remained invisible, and a lone horseman who turned to look at them with curiosity as he passed.
Caroline leaned back on her hands and turned her face to the sun. "If I could only keep this moment," she said. "I feel truly safe."
Sherry looked up. "What an odd thing to say. I'd keep this moment too, but not for safety. I'd keep it because there is no place in the world I'd rather be and there are no other people I'd rather have beside me."
"A pretty compliment." Elena had broken off a blade of grass and was chewing it thoughtfully. "But you mustn't speak lightly of safety, Lord Sheriton. People who have plenty to eat never think of hunger, and people who live with the joy of feeling safe never think of danger."
Sherry stared at them with sudden awareness, then looked so chagrined the women had to laugh. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean—oh, the devil. See here, I know you've both had some terrifying experiences, but hang it all, this isn't war, this is England and you're perfectly safe with me. Talbot won't try anything here."
He still didn't believe it. Sherry wouldn't see evil if it were shaken under his nose. Yet Caroline knew he would give his life to protect them. "Of course we're safe with you," she said, wanting to reassure him. She didn't believe it, not only because she had learned to live with danger but because she had also learned not to trust in the goodness of the world. She looked around for Emily and felt the familiar wave of reassurance when she saw that her daughter was all right.
Emily in fact was feeding the cows the remnants of her sandwich. Caroline called to her sharply. Emily looked round, then came running. "It's all right, Mama," she said, wiggling her hands when she had reached them. "See. I've got all my fingers."
Caroline smiled. She could not see danger when she looked into her daughter's face, but danger was never far away and they should not linger. She rose and shook out her skirts. Sherry gave his hand to Elena and a few minutes later they were back in the carriage, heading for Jane's house in Sussex.
Perhaps it was the sun or the food or the conversation. No one had much to say as they resumed their journey, save for Emily who was curled up on the seat having a conversation with what seemed to be three different cows. Caroline closed her eyes and fell into a pleasant drowsy state. She was roused from it when the carriage pulled into the courtyard of a half-timbered inn which was in want of a coat of paint.
"It's a posting house," Sherry said. "I want to change the horses." He opened the door and jumped down to the ground, then turned to close them into the safety of the carriage. "I won't be long."
Emily leaned out of the window. "Sherry went inside," she announced. She stretched further to see the front of the carriage. "Wilkins is untying the horses. Someone's helping him. Now they're taking them to the stable."
There seemed to be little more to see. Emily left the window and resumed her game. Elena looked at Caroline. "Not long now."
Caroline smiled. She had spent long days on horseback without complaint, but today's journey seemed endless, as did the wait for Sherry's return. A horse whinnied and Emily looked out the window again. "There's a white horse and a brown one coming," she announced. "Can I get out?"
"No," Caroline said, "we'll be leaving soon."
A few minutes later they felt the slight shaking of the carriage as Wilkins mounted the box. There was the sound of a whip and the carriage moved smartly out of the yard. "Mama!" Emily exclaimed, aware before the women of Wilkins's mistake. "He forgot Sherry!"
Caroline beat on the carriage roof, and when that produced no response she leaned out the window and called up to the coachman. He did not turn round, but one glimpse was enough to set her heart racing. The man on the box wore a dust-spattered brown coat, quite unlike Wilkins's neat black, and the hair visible beneath his hat was not white. Caroline returned to her seat and looked at Elena. "It's not Wilkins," she whispered.
Chapter Twenty-two
"Nonsense. Someone must have taken the carriage in mistake for his own." Elena leaned far out of the window and banged her hand against the side of the carriage. "Stop!" she called repeatedly, but it seemed to do no good. "It's not a mistake," she said when she came back inside the carriage. "He saw my face."
"Mama?" Emily's voice was small and frightened.
Caroline held out her arms. Her mouth was dry and her heart was hammering, but she managed to speak in a level voice. "Come and sit between us, querida. Something went wrong, but we'll soon set it right."
Emily, being sensible, did not believe this false reassurance. "Don't let them take me again."
"I won't," Caroline said, gathering Emily against her. "Wherever we're going, we'll be together."
"Is the bad man after us again?" Emily asked.
"No, he's still in Spain." Caroline tightened her arms round her daughter, as if by holding Emily close enough she could protect her from harm. "I think this is something Cousin Talbot has done," she said, choosing her words with care. "He may be in a temper, but it's because he's angry at me, not at you."
"Will Sherry and Wilkins be all right?" Emily asked.
"I'm sure they will," Caroline said, with more confidence than she felt. "They can both take care of themselves."
Emily snuggled closer. Caroline pulled her onto her lap. There was something about Emily's confidence in her which always bolstered her spirits. It had convinced her she could do the impossible more than once in the past. It would have to do so again.
"Men," Elena said. "They do foolish things and bluster about and make trouble for women. "You must get used to it sooner or later, Emily."
Emily nodded. Caroline sent Elena a look of gratitude, then glanced out the window. She knew they were not headed toward Jane's or back to London, but she could not identify the blur of hedgerows, trees, and green fields. The inn must have been near a village, but there was now no sign of habitation. They were traveling much too fast to risk jumping from the carriage.
Caroline turned back to Elena and saw the same understanding in the other woman's eyes. They would have to wait. To reassure Emily and keep herself from screaming, Caroline began to talk about what Adam and Hawkins and the Wellstones would say when they heard of their adventure and how much fun Emily would have playing with her cousins when they finally got to Sussex.
When it seemed more than an hour must have passed, Caroline opened the picnic basket—left inside the carriage against Emily's hunger—and persuaded Emily to eat a sandwich. Neither Caroline nor Elena felt at all hungry, but they uncorked the second bottle of wine and drank half of it between them.
If they continued much longer, they would have to change horses again. Caroline was wondering how they might manage to escape at such a stop when the carriage made a sharp turn. The crunch of the wheels told her they had left the main road for a gravel drive. She glanced out the window and saw a long line of lime trees, their branches stirring in the breeze. The house was not visible, but all at once Caroline knew where they were.
She had looked at those same lime trees on a hot, dusty afternoon years ago, holding tightly to her hat and worrying that her hair would lose its curl because Jared had insisted on opening a window. He had been in a disagreeable mood, complaining about how tiresome it was of Dolly to give a breakfast so far out of London when she could very well have borrowed someone's villa at Richmond instead. It wasn't even, he had said, as if Shepton was a particularly remarkable house.
Shepton had come to the Rawley family through Talbot and Edward's mother. Though all the family used it, it had been left to Talbot. What more natural place for him to take his prisoners.
"We're at Shepton," Caroline said. "Cousin Talbot's house. I should have guessed."
Elena's eyes widened, but she said nothing. Emily clung even closer to Caroline. The carriage came to an abrupt halt. Caroline considered springing to the ground, but the estate was extensive. There would be no chance of help within miles.
She heard footsteps on the gravel and then the carriage door was pulled open by a short, balding man in a dust-spattered coat. Caroline realized he was the man who had ridden by during their picnic. Without speaking, he let down the carriage steps, as if he were an ordinary coachman and not the man who had abducted them and stolen their carriage. Caroline took Emily's hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze, and led her down the steps.
