by Darcy Burke
"Mama! Mama!" She tried to infuse her voice with the proper amount of feminine distress. As she truly was terrified both for herself and her mother, it didn't require much acting.
The outriders reacted as they had expected, with a few drawing together to face her as the others stayed with the carriage. The carriage itself sped up as she drew near. The first of her tasks done, alerting her mother to their presence, Sabre didn't try too hard to get around the outriders. The last thing she needed was for one of them to grab her reins or start a true confrontation at this point. Now she would move on to her second task and try to keep these four riders occupied as the carriage rolled ever closer to their trap.
She recognized one of the riders and addressed herself to him. "Gavin, you can't keep me from my mother!"
"I'm sorry, Miss Bittlesworth, but your father's orders were clear. Nothing is to stop them."
She swiped at her cheek as though wiping away tears, although the rain made it unnecessary to shed any. "How can he do this to me?" She gave a choking sob. "They say he is planning to stay on the continent. I don't know if I will ever see her again!"
The rider looked uneasily at one of his compatriots. "I'm sure you'll see her again, Miss Bittlesworth."
She sniffed. "How can you say that, Gavin? You know what he's like."
One of the riders narrowed his eyes at her. He had a hardened look that concerned her. "We don't have time for this little bitch's whining."
With his words she could see the attitude of the group shift. He had reminded them that they were not here to listen to the weeping concern of a daughter, but to protect the lord who paid them. This man had no sympathy in his eyes, no softness. Within a few moments he would shift the entire tenor of the group, most likely leaving one rider to control her while the other three rejoined the carriage. As her job was to help draw riders off the carriage, his influence was counterproductive. She drew and fired on him point blank before any of them knew what she was about.
Fortunately her powder was still dry, even with the rain, and her aim true. The rider reeled back, falling off his horse. The poor beast panicked and danced in the mud, stomping on the fallen rider while he writhed and groaned. Sabre held her gun hand up in a neutral position while the remaining outriders drew their pistols on her.
Her demeanor had changed as she said in a deathly still monotone, "We will be retrieving my mother, Gavin. If you try to stop us you will end up like him."
At her use of "we" the riders started looking around frantically, turning their horses in the squelching mud. The carriage was almost out of sight, but one of the outriders that had stayed with it was riding toward them, most likely in response to the sound of gunfire. She had drawn five of them now and hoped that helped. This was far more complicated and nerve-wracking than any game they had ever played. The dying man continued to moan and twitch on the ground as the riders surrounded her, still watching the trees with their guns on her.
The approaching rider called out, "What happened? Did you shoot the girl?"
Gavin called back. "She shot Pinsmail."
Sabre recognized the approaching rider as one of the more senior of her father's guards. "Hullo, Waghorn," she called.
Waghorn swung from his saddle and pushed the loose horse out of the way to check on the fallen rider. Standing he said, "Did you do this, Miss Bittlesworth?"
She found that she couldn't quite make her gaze lower to look at the man she had shot. "I'm here for my mother, Waghorn."
He gave a surprised laugh. "I don't think so, my lady."
She raised a brow at him. "How do you plan to stop me? Would you shoot a nobleman's daughter?"
"Aren't you a cold thing? And here I always thought you took more after m'lady than m'lord."
"An even better question," she said, leaning forward and lowering her voice, "is how do you plan to stop my brother?"
He looked at her, considering. "Well, which brother would that be, miss?"
She smirked. "Either of them. They’re both here."
Waghorn took up his reins and made to mount. "Leave her," he ordered, "we need to get back to the carriage."
But the sound of gunfire made it clear that they were too late. The four of them set off at a gallop, leaving her with the dead man. Charlie came trotting out from the cover of the trees. "Are you all right, little bird?"
She nodded and blew out an unsteady breath. "We should go help Robert."
Charlie dismounted to catch the loose horse. "No, I'm charged with ensuring you stay alive. Something, I would like to point out, that you were making fairly difficult. They were too close on you for me to even attempt a shot from any distance." He smiled up at her. "And I didn't have the advantage of your fair sex if I were to close with them."
"They wouldn't want to shoot any of their lord's children."
Charlie laughed. "Second sons are merely inconvenient. Inconvenient to have and inconvenient to lose. You don't fire a servant over an inconvenience."
"Charlie!"
He patted her knee and looked up at her with a smile. "Are you sure you're all right?"
She looked at the horse he was leading. "I will be. Eventually." She looked back in the direction the coach had gone. "Are you sure Robert doesn't need us?"
"It's Robert, dearest. Stop worrying." He mounted his horse and tied the stray to his saddle. "He will send for us when he needs us. But we can walk in that direction if it makes you feel better."
She nodded and started off at a faster pace than Charlie. Then a thought struck her and she looked back. "Do you know what happened to Quince?"
"Quince?" he asked. "Do you mean his grace, Beloin?"
"Yes, the duke. How did he get those cuts and bruises?"
Charlie narrowed his eyes. "What bruises?"
Sabre huffed. "Charlie, just answer the question!"
"I am given to understand that his grace stumbled into a gunpowder plot. A bridge was blown out underneath his carriage."
She gasped. "Was anyone hurt?"
"Two fine greys died, which was quite careless of him. Other than that, not that I've heard of."
As she sat still, silent and frowning, he caught up to her.
"What is it between you and Beloin, then?" he asked.
"I love him, Charlie."
"Any idiot could figure that out. What are his plans?"
"I couldn't say."
"He'll not make you his doxy," he warned.
She smiled at him a bit sadly. "I love him, Charlie," she repeated.
His normally affable expression changed to something colder. "That's how it is, then? If these horses weren't so tired I would ride back to London now to beat him."
"Don't be like that Charlie."
"How do you want me to be, Sabre? You're my sister."
"I know, Charlie, and I hope that as my brother you will stand by my decision, whatever that might be."
He stared ahead, his jaw rigid. "Don't try to manipulate me into your way of thinking. It's wrong and you know it."
"Last month I would have agreed with you. Now..." She lapsed into silence, not sure how to explain her change of heart to her brother. She gave him a rueful smile. "I hope that when you fall in love it isn't so complicated."
"How can you love a man who would treat you like this?" he insisted.
Sabre realized she heard her own judgments of Jack reflected in Charlie's question. "I knew that I was in love with him when I couldn't stand the thought of him being hurt. I left him, thinking that if I broke it off then I would stop caring so much."
"Perhaps you didn't stay away from him long enough."
"It felt like a thousand years." She sighed. "I don't know how to explain it, Charlie. I have to be with him. No matter what."
They heard the sound of hooves in mud and tensed, worried that it might be their father's outriders again. Instead, Robert and his group of men rode into view. The viscountess was seated safely in front of her brother, and her mother's maid was astride a horse
with one of his men. Sabre's heart sped in her chest. One small victory out of all the challenges they faced, but such a relief. "Mama!" she said, and heard her own voice break on the word.
"Sabrina! When I heard that shot I was so worried! Your father wouldn't stop the carriage but he sent his man back to check on you."
"I'm fine, mama." She hesitated. “Where is papa?”
Robert answered. “He has gone on to his ship.”
"Sabrina and I have procured a horse for you, maman," Charlie said.
Robert raised an eyebrow at his brother and Charlie tipped his head in the direction of the original rider. Robert signaled two of his men to check on the fallen man.
"You know I'm not much for riding, Charlie," the viscountess said.
"Perhaps Sabre will let you double up with her, maman," Robert said. "Even the two of you together are hardly a load for any horse."
"Of course," Sabre said.
Robert dismounted to transfer the viscountess onto the back of Sabre's horse. "Take her to my house," he said. "Charlie, stay with them."
"Of course," his brother replied. He turned the reins of the stray horse over to one of Robert's men. Although some of the men nursed injuries it didn’t look like Robert had lost any of them.
Sabre was happy to have her mother secured, but very much wanted to leave for Belle Fleur. Hopefully tomorrow she would be able to get away.
THIRTY-NINE
Quince took a moment after visiting with his coachman, staring out the window of his study. The man had been delirious from pain and laudanum. It was impossible to know, even with the best care, if he would survive. It was sobering. Infuriating. Frightening.
“You wanted to speak with me, your grace?” Havers asked quietly.
“Yes,” Quince said, turning his attention to the butler. “There is something I need to find and I believe it to be here. It is very important. If I don’t find it then… Then I may not be able to keep Miss Bittlesworth and some other people safe.”
Havers grew quite attentive when Sabre was mentioned, as Quince had expected. “How may I be of assistance, your grace?”
“I need you to answer some questions about my father.”
Quince proceeded to query the butler and the rest of the staff about his father's behavior while in residence at Belle Fleur. It seemed that his father's habits weren't much different than his own. The elder duke would cloister himself in his rooms for hours, sometimes days on end. The only difference was that sometimes when the staff was fairly certain that he was in his room... he wasn't. Not that they had checked under the bed or in the closets. It was frankly odd at times to deliver a tray or some such and find his grace missing.
Although Quince had redecorated the room there had been no reconstruction. If there happened to be a concealed door in the room, it should still exist. He began to search.
After two days of searching Quince doubted his theory. He wasn't sure the last time he had eaten or slept. His only interruption had been to read letters he received from Gideon, letters reassuring him that both Jessica and Sabre were safe in London. He wished that Sabre were here because she would make this mystery solving bearable. But he couldn't have her here if she would be in danger. And that meant he needed to find the evidence that the dragon feared.
His frustration was such that he almost didn't hear the soft click when he pushed on yet another carved wall panel. He stopped and inspected it. Nothing seemed different. Putting both hands on it and attempting to push or slide didn't seem to affect it. He moved his hand down to where it had been the first time he had heard the click and pushed harder. When he released it the panel swung open on silent, hidden hinges. For a moment he just stared at the dark, dusty opening in shock. Then he lit a candle and stepped in.
Sabre loved her family, she really did, but their attempts to keep her from leaving for Belle Fleur almost drove her mad. On the third morning she simply arose early and left as though for a ride in the park. It was a risk traveling alone. However, she made good time and was at the duke's estate before luncheon. She hadn’t seen anyone following her from her brother’s house, but honestly she didn’t really care. Havers opened the door for her and gave her a deep bow.
"Miss Bittlesworth, it is good to have you with us again."
Once over the threshold she couldn't help herself and hugged the old servant. "Thank you, Havers, it's good to be back. Is his grace in residence?"
The old man blushed pink to the tips of his ears but seemed well pleased. "Yes, my lady, he is. In his rooms."
"Very good," she said, and happily trotted up the stairs. She thought to stop in her room first to refresh herself, but after looking through the Rose Room she didn't find any trace of her previous residence. Had Quince sent her things back?
She walked to his suites. It seemed polite to knock, but it would be more fun to reenact that first morning when she had burst into his room and awakened him. This time if he were lying naked to the waist in bed she could do more than just flirt with him. Her mouth watered thinking about what they could do with that scene to play over again.
She opened the door, a smile on her face, but it was immediately evident that the duke was not in bed. The bed didn't even look slept in. She felt warmth in her chest when she saw that her shawl was folded at the foot of it. Then she heard a sob and the sound tore at her heart.
"Quince?" she called, feeling slightly panicked. She entered the room looking for him. She heard another sob and found him opposite the bed, sitting against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, head down. She knelt down in front of him, rubbing his arms. "Quince, what happened?"
When he looked up at her his green eyes were shockingly bright in their red rims. He shook his head, then straightened his legs to pull her into his lap and buried his face against her shoulder. He held her tightly and she stroked his hair, trying to soothe him. After a few minutes of holding her close his sobs seemed to subside and he loosened his hold a bit. He lifted his head again to press his forehead against hers.
She framed his face in her hands. "What has happened, Quince?"
He shook his head. She wrapped her arms around him and tried to be patient while waiting for him to talk.
Finally, after long minutes, he cleared his throat and said in a husky voice, "I found the papers."
For a moment she was elated that another of their goals had been met. But why, then, was he so upset? She knew that he wasn't one to be rushed and tried to think of the best way to prompt him to give her more information. Before she could settle on a strategy he sat back against the wall, looking at her. He skimmed his fingers lightly over her cheek and jaw.
"You came back to me."
"I told you I would meet you here."
He kissed her hand. "How did your mission fare? Gideon wrote to confirm you made it back to London, but he didn’t have details."
"Mama is safe at Robert's house. Papa should be somewhere on the continent now."
"No one was injured?"
She frowned. "No one in our party."
He was quiet for some time, just staring at her and running his fingers along her skin. His expression was bleak.
"Quince, what happened?"
He looked over at the wall as though something was there, but it just looked like a wall to her. "I really don't want you to read them, but I'm not sure I can read any more."
She scooted out of his lap and stood up. "Show them to me."
His eyes looked haunted. "You don't want to see them."
"I do. Where are they?"
He seemed to mull her request another moment, pulling his knees up to his chest again. "I'll let you read one or two. So that you can see what we're dealing with. And we can discuss what we want to do next."
With his title and connections Quince had the right to feel like one of the most powerful men in England but he seemed ill at ease. What on earth had he found in those papers? "Quince, you're worrying me."
He sighed and finally stood up. She f
ollowed him to the door she had left open, thinking that he was leading her out, but he simply closed it. She bumped into him in surprise. He reached out to steady her and they stood there for a moment, his hand lingering on her arm as he looked down on her solemnly. She stepped forward to wrap her arms around his waist, to feel his arms around her shoulders. He rested his cheek on top of her head and she finally felt him relax a bit.
"It's probably better if we get this over with and you just show me," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. He gave a short, bitter laugh and released her, walking back over to the wall she had seem him staring at earlier. He pushed on the panel and it sprung open. It surprised a short laugh from her. "A secret door!"
The smile he gave her was anything but mirthful. A grimace, really. She regretted her playful outburst and schooled her expression to be more somber. He lit a candle and gestured for her to precede him into the dark space. She stepped in, not even having to stoop, and in the dim light could see that it was a small but tidy office space. There was a desk and bookcases, all covered with a fine film of dust. A portion of the desk had been disturbed and had a disorganized stack of papers on it. She walked over to read them, but couldn't see the handwriting for lack of light.
"Bring the candle over," she murmured. Quince pulled the panel shut behind them, making it even dimmer yet, then came to set the candle on the desk next to the papers. Sabre's first impression was how much the document reminded her of the gardening journal she had updated. She recognized his father's handwriting and the template of date followed by short observations. But the subject matter was far different from gardening. She dug through the papers, stopping every third or fourth sheet to see that it was more of the same. Dark, disturbing information jotted down like observations about how the roses had wintered. She could feel the air backing up in her lungs. "My heavens, do you think this is all true?"
Quince had withdrawn to lean against the wall, arms folded. "If it is, if we can verify enough of it. They will all hang."
