by Lucy Adams
He smiled at her, neither angry nor upset that she had chosen such a course of action. In fact, he was rather proud of her.
“I am glad,” he said, quietly, as her eyes searched his. “You made a wise choice, Lady Augusta.” Holding out one hand to her, he waited until she had grasped it before pulling her closer. He needed her to be near to him, to be next to him, so that he could both reassure her and allow his own heart to be satisfied. Smiling down into her eyes, he saw her guilt fading away, to be replaced with a sense of relief. Relief that he had not been angry or upset with her for making such a decision.
“And it has been in our benefit,” Lady Westbrook said, as Marcus let his hand pull from Lady Augusta’s to wrap around her waist, so that she was all the closer to him. She went willingly, her head resting on his shoulder for just a moment.
“So it would seem,” he answered, as Lady Westbrook walked to the door, clearly expecting there to be some sort of noise that would alert her to a presence somewhere. “You say it was Knowles? That this is his room?”
“Yes,” Lady Augusta said quietly, looking up at him. “We waited outside Stayton’s rooms, with Lord Westbrook at Stayton’s door, Lord Franks at the servants door and Lord Millerton near to him, ready to go anywhere or alert anyone should he need to.” She hesitated, then glanced to Lady Westbrook. “We fully suspected Stayton would quit his rooms as the time drew near, but he did not. Then, Lord Franks appeared stating that someone had left the servants quarters and had gone from the house!” A tiny smile captured her lips. “Stayton himself opened his door, having been awoken by the noise of Lord Franks and the rest of us.” Her eyes gleamed for a moment. “It did not take long to convince me that he is not the man we want. He appeared quite shaken, particularly when Lady Westbrook ordered him back to his rooms.”
Lady Westbrook threw a broad smile back in Lady Augusta’s direction and Marcus could not help but grin. He knew all too well that Lady Westbrook could have a good deal of firmness about her manner should she wish it. “I see,” he said, with a shake of his head. “I must admit that I did not once think of Knowles.”
“Nor I,” Lady Westbrook and Lady Augusta said together, sharing a look. Lady Augusta gave him a wry smile.
“Everything seemed to suggest that Stayton was the one responsible,” Lady Augusta murmured, as Lady Westbrook nodded. “He is practically penniless—which would mean the financial gain of trading information with the French would be easily acceptable to him.”
“And he does not appear to have any sort of conviction when it comes to doing what is right,” Marcus agreed, running one hand through his hair and feeling a good deal better now. “And he has been here for long enough that the meetings could well have been set up by him.”
Marcus nodded, a rueful look about him. “But Knowles was perfectly placed to know all that was going on,” he said, quietly. “A servant. A shadow. Able to flit from place to place without being seen—and able to use his master as a protection for his treacherous actions.”
Lady Augusta frowned, her hand on Marcus’ arm. “But how did Knowles know that you were to be present here?” she asked, quietly, confusion lighting her eyes. “He must have been the one to take shots at you, to kill Mr. Breton. Then how….?” She trailed off, her eyes darting from here to there, only for her to suck in a breath, her eyes flaring wide as she stared up at him.
Marcus put his hand over hers. “Lady Augusta?”
She closed her eyes tightly, her lips pulling tight. “You will not thank me for suggesting this,” she said, softly, “but is it not true that you have not been able to find any sign of your man?”
Marcus blinked rapidly as understanding began to crash over him. Why had he not seen it before? “No,” he answered, slowly, “I have not been able to find my tiger. You yourself went to the village, did you not, Lady Augusta?”
She nodded, her eyes fluttering open. “I did,” she said, quietly. “If you recall, I took two of my servants with me and asked those within the village, searching where we could.”
Nodding, Marcus let out a long breath. “I thought him dead, if I am truthful,” he said, dully. “But now I understand the conclusion you are attempting to reach, Lady Augusta.”
Lady Westbrook came a little closer to them, her expression rather angry. “You mean to suggest, Lady Augusta, that Lord Rushton’s tiger was in league with Knowles?”
“An understandable conclusion,” Marcus said, as Lady Westbrook closed her eyes, clearly upset. “My tiger has been absent for many days and given that someone knew that we were coming to meet Mr. Breton, it makes sense to conclude that my servant was involved.”
Lady Augusta spread her hands. “I do not think that he ever expected that he would be shot at,” she said, as Lady Westbrook nodded, her eyes still glimmering with anger. “I suspect that such a thing came as a great shock. Perhaps there was another plan for Mr. Breton’s life, but Knowles thought it best to remove as many of you as he could.”
“I must admire your wisdom and agree with you,” Lady Westbrook said, pressing Lady Augusta’s hand for a moment. “Then we cannot expect ever to find your tiger, Lord Rushton.”
Marcus’ jaw worked for a moment as he felt his anger stir. “That appears to be so, yes,” he said, darkly. “If he is not dead already by Knowles’ hand, then he will have fled for fear of my retribution.” Sighing, he ran one hand over his eyes. “Money would have been his only reason for doing such a thing as this,” he said, a little broken over his servant’s betrayal. After all, his tiger had been a loyal servant for some time and Marcus had trusted him. “How easy it seems to be to buy someone’s allegiance.”
For a moment, the quietness settled over the three of them as they each considered what had been revealed and allowed themselves a moment or two to accept it. Then, Marcus let out a breath, wrapped one arm about Lady Augusta’s shoulders and drew her near.
“I thank you, Lady Augusta,” he murmured into her ear. “You are not only more wise than I, you have such a determined spirit about you that I cannot help but admire it.”
Her eyes turned towards his, one hand settling on his chest as she looked up at him. “It is only because you have drawn such a courage and determination from me,” she said, softly. “I know this must be very difficult for you, Lord Rushton, and I am sorry for it.”
“As am I,” Lady Westbrook said, with a practicality in her voice that told him the moment between himself and Lady Augusta would have to wait for its completion. “We should go outside. Lord Franks, Millerton and Westbrook may be back shortly and we can only pray that they have been successful.”
Marcus nodded his agreement, a little frustrated that he had been trapped in the trunk rather than being able to involve himself in the pursuit of the traitor. But, as he looked at Lady Augusta, he felt his heart swell with relief and gladness that she was safe and well, spared from any injury that might have occurred. “Then let us go,” he said, as Lady Westbrook picked up a candle, with Lady Augusta doing the same. “And bring Knowles to face the justice he has long been evading.”
The night was still dark but there was a hint of light coming from the edges of the world. Marcus held Lady Augusta’s hand tightly as he stepped outside, glad there was no particular chill in the air. Walking across the dew laden grass, he narrowed his eyes, trying to see where they might have gone.
“This way,” Lady Westbrook pointed, seeing the darker patches of the grass from the gentleman’s footsteps, their feet having pushed aside the dew. In the moonlight, they could see a path clearly and began to hurry towards it—only for something to move in the distance.
“Wait.” Marcus held out one arm, bringing both Lady Augusta and Lady Westbrook to a stop. “We must be sure.” He narrowed his eyes and fixed his gaze on whatever it was that moved in the distance, only to hear a familiar shout.
The gentlemen of the League had returned.
“Do you think they have Knowles?” Lady Augusta asked, a little breathlessly. “Do y
ou think they have him?”
“We must hope so,” Lady Westbrook replied, firmly. “I am sure that they have done all they can to capture him and they are well used to capturing those who do their level best to escape.” She turned back towards Marcus, her face illuminated in the moonlight. “Where should they take him?”
Marcus said nothing but squeezed Lady Augusta’s hand. This was her father’s manor house, her home. She would know best. Lady Augusta gave him a small smile then turned her attention back to Lady Westbrook.
“To the library,” she said, firmly. “No-one will disturb us and it is far enough away from the bedrooms of the guests so as not to awaken them.” Her eyes turned back towards Marcus. “Should we rouse Stayton?”
Marcus shook his head. “There is no need,” he replied, with a small shrug. “We know he is not guilty of anything other than pretending his house is still waiting for his return and that he is quite solvent.” Looking at the gentlemen returning, he felt a surge of hope lift his heart, quite sure there were more than three gentlemen approaching. “All we need do is take Knowles there to speak to him.”
Lady Augusta caught her breath, her eyes fixed on what was ahead. “Look!” she exclaimed, as the men drew nearer. “There are not only three of them! There is now…five!”
“Five?” Marcus repeated, his eyes widening as he realized that what Lady Augusta said was true. “Goodness.”
“They must have caught whoever it was that Knowles was now meeting with,” Lady Westbrook said, as Marcus began to hurry forward, wanting to see the face of the fifth man. “Do you think it could be…..?”
She did not need to finish her question, for Marcus was, by now, striding forward, his brow lowering as anger burned in his heart. He could see precisely who it was, aware now that Lady Augusta had been quite correct in her conclusions.
“We have him,” Lord Westbrook said, a little breathlessly. “And another.”
“The man who replaced Mr. Breton, it seems,” Marcus replied, his eyes narrowing as he took in the man who stood before him. The man’s head was low, his gaze on the ground and a sense of shame and regret emanating from him. “A servant I trusted, a servant I thought was as loyal to the King as I.” Seeing Lord Westbrook’s eyes widen in surprise, Marcus threw out a hand. “Gentlemen, might I present Johnston. My servant.”
Chapter Fourteen
Augusta could tell that Lord Rushton was angry but admired how well he contained it. His eyes flashed, his jaw worked hard but yet, he kept himself otherwise composed. Knowles and Lord Rushton’s servant, Johnston, had been forcibly seated in two chairs, with their hands bound to the arms of each.
She took them both in one at a time, having no fear in her heart as she did so, despite the clear disgust and fury in Knowles’ eyes. Johnston, on the other hand, appeared deeply ashamed and sorrowful, his head low and his shoulders hunched.
“You are discovered, Knowles,” Lord Rushton said, as each one of them from the League seated themselves down, save for Lord Rushton who remained standing just in front of the fireplace. His tone was mild but his eyes were fixed on the perpetrator, looking at him steadily. “We captured Mr. Caron some time ago. We ensured that he continued to do as he had always done, so that information was continually given and received so that The King’s League –” He gestured to the others in the room, “would be able to find and capture the others.”
“And you have succeeded,” Knowles spat, his face dark with anger. “I will not congratulate you, of course.”
Augusta watched the fellow carefully, surprised to both see and hear the arrogance of him displayed so evidently. Even though he had been caught, even though he now faced the gallows for his crimes, the man was filled with his own sense of self-importance, refusing to give the League even a modicum of respect.
“You killed Mr. Breton,” she said, before Lord Rushton could say any more. “Is that not so?”
Knowles’ lip curled but he did not look away as she had expected. Rather, he held her gaze, scorn in his eyes. “Lord Rushton’s servant was very helpful in that regard,” he said, throwing a glance towards the man seated next to him. “How grateful I am for his assistance.”
Augusta shook her head, turning her gaze towards Johnston, whose shoulders shook silently.
“Johnston?” Lord Rushton’s voice was flat, without anger or pain within it, but the fellow did not lift his head. “Johnston. Might you tell me when you decided to betray my trust?”
Johnston said nothing for some moments, the heavy weight of his silence burdening the entire room. Then, he let out a long, shuddering breath and began to speak. His voice was low, hoarse and filled with regret, although Augusta found it difficult to have any sort of sympathy for him.
“Mr. Caron,” Johnston began, as Lord Rushton closed his eyes tightly for a moment. “I was losing a lot of money at the gambling tables, Lord Rushton.” He still did not look up, his voice breaking with emotion. “Mr. Caron spoke to me one night, when he was in your custody. He told me how much I could get for taking a note from one to the next.”
“And you agreed,” Lord Rushton stated, darkly. “Even though the League was with Mr. Caron, even though you knew that we were pursuing Knowles.”
Johnston lifted his head, his eyes red but his face pale. “It was foolish, I know!” he cried, clearly broken by his own foolishness. “But I needed the money. I told Knowles that you’d be watching for him, Lord Rushton. I didn’t think he would try to kill you.”
“What did you think?” Lord Millerton asked, angrily, half-rising from his chair. “That Knowles would simply let Lord Rushton live?”
Johnston opened his mouth, his eyes bulging. And then, he dropped his head once more and closed his eyes. “I was a fool,” he said, honestly. “I thought Knowles would keep his word. I knew Breton was to be killed but I didn’t know he would try to kill you too, my lord.”
Augusta looked to Lord Rushton, seeing his dark expression and wondering just what he felt at this present moment. To see his servant, the man he had trusted, sitting bound to a chair, and then to hear that his reasons for his betrayal had come down solely to the money he could make from it, must be agonizing indeed.
“Knowles thought that if he killed me, killed Mr. Breton and perhaps, killed you, then he would have nothing left to fear,” Lord Rushton said, darkly. “He did not know about the League.” He looked towards Knowles, who was now staring angrily at the wall behind Augusta. “I presume you did not say anything about the League, Johnston?”
The servant shook his head. “No, I did not,” he said, as though this small amount of loyalty made up for all the other things he had done. “I could not.”
Lord Rushton shook his head. “I would not want to even suggest that I am grateful for that but I cannot deny it,” he said, with a heavy sigh. “And Knowles, you have used your master ill.”
Knowles’ lip curled and he spat angrily onto the carpeted floor, making Augusta jerk back in revulsion.
“I care nothing for Stayton,” he declared, furiously. “He pays me a pittance! Why should I not find other ways to make my fortune?”
Augusta frowned, seeing the color heightening in Lord Rushton’s face. “If you disliked your pay, then why not seek other, genuine employment?” she asked, as Knowles laughed harshly. “I cannot understand why you chose to do something that went entirely against your country.”
Knowles looked at her, the sound of his laughter still ringing around the room. “Because, you foolish child, perhaps this country is not my own,” he said, his voice rasping as he glared at her. “Stayton served my purposes. It was I who suggested he come here, knowing that I could find information about the border to send to the French. Any weakness, I reported at once.” He shrugged, his eyes still filled with arrogance. “I have no regret over anything I have done. Death does not frighten me. I am proud of my actions.”
Augusta could find nothing to say, looking at Knowles with a dark expression and a heaviness within her soul.
To see Knowles as he truly was now, the cruel, arrogant, selfish conspirator, she could feel no sympathy whatsoever. Whatever he had done, he felt no guilt whatsoever and, as far as she was concerned, fully deserved the consequences that would soon follow.
“You are to be taken henceforth to London,” Lord Rushton said, his authority filling the room as he looked straight at Knowles. “And there you will stand trial for your crimes.” He let a long pause fill the room, making Augusta nervous with anticipation. “I think you are already fully aware of what will face you.”
“I care not,” Knowles spat, turning his head away, whilst Johnston, clearly very distressed, looked up from where he sat, a desperate look in his eyes.
“My lord?” he asked, his voice filled with fear. “And I?”
Lord Rushton took in a long breath, looking at his servant with both sorrow and anger in his expression. His mouth was pulled taut, his brow furrowed and lines forming on his forehead. Augusta swallowed, feeling the tightness in her throat as she waited for Lord Rushton’s judgement to fall.
“You must also face trial,” he said, quietly, his eyes now fixed to his servant. “You made your decision and accepted what would follow should you be discovered. Thus, you will accompany Knowles and face what comes to you. And should it come to it, I will speak about what you have done, Johnston. As much as I was grateful to you for your loyalty, I cannot trust you any longer.” Augusta could see the anguish on his face as she spoke, the confusion that burned in his eyes as he turned away from his servant, and felt her heart go out to him. Clearly this was very difficult for him, struggling to do what he knew was right in the face of the relationship he had shared with his servant for a very long time.
“I—I am sorry, Lord Rushton,” Johnston said, his voice breaking with emotion. “If I could change what I had done, then I –”
“The time for speaking is finished,” Lord Rushton interrupted, turning back around to look directly at his servant. “This matter is at a close.” Then he waved a hand towards the other men sitting with him. “Take them away.”
