Lord Rogue

by Tiffany Green

  Unless, of course, they were already there.

  Jeremy refused to believe that. Dragon told him he saw very few people moving about, just a few gardeners and one scullery maid throwing out old dish water. Had there been a dozen or so visitors, surely, there would have been much more activity than that. He held on to that belief because considering the alternative had him paralyzed with fear.

  As the outline of the mansion became clearer, Jeremy thought he heard the sound of horses galloping off in the distance. He glanced to Ghost, who had also heard the pounding hooves, and they stopped to glance around. Within the blanket of fog surrounding them, sounds bounced off the blinding dense cloud, and they could not tell the direction of the horses, or exactly how far away they were. After a minute, though, the sounds grew fainter and Jeremy nodded that they continue forward. Uncertainty gnawed his insides. Perhaps someone had seen them coming. He had been certain the fog would conceal their approach, but now, he didn’t know.

  Jeremy stopped his horse near the front of the mansion and glanced around as he slid to the ground. Nothing stirred and he glanced over to Ghost who walked up to his side. The sun steadily ate away at the fog, which grew lighter and thinner by the minute. The mansion’s outline sharpened, and the leaves of the trees became more defined.

  With a deep breath, Jeremy walked up to the front door as wisps of mist swirled around his black Hessians. Behind him was the comforting clap of Ghost’s footsteps. Arriving at the thick oak planked door, he noticed no knocker and frowned. Jeremy raised his fist and gave three heavy pounds, then straightened and waited for his summons to be answered.

  It did not take long. A tall, thin man with very pale skin and a pronounced hook nose answered, his dark eyes sweeping from Jeremy to Ghost and back. He raised his thick brows. “May I help you gentlemen?”

  Jeremy removed his gold cardholder, the rubies glimmering over the top of the lid as he snapped it open and retrieved a card. “Lord Fielding and Lord Bentwood are requesting an audience with your employer at once.” He pressed the card into the man’s hand. “We should not like to remain out here in the damp, cold to wait, either. Permit us to wait inside, the drawing room, preferably.” He took a step forward as though his command would not go unheeded. “Tea would be nice, as well.”

  The poor butler stepped back, too startled to realize he had allowed them access inside, and Jeremy took full advantage of the situation. He slid by the man as though he had every right to be inside the mansion and glanced around the polished suits of armor and busts lining the half-moon foyer. Then he glanced over his shoulder as Ghosts entered and the butler closed the door, his eyed dropping to the card in his hand.

  “The drawing room,” he said with a bit of steel in his words, “and tea.”

  “This way, my lords,” the butler said with a resigned bow and led them into a grandiose room with so much gilding, it nearly hurt his eyes. From the furniture, art, and other finery, Jeremy deduced the owner of the property, most likely Viper, incredibly wealthy. Soon, he would meet the man, he thought as the butler bowed out of the room and closed the door.

  Ghost charged right up to him, a grin spreading out across his lips. “Not bad.” He clapped him on the right shoulder. “If you were going for the Emperor of the World approach.”

  Jeremy inclined his head. “Whatever works.” Then he glanced around and found a large square cage made of glass on a pedestal beneath a window, filled with dirt, grass and sticks. A terrarium? He moved closer and stopped when he noticed the deep brown markings of a venomous female adder coiled up in one corner. Vipera berus. Definitely the right place. “I suppose we will have some answers soon. It was eerily quiet, didn’t you think?”

  Before Ghost could respond, the door opened and a footman brought tea on a cart with all sorts of goodies. Scones with clotted cream and various jams, flaky pastries, apple and peach tarts, lemon cake squares with whipped cream and strawberries on the side. Jeremy’s stomach growled at the delicious fare before them, then he glanced over to Ghost and knew they were thinking the same thing. What if it had been poisoned?

  The footman bowed and quit the room. “What do you think?” Ghost asked softly and sniffed the air above the trolley. “Smells incredible.”

  Jeremy pursed his lips. Would Viper be so bold as to poison two men of the peerage? He also wondered what the man thought about their visit, or if Viper would even show up. What would they do if the butler returned with apologies and a refusal to meet from his master?

  Clanking dishes and smacking lips had Jeremy glancing up to find Ghost sampling the food. He swallowed back a groan. “What if it’s poisoned?”

  Popping the last bite of peach tart into his mouth, Ghost shrugged. “We will know soon enough. Besides, I may die of starvation anyway,” he said and turned to pour some dark, steaming tea into his cup.

  Shaking his head, Jeremy turned back to examine the room. And that was when he noticed the miniature framed in gold, nestled in a brass stand right in the middle of the fireplace mantle. With a swift intake of breath, he crossed the room to see if his eyes had deceived him. They hadn’t. The young lady smiled coyly, her blonde curls piled high, her cheeks rosy and her lips glistened coral as she gave a saucy grin.

  Why in God’s name would Viper have a picture of his mother?

  Jeremy moved over to the window farthest from the snake and glanced out, locking his hands behind his back. He found most of the fog had retreated across the wide, green garden spread out before him, slinking back into the vast forest beyond. His mind raced with his mother’s reaction to seeing the Viper card last evening. He had hoped he hadn’t read her actions correctly, that she had just been worried about Phyllis, was drunk, or both. Now, he knew better.

  He expelled a long sigh. His mother knew Viper. There was no longer any question about the matter. The very man Jeremy suspected of killing his father. The very man who had kidnapped his wife and perhaps even wanted her dead. He slid a gaze over to the adder, trying to make sense of it all.

  Jeremy heard the door rattle open and the click and shuffle of someone relying heavily on a cane. He turned and his heart gave a sharp jerk as he recognized the man dismissing the servants from the room.

  Freddy trundled forward with a smile growing on his lips, then stopped before him. “Hello, Jeremy.” His gray eyes sparkled in genuine delight. “It has been much too long.”

  For several seconds, no one moved. Then Jeremy heard Ghost’s footsteps come up to his left side. He was vaguely aware of his friend introducing himself.

  “Apologies for my absent-minded friend, here. I am Lord Bentwood and am pleased to make your acquaintance.” He held out his hand.

  Freddy gave a respectful bow. “Frederick Spencer.” They shook hands. “And the pleasure is all mine, Lord Bentwood.”

  Jeremy’s mind continued to whirl, trying desperately to make sense of even more bewilderment thrown at him. He could not quite put the fragments together. The puzzle eluded him, as though he worked with random shapes that did not fit in any way. Squares pressed to circles. He had no picture, no framework, and a lot of missing pieces.

  “Although I am most pleased to have you visit me, nephew, may I inquire why you are here?”

  From his periphery, Jeremy detected Ghost’s surprise. His friend was a master at adaptation and concealment, and Jeremy doubted Freddy saw the subtle signs. The sudden stillness, the slight hesitation of the next breath, and the tightening of the jaw. Ghost would require a detailed explanation later, but Jeremy knew he could count on him right now to play along. Problem was, he had no idea how to handle the situation. Dragon had given distinctive directions, so there could not be a mistake about the location. And then there was the adder not twenty feet away. That could not be a coincidence.

  Jeremy held his uncle’s gaze. “I am here to retrieve my wife,” he said softly, feeling the urgency to find her build with every second that ticked by.

  Freddy’s brows shot up. “I read about your marriag
e in The Times and offer my deepest congratulations.” He glanced to Ghost and back. “But what makes you think she is here?”

  “Someone saw her get pressed into a coach.” He crossed his arms. “And followed them here.”

  The fury in Freddy’s eyes exploded then receded in one-quarter of a blink. He drew his brows and shook his head. “I have no idea why someone would misinform you in such a manner.” Tapping his cane on the rug, he stepped back and swept the door with his arm. “But you may have a look around if you wish. Just to satisfy your curiosity.”

  Jeremy glanced over to Ghost and gave a nod. His friend inclined his head, his eyes conveying he would find her if she was within the walls of the mansion. As good as Ghost was at hiding, he was just as good at locating. Yet, something about Freddy’s certainty gave him pause, made him uneasy. His chest burned with the unsettled feeling.

  When the door closed with a soft click behind Ghost, Jeremy expelled his breath and turned back to his uncle. “I have many questions.”

  Freddy limped to the sofa and sat with a grimace. He nodded to the chair across from him. “Then come have a seat and ask your questions.”

  Taking the offered chair, Jeremy heard the clock sound the nine o’clock hour and waited to speak until the last chime rang out, a habit from his superstitious grandmother. Mother to both his father and Freddy. It was bad luck, she had taught him, to speak while a clock chimed. Well, he would not tempt his luck, he thought, not when it came to finding Evie, and remained quiet.

  He watched his uncle set aside his cane and could not help but notice the silver serpent set in onyx. He had hoped there would be something else to explain why Freddy was at the very location Dragon had given. Perhaps, like his mother, Freddy merely knew Viper. Deep down, he knew otherwise.

  The clock went silent and Freddy cocked his head. “Now, what would you like to know?”

  Where to begin? Jeremy adjusted the diamond ring on the little finger of his right hand. He knew he could ask all the questions he wanted, but there was no certainty he would get truthful answers. In fact, Viper would most certainly lie. Perhaps even feed him false information to keep him off balance and reveal things about the Guardians. He would certainly keep his guard up and in full measure.

  He nodded to the cane. “You weren’t using one of those the last time I saw you.”

  Freddy’s right brow arched up. “You were just nine years old. A lot has happened since.”

  “True.” He recalled that terrible day he’d arrived home from Eton to celebrate Christmas with the family. How excited he had been to see his uncle, who always spent the holiday with them, making it even more special. But that day turned into one of his darkest memories. His father explained that Uncle Freddy would not come for visits anymore because of his negative influence. Teaching him how to cheat at cards was what Jeremy had thought, even though he felt like he had lost his best friend. Now, however, he wasn’t certain that was what his father had meant at all. Jeremy glanced at the Viper insignia. “I find that snake design an odd choice.” He gazed back to his uncle. “I imagine there is quite an interesting story behind it.”

  With a shrug, Freddy ran his thumb over the object of their discussion. “Someone let loose a rather large adder in my room once,” he said softly, his eyes hardening with the memory. “One of its offspring is just there.” He nodded over to the window. “That was after he had shot me in the knee. I couldn’t get up and run. I couldn’t get up and kill it.” He rubbed his thumb back and forth over the snake. “All I could do was wait for the thing to slither up the side of the bed and administer its deadly poison.”

  Jeremy leaned back in his chair, trying not to grimace. “Well?” he finally asked when his uncle failed to elaborate. “What happened?”

  Freddy let a faint smile trickle across his lips. “I am still here, so the snake never bit me. In fact, she became my pet.” His smile widened. “Much to the dismay of my servants.”

  “How long ago was that?” Jeremy asked, hoping he wouldn’t see the thing slithering across his Hessians.

  Freddy lifted a shoulder. “Twenty-two years ago.”

  Jeremy pursed his lips. He would have been nine years old. A coincidence? He couldn’t keep his gaze from straying to the mantle, and the words were out of his mouth before he thought better of it. “Why do you have my mother’s portrait?”

  Freddy shifted on the couch cushion before answering the question. “She gave it to me many years ago.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Perhaps you should ask her that question.”

  “I am asking you.”

  Freddy paused, his eyes softening before turning away. And in that instant, Jeremy knew. He didn’t want to know, even wished like hell he didn’t know, but he did. “When did it start?” he asked, his voice growing thick as the impact of what he just learned hit him square in the chest.

  Focusing back on him, Freddy asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Your relationship with my mother is what I mean,” Jeremy growled and sprang to his feet. “I want to know everything.” He paced the rug. “When it started. When it ended.” He stopped as an uneasy though surfaced. “Did my father know about this?”

  Placing the tip of the cane on the floor, Freddy rose to his feet with a painful grimace. “These questions are for your mother.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “She will not speak to me about the past.”

  “And neither can I,” Freddy said softly. He hobbled forward, his brows drawn down over concerned eyes. “I promise you, Jeremy, the less you know, the better.”

  He doubted that very much. Having knowledge was having power. That was what his father always said. He crossed his arms over his chest, deciding on a different set of questions. And he damned sure would not leave until he had the answers. “Why did you take my wife from the museum?”

  Freddy drew back slightly, the concern receding behind a carefully erected blank stare. “I didn’t.”

  Pursing his lips, Jeremy wondered how he would get the answers he sought. Perhaps he should just allow Ghost the time to locate Evie, for he knew if she was inside the walls of this house, Ghost would certainly locate her. Yet, he had to make good use of the time and decided to forge onward. Perhaps Freddy would give something away the Guardians could use. “Where is Lord Montague?” He bit back a grimace. “I have rather urgent news to inform him about his wife.”

  Freddy stumbled forward a step. “What has happened? Is Phyllis all right?”

  The longer he remained in his uncle’s company, the more his confusion grew. That, and his frustration. Jeremy shook his head. “I refuse to say anything else until you tell me what I want to know.”

  Closing his eyes, Freddy wagged his head from side to side. “Montague was just in London to check on Phyllis. He said she was perfectly fine when he left from there.”

  “According to Phyllis, Montague has not spoken to her, nor has he even sent her a note, since leaving for his estate weeks ago. She has worried herself sick, believing something terrible has happened to the man.” Jeremy paused to show his displeasure. “Even now, she remains abed sedated or risks losing her child.”

  With his lips twisted down, Freddy limped to the window and glanced out. “It seems I have been lied to, then,” he said softly, almost to himself. Almost as though he had not expected that from Montague, who was supposed to be a loyal subordinate.

  Jeremy went to his uncle’s side. “Please, just allow me to retrieve Evie. You must be aware of what Montague plans for her. How he wishes to sacrifice her.”

  Freddy continued to stare outside, his right hand gripping tight to the cane. Jeremy considered taking the vial from his pocket and using it. Of a truth, he would hold the man to the floor and pour some down his throat, just as they had to that Morris fellow.

  “Will you at least tell me if Evie is here?” he asked softly. He would try once more before resorting to harsher tactics. “If you do that, I will tell you everything I know abou
t Phyllis.”

  Freddy glanced over at him. “You first.”

  “She is getting the best care possible, for one. The strain from fretting about Montague has torn something, perhaps even dislodged the placenta. It is quite painful, but the bleeding has stopped and she is doing better.”

  “Will she lose the child?”

  “That remains uncertain.” He gave his uncle a pointed look. “If Montague were to just let her know he is not dead, it would certainly help calm her nerves.”

  Freddy’s jaw went tight and anger exploded in his gaze, then he turned back to the window. “Your wife is not here,” he said softly. “And before you ask, I did not arrange for her to be taken.” He nodded toward the thick forest, extending as far as the eye could see. “I think she is out there. Montague rode out just before your arrival. He means to find her, so you had better hurry, Jeremy.”

  Chapter 25

  Evie came awake from the terrible dream, disoriented, heart racing, and breathless. She opened her eyes, realizing the little elf with the stick beating her leg was not real. With a long moan, she relaxed against the musty pillow, and gritted her teeth against the agonizing jabs beating painfully in her ankle.

  Cracking her eyes back open, she saw the beams crossing the thatched roof above, then turned her head and found the tiny dwelling empty but for the two flies circling a chipped clay bowl on the table. With a grimace, she sat up, careful to keep her right leg still, and stretched her arms high above her head to work out the kinks.

  Wondering where the little bearded man had gone, she gritted her teeth and scooted to the edge of the bed. Her makeshift cane was resting against the wall within reach and she grabbed it, then hauled herself up, crying out when her right foot hit too hard on the floor.