He was not amused but gave her only a curt nod, saying, “I will instruct John Coachman to follow me back the way you came. There is an inn not a mile ahead. Now, cease your raptures and climb back into the carriage.”
Hurt by his dismissal, she said, “I can see that you are not at all happy to see me.”
“I told you to get back into the carriage.”
His orders caused her to forget all her tender feelings. Opening her mouth to retort, she was stopped by his upraised hand. “Stow it, Kate. Get into the carriage or I will toss you in myself.”
* * *
By the time they reached the half-timbered hostelry known as the Pig and Rooster, Kate’s anger had grown into epic proportions. He had not been glad to see her in the least! Here she had thought to aid him if he were lying senseless and wounded, but he had treated her as a naughty child!
She said nothing as her husband lowered the steps for her to climb down from the carriage. Holding her chin up, she swept into the inn, standing aloof while he dealt with the innkeeper. He took her arm in a firm grip and guided her into a small parlor with one window that looked out over the stable yard. John Coachman was helping Betsy to climb down from the carriage.
Kate whirled on her husband. “I thought you might be dead!”
At the same moment, he raised his voice and said, “Where the devil did you think you were going?”
“I thought you were lying wounded by the side of the road!”
“Answer me, Kate, if you please. Why did you leave the inn, and how did you come to be here?”
“I will only converse with you if you become civil.”
“Pardon me,” he said, voice heavy with sarcasm. “Can you not ever do as you are told? Do you always think that you have a better way?”
She folded her lips together and said nothing. Sitting on the edge of the sofa while Jack commenced pacing the room, running fingers through his wildly disordered hair, she noted unwillingly how tired and disheveled he looked.
“You know what you are? You are a confounded reins grabber!” he pronounced.
Drawing herself up, she could no longer be silent. “How could you expect me to remain in Reading when you . . . I was out of my head with worry . . . when you did not return, I had to do something or go mad!”
“Again, just where did you think you were going?” He stood opposite from her now, angry eyes boring into hers, hands on his hips.
“I am not a naughty child. I had a perfectly rational plan.”
“Kate! In another moment, I will have you over my knee!”
“To Devonshire. To Cousin Freddie. I thought he might know something about . . .”
At this, he threw back his head and roared with rage. “Woman! You have not the least idea of the trouble in which you nearly landed yourself. Your beloved Cousin Freddie is a damned traitor to his country!”
Jack’s rage was frightening, but his words gave her pause. Her mouth dropped open. “F-f-freddie? A traitor? He . . . he has not got the brains to be a traitor!”
“You are undoubtedly right there! But a traitor he is. Can you imagine if you had turned up at his home, asking innocent questions about smugglers and spies, connecting them with me?”
“He would not have harmed me!”
“Kate! Think this through for once in your life! What is the penalty for treason?”
She was taken aback. “Hanging.”
“Is your cousin’s family feeling sufficiently strong to risk hanging rather than disposing of you and then coming after me?”
His words chilled her. For just a brief second, she thought to be glad that he had intercepted her. Cousin Freddie a traitor? She could not take the idea seriously. At least not at the moment. She would think on it later. Why was Jack angry at her? “But, I did not know, Jack. My only thought was to rescue you, though now I find it difficult to imagine why!”
“Had you no faith in my ability to take care of myself? Do you think everyone in the world to be without your superior intellect and ability because we have not been to Italy?”
Her anger flared again. “I had no idea you had such a horrid temper. I cannot imagine how we will ever live together.”
“Nor can I, frankly.”
While they glared at one another in silence, she felt her heart sinking. Well, she had already known he did not love her. But she had hoped . . .
“I cannot stop. I must get to London. The War Office has no idea that their message was intercepted . . .”
“They should by now,” she said coolly. “I wrote to the First Secretary to inform him of events and inquire what was to be done with the courier’s body.”
“Oh, you did, did you?” Never had she thought to see those sherry eyes blaze in such fury. It was as though they were shooting fire.
For some reason, this appeared to be the last straw. Jack resumed his furious pacing.
“For someone who claims to be concerned over my well-being, you are remarkably careless of it.”
“Of what are you accusing me?”
“I suppose in your little epistle that you told them of my involvement in the affair? Did it never occur to you that there might be a spy in the War Office who was feeding information to his cronies, so that they might know exactly when and how communiques were being sent? And that my actions and identity were a well-kept secret?”
Her eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth. “It never did occur to me.”
“Stay out of what does not concern you, Kate!”
Finally quelled, she lowered her head. Never would she have dreamed that Jack could speak to her so. But, indeed, what she had done could have any number of terrible consequences.
“I will instruct my coachman to take you to Northbrooke Park. There you are to remain until my return. Do you understand?”
“But . . .”
“No buts!”
She was determined to speak. “What if you are killed?”
“Trust me to know my own business, Kate! You promised to obey, remember?”
“All that I did was only out of concern for you and for that poor dead man. That was the first time I have ever seen a man with his chest blown open. Did you not think of that? Did you not think that I might have lain awake all night, imagining that man’s pistol turned on you? That you might be lying somewhere with your chest blown open?”
“Then you could have had your damned cake and eaten it, too. I expect Francesco would have been on his way as soon as he received your letter informing him of my death. Good-bye, Kate. I don’t know when I might return.”
Could he really not see how much she cared for him? How frightened she had been?
“Stay in Town as long as you like,” she said, stiff with defiance. “But just remember, I did not ask to be dragged into your business, as you call it. And I certainly never would have married you, had your business not compromised me.”
“Confound it! Must you always have the last word?” He left before she could say anything more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
IN WHICH OUR HERO RETURNS TO LONDON
While continuing his journey towards London, Jack’s head was full of questions. How could Kate do something so idiotic? I thought she had brains! Why does she think she knows everything? Is she always going to be second guessing me? How can I live with a woman who gets up to such starts on a moment’s notice? Who doesn’t use her head?
Gradually his anger spent itself as Apollo galloped beneath him. What a splendid animal he was! Attempting to put troubling thoughts aside, he pondered on the breeding operation that he would begin. Perhaps he would invest in more broodmares. He could expand his stables now that he had control of his fortune. He fell to thinking of other improvements he would make on the estate—renovating the tenant’s cottages, draining the east marsh and planting it with oats, perhaps planting an apple orchard. And Kate would probably want a proper flower garden.
How will she ever get on with my mother? Why had he not thought of this b
efore? First of all, Mama was going to be incensed that he had married without as much as a word to her, never mind an invitation to the wedding. His forbidding parent was bound to realize that the hasty wedding was the result of a scandal. She would probably give Kate short shrift. How could he have been so insensitive as to send her along by herself to encounter his formidable mother?
Because he was angry! And he had every right to be angry. Just imagining the scene she would have created had she arrived at Cleaverings Manor with innocent questions about smugglers and Lord Walsingham made Jack shudder. And he would never have known what had happened to her! That little rat would have come upon her unawares, perhaps cracking her on the skull with some handy household item, and then burying her in the garden without telling a soul. And he would have never again kissed those responsive lips, he would never have possession of that wondrous body, he would never have children by her, would never have such a brilliant marchioness. He would never accompany her to Italy. He would never see her paint. They would never grow old together.
She had given him a terrible scare.
As night ensued, he realized that exhaustion would not allow him to go any further. Riding into Basingstoke, he stopped at the first inn, the Boar and Acorn. After giving the ostler very precise instructions concerning Apollo, he strode into the small, white-washed hostelry. It was not as clean as he would have liked, but it would do for him.
After consuming a steak and kidney pie and washing it down with the local ale, he went upstairs to a lumpy bed and composed himself for sleep. But sleep would not come. Instead, he had visions of an enraged Kate. I had never seen a man with his chest blown open before. Did you not think of that?
He realized that he had never looked at the body of the courier. It could not have been a pretty sight. And he had dashed off in pursuit of the devil who had done that with hardly a second thought. Had Kate’s fears really been so fantastic? What if he had been shot? It had happened just last week, after all. He probably would have been dead or bleeding by the roadside. Her plan to head for Devonshire had been well thought out, as well. How in the world could she ever have suspected that ineffectual-seeming, puffed-up cousin of hers of being who he really was? He wouldn’t have believed it himself if he hadn’t seen his quarry enter Cleaverings Manor with his own eyes.
What crazy instinct had caused him to rip up at her the way he had without so much as a thought? Without listening to her protests? I thought you were dead! You could have been wounded, lying by the side of the road.
Thinking back to his behavior, he had to confess to himself that he had just come through a harrowing experience. He had escaped detection only by a hair’s breadth. And then he had seen her, his new wife, rushing hell for leather into the disaster he had scarcely avoided. I was scared! I realized how close I was to losing her. It made me irrationally angry that, but for Divine Providence, I wouldn’t have been able to stop her.
He had never paused to even think of her motives. She was scared, as well. She was frightened that she had lost me. She cares for me! It was not at all hare-brained for her to have done what she did.
All at once, Jack realized how much his anger may have hurt her. He had said unforgiveable things.
Then he remembered her note to the War Office and became angry again. In that, she had been officious. And she had placed his life in danger. He was going to have to proceed very carefully upon his arrival in London.
Tossing and turning on the lumpy mattress, it was very late before Jack fell asleep.
* * *
On his short ride to London the following morning, he planned his approach. He would go through the Home Secretary rather than directly through the War Office. He arrived close to ten o’clock. Knowing the Secretary’s habits, he decided to try to find him first at home.
The butler assured him that the Secretary had not yet left. Jack awaited him in his library.
“Well, Northbrooke!” his superior greeted him. “Great work bringing down Walsingham! And I understand that congratulations are in order! You are a married man. Your life has been busy.”
“The one necessitated the other, sir. Walsingham had detected my regard for Lady Kate and used her as a hostage. He thought to guarantee his escape from me.”
“And you married her to save her reputation, eh?”
“I was merely looking for an excuse to do so, sir.” He cleared his throat. “But I have something of great importance to discuss with you.” He related all the happenings of the past three days.
“Good work, Northbrooke. Especially the way you handled Cleaverings. You have returned the document to the War Office?” The Secretary leaned forward, elbows on his desk as he surveyed Jack.
“No, sir. It’s my belief there must be a spy in their midst. How else would they have known who the courier was and what he was carrying?”
The Home Secretary looked down, his eyebrows drawn together. “Good question.”
“And there’s something else, Mr. Secretary.”
“Yes?”
“My wife was trying to be helpful. In my absence, she wrote to the War Office, telling them of the dead courier and of my intention to pursue the villain. If there is a spy in that office, I’ve been rumbled.”
His superior looked up sharply. “Why in the devil did she do such a thing?”
Jack bristled. “She had a corpse on her hands, sir. She didn’t know what to do with him. She knew he belonged to the War Office. She wasn’t thinking of anything but the dead man.”
“Assuming you continue to occupy your present situation, can we look forward to her interference with your actions in the future?”
“Probably, sir. My Kate is a splendid woman, but not exactly biddable. She’s used to acting independently.”
“Hmm.” The man picked a pipe from the collection on his desk, and commenced filling it with tobacco. As he was tamping it down, he said, “Do you think, Northbrooke, that it may be wise for you to retire at this point? Even if she had not interfered in this manner, I think the matter worthy of consideration. When you were a bachelor, you could take chances with your life that it may not be wise for you to take at this juncture.” He concentrated on lighting his pipe as Jack considered his words.
He had not thought of this. Kate’s frantic behavior should have made him think. She had never protested at his self-appointed mission to pursue the traitor. But the worry to which he had put her had caused her to behave imprudently, putting herself in danger. And knowing Kate, were he to continue, this would not be the only time.
“I have enjoyed being of use, sir. But perhaps the change in my circumstances merits my resignation. Particularly if I have been rumbled.”
“I agree. Even now, your life may be in danger from some traitor in the War Office. You will have to be on your guard.” He drew on his pipe. “You have the documents on you, I presume?”
Jack withdrew the roll of vellum from inside his jacket and handed it to the Home Secretary.
“I will deliver this myself and update the First Secretary concerning your adventure, as well as your unsettling suspicions. I will also dispatch a man to pick up the traitor waiting for us in Devonshire. Where has your man hidden him?”
“Jerome Mason is my man. He’s standing guard over the prisoner at his home. Your man can get his direction at The Gulls, sir. What’s to be done about Cleaverings?”
“I think the best approach there is to leave him in position. Either he or Walsingham was the kingpin of that little operation in Devonshire. Perhaps other traitors may contact the marquis with information that needs transportation to France. Eventually, we will bring the fellow in, of course. And if we have nothing else on him, we will need you to testify at his trial.”
“I hope you can pin something on him a little more substantial than what we have. His defense counsel could make a case that the traitor had the wrong address. Cleaverings never actually received the stolen documents.”
“True, although he did hide the ma
n. I’ll take care of this. You go home to your bride.”
He stood and held out his hand to shake Jack’s. “No one but me will ever know the valuable work you have done for your nation, Northbrooke. My thanks will have to be sufficient. I pray you will be safe. If I can ever be of help to you in any way, be certain to call upon me.”
Jack gave his superior a firm handshake. “I will, sir. Good luck.”
As he left the house, he pondered his release from duty. He had relished the danger. It was more thrilling than the closest race in his phaeton. Why did some part of him always have to put his mortality in peril? And given that quirk in his nature, how was he going to adjust to marriage and life on his estate?
Suddenly, he threw back his head and laughed. Whatever else it was, life with his Kate would never be boring.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
IN WHICH OUR HEROINE ARRIVES
AT HER NEW HOME
After turning the carriage about and leaving her angry husband, Kate seethed in silence for at least an hour. How dare he treat her like someone with no more sense than a day-old chick?
She tugged at her gloves while staring out the window. The view was lost on her. If she could, if she had access to her fortune this very moment, she would disappear altogether. She would take Betsy and run away to Scotland. They would find a quaint cottage in the Highlands and raise sheep. And she would paint. Kate had heard the Highlands were very scenic. When the war was over, she would go to Florence. And possibly, she would take Francesco as a lover.
How would you like that, John Bailey-Wintersham?
She had forgotten. He probably would not mind at all. He did not love her after all.
So lost in her thoughts was Kate that the first view of Northbrooke Park took her by surprise. The coachman got down to open the gates, revealing a vista that caused her to gasp. Below, at the end of a long descent, she saw a large, Gothic structure with two wings jutting out behind. Situated behind a small lake, it rose dramatically from velvet green lawns on its other three sides. Beyond the lawn was a wood, and beyond that, the land was checkerboarded with small pastures planted with a number of different crops.
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