Jackal (Regency Refuge Book 2)

by Heather Gray

  It was with a frustrated sigh that Rupert pulled out his coin purse and withdrew the remainder of Tommy's fee. He glanced up to find Tommy's eyes on him. "Is everything a'right, sir?"

  Rupert nodded. "Yes, Tommy, thank you. I've your coin here. Thank you for doing the job. I'm glad you made it home and that you're safe."

  Tommy was solemn. "Your duke fella, he paid me handsomely. You don't owe me anything else."

  "If His Grace paid you, that's his business. I'm a man of my word, though, and I'll pay you what I said I would."

  Tommy stood and took the coins from him. "It's important to be a man who does as he says he will. My da taught me that afore he went missing."

  Rupert shook the boy's hand. "It is indeed, Tommy. Life is sometimes cruel, and it takes things away from you, but it can't steal your integrity. Hold onto that with a two-fisted grip."

  "I ought to be headin' home now. Mum will be pleased to see me." Then the boy grinned. "She'll be happy to see the blunt, too."

  Rupert watched Tommy go, and melancholy settled over him. There was little chance he could come out of another encounter with The Hunter alive if it was only the two of them. With a bevy of women to protect, the chances were even slimmer. The Hunter was vicious, cruel in the extreme. He would take delight in incapacitating Rupert and then taking his time to torture and murder each of the Clairmont women in front of him, making him watch.

  Staring into the fire, Rupert muttered, "I know I hit him. I sunk at least one bullet into him. Perhaps he's not as quick on his feet as he once was either."

  "Pardon me?"

  Rupert spun to find Juliana standing in the doorway, a puzzled look on her face.

  "I was talking to myself. Did you need something?"

  She took a tentative step into the study and asked, "Who was the young man?"

  Recalling the way the girls had hidden behind the shrubs, Rupert knew he had more worries than an enemy assassin. Focusing on the puzzle of the Clairmont sisters rather than the depressing possibility of dying at the hands of The Hunter, he almost grinned. "Young Mr. Tompkins. I sent him to notify the Duke of Sheffield about my imminent departure from the castle and to check on a couple of things for me. The duke was quite understanding and even offered us a place at his townhome while I finish sorting out Uncle Fitz's estate."

  "Oh." Surprise brightened her features. "Does this mean the girls will get a season after all?"

  "I'm still working on that."

  "Of course."

  Juliana made to leave, but Rupert found he was reluctant to let her go. "There was something…" His words trailed off as she circled around to look at him. Drat. What was I going to say?

  He remained silent, and she asked, "Yes?"

  Rupert shook his head to rid himself of the cobwebs mucking up his thoughts. "We may be delayed in leaving for London. There is another messenger coming."

  "From the duke?" Her eyebrows lifted, and if he didn't know better, he'd say it was skepticism on her face.

  "No, not the duke." He forced himself to turn away and step toward the desk. "I'll see you at dinner, then."

  Silence met his words, but as he reached the broad expanse of polished mahogany and placed a hand on it, he heard her light steps retreating. He sank into his seat and rubbed his eyes.

  It's bad enough as it is, but if I can't keep my wits about me whenever she's around, how will I ever keep her safe from The Hunter… if this even has anything to do with him?

  Chapter Eight

  January 9, 1817

  Another week passed. The girls were settling into the castle nicely, all things considered. The longer they remained, the more relaxed Juliana became, and the rest of them – Mrs. Burnham included – seemed to follow her lead.

  The Northumberland day was frigid, but the sun shone bright in rebellion. Rupert decided to take a walk around the grounds. His leg became stiff with the cold weather, and he dreaded the days of travel to London. Riding atop the carriage or astride his horse for as many days as it would take them to reach the duke's townhome in Grosvenor Square – both would be excruciating in the damp and cold. There was, however, little to be done for it. He put that particular concern aside and gave in to the lure of sunshine.

  Rupert stopped near some statuary in the garden. He contemplated the sky and said, "I hope You know what You're doing, Lord. Meeting the Clairmont sisters hasn't tilted my world on its side. Indeed, their presence here has twisted it inside out and upside down." Tapping the statue lightly with his cane, he added, "I've a feeling my life is never going to be the same again."

  Whether Tobias' investigator arrived by week's end or not, they would need to begin the trek to London. Putting it off any longer served no logical purpose and may prove to be the more dangerous stratagem. The roads would deteriorate as winter continued to grow in its ferocity, making them even more vulnerable during the journey.

  Rupert pivoted, turning away from the garden and starting toward the front of the property. A handful of steps later, he heard a scream. Several screams, in fact. Biting back an oath at the pain it caused, he ran in the direction of the sound, his cane in hand like a club. He rounded the side of the castle to find Juliana shoving her sisters behind her with frantic hysteria while Mrs. Burnham wielded a cane of her own, pummeling a vaguely familiar man.

  Reaching out, Rupert tried to yank the implement from the old woman's grasp, but she proved much stronger than she appeared. By then, the groom had come running from the stable, pitchfork at the ready. Rupert didn't wish to hurt Mrs. Burnham by wrenching it mercilessly out of her aged hands, but tussling with her over her violent tendencies with a cane proved fruitless.

  "Enough!" Rupert's yell traveled across the manicured landscape until it reached a nearby stand of trees, causing a small flock of waxwings to take flight.

  The visitor stood there, bruises already forming on his hands where he'd tried to protect himself from the blows. His back ramrod straight, he tugged his waistcoat and jacket back into place with stiff movements as he glowered at Mrs. Burnham. With a brief flick of his eyes in the steward's direction, he said, "Tobias sent me."

  Rupert's irritation growled deep in his throat. He glared at the poor groomsman. "Take him inside. See that Mrs. Pembroke knows we have another guest. Ask her to show him to the study and serve tea. He'll need a room prepared, too."

  Wheeling back on the group of women, he declared, "I ought to force you four to prepare his room as penance for the way you greeted him. The man is an associate of mine and is here to help us make the trip to London." Even if he doesn't know it yet. "Is this how Uncle Fitz taught you to greet guests at Chakal Manor? What on earth were you thinking?" His voice had grown to a bellow as he asked the last, his eyes trained on the skeletal woman whose indisputable strength was out of place with her frail form.

  Straightening her curved back until she stood at her full height – somewhere around five feet and four inches – Mrs. Burnham impaled Rupert with her eyes. "You will protect these girls, or so help me, I'll hire someone to turn you into a eunuch. Do I make myself clear?"

  Rupert sputtered. He had no retort. What does one say to a madwoman with fiendish strength?

  He peered toward the girls for help. Eleanor choked on her laughter, trying to keep it silent. Eudora's hand fluttered to her brow as if she might faint. Or to hide a deserved eye roll over the entire situation. Juliana, in contrast… Oh, dear sweet Juliana. She made every effort to school her features, but the terror lingering in her eyes told him more than she likely intended. Hers had been the first scream. She'd reacted to the visitor with hysteria, and everyone else had simply followed suit.

  "Mrs. Burnham, please see Eleanor and Eudora into the castle. The three of you may begin rehearsing the apology you will provide our guest at dinner tonight."

  The girls were compliant. Their chaperone, however, waved her cane at Rupert, causing him to take an involuntary step back, before she whirled around as much as a woman her age can and began walking t
oward the entrance.

  Juliana made a move to follow them, but Rupert stalled her with his hand. "Can you tell me what happened?"

  Her hands fluttered before she fisted them at her sides. Anger wasn't causing her stance, though. Mortification drained her cheeks of color under the dusky rose of her embarrassment. Nonetheless, he could not do the gentlemanly thing and pretend she'd not overreacted. He needed to learn what these sisters were hiding from him.

  "I heard the screams. What caused that?"

  The eldest sister stomped her foot in a most unladylike fashion before looking him square in the eye. "It's my fault. I saw the man lurking and overreacted, which caused my sisters to start screaming, and then Mrs. Burnham started swinging her cane as good as any knight of the realm protecting the innocent maidens. I'm afraid the poor man never stood a chance."

  Rupert chuckled.

  Juliana was indignant. "What's so funny?"

  "I'm trying to picture King Arthur with a horde of knights the mirror image of dear Mrs. Burnham."

  Juliana's lips began to twitch with mirth, and Rupert asked, "What did he do to make you feel threatened? How was he lurking?"

  The look of embarrassment returned to her face. "It's possible he was deciding whether to go to the front door or find the servant's entrance. He stood there and looked around, making no move toward either. I found his behavior suspect. As I said, I overreacted and caused a terrible scene."

  "If you don't tell me why someone standing near the castle's entrance has such power to frighten you, then how will I be able to keep you and your sisters safe? I need to know the enemy you're running from if I'm to properly defend against it."

  "What makes you think we're running from anything?"

  "The fact that you allowed an old woman to cane a perfect stranger without provocation, for one."

  Juliana's troubled gaze flitted away before returning to his face. "Are you a man who follows the law, Cousin Rupert?"

  He gave her a reassuring nod. "Of course."

  Her shoulders momentarily drooped before she squared them. "I was afraid so." Then she spun away from him and, with posture fit to shame most military men, marched resolutely toward the castle's entrance.

  Chapter Nine

  Rupert entered the study and closed the door behind him. He nodded to the man standing by the windows. "My apologies for your welcome."

  Shaking his head, Tobias' investigator extended a hand. "Pleased to meet you. My name is Owen Loring." With a rueful grin, he added, "And I must say, I'm not sure I've ever received a more frightful greeting. I dare say that woman could take on every enemy of the crown and have them all well in line within a fortnight."

  Rupert took Owen's hand, unconsciously evaluating his grip and posture. "Imagine what she could do if armed with a parasol."

  "No one would be foolhardy enough to take her on, I'd wager." Owen glanced around the study before saying, "No mention was made of women when Tobias sent me on this mission. I'd been led to believe your life here was of the quiet pastoral sort. I expected to find you building a butterfly collection or the like."

  Eyes narrowing, Rupert asked, "Do I know you?"

  Owen, who looked to be Rupert's junior by almost a decade, had the good grace to blush. "We've met, but I'm sure you don't remember. I was previously in the employ of a Russian prince and found myself in Austria at the same time you were last there. My employer had a particular interest in seeing a mutual, ah… acquaintance brought to justice and bade me to keep an eye on your dealings."

  The pain in Rupert's leg intensified. Rather than let his reaction to Owen's words show, he moved to the desk and took a seat, indicating his visitor should take the opposite chair. "How, pray tell, did you keep an eye?"

  Owen grimaced his distaste. "It all became a ruddy mess, as you know. I wanted to work for the crown, but nobody hired me. I was too young, they said. So I hired out internationally. I craved a life more exciting than military service."

  The man expelled a breath before continuing. "Like you, we knew The Hunter's aliases, but we'd never seen him and had no physical description to go on. Our information said you would be informing the authorities of The Hunter's true identity, as well as his Austrian aliases. They would capture and arrest him, leading to his public humiliation. The prince was particular about that part. He didn't want The Hunter killed."

  "Why not?"

  Owen shook his head. "The prince never gave me the full story, but our mutual acquaintance had done something to him. He was a widow, and I often wondered if The Hunter was responsible for his matrimonial state. In any event, I followed you to make sure no one interfered when you met with the Austrian authorities. I was supposed to return to Russia posthaste after your meeting, but something kept nagging at me. In the end, I decided to see you safely out of the country. I stayed quite a ways back in the hope of avoiding notice by you and your driver."

  "Did you get a look at The Hunter then?" Rupert's heart thrummed in his chest. Was it possible someone could actually identify the fiend? Tobias would have said so before now. Wouldn't he have?

  Owen shook his head. "Alas, no. By the time I arrived, you were unconscious. A person on a horse – The Hunter I presume – raised his gun to fire again, but whoever it was wore a heavy cloak with raised hood. Between that and the glare of the sun, I couldn't even say if the person was man or woman. I fired my pistol. The rider dropped the gun aimed at you, and the horse took off."

  "Did you pursue?"

  A frown marred Owen's otherwise open expression. "I made a choice to let The Hunter go in favor of obtaining medical care for you."

  "And I'm alive because of it." It wasn't a question. Rupert had very few memories of the months after his run-in with The Hunter. He'd spent much of that time in a fever-induce delirium. He did, however, have a vague recollection of a younger version of Owen. The man had been there at some point.

  Owen shrugged. "That was in God's hands. All I did was give you a fighting chance."

  "You're a believing man, then?"

  A single nod from his guest was Rupert's answer.

  Looking from Owen to the flames dancing in the fireplace, Rupert said, "I didn't used to be, you know. After I survived that encounter, I started to change my opinion. I shouldn't have lived, there's no denying it. Fighting chance or no, I should have been dead on the street. Once I finally got my wits about me enough to realize I wasn't, I began to believe God might have a greater purpose for me."

  Owen pulled an envelope from inside his jacket and handed it to Rupert. "I'm not an expert on such things, but I've seen enough in my life to know I'd have to be cork-brained not to believe in the Almighty."

  Rupert took the offered envelope and read the missive within. The brief note of introduction from Tobias was sufficient enough for him to believe Owen was who he appeared to be.

  Looking the younger man over, Rupert asked, "What ever happened to the Russian prince?"

  A grimace met his question. "He took exception to my letting The Hunter go. I was released from his employ."

  "It worked well for you, then. Your heroism brought you to the notice of the minister, I assume?"

  With a modest tilt of the head, Owen said, "Aye, that it did. It worked out for the best. It helped that I knew his son."

  "Oh?"

  "We were a couple years apart, but Lysander and I were at school together. My work in Austria earned me an audience with the minister, but I think it was my distant relationship with his son that tipped the scale in my favor."

  The two paused as Mrs. Pembroke entered with a tea service. She set the tray on the desk and poured them each a cup. "Will there be anything else?"

  "No, Mrs. Pembroke. Thank you."

  After the woman closed the door behind her, Rupert took a sip of his tea. "So tell me what you learned on your journey."

  Chapter Ten

  The entourage took to the road the next morning, and the first several days of travel passed without incident. As evening ap
proached on the sixth day of their journey, the carriage and riders sought out an inn in Luton. Tired and stiff from countless hours in cramped confines, the women were quiet as they disembarked. Even Mrs. Burnham failed to threaten anyone with a wave of her cane as they trudged into the Hagfish Inn.

  "How many rooms do you have available?"

  The innkeeper eyed Rupert and the subdued women and grinned wolfishly. "One room is all I've got left, I'm afraid."

  Juliana sputtered, but Rupert merely nodded. "We'll take it. Any chance the rest of us can bed down in the stable?"

  "If you find a spot, you can have it. We've got more people than space, so you might end up sleeping in your coach."

  Rupert nodded, put his hand on Juliana's elbow, and guided her toward the stairs where a young boy waited to show them up to their accommodations.

  After the four women squeezed into the small room with a single bed, Rupert gave the lad a coin and requested he see to it that a meal was sent up for the ladies.

  As soon as the boy was gone, Juliana asked, "How are we supposed to be comfortable in here?"

  "I daresay comfort isn't a priority at the moment. A roof over your head is enough to be thankful for. They could have had no rooms."

  Juliana's hands dropped to her sides, and she glared at him. "We've not been forced to stay in such conditions before."

  "It's a miracle we haven't already run into this." Rupert's voice was clipped. "This close to the city, the inn was bound to be full. We'll be in London tomorrow. Make the best of it."

  ****

  Juliana stared after him. Rupert had never been so short with her before. She slipped over to the door and watched as he descended the steps. His limp was much worse than usual, and he held onto the banister with a death grip. Guilt swamped her.