by Heather Gray
"Because the minister puts in an appearance there every week on Wednesday."
"He hasn't shown yet, though, has he? Each time you've gone to White's, he's been conspicuously absent. Same when you raised that ruckus in the House of Lords. The minister could be on his death bed and not miss a meeting of parliament. On the day you show up, though, he can't be bothered to put in an appearance."
Rupert glowered at Owen. "I know all these things."
"The question then, is whether or not the minister is The Hunter. What say you?"
"You got a better look at him than I did all those years ago. Do you think it could have been the minister?"
Owen frowned. "I wish I could say conclusively one way or the other, but I can't. Do you think…?"
Rupert rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't know. The evidence that says 'yes' is circumstantial. We're putting together a puzzle without all the pieces, and most of the pieces we do have are blank."
Crossing his arms, Owen leaned closer. "Juliana's plan may give us the answers we need to put an end to all of this."
"I forbid it! I'll not be responsible for putting Juliana at risk like that."
The irritated exhalation of breath told him Owen wasn't done with the conversation. Rupert, however, didn't care. He needed some time alone to ponder his options and his reaction. "Out." He raised his hand and pointed to the door.
Owen marched through, but not without muttering, "It's the best shot we've got."
Rupert shuffled over to the window, leaned his cane against the wall, and clasped his hands behind his back.
****
Alright, Lord. It's your turn. What do you have to say about it?
A man can't be rational when he doesn't sleep, and Rupert hadn't slept well in weeks. On those rare occasions that he did drop off, he woke a short time later from the nightmare. Sometimes he relived his Austrian confrontation with The Hunter. Other times, the sound of Juliana screaming roused him because, in his dreams, the fiend tortured her while forcing Rupert to watch.
Eudora and Eleanor were beginning to feel as restless as animals caught in a too-small cage. He saw it in their eyes. Thankfully, they hadn't yet figured out how to tell him what they were thinking. Their discontented grumblings grew in frequency, but they hadn't yet graduated to outright confrontation. They were smart enough to suspect something was wrong and, because he'd insisted they not be told, had begun to distrust him. That, too, was in their eyes. In pursuit of protecting them, he was on his way to destroying the very family he wanted to protect.
Juliana was another story. Strain showed on her face – or maybe impatience – and he wondered if she'd been sleeping as poorly as he. He may have been imaging it, but it seemed the glimmer in her eyes was getting dimmer. She didn't seek him out every day, but those times she did she said little things.
"A ride at the park would be pleasant today."
"Have you given any thought to my suggestion?"
"The duke has a magnificent stable, wouldn't you say?"
Then she'd retreat, and he'd be left stewing about her proposition that he allow her to sit on the front bench of a phaeton in order to set a trap for The Hunter.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her body jerk, the blood spread from a bullet hole where her heart should be, and the life drain out of her smoky eyes. How could he knowingly put her at such risk?
How can you put yourself through the pain of losing her, you mean?
Rupert peered around. Nobody was there. He sighed. It wasn't the first time God had spoken to him, albeit speaking was a somewhat misleading term. It had only happened twice before, but the wind moving through his soul at the sound of the voice was unmistakable. If God saw fit to speak to him, he needed to listen.
Is that it, then, Lord? I'm afraid of how much it will hurt to lose her?
The wind shifted.
As she's afraid of losing her sisters. You would rob her of the right to protect them?
Rupert scrubbed his hand over his face. Staring out the window, he voiced his thoughts. "I don't like it."
Trust me.
****
Owen, who had moved in as a semi-permanent houseguest, joined the family at the dinner table. A month ago, when he'd first dined with them, Eudora had been the one outspoken enough to question it. "We couldn't stay with the duke and duchess because they had an unmarried guest, but we're allowed to have one? Doesn't that strike anyone as odd?"
Juliana had gasped. "Eudora! Manners." Then she, too, had eyed Owen with uncanny interest.
This night proved no less eventful.
As they finished their soup, Eleanor sighed. "It's been lovely out. Couldn't we go for a walk tomorrow? Or sit out in the garden? Anything so we're not cooped up indoors another day longer!"
Her dramatics had their usual affect. Eudora rolled her eyes then pushed her spectacles higher onto her nose. Juliana's mouth twitched until she got her napkin into place, hiding her uncooperative lips from sight. Owen drilled Rupert with a pointed look.
Mrs. Burnham coughed before declaring, "A body's likely to die if kept inside for too long. That's it then, is it?" She eyed Rupert balefully.
"I'm sure I've no idea what you mean," he replied.
"You've decided to hurry my demise with forced captivity. Is it because you covet my cane?" She waved it about and came close to hitting Owen in the back of the head. "Or perhaps you covet my dear Juliana?"
Eleanor paled.
Juliana blushed.
Eudora looked at Rupert and scowled. "Yes, do tell," she demanded.
Owen waited for Mrs. Burnham to set her cane back down. Then he snatched it and placed it out of her reach. It seemed he'd not yet forgotten the beating she'd given him with it in Northumberland.
Rupert, after his initial shock, welcomed the distraction. "Perhaps, Mrs. Burnham, you'd care to go for a walk with me in the garden tonight? Just the two of us, hmm? After everyone else has retired for the night?"
Poor Eleanor looked like she might spit out her food. Eudora glared, and Juliana hid behind her napkin. Owen excused himself, nearly tripping in his haste to leave the room.
Mrs. Burnham, as though nothing were amiss, picked up her knife and fork and wondered aloud, "Where is it that a eunuch finds work these days?" She almost masked it behind disdain, but the snap of humor in her eyes refused to be hidden.
Turning to Eleanor, he said, "No walk tomorrow, I'm afraid."
Eleanor's sigh was enough to snuff out the fire had it not been protected by a screen… and located in an entirely different room of the house.
"Perhaps next week. You may ask me again three days hence."
Juliana's eyebrows shot up at his pronouncement while Eleanor muttered about that being "an eternity of stuffy days away."
Once the last course had been removed from the table, Eleanor, Eudora, and Mrs. Burnham left for the music room. "I'll be along straightaway, girls," Juliana called after them. "You pick out something fun and begin playing without me." The three sisters enjoyed taking to the pianoforte's bench in the evening, taking turns with different songs. While they all played admirably, Juliana and Eudora had the exceptional voices and often sang as well. Even on those occasions that he was occupied and unable to join them, Rupert relished the beautiful sounds filling the house around him.
As soon as Mrs. Burnham was gone from the dining room, Owen returned. "So you've finally decided to agree?"
Rupert gave a terse nod. "We'll do it on the morrow. Owen, find two staff members who can stand in for Eudora and Eleanor. Juliana, make sure the girls are occupied so they don't realize what we're about."
When Owen began discussing where he would position himself in the park so he could be on the lookout, Rupert shook his head. "You'll stay here."
Owen sputtered, the look of incense on his face anything but feigned.
"I am trusting you to protect the girls. You understand the importance of that?"
Pinching his lips together, Owen nodded. The tense line of his mu
scles and the tightness of his jaw said he wanted to argue. Nevertheless, he understood, and he would follow orders. If The Hunter somehow anticipated what they were going to try, he might capitalize on the opportunity to get to Rupert by going through the girls. Nobody wanted to take that chance. After the debacle with the household staff when the Stanwich brothers sent men in after Eudora and Eleanor, Rupert didn't trust them to keep his girls safe. Owen was the better choice. He might even stand a chance against The Hunter if it came to direct confrontation.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
March 8, 1817
Morning came, and after breakfast Juliana set the girls to work refreshing their memories on Latin. "It's been ages since you've worked on conjugations. If you want to catch the eye of an eligible man next season, you need to be able to do this and do it well. A gentleman will be drawn to the woman who intrigues him, not the insipid debutante who cares about nothing more than the color of her dress."
The girls, of course, complained. Who wanted to work on Latin while the sun shone through the library window?
"Owen is going to help you today."
"What?" Eudora squinted, and Eleanor blushed. Owen was attractive enough to have gained the attention of the youngest Clairmont sister. Eudora would go along with it because she wouldn't want to leave Eleanor alone with him.
"He is fluent in Latin, and I thought the two of you would benefit from a fresh face. Get the conjugational work done, then he'll be able to practice conversation with you. He knows more than Latin, too. You might find all of your languages profit from spending the morning with him."
Once the girls were safely ensconced in the library with Owen, Juliana hurried up to her room where she found Rosalie, an upstairs maid, and Claire, a kitchen maid, changing into day dresses belonging to Eudora and Eleanor. The build and hair color were approximate. Juliana selected large bonnets to obscure their faces and shooed them down the servants' stairs.
Rupert had told Owen to recruit household staff to play the parts of the girls, and Juliana had naturally balked. She had demanded he not put innocent lives at risk. That's when she'd learned that Barrows wasn't alone as a War Department employee in residence at their temporary abode. Initially, she was offended at the thought of being spied on, but in the end she became thankful for the amount of protection provided them. Their circumstances called for extraordinary precautions.
Juliana buttoned her pelisse and wrapped her fingers around her easily concealed muff pistol. She hoped she wouldn't need to use it. Rupert wanted to protect her, and she loved him for it, but someone needed to protect him as well.
Love? That can't be. Oh dear… do I love him?
The racing of her heart and lightheaded feeling of a corset too tight when she knew that wasn't the case told her the truth. She loved Rupert. And why not?
He's noble and self-sacrificing. He puts others ahead of himself and doesn't complain about it. And he's an outright idiot, willing to risk his life in order to keep the rest of us safe.
Juliana released a sigh that sounded far too dreamy for her advanced years of twenty and eight.
But he's my idiot, and so help me, if The Hunter touches one hair on his head, I'll cut the fiend down myself.
Her grip tightened around the pistol before she released it into her reticule. Uncle Fitz had made sure all the girls were trained to shoot. She now understood why. It had been scandalous fun at the time to take target practice in the fields of Chakal Manor. Today those lessons would matter. "Thank you, Uncle Fitz." The whisper slipped past her lips before she raced down the servants' stairs to where Rupert awaited her below.
****
He watched Juliana run into the kitchen in the most unladylike fashion. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were bright, and she couldn't seem to help but gnaw on her lower lip. She was… stunning.
For a sliver of time, the worry about protecting his new family fell away, and his thoughts were entirely consumed by the beauty before him. Juliana, who was willing to put herself at such risk to keep her sisters safe. Juliana. His jewel.
What they were about to embark on came crashing back down on Rupert, the weight of it bowing his shoulders. He would protect her. He would keep his jewel safe, no matter the cost.
Juliana rested her hand in the crook of his elbow, and Rupert forced a smile. He didn't pretend to be jolly. She wouldn't be fooled, and The Hunter would find it suspicious. If he was watching. Rupert didn't know whether to hope he was or pray he wasn't.
As they stepped out into the brisk winter air, Juliana pulled close to him. Without his ever having to ask her, she'd always known to approach him on the side with no the cane, which was no small feat. He didn't use the same hand for the cane all the time. A person who knew him well would know he carried it in his right hand on days when he felt hale and hearty and in his left on days that the pain in his leg was more pronounced, making him wholly dependent upon its extra support. Today the yew wood cane was gripped with white-knuckled intensity in his left hand.
Their ensemble slipped out the kitchen door and made its way around the side of the house to the street. It would be hard to maintain their ruse if they meandered through the townhome to the front entrance. They'd need to pass the library where the girls were ensconced with Owen, their handsome Latin instructor for the day.
Thomas' phaeton awaited them when they reached the front of the line of townhomes. It had two bench seats with the back bench under an elegantly draped canopy. Most phaetons had the one seat, but Thomas had insisted on the grander style. His wife had unconventional habits, and bringing the nursemaid and their son William along on jaunts to Hyde Park was commonplace enough that Thomas had it purchased to please her.
Rupert gave each of the girls a hand up into the phaeton and then turned to assist Juliana as well. As she pulled close to him, he brushed his lips against her hair. "Smile. You look like you're going to face a firing squad." Her swift intake of breath told him he'd made his point.
He handed her up into the phaeton, and she gave him a practiced smile that would fool anyone who didn't know her well. "Thank you, m'lord."
Upon settling into his seat, Rupert took the reins and instructed the horses to commence. He guided them in a smart left at Upper Brook Street. They made their way onto Park Lane, and from there to Rotten Row. It wasn't the fashionable hour to be at Hyde Park – or the fashionable month for that matter – but a couple of stray carriages were about.
Rupert, despite his brief foray into taking Juliana and her sisters to the London balls to stir up people's interest, remained relatively unknown. He'd read a gossip column describing him as hawkish with an oversized pointed nose. Upon showing it to Juliana to garner her reaction, she'd laughed and tweaked his nose. "Hawkish, maybe. They are magnificent beasts. Oversized and pointed? The old busybody must not have cleaned her spectacles."
Though many had heard his name whispered in recent weeks, he was not easily recognized. Because of this, most of the park-goers did not wave to him. A few stared with interest. Some stared rudely, as if daring him to prove he was worthy of the privilege of being in Hyde Park. None approached them. They rode on in relative peace. Juliana kept up a constant chatter about various things. She pointed out plants, now dormant, as well as varying birds and critters she spied. Anyone listening in would think the inane conversation was a science lesson for the girls.
After they had made two full loops through the park at a leisurely pace, Rupert decided to lead the phaeton off Rotten Row and onto a lesser-traveled path. Silence settled over them, a mournful shroud. Even Juliana could not combat it with her chatter.
The park was beautiful and unspoiled in this area, the ground barely disturbed. Despite being bitten with frost, the plants showed promise for the coming spring. They would be breathtaking once the weather warmed for more than a day or two.
The path, they discovered, did not connect to another. It ended in a circular turn at the edge of a gentle slope. Rupert instructed the horses to make t
he maneuver, which would send them back down the path the way they had come. Before they completed the loop, a gunshot shattered the silence.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The sound of the gunshot echoed through the clearing and put Rupert's heart to racing. One horse was dead, a bullet to the head. The other reared and fought its harness until the phaeton overturned in the direction of the slope – the side on which Juliana sat. Rupert scrambled out the left side – now the top – and reached a hand back to pull Juliana up. He got her safely onto the ground behind him before reaching back for one of the girls. They'd decided ahead of time to keep the disguises in place as long as possible so The Hunter wouldn't spook and flee.
Rupert held onto Rosalie with one hand and balanced himself on the edge of the phaeton with the other. She got her footing to climb out when another bullet echoed through the unrelenting winter air. Horror choked Rupert as her body jerked and she became dead weight. Her mouth was open in surprise. It would have been almost enchanting had her left eye still been present. In its place, however, a gaping hole oozed viscous fluids from the body and brain.
Claire, the kitchen maid, screamed. A spray of blood from her friend covered her. She stared wildly at Rupert for a fractured moment before she scrambled over the body of her fallen compatriot, fighting to escape the phaeton. She reached for Rupert's hand, and he grabbed it, heaving with all his might to get her up and out to safety before another shot shattered the morning further.
The three survivors hunkered down, their bodies hugging the phaeton. Rupert's voice was urgent. "We know where he is for the moment, but he won't stay in one position. We're safe until he's regained us in his line of sight. Unfortunately, without knowing which direction he's moving, our safety will be short-lived."
The maid pulled the bonnet off and within seconds shimmied out of Eleanor's dress. Beneath it she wore trousers and a loose shirt to give her easy movement. "I have my directive."
Her deadly intent was evident in her eyes and poised-to-run stance. Before she could dart away into the clearing to draw The Hunter's fire, Rupert grabbed her arm to forestall her. "What exactly is your directive?"
