by Adams, Lucy
“You look rather discontented.”
Edward jumped in surprise, turning around to see a tall, thin gentleman walking towards him.
“And you have rather lost your touch, if you did not hear me approach,” the man continued, with a small smile. “Are you intending to go into Whites or are you just wandering around outside it?”
Edward grimaced, glancing over his shoulder to see that, yes, he was outside Whites, just as Baron Smallwood had said.
“Good evening, Smallwood,” he murmured, looking back at the baron. “I fear that you have caught me lost in thought this evening.” He managed a quick smile, knowing that the baron was also involved in all that Edward did. “I should be more on my guard however,” he agreed, feeling a sting of rebuke in his chest. “Ravel could be anywhere.”
The baron nodded slowly, his gaze a little more severe. “Indeed, he could be. I did hear what had occurred with Stirling. I am truly sorry.”
Edward nodded and looked away, glad that the darkness hid his true expression. “I shall miss him, I will confess it,” he admitted. “But if he was involved with Ravel and had lost his integrity and loyalty, then I cannot be sorry for what occurred.”
The baron cleared his throat. “We cannot know the truth,” he said quietly. “Stirling ran from his meeting with this particular spy, I understand?”
“He did.”
“Then mayhap his ‘companion’ had realized the truth,” the baron suggested. “Mayhap he realized that Stirling was not the gentleman he said he was. Mayhap he saw that Stirling was loyal to the crown and, as such, wanted to take his life from him.”
A flicker of interest caught in Edward’s mind. “That may be true.”
“The spy Stirling met still lives, I believe,” Baron Smallwood finished, lifting one eyebrow as Edward nodded. “And you do not know where he has gone?”
Rubbing his forehead, Edward gave the baron a jerky nod, aware of just how frustrating this statement was. “Indeed. He made to attack a young lady who had come from her house and witnessed the death of Stirling.” He swallowed hard, recalling how he had seen Stirling lying there on the ground. “She fought back at him, and I was able to protect her.”
The baron nodded again, his brow furrowing. “I should hope that the spy will not return to that house then,” he said slowly, sending a wave of fright through Edward. “If she has witnessed something severe, if she has seen his face, then surely he may wish to pursue her again to prevent her from speaking a single word.”
Edward considered this for a long moment, not wanting to jump to any quick judgements. “It was dark,” he said, frowning. “I did not think that the young lady had a good look at the murderer’s face, but now that you have mentioned it…” He trailed off, suddenly feeling a strong sense of urgency to return to Miss Wells’ home. “The lieutenant and I have been so concerned over the question as to whether or not she will speak of what she saw to anyone that we have quite forgotten to consider her safety.”
“Then I should consider it at once,” the baron replied quickly. “The house may be quite safe and the like, but if she were to step out alone, as she did before, then…” He trailed off, leaving the rest of his words unspoken, and Edward felt a jolt of fear capture his heart.
“I must go.”
He did not even hesitate, did not reach out to shake the Baron’s hand, but immediately began to hurry off into the darkness, realizing just how much he and the lieutenant had failed Miss Wells in their lack of consideration for her safety. They had been much too concerned with the belief that she might speak of what she had witnessed to others and had not once thought that the spy that had killed Stirling might return to end her life also.
* * *
It took Edward some time to reach the house given that there were no hackneys about and he had not had time to return home and call for his carriage. The house, at least, was sitting quietly with no evidence of anything untoward. Letting out a long, slow breath, Edward put his hands on his knees and dragged in air, trying to quiet his breathing and bring strength back to his limbs. Mayhap there was nothing to concern himself with. Mayhap he had allowed his fright to take much too great a hold of him. There was clearly nothing wrong at the present.
A light flickered in one of the windows, the drapes still pulled back. The young ladies might still be awake, having spent most of the evening at the ball, although he felt certain that they would retire soon. Perhaps he would remain here until the light faded or the drapes were closed, simply so that he might allow his heart to settle somewhat. In the meantime, he would wander along the street slowly, just to ensure that no one else was watching the house or had any nefarious intentions for the Wells family.
The darkness and the early hour made for a very quiet walk. Trying to make as little noise as possible, Edward walked slowly down the street, aware that most of the houses were fully encased in darkness. The residents were obviously already abed, just as he ought to be, and the silence that surrounded him brought his mind a good deal of peace. There was no one else about. No one else sneaking quietly towards the Wells family’s townhouse. Satisfied, Edward turned around and made his way back, thinking that he would allow himself one final glance at the house before returning home. He would address this matter to the lieutenant come the morrow and mayhap something could be done to ensure that the safety of Lady Whitehaven and her daughters was maintained.
His eyes narrowed suddenly as the sound of footsteps met his ears. His heart began to race as he moved slowly forward, seeing the Wells family’s townhouse on one side of the street and a small, shadowy figure on the other. A quick glance towards the house showed a young lady standing by the window, although he could not make her features out. The gentle glow from behind her told him that there was a fire burning in the fireplace, which made her presence in the window all the more apparent.
Suddenly, she disappeared. The glow from the window began to lessen, as though the young lady was aware that the light from the fire and from the candles made her presence within the house much too obvious. Had she seen the other man waiting outside the house?
Edward held himself back as he watched the man. He was gazing at the house, his eyes fixed on the window above. Was he watching the young lady? Was that all that had captured his attention? Edward frowned, aware that the man was not swaying or stumbling, which meant that he was not in his cups and therefore, not at all out of his senses. He was here deliberately, although for what reason, Edward did not know.
Something moved in front of the window again, catching Edward’s attention for the moment. The other fellow chuckled darkly under his breath, before beginning to advance towards the house – and Edward moved immediately.
The yelp of surprise from the man echoed down the street. Edward had leapt at him, using surprise to aid his attempt at capturing the fellow. Grasping at his coat, Edward planted him a facer, looking down into the man’s features, and did his best to make him out, but in the darkness, he found he could not.
“You’ll not save her,” the man rasped, making Edward’s blood burn hot all in one moment. “You can’t. We need her.”
Fear burst in Edward’s chest, but he shoved it away. “Leave her be,” he snarled, grasping the man’s collar and tugging him upwards so that he might plant another fist into his face in the hope that he might be knocked unconscious. “She has done nothing to you.”
Unfortunately for Edward, the man was stronger than he had first realized. Ducking out of Edward’s approaching fist, he then grasped Edward’s collar and, without hesitating, slammed his forehead into Edward’s face.
Pain seared its way across the bridge of Edward’s nose, forcing him to let out a howl of pain, his fingers loosening on the fellow’s coat. The man took the opportunity to twist away and began to run from the scene, reminding Edward of what had happened before.
I shall not let you escape this time, Edward said to himself, setting aside his pain and hurrying after the man. He was quite convin
ced that this was the very same gentleman that had been here the first time, given his intentions towards Miss Wells and the fact that he knew she had witnessed the murder. He had to catch the man this time. He could not allow him to escape.
The sound of a horse whinnying and a loud shout echoed down the street as Edward ran as hard as he could, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. He rounded the gentle corner, only to come across a carriage stopped dead in the middle of the road. The driver was sitting, frozen, in his seat, his eyes fixed on a man lying by the side of the carriage, his features illuminated by the lanterns that the carriage held.
From within the carriage, Edward could hear a gentleman muttering something entirely incomprehensible and, as he glanced inside, saw a gentleman trying to keep his eyes open, swaying from side to side as he fought to retain his seat.
“You are taking your master home,” he said quickly, looking up at the driver who gave him a tiny nod. “This fellow, he—”
“He just ran out,” the driver stammered, his face pale in the dim light. “I didn’t see him, sir. I didn’t mean to do this!”
Edward nodded and tried to reassure the driver. “It was not your fault,” he said firmly, hoping that the driver would feel encouraged by this and not allow himself to fill with guilt. “Come now, we must get the body to—”
Having presumed that the man was dead, it came as a surprise to Edward to hear him groaning aloud. Edward dropped to his knees at once, looking down into the man’s face and seeing his eyes flicker open.
“What is it you want with Miss Titania Wells?” he asked, aware that the man had very little time left on this earth, given that blood was trickling slowly from the side of his mouth and that each breath seemed to be a great labor. “What is it that you seek from her?”
Nothing but a rasping breath met his questions, sending frustration flurrying through Edward’s veins.
“Why do you pursue her?” he asked again, wanting to grasp the man’s collar and shake him hard until he answered, but choosing to refrain from doing so. “What is it that you want? Is it because she saw your face? Is that what you fear?”
The man laughed horribly, his chuckle rattling through him. “She has it,” he whispered, his face contorted as he closed his eyes. “Ravel must have it back.”
Edward opened his mouth to demand more answers from the fellow, to know precisely what it was he spoke of, only for the man’s mouth to stretch into a wide smile and then fade away to nothing, his eyes closing completely and his whole body going limp.
The sounds of his rasping breath faded to nothing. It was clear that he was dead.
Closing his eyes, Edward slumped as he settled his hands in his lap, his irritation growing steadily. He certainly did not know what it was that Miss Titania Wells had in her possession that this man had referred to, nor had he any particular idea of when she had taken this unknown item. He was suddenly afraid that Miss Wells was involved with the French.
“Is he….?”
The question from the driver forced Edward to look up, his sigh answering the question.
“I shall deal with this matter,” he reassured the driver, aware that the poor fellow was trembling visibly. “Take your master home and do not allow any guilt to capture your heart and mind, good sir. I have absolute certainty that there is nothing about this incident that sends any guilt to your shoulders.”
The driver nodded, although he did not look convinced. His hands were still tight on the reins as he turned towards the horses again, trying to find the strength to do as Edward had asked.
“Shall you inform his family, sir?” he asked, as Edward rose to his feet. The driver’s voice was quavering, his fear more than apparent. “You’ll tell whomever it is that he belongs to?”
Edward’s voice was hard. “This fellow was nothing more than a French spy, my good man. You have nothing to concern yourself about.”
The driver’s eyes widened as he turned his head to stare at Edward.
“I can assure you it is quite true,” Edward promised, putting both hands behind his back. “You have helped bring to justice both a spy and a murderer, even though it was quite unintentional, I know.” He gave the driver a tight smile. “Off with you now. Take your master home.”
The driver cleared his throat, his expression still one of astonishment. “Of course, sir,” he muttered, clearly now feeling a little better. “And thank you, sir.”
Edward nodded and waited until the driver and the carriage had disappeared from sight before returning his attention back to the body of the spy. He would have to ensure that the body was removed and buried somewhere quiet, but, thankfully, he knew precisely whom to call upon. This was not the first time he had been required to do such a thing and certainly it would not be the last time either. With a deep breath, he reached down and grasped the dead man’s arms, pulling him towards the shadows in the hope that he would find some quiet, dark nook in which to place him. Then, he could make arrangements for the body to be removed.
“Just what is it that you have, Miss Wells?” he muttered aloud, his body burning with fatigue as he pulled the spy across the cobbled streets. “Why were they seeking you?” Part of him feared that Miss Wells was involved with the French, that she was deliberately encouraging the French, but he was doing his utmost to dismiss the idea. Most likely, she had something in her possession that she did not realize the significance of. Had she known Stirling? Was there a connection there he did not yet realize?
Sighing heavily, Edward pushed the body into a small alleyway, knowing that he only had a few hours in which to have it removed. His mind was working hard, trying to make sense of what he had discovered from the spy and wondering at the connection to Miss Titania Wells.
One thing was quite certain now however—as much as he had told himself he had no need to strike up any form of acquaintance with Miss Wells, he would now have to do precisely that. He had to discover more about her, had to protect her in any way he could. There was no other choice but to call upon her and ensure that their acquaintance grew steadily until he could be certain that she was both protected and not connected to the French in any way.
“Tomorrow,” he muttered to himself, hurrying along the street from whence he had come. “I shall write to her the morrow.”
It could not come soon enough.
Chapter Six
“Good gracious, Titania! This is quite ridiculous!”
Titania hid a smile as her mother walked into the drawing room, knowing that Lady Whitehaven was not at all displeased with what she saw.
“It seems that you had a very successful evening last night,” Lady Whitehaven continued, looking all about her and seeing the many wonderful bouquets of flowers that were practically on every surface. “Just how many have you received?”
Titania made to answer, only for there to come a scratch at the door. Lady Whitehaven called for them to enter and the footman appeared with yet another bunch of flowers and a small note, which he handed to Titania.
“This would be number twelve, Mama,” Titania replied, with a quick smile as the footman looked about himself rather helplessly. “You might put them in my rooms. In fact, do such a thing for any further gifts that arrive.”
The footman nodded and retreated from the room, leaving Titania with the note to read. Breaking the seal, she beamed as she read the words from Lord Huckleby, overwhelmed with delight that he had chosen to send her flowers and write her a beautiful note such as this.
“It seems this one in particular has caught your attention,” Lady Whitehaven commented, with a twinkle in her eye. “Might I know the name of this gentleman?”
Titania shrugged, trying to pretend that it did not mean as much as her mother believed. “It is only from one Lord Huckleby,” she said with a quick smile. “The Earl of Huckleby, I mean.”
Lady Whitehaven’s smile grew steadily. “That is marvelous, Titania. I congratulate you on your success then, for if an earl is eager to call upon you, t
hen I would consider it to have been something of a victory on your part!”
Titania blushed, just as the door opened to admit her sisters and cousin. Merry and Catherine exchanged a glance as they looked all about them, whilst Dinah did not so much as comment, hurrying to sit down in a seat by the fire and opening her book at its place.
Titania resisted the urge to roll her eyes, knowing that Dinah was deliberately ignoring the flowers and the like because, most likely, it was wrong in her eyes for Titania to be so fawned over.
“I see you have garnered as much attention as you hoped, Titania,” Merry said dryly, sitting down opposite Dinah. “Despite your dissatisfaction with last evening.”
Lady Whitehaven looked at Titania sharply. “Dissatisfaction?”
Titania shot her sisters a warning look before smiling up at her mother. “I have nothing to complain about, Mama, truly,” she said honestly. “You need not have any concerns. Although,” she continued, smiling brightly, “might you come to sit with me this afternoon for any callers who might come by?”
Lady Whitehaven nodded fervently, her concern over Titania’s supposed dissatisfaction disappearing in a moment. “But of course, my dear girl,” she answered, before sending a long look in the direction of Merry and Catherine. “And I should be glad to sit with you both also, should there be any callers for you.”
Catherine let out a snort, which she did not apologize for nor try to hide. “I hardly think that you should expect anyone for either myself or Merry, Mama,” she said firmly. “Although we will sit with Titania also, if that is pleasing to you?”
Titania knew she could not refuse. “Very well,” she stated, as Lady Whitehaven began to make her way to the door. “I should be glad of your company.” She did not mean this—for, most likely, her sister would look at each gentleman caller with sharp, unrelenting eyes in the hopes of finding something that they could exclaim over to Titania later. Not that she would care, Titania told herself, lifting her chin as she looked back into Catherine’s sardonic expression. They could say what they wished, but she would make up her own mind.
