Always a Temptress (10 page)

Thrasher went beet red. “Yes, Y’r Worship.”

She nodded briskly. “I would like to thank each of you for coming to my aid. You have my undying gratitude…well, except for Frank. He must pay a penalty for thinking I considered an empty wine cellar appropriate accommodations for a duchess.”

As she spoke, she looked around. “And where is Frank? I have decided to forgive him. After all, Harry was the one who gave the order. I’ll punish him instead.”

She noticed that everybody was looking over at Harry, as if expecting him to speak. Then they made the mistake of looking over to where three bundles lay on the floor. Kate looked, too. She stopped, her heart skidding in her chest. The drape had slipped a bit from one of the bundles. A shock of bright orange hair peeked out.

Oh…

For the longest time, she could manage no more than a stricken silence. Another specter to pace the night with her. “You’ll furnish me with the direction of Frank’s family,” she told Harry without looking away from that untidy bundle, so easily overlooked amid the jumble of debris.

“That’s not your—”

She leveled an unrelenting glare on him. “It is my life he saved.”

“Maybe when we find a safer burrow,” Harry suggested. “Right now, the carriage is ready. We need to leave while we can.”

“We have your trunk packed, Lady Kate,” Barbara offered.

Kate stalked right past her. “Bother my trunk. Just promise to get us to Bea.”

Harry tried to stop her. “I told you, Kate…”

“Thrasher,” she said, not looking at Harry. “Did Axman Billy threaten Bea?”

Thrasher’s nod was emphatic. “’Eard the blighter m’self.”

“I heard it, too,” Finney admitted. “Said after they killed you, she were next.”

Only then did Kate face her nemesis. “That means the discussion is closed.” And turning in a whirl of azure kerseymere, she led the way out.

I
t took fourteen hours to reach Mayfair. It might have been easier if they had used the inns Kate frequented on her way to and from nearby Eastcourt, but she had to agree with Harry that it would have made her far too vulnerable. The horses were of lesser quality and the changes less efficient, but the trip passed quietly and without event.

By the time they turned the corner onto Curzon Street, Kate felt as if she would splinter from the effort to hold herself still. She hadn’t slept, because she couldn’t bear to close her eyes. Darkness sent her head spinning, especially in the carriage’s small space. She didn’t eat, because she couldn’t still herself long enough. She didn’t even have her anger to keep her company. Only guilt over Frank, who had tried so hard to be kind, and a grinding worry for Bea, which did nothing but make the miles stretch longer. She was plagued by a growing sense that without knowing it, she had put her dear Bea in very real danger.

From the moment Harry had told her why he’d taken her, Kate had been relying on the assumption that he was wrong. She’d been so sure that the Surgeon, knowing his life was forfeit, had taunted them with lies to distract them from the real prey. But Axman Billy had come after her. If Harry hadn’t moved so quickly, she would have been dead. Which meant…which meant she
must
know something. She just didn’t know what.

She hadn’t lied to Barbara. She did know everyone in the ton, both those she wished to and those she didn’t. But certainly no one had whispered secrets in her ear…well, not
those
kinds of secrets. True, her uncle Evelyn had admitted to being a Lion, but she couldn’t remember when last she’d spent time with him. Like the rest of her family, Uncle Evelyn had never approved of her.

She obviously didn’t have the mysterious verse on her. Could it be in her Curzon Street house? Could someone who attended her At Homes have tucked it away somewhere, thinking it would be safe in a home devoid of political interests?

Harry would expect her to find out. She didn’t even know where to start. And in the meantime, she was beset by the image of Bea sitting unaware in the small morning parlor where she so loved embroidering bumblebees onto pillowcases as assassins closed in.

When they finally passed the plain red-brick facade of her house to find it quiet, Kate almost slumped in her seat. She realized she’d almost expected it to be smoking and shattered, much as they’d left Diccan’s old abbey.

In the deepening twilight, all seemed peaceful. Light spilled from the fanlight over the door and out the front windows. A few hackneys clattered by, and the occasional pedestrian passed. But the majority of denizens were tucked inside their own homes.

Turning onto Clarges, the carriage swung into the mews that ran along the back of the house and stopped. Thrasher ran to hold the horses as Harry swung stiffly from the job horse he’d acquired two posting houses ago, a rawboned gray that reached around to try to nip him. Harry batted its nose and leaned into the carriage window. “Wait here.”

And without another word, he was sprinting up the walk and through the gate into Kate’s tidy little garden. She lost sight of him then, but could imagine his course. The library opened off the garden to the right, but steps led down to the kitchen. She’d give him five minutes and then, permission or not, she was going in.

Finally, Mudge opened the carriage door and let down the steps. “He waved us in.”

Taking Mudge’s hand, Kate lifted her skirt and climbed down into the cobbles. Then she was running, following Harry’s path. She opened the kitchen door to find her two kitchen maids chopping vegetables.

“Lady Bea,” she demanded.

One of the young maids had the presence of mind to point to the green baize door. “Her parlor, Lady Kate. Lady Kate, y’r brother—”

Her brother could wait. Lifting her skirts, she ran up the servants’ staircase to the first floor and down the hall to the yellow morning room. And there sat Bea, tidy in gray merino wool and blond lace, a pair of little round glasses perched on the edge of her nose, a needle and yellow thread in hand.

Harry stood alongside Bea, but Kate had no time for him. She could only see her dear Bea, smiling as if Kate had returned from a sea voyage. Bea looked so placid that anyone could think her unaffected. But Kate saw the results of her friend’s embroidery. The bumblebee Bea could normally sew in her sleep looked more like a black-and-yellow cyclone, and her dear friend’s hands shook.

Kate dropped to her knees and stilled those hands in hers. “Well, my dear. As you see, I refused to stay away from you. What do you say to a bit of an adventure?”

Tears welled in Bea’s eyes, and she pulled a hand free to stroke Kate’s mangled hair. “
Mysteries of Udolpho
?”

Kate chuckled. “Sadly, no. Nothing so romantic as ghosts or mysterious monks. In fact, nothing more exotic than Lions. But they do seem to be on our heels, and they seem to think I have that bedamned verse everyone is looking for.”

Bea tilted her head, looking like an elegant sparrow. “Legerdemain?”

“I swear, my love. I am hiding nothing. But you need to help me figure this out. I admit I am all at sea. We cannot do it here, however.”

Bea nodded, patted Kate on the cheek, and gathered up her sewing. “Foxhunt.”

“Indeed,” Kate agreed, climbing to her feet. “We’ll go to ground. I have no wish to be caught in the open when the next attack happens. I’d rather not have to deal with guns. Although I am to learn the most clever things with knives.”

Only the next attack didn’t come by gun or knife. It happened by writ, and the writ was brought by her brother.

Kate had run upstairs to collect a few things for Bea and herself, with Harry hot on her heels. Kate’s abigail gathered Bea’s things while Barbara stayed with Bea. George and Thrasher were poling up a new team of horses while Maurice raided the kitchen for food to sustain them on their flight, and Parker and Mudge watched for invaders.

“We already have your luggage on the coach,” Harry protested, stationing himself by the door of her boudoir.

“Nothing practical,” she said, throwing a pair of half-jean boots into a carpetbag. “Difficult to run for one’s life in
peau de soie
and lace.”

As quickly as she could, she gathered sturdy dresses, sturdier half-boots, unmentionables, and cloaks. Focused on speed, she didn’t notice Harry’s attention wander.

“So this is it,” he mused.

She didn’t bother to look up from folding clothes. “What?”

“The psyche mirror.”

She looked up to see him reflected, boots to hair, in her notorious mirror. He was watching her in the reflection. She grinned, knowing he expected it. “Tickles the imagination, doesn’t it?”

He turned his focus on his own reflection. “I’m not sure.”

When Kate closed up the carpetbag five minutes later, he was still standing there, looking in the mirror. She couldn’t imagine what he found so interesting. “Ready?”

He seemed to startle to attention. “Yes.”

Taking the bag from her, he opened the door. Kate had just followed him into the hall when she heard a commotion downstairs. Harry stopped, his arm across her chest.

“Her Grace is not at home,” Kate heard Finney say in his most dignified tones.

“Don’t be impertinent,” came the answer. “Of course she is. I’ve had someone watching the house. Now let me through. I am her brother, the duke.”

Kate gaped down the stairwell. Edwin? Here? Any other time she would have laughed at how Edwin felt compelled to remind people he was the duke, as if he recognized his own inadequacies. But tonight, the sound of his voice set off something ominous in her. Too much had happened in the last few days; she didn’t think she could tolerate another surprise.

“Would you like us to escort him out?” Harry asked with a tight grin.

“And be hanged for touching a lord of the realm? He’d do it, too. Edwin is nothing if not jealous of his dignities.”

Suddenly Finney’s face appeared around the corner of the stairs. “What do I do? He has two constables with him.”

Kate froze. Constables? That couldn’t be right. She must still be muzzy from being locked in that cellar. “He’ll terrify Bea,” she said, lurching toward the stairs. “I have to get to her.”

Harry grabbed her by the arm. “Wait. You can’t just go charging down there. We don’t know why he’s here. He could be—”

Kate actually did smile this time. “A Lion? Come, Harry. You know Edwin. He hasn’t the imagination for conspiracy.”

Smiling for Harry, she followed Finney down the stairs and into the salon where Edwin loomed over Bea, looking as uncomfortable as a Methodist meeting a Hottentot. Kate usually delighted in watching an exchange between them, as Bea took great pleasure in confusing the duke. Tonight, though, Bea bore the look of a cornered rabbit, her gaze focused on the two lumbering behemoths who bracketed the salon door.

Kate spared them no more than a glance. “Edwin, what a surprise. You caught Bea and me just on the point of going out.”

Edwin spun around as if Kate had ambushed him. He hadn’t even removed his hat. For such a bombastic man, Edwin should have been larger, heartier. He looked more like a mole with a receding hairline. Tonight his color was high. He looked…exhilarated.

It was then he seemed to realize that Kate wasn’t alone. In fact, that she had a few behemoths of her own. Mudge and Parker took up positions alongside Edwin’s men, and Finney stood in the doorway. Beyond him lurked Schroeder and Thrasher.

“Who the devil are you?” he demanded, stepping back. He sounded rather like a cat who’d caught his tail under a rocker.

“Ah,” Harry said quietly, in a tone of unmistakable command. “You don’t remember me.” Then he was bowing. “Harry Lidge.”

Edwin lifted his eyeglass. “Lidge? Good heavens. You’re not getting involved in this again, are you?”

“Involved in what?” Harry asked placidly, leaning against the Adam mantel.

Edwin wasn’t about to be questioned. “Step aside. I am here to see my sister.”

“And these gentleman?” Harry persisted, pointing to the two by the door.

“None of your business.”

The salon became crowded after that, what with Edwin’s oversize companions ranging against Kate’s. Kate was having trouble breathing, as if the visitors were stealing her air. If it hadn’t been for Bea, she would have been tempted to run.

“Isn’t this rather excessive, Edwin?” Kate said, beset by a growing sense of peril. “Even for you. Did I inadvertently walk off with the family rubies last time I was over?”

“This is a personal matter, Kate. I insist these people leave.”

She crossed her arms, refusing to sit, which kept everyone else on their feet as well. “And I insist they stay. Say your piece, Edwin. I am late for an engagement.”

Edwin assessed the hostility in the room and retreated a half step toward his companions. “You’ve left me no choice,” he insisted in his nasal whine. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

She sighed. “I might better be able to answer that, if I only knew what it is you’re talking about.”

Edwin blinked as if she’d just shone a bright light in his eyes. She knew better than to confuse him. She couldn’t seem to help it.

“The painting,” he finally said. “I warned you.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “What painting?”

“We need to get goin’,” one of Edwin’s companions whispered with a nervous glance around the crowd. “You wanna show ’er?”

Edwin flashed him a black scowl. Even so, he reached into his coat and withdrew an official-looking paper. “I don’t know what else to do anymore, Kate,” he said. “I’ve tried everything to quell your wildness. But my father was right. You have the devil in you. I should have locked you up as he did before you went too far.”

Kate froze. Edwin was going to use that blasted painting as an excuse to take control of her. “What has gone too far, Edwin? I haven’t even been in town.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “All I had to do was bring a judge to see your latest travesty. One look at that offense to everything decent, and he agreed that as head of the family I had a duty to keep you restrained to stop your madness.”

“Restrained?” She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She had a terrible suspicion that she was melting and freezing at once. “You have no right.”

“I have every right. I am head of the family. I’m responsible for your safety. More, I have a responsibility to my children, to the honor of the Hilliards, which you have endangered. So I had to take it upon myself to rectify that and see you stopped.”

“What have I told you, Bea?” Kate asked, struggling to sound nonchalant. “
Vasa vana plurimum sonant
.”

It definitely wouldn’t have helped to share the translation: Empty pots make the most noise.

Bea’s smile was impish. Kate heard Harry choke back a laugh. As for Edwin, his reaction was all too predictable. “What? What did you say? I thought Murther cured you of that Latin nonsense.”

With an effort, she kept a serene smile on her face. “I seem to have relapsed.”

“Well, don’t worry,” Edwin said. “You’re finished with it now. You think you’re so smart. Did you really think you could get away with being painted
naked
?”

“But I didn’t have myself painted naked, Edwin. Even if I did, though, it is not, to my knowledge, illegal.”

“It is, however, sufficient proof that you aren’t competent to handle your affairs.”

And suddenly, in a devastating instant, it all made sense. “You don’t care about your children’s morals, you hypocrite,” she charged. “This is about Eastcourt.”

Edwin flushed an ugly color. “Nonsense.”

“Don’t lie, Edwin. You have no facility for it. You never forgave our mother for making sure I inherited Eastcourt. You never forgave Father for making sure I got it back when my husband died. You want it for yourself.”

“I do not! But anyone can see you don’t know what you’re doing with it. Who in God’s name turns prime pastureland into a
flower farm
?”

“You obviously haven’t seen our books.”

“A flower farm?” Harry asked behind her. “So that’s what the tulip pamphlets were about.”