Between a Rake and a Hard Place (28 page)

“You wish to speak to me,” he said.

Her dark eyes fluttered open. “Ah. The horseman. Good. I have seen something.”

Jonah frowned down at her. She must have been skulking about spying on the people at Wyndebourne. Honeywood was right. The marquis would not take kindly to such goings on.

“What have you seen?”

“Not with my eyes, you understand.” The woman rose and began to walk away from the imposing manor house. Jonah was forced to follow after signaling to Honeywood to remain where he was by the back door. “This thing I have seen in the Hall of Dreams. Not once, but three times, so it is confirmed.”

“How much will it cost me?” Gypsies were always willing to tell people whatever they wished to hear and charged them royally for the privilege.

“Because it touches a lady's safety, I will tell you now, and later you can decide what my words are worth.”

“Serena's safety, you mean?”

“Assuredly. Have I not said so?”

Not really, but Jonah didn't see the profit in arguing with her. “Go on and I'll deal fairly with you.”

The woman shot him a wry grin. “If I did not believe you would, I would not offer you my help.” Her smile faded. “In my visions, I see the lady. She is in a place she loves and feels safe, but she is not. There is one there who will do her harm.”

“Who is it?”

She shook her head, setting her dark curls jiggling. “One who is unknown to me, but in the Hall of Dreams, I sensed he is well known to you. This person has already dealt you a grievous blow, you and your friends.”

“Alcock.”

“It may be,” Nadya said. “The spirits, they do not trouble to tell me his name. Only the condition of his heart, which is black as a moonless night.”

Then between one step and the next, the gypsy woman collapsed in a shuddering heap to the ground. Her back arched. Her eyes rolled back into her head, leaving only the whites showing, and her mouth was drawn in the rictus of a silent scream.

Jonah knelt beside her but was at a loss for what to do to help her. Fortunately, after only a few heartbeats, she stopped convulsing and closed her eyes. Nadya drew a deep breath and snaked up a bony hand to grasp the front of his shirt. Her eyes flew open wide.

“Now. It is happening now. You must go to her.”

“Where?”

“In the place where she feels safe.” The woman struggled back to her feet. Whatever toll the fit she suffered exacted from her, at least she seemed able to shake off its effects quickly. “The place where she played as a child.”

The
castle
ruins
. With all the crumbling stones and the desolation of the place, there were any number of ways Alcock could arrange for Serena to have an accident there.

“Fly,” Nadya urged, and Jonah took to his heels.

In a surprising turnabout, it has come to our ears that an emissary from a certain royal duke has been dispatched to the Continent as well as one to a peer of the realm's country house. What the significance of this could be, we are at a loss to explain.

Could it be the duke feels the need to hedge his bets and offer for both of the ladies to whom he's been known to direct his attention? Such a thing ought to be unheard of, but to our knowledge there's never been an opportunity to put one's progeny on the throne like this before, either.

We wait on pins for the outcome.

From
Le Dernier Mot,

The Final Word on News That Everyone
Who Is Anyone Should Know

Serena hobbled her mare in the shallow grassy depression that used to be the castle moat and left her to graze. Then she wandered through the bones of the old ruin, placing a hand on the stones here and there as if that might enable her to hear its ponderous thoughts. Surely something that had stood as long as these gray granite slabs must contain some wisdom from prior generations of Osbournes.

She was in desperate need of it.

All she need do to please her father was agree to the duke's offer. Unlike her list of forbidden pleasures, which now seemed like a distant lark, an ascent into royalty would be a different sort of adventure, one in which she had no control of either her person or her actions. The only strawberry in that repressive situation was that there was every chance she would become the mother of a future sovereign.

But she'd have no life of her own, no free choices at all.

Of course, she'd made rather a muddle of her life by making her own choices. Serena ran her list of pleasures through her mind. They'd been diverting and mildly exciting, but none of them had given her lasting joy. A few had even turned out to be rather unpleasant.

Even the last one, the one she'd never had the courage to commit to paper—
Item
eight: Lie with a man for no other reason than because I want to
—had failed her in the end.

One night of loving with Jonah would never be enough.

But he didn't give any indication he wanted to have her in his bed on a permanent basis. He'd never even said he loved her, much less offered her marriage.

The idea of a loveless match, however glittering by the world's standards, was abhorrent. If she didn't wed the duke, she'd have only the long march of days as a spinster to look forward to, along with the added burden of knowing she'd disappointed her father beyond remedy.

She climbed the stone stairs to the top of the curtain wall slowly, as if her legs were leaden. The wind freshened when she stepped alongside the stone parapet. Maybe it would send her fresh thoughts.

Instead it must have covered another person's quiet tread. She didn't hear Mr. Alcock's advance until he was within ten feet of her.

“Oh.” She put a hand to her chest when she caught sight of him, mildly alarmed. “You gave me a start.”

“My apologies, milady,” he said, his words rolling out in that oily cadence only politicians can manage. “It seems I've interrupted your musings. I suppose you do have a good bit to ponder since word about Wyndebourne is that you have received a proposal from the royal duke.”

“You should know better than to listen to rumor.” All Jonah's warnings about the man and how he wished to stop her from just such a match flooded back into her.

“Rumor is mother's milk to one such as I,” he said, spreading his hands in an attempt at a self-deprecating gesture designed to put her at ease. It failed miserably. Every fiber of her being was on high alert. “For argument's sake, suppose you did receive such an offer. What would be your answer?”

“I'd hardly tell you before I told my father.”

“So you haven't given an answer then.”

She edged away from him a step or two, but he followed. “This is none of your business.”

“On the contrary, whether or not the House of Hanover continues its reign over our land is the business of every forward-thinking Englishman,” Alcock said with such vehemence that spittle bubbled at the corner of his mouth. “The Hanoverians have squandered the wealth and prestige of our nation.”

Fear shuddered through her. If Alcock was wild enough to speak so openly of treason, the man might be capable of anything. She needed to mollify him somehow.

“If it makes you feel any better, sir, I have decided to turn down an offer from the royal duke…should one be forthcoming, of course.”

She hadn't actually made the decision till the words spilled from her lips, but now that they hovered in the air, she knew it was the right thing to do. She loved Jonah Sharp, whether or not he loved her back. She couldn't marry anyone but him, not even a prince.

And if Jonah never asked her, she'd simply die alone.

“Well, now,” Mr. Alcock said, “isn't that convenient? You've told me exactly what I want to hear. If you'd been born a man, I'd say you had a future in politics, my lady.”

She continued to back away from him, but there were a few places on the narrow walkway where the stone had fallen away, and she didn't dare move quickly. “I've told you the truth.”

“That's as may be, but I find I cannot rely upon merely your word. You might change your mind. Women are prone to doing that in my experience.” He leaped forward, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. The fellow was quicker and stronger than he looked. He snatched her close in an iron grasp. “Now if Sharp had only lived up to his bargain, you'd be sadder but wiser with your reputation in ruins, but at least you'd still be alive.” He made a tsking sound. “However, now you won't be.”

Then he punched her in the face. Stars reeled behind her eyes, and her vision narrowed to a long dark tunnel before winking out completely.

***

By a trick of acoustics, Jonah heard snippets of voices coming from the ruin long before he broke out of the surrounding trees. He couldn't see Serena on the curtain wall, so he dismounted and moved closer to the gray stone on foot.

“What are you going to do?” Jonah heard her asking.

“Oh, it's not what I'm going to do. It's what you will,” Alcock said. “Distraught over your choice, you have decided to end it all, just like Judas, in a headlong plunge from these ramparts.”

His heart pounding like a cannon volley, Jonah crept up the stone steps. He'd faced a French cavalry charge. He'd been in countless duels that might have gone either way, but he'd never known this gut-strangling knot of fear before. If anything happened to Serena…

“I'd never do something so silly, however distraught I might be. My family knows me better than that. No one will be fooled.” Serena's voice was forced but even.

God
love
her, she's trying to talk a man out of murdering her.

“They'll believe it when they find you hanging here. They'll be too wild with grief to question it. With any luck, your father will blame himself and follow suit.” Alcock loosed a simpering giggle. “Once your young cousin Roland succeeds Lord Wyndleton, he'll be nothing to face down in the House of Lords. You must take heart that your death will help speed the end of the Tories. Possibly even of the monarchy itself.”

“You made a mistake, you know. You shouldn't have hit me,” Serena said. “I can feel the bruise starting already. If I'm supposed to have hanged myself, how will you explain the bruise?”

Alcock had struck her. By God, he was going to pay dearly for that.

“What a sheltered life you've lived, milady,” Alcock said. “Most hanged persons don't die instantly, you see. Your family will undoubtedly believe you dashed your face upon the stone of the castle wall in your final struggles.”

“People who hang themselves don't generally bind their own hands and feet,” she said, an edge of desperation creeping into her tone.

“Never fear, milady. Once you stop thrashing, I'll cut your bonds.”

Damn the man, he had an answer for everything. Jonah inched up the steps and peered onto the parapet. Alcock was kneeling beside Serena's prone figure, tying another knot to keep her arms and legs still. She'd put up a fight, but she was no match for a man's strength.

No matter. Alcock was no match for him. This was one killing that would trouble Jonah's conscience not a bit. He thought about using his horse pistol, but the report of a round might draw unwanted attention to the area, and it would be best for the Triad if Alcock's body wasn't discovered for some time.

Jonah decided to use his hands. It was brutish. Primal. And in this case, he expected it to be supremely satisfying.

He rushed from his place of concealment, roaring in rage. Alcock was too surprised to mount any sort of defense as Jonah grabbed him, lifted him over the parapet, and gave him a toss.

But at the last second, the MP grasped Jonah's arm and held on with a grip like a bulldog's bite. Jonah was nearly dragged over the crenellated edge along with him.

Jonah's chest slammed against the unforgiving stone, forcing all the breath from his lungs. His arm was practically yanked out of its socket.

“Don't let me go!” Alcock wailed.

“You fool. I'm not even trying to hold you.” Jonah's only concern now was that when the man finally did take the long drop, it wouldn't be far enough to do him in immediately.

“Jonah, pull him back up,” Serena said softly.

“Stay out of this, Serena. I'm under orders.”

“The Triad?”

He nodded and gave Alcock a vigorous shake, but he wouldn't let go. The man kept trying to scrabble his heels against the castle wall and clamber up Jonah's aching arm, but he couldn't seem to gain any purchase with his slick-soled boots.

“Fortescue Alcock is a traitor to the Crown, and as such, he deserves no mercy,” Jonah said through clenched teeth. “He'd have given none to you.”

“There's got to be another way.” Her voice called to a small part of his heart, the part that loathed taking a life, even one as deserving of death as Alcock. “Not for his sake, Jonah. For yours.”

He wiggled out of his jacket and tied a sleeve through an iron ring embedded in the castle's stone. Alcock continued to screech for help.

“Pray that the wool is of high quality,” he said, glaring down at the man dangling from the other sleeve. Alcock spouted threats and pleading, but still managed to hang on with white-lipped determination.

Jonah knelt beside Serena and untied her bonds. Then he pulled her into his arms and inhaled her warmth clear to his toes. Suddenly it didn't matter if she accepted the duke's suit. If she was only safe, he'd ask for no more.

Serena, however, had plenty to ask of him. “Don't kill him, Jonah.” She cupped his face with both hands. “Don't you see? If you do, you'll never be free. You weren't made for this.”

Somewhere inside him there was still a young ensign who'd ridden off to war with clean hands and a heart full of love for king and country. He'd never be that innocent again, but he longed for a small slice of it with all his soul.

“No matter what you've done in the past,” she went on, “you can change things now. Truly. It starts here.”

“Why, Serena?” He fingered the purpling bruise on her cheek. His insides burned with rage for the man who was still screaming his head off as he hung suspended between life and a painful death on the rocky scree at the base of the castle wall. “Why do you want me to spare that piece of offal?”

“Because mercy blesses the one who gives it more than the one who receives,” she said. “Because I want to see you whole. Please. I love you, Jonah.”

She loved him. It washed over him like a benediction, lighting all the dark corners of his heart and chasing away the old ghosts. It didn't matter that he'd be disobeying a direct order from the Triad—one from her father, even. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her. Now or at any time.

Their mouths met in a kiss of fervent desperation. When they finally parted, Serena whispered, “Will you spare him for me?”

Jonah rested his forehead against hers. “As long as I breathe, I'm yours to command.”

“Good.” A smile broke over her face, though it was a little crooked since the bruised side didn't lift as much. “That'll come in handy once we're married.”

“No doubt.” Jonah dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose, scarcely daring to believe his ears. Somehow, without having to put together the right words, something he'd never been overly good at, he'd managed to steal a woman away from a prince. Then he picked up the piece of rope that Alcock had already fashioned into a noose and loosened the loop.

“Slip this over your head and under your arms,” he ordered Alcock after he flopped the rope over the side of the parapet. Jonah braced his feet as the man complied. Once he hauled the MP back up, Alcock collapsed on the gray stone in a sniveling heap. A foul smell wafted from him and Jonah realized the man had voided both his bladder and his bowels in terror.

“What…are you going to do with me?” Alcock finally said between gasping breaths.

“A good question since the fact remains that you're a traitor not only to the Crown, but also to the men who fought at Maubeuge.”

Alcock's eyes went wide. “You know about that?”

Jonah nodded grimly. “So I can't simply let you go as if nothing has happened.”

The Triad used its assassins to quash those who were a danger to the Crown without arousing public outcry. Alcock might be brought justice through a trial and finally hanged as an example. But such cases of treason were difficult to prove and would stir up unrest among those who were tired of the monarchy. Alcock could become a rallying point for dissatisfaction, a martyr to his cause.

Serena rose shakily to her feet and pleaded with her eyes. Jonah couldn't simply dispose of him and he couldn't bind him over to the law either.