Corey McFadden (23 page)

Radford turned with relief to face his reliable stable master. “We were attacked. Frederick. Hobbs is hurt, hit by a rock or weapon of some kind. I believe he’ll be all right, but I’ll need your help in getting him down.”

Frederick nodded and moved to the front of the carriage, while Radford climbed back up to the driver’s seat. He lifted the coachman down as gently as possible into the waiting arms of the stable master. Fortunately, Hobbs was not a heavy-set man, and Frederick, even at his age, could handle the weight.

“Put him down on the straw. That’s right, gently,” the earl said, climbing down to help.

They stretched the coachman out, and Radford bent to examine the wound on Hobbs’s face. Frederick held up a lantern so that the light was cast on the man’s head. “There’s a bad lump and a bruise as well as the cut,” the earl said. “I’ll have Mrs. Formby send for the doctor.”

Hobbs groaned again, and his eyelids opened, then closed.

“Get a cool, damp cloth and sponge his face, Frederick. I don’t think the gash is too deep, but it is hard to tell with so much blood.”

There was a noise at the door and Radford turned to see Mrs. Formby hurrying toward him. The good woman had had sense enough not to take the time to dress, but she was nevertheless appropriately dignified in a heavy quilted dressing gown, buttoned from head to toe.

“My lord,” she panted, her haste obvious in her breathlessness. “What has happened?” She knelt beside Hobbs and took the cloth that Frederick had just dipped into a water trough and wrung out. She dabbed gently at the wound.

“We were attacked in the coach, a robbery attempt, I suppose. Unfortunately, Hobbs was hit with a rock to stop the carriage. And the worst is that...” he hesitated over the name. “Mike is hurt inside the carriage. Creased in the ribs with a bullet. I do not think it is too serious, but we will have to have Mr. Mathes in to look.” Radford drew a deep breath. The hard part was still to come.

Mrs. Formby sat back, a look of serious concern on her face. “I’ll see to the lad then, my lord. I think Hobbs is coming around.” She began to get to her feet, a cumbersome process.

“Wait! If you please, Mrs. Formby. I need a word with you.”

He gestured toward the two stableboys who stood apart, not daring to come too near, but gaping at the group huddled about Hobbs in the straw. “You boys, run and fetch the doctor. Do you know where Mr. Mathes lives?”

They both nodded dumbly.

“Take the pony cart, and be quick about it!”

The boys scurried away to hitch up the pony. Rarely did they receive direct orders from the earl himself, and the events of the evening were thus far too deadly serious for them to pull their usual shenanigans.

“Mrs. Formby, who is awake, that you know of, in the house?” Radford spoke in a low voice, so as not to be overheard by the boys at the other end of the stable.

“Martin is awake to let your lordship in. Everyone else is abed.”

“Good. I...we have a problem, and for now I should like to keep it to just the three of us. I know I can rely on your discretion.” His gesture took in Frederick as well. “This is awfully difficult to explain, because I don’t understand it myself.” He was conscious of their eyes on him, uncomprehending.

“I checked to see the extent of...Mike’s wound. I pulled off his jacket and shirt.” Still, they stared. He fancied they were thinking it was he who had been knocked on the head. “Look, the point is, Mike is not what he has claimed to be. He is not a boy. He’s a girl....” This was worse than he had even imagined. He felt his face flame scarlet, aware that these two dignified, elder retainers were looking at him as if he had gone daft. “It’s true. I’m afraid there is no doubt whatsoever about what I saw...” he trailed off lamely. Mrs. Formby had the beginnings of a scandalized look on her face.

“Mrs. Formby, you should know that he...she saved my life. The gunman had the gun pointed right at my heart and she leaped between us. Whatever she has done, we owe her the chance to explain herself to us in private.”

Mrs. Formby took a deep breath. He could see that she was attempting to calm herself.

“Of course, your lordship is correct,” she said. “I must confess, however, that I feel we have been much deceived by this...young woman. I cannot imagine why she has chosen to inflict this fraud upon your lordship and your household. And I am now terribly worried that there may be something unsavory, even criminal, involved in this bizarre deception.”

“I am quite concerned myself, Mrs. Formby, although we must remember that she has been with us for almost two months and we have seen nothing amiss in her behavior.” He stopped, aghast at the number of recollections which tumbled through his mind: the girl drying him after a bath; the girl helping him to dress and undress....“Under the circumstances, I would have to say she has been, ah, discreet. And she did me a good turn tonight.” Two, in fact, he thought to himself. He heard the boys clatter off in the pony cart.

“I would hear her side of it before we make a decision as to what course to take,” he continued. “I am very much opposed to having this bruited about. Frankly, there would be a great deal of raucous amusement at my expense among the
ton
, if it were to get out that I have had a female valet for some weeks and haven’t known it.” He could just imagine the sort of ribbing he would have to take from those jackanapes. He would be the laughingstock of society for months...years, perhaps. He grimaced with annoyance. The chit had better have a grand explanation for placing him in such a ridiculous position.

“What I propose is that we take her upstairs to my room. We can let Mr. Mathes examine her there tonight, and tell no one else, and I mean no one, that she is there. You may give out that I have a touch of something or other. We’ll let the rest of the staff think that Mike is taking care of me. We’ll say that since I do not wish a recurrence of what happened to the household with the influenza, no one else is to be allowed in the room until I am well.

“We’ll let her recuperate, and I’ll make a decision as to where she shall go from here, depending on her explanation for this extraordinary masquerade. She obviously cannot come back into the household as a female servant. She would surely be recognized. And I don’t think she can go to Radford. There is too much commerce between the two sets of staff.” The earl was almost thinking out loud. “Perhaps, if I am convinced that she had good reason for this charade, I will persuade one of my friends to hire her on. She is, after all, a good worker.” He felt the most curious pang of regret at the thought of her working for someone else. Still, it was impossible that she stay with him....

Mrs. Formby said nothing, nor did Frederick. Radford could see that they disapproved of aiding and abetting such deceit. So be it. He could think of no alternative, short of throwing the girl into the street tonight, and he could not bear to do that after what she had done for him.

“Shall I tell the household about the robbery attempt, my lord? I fear I will have no choice with those two scamps knowing about it.”

“Yes, you will have to, no doubt. Besides, Hobbs won’t be good for much for a few days. But you needn’t mention the shooting. I don’t even think Hobbs knows about that. He was likely already knocked out when it happened. We’ll just say Hobbs got coshed on the head and then I frightened the bandit off. No need to make much of it. Frederick, do you think you can carry the girl up to my room alone? She’s a slender thing, can’t weigh much.”

“Aye, m’lord. She’ll not be too much for me.”

“Good. And find the pistol. It dropped onto the floorboards, I believe. I don’t want those two scamps finding it.” Something twigged in his brain about pistols and scamps, but there was no time to chase errant thoughts now.

“I will go into the house and ask to see Martin in the library,” he went on, pleased to find a plan forming. “I’ll tell him about the robbery and ask him to put an ear to the ground and see what he hears. While I have him engaged, you can carry the girl up. Mrs. Formby can go ahead of you to make sure no one else is about. Martin will see that whatever the injury to Hobbs, I myself was not injured in the robbery. That way, when I am ill tomorrow, no one will be alarmed or unduly suspicious. Then, after I’ve sent Martin off to bed, Frederick, you get back out of the house as fast as you can. You can let the doctor in the rear door when he’s finished looking over Hobbs’s injury.”

He sat back, rather pleased with himself. If he could pull this off without anyone finding out, he would not have to be the butt of every joke in London.

“Well, if we are all settled in our roles, let’s get started,” he said, hearing no ‘buts’. “I cannot be sure how soon those two scamps will be back with Mr. Mathes. I’ll go in now and talk with Martin. Give me about three minutes, Frederick, then you and Mrs. Formby may come in with the girl.” He rose and walked toward the door.

Radford banged on the rear entrance. While most of the peerage would insist upon being let off at the front entrance, he had never been much for standing on ceremony late at night. Martin opened the door at once. His concern was apparent. No doubt he had heard the stableboy summon Mrs. Formby a few minutes ago, but he waited until he was addressed.

“Someone made an attempt on my life, Martin. I should like a brandy in the library, and I wish to speak with you.” The earl marched forward, exuding calm and control.

“Very good, my lord.”

They walked quietly through the lower rooms, then Martin moved ahead to open the library door for the earl. Radford waited while Martin poured a brandy into the snifter. It would be good to have something decent to drink for a change, he thought, smiling ruefully to himself at the thought of how the “boy” had so efficiently diluted his drinks all evening, like an old mother hen. Why had he not seen...?

Martin approached with the snifter on a small silver tray. Radford took it and sank into his favorite chair. Martin stood like a sphinx while Radford took a few pensive sips. He was killing time.

“We were attacked coming through a small street, Martin, by an assailant wielding a large pistol. He threw something at Hobbs, a rock, I suppose, to force the carriage to a halt. I am certain Hobbs will recover, but we have sent for Mr. Mathes, nevertheless.”

The earl paused while he took a few more sips. He had never been one to take his courage from the bottle, but this brandy was certainly improving things. “I am troubled by this robbery because the assailant was not dressed like the usual street ruffian. His clothing—what I could make out in the dark—was nondescript, but of decent quality. And the pistol he brandished was an excellent one, far superior to the sort one associates with robbers. Also, he addressed me as ‘my lord’ and did not ask for my valuables, just tried to shoot me straight away. I was fortunately able to thwart the attempt.” He felt a fleeting guilt at taking the credit when it was the boy...no, girl!...who took the bullet.

“It was all most unusual. I am just not sure it was an ordinary robbery. I should like you to make discreet inquiries about town. See if you can turn anything up.”

He drank again, listening to the almost inaudible noises which told him that Frederick was passing in the hallway with his burden. “Have you heard of anything of this sort happening recently?” he asked, stretching his feet nonchalantly in front of him.

“I have not, my lord, but I shall make inquiries right away. Does your lordship wish to involve the authorities?”

“Not at this point, I think. In all likelihood it will be like looking for a needle in a haystack and if it is an isolated incident, I don’t think I will pursue it.” Radford spoke with studied composure. He would like nothing more than to catch the bastard who had tried to kill him and had wounded two of his staff, but at present he could ill afford to have the authorities nosing about. He would hate to have to produce his ‘valet’ as a victim and a witness in a court of law.

“In that case, my lord, I will make an unofficial inquiry.”

“Well, that is often the most effective kind anyway, eh, Martin?”

“Quite, my lord.”

There was almost the hint of a smile on Martin’s face. Martin was shaping up to be every bit as austere as Farnsworth, an occupational hazard for a butler to the peerage.

“Well, you may retire, Martin.” Radford judged he had given Frederick enough time to make his way into his room with the girl. “Lock up the front entrance, but leave the rear unlatched. Mrs. Formby and Frederick are sitting with Hobbs in the stable, and I may wish to talk with the doctor about Hobbs’s injuries.”

“Very good, my lord. And may I say I am relieved to see that your lordship suffered no injury in this foul attack.”

“Thank you. Although, I’ve a beast of a headache and a suspiciously sore throat. I’ll go mad if I am ill again.” Radford spoke wearily, enjoying the opportunity to lay the groundwork for his ‘illness’ tomorrow.

Martin bade the earl good night and left the room. Radford sat there for a minute, nursing the few sips left in his glass. He toyed with the idea of pouring himself another, then realized he was trying to delay the inevitable. He would have to go upstairs and see the girl, talk to her, if possible, tonight. He forced himself to rise and make his way to the door. Oh, please let her have an acceptable explanation for this extraordinary fraud on him and his household. It was odd, he thought to himself as he trudged up the stairs, how much it mattered. A servant girl plucked out of a ditch in the dark. Why on earth did he care?

Radford pushed the door to his bedchamber open quietly. Frederick stood near the desk, looking as out of place in the earl’s bedroom as he must have felt. Mrs. Formby had taken the one candle left burning in the earl’s absence, and was moving to light a few of the tapers placed around the room. The girl lay on the large bed, an indistinct lump in the gloom of the dark hangings which draped the massive bedstead.

As the room lightened from the newly lit candles, the girl’s form took on substance. Radford could see that her face was turned toward him. She was staring at him with pain-filled eyes, her face small and white against the dark blue satin coverlet. Someone, Mrs. Formby, no doubt, had placed a large towel beneath her blood-soaked garments. Her jacket was again fastened over her chest, the remnants of her curious bindings trailing incongruously below. Frederick cleared his throat. Radford turned and faced his two faithful retainers, aware that he was asking a great deal of them this evening.