Damsel in Distress (22 page)

“So, we meet again, milord!” he said.

Caro quietly lowered her right arm, concealing her pistol in the folds of her skirt. No one was paying her any heed.

Dolmain felt a recrudescence of all the shame and misery this man and Marie had caused him. “You son of a bitch, I
’
ll tear you limb from limb!” he growled, and flew at Bellefeuille.

Bellefeuille saw the rage in his eyes. He knew Dolmain was too enraged to fear for his own life, but he would never endanger his daughter’s. He stepped aside as Dolmain lunged at him. Helen was only six inches away. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in front of him.

“Take care, milord. It would be a shame to have to kill your daughter,” he said in a voice of silken menace.

Dolmain saw the terror in Helen’s eyes as she was wrenched in front of Bellefeuille. He knew the muzzle of the gun was pressed against her spine, and he froze. How could he direct Bellefeuille’s anger against himself, to allow Helen to escape?

“Hiding behind a lady’s skirts, Bellefeuille?” he taunted. “This is between you and me. Put your pistol aside and fight like a man
—
if you are a man.”

“A pity your wife is dead, or you could ask her,” Bellefeuille laughed.

Helen turned around to stare at Bellefeuille. “Dead? You said Mama was alive! You said you had found her!”

Bellefeuille’s eyes never left Dolmain’s as he replied. “You served my purpose equally well,
ma petite
.
”

The tension in the room was like a palpable presence. The men were concentrating on each other, with Helen between them. Helen’s abrupt movement left Bellefeuille’s right side exposed. Caro saw her opportunity. She must make no sudden movement to alert him, yet she must quickly raise her gun and shoot him, without injuring Helen. If Bellefeuille realized what she was up to, he would not hesitate to shoot her.

“You lied to me!” Helen said, and moved a little way from her captor to turn around and accuse him.

Bellefeuille reached to grab her back. Fearing for her life, Dolmain said, “It’s all right, Helen.”

In the brief instant they were thus occupied, Caro raised her pistol, took fast aim, and shot Bellefeuille in the right shoulder. The shot reverberated in the small room like a cannon going off. Chaos ensued. Bellefeuille dropped his gun and let off a string of curses, grabbing his wounded shoulder. Dolmain cast one startled glance at Caro, then darted forward and grabbed the gun from the floor. Helen stared from one of them to the other, then burst into tears.

“He had Helen. I came to try to rescue her,” Caro said.

“But why are you wearing
—
” He looked at her disguise and shook his head in confusion.

As they stood, staring at each other, Newt’s head popped up at the window like a jack-in-the-box. “Oh, it’s you, Dolmain. That’s all right, then.” He climbed into the chamber and dusted himself off. “See you’ve winged your man. Best get him off to the roundhouse, eh? Caro can take Helen home. Don’t want the ladies mixed up in a shooting match.”

Dolmain, in the aftermath of the near-tragedy and at the end of an extremely strenuous day, seemed to have lost his wits. He stood, looking from one to the other in confusion.

“Yes, let us go,” Caro said. “Oh, and you won’t forget Renée, Newt. She is belowstairs.”

Newt looked out the window. “She ain’t, you know. She is making a run for it. Ah, Ankel has nabbed her. Good lad, Ankel.” He stuck his head out the window and called down, “Tie her up right and tight. We will be down presently.”

Helen turned a tearful face to her father. “Papa, is it true, what Lady Winbourne said?”

“Your mother ran away with her lover,” he said simply. “I should have told you. I’m sorry, my dear, but you still have your old papa.” He turned to Caro. “Thanks to Lady Winbourne,” he added with a strange, haunted look. How could he ever have mistaken her for Marie, even for an instant? Yet in the wig and that gown, there was an uncanny resemblance. She was what he had thought Marie was. The same liveliness and
joie de vivre
and beauty, without the selfishness and lack of morals.

“Thing to do,” Newt said. “Continue this chat later, after we have got deVere booked. Bleeding like a stuck pig. Daresay he will need a sawbones,” he added, with a glance at the man who was holding his right shoulder with his left hand. Blood oozed between his fingers.

Newt led the way downstairs. Caro gave Helen a gentle shove after him. She went readily enough now that Dolmain was there. Caro followed behind, with Dolmain going last, in a state of rising euphoria as the facts fell into place. It was over. Helen was safe. And Caro had not scratched his eyes out for his attack on
her. How could he have suspected Caro?

He stopped her at the top of the stairs and said in a stricken voice, “My darling, can you ever forgive me?”

“Later, Dolmain. I shall take Helen home while you and Newt deal with Bellefeuille and Renée
.
”

His fingers squeezed hers so hard, her hands ached. A flash sparked from his dark eyes. “And then I shall return to Marine Parade and deal with
you,
my sweet liar. You might have got yourself killed! You
promised
me you would not
—
and thank you, with all my heart, for paying me no heed.”

“I was afraid you would not be back in time. You must have ridden both ways.” She gazed at his dear, haggard face, then lifted her hand and placed her palm against his cheek.

“I did,
ventre à
terre
.
”

She felt such a rush of love when he smiled at her like that. “You look worn to the socket,” she scolded.

“I never felt better in my life,” he said, and held her closely against him a moment, with his forehead leaning on hers, reveling in the knowledge that Caro and his daughter were safe, that Caro must truly love him, or why had she taken such frightening risks? He would have nightmares about these hours. Then he lifted his head and smiled wanly at her. “I don’t deserve you. You risked your life, and I was afraid to risk my heart. What a laggard you must think me.”

“No, that is not how you appear to me.”

“Are you coming, Papa?” Helen called.

They moved apart and continued downstairs, and on out to the carriage. Dolmain stopped only to retrieve his saddlebag containing the money from the bushes. That would go back in the bank now. Ankel, to his deep dismay, was commissioned to drive the ladies home in Newt’s carriage while Newt and Dolmain did what they had to do with Bellefeuille and Renée. They allowed Bellefeuille to ride Dolmain’s mount to the roundhouse as he was weak from his wound, but Dolmain held the bridle. Renée spat out such a hail of vituperation on Bellefeuille that one could almost pity him. Almost.

In the carriage, Helen sat bent over with her head in her lap, sniffling quietly into her hands. Caro knew she was suffering; to all intents and purposes, the mother she had idolized for a decade had died that night in a little room on Bartholomew Avenue. Caro feared anything she could say would only make matters worse. She just patted Helen’s shoulder.

As they approached Marine Parade, Helen sat up and said in an apologetic tone, “Was deVere
—
he called himself deVere
—
going to keep the money from Mama’s necklace? And were you really rescuing me?”

“Yes. I am sorry I had to threaten you, but I feared you would alert Bellefeuille that I was there.”

“How could Mama have run off with him? He is horrid.” Caro felt a small, warm hand pressing its way into hers.
“
Thank you, Lady Winbourne. I am sorry for ... you know, everything,” Helen said. “You are very brave. Papa does not really think you are a thief. He likes you.”

Caro patted her hand. “I know, my dear. I know.”

“I liked you, too. It was just that I feared if Papa fell in love with you, he would not want Mama back, you see.”

“I understand.”

Helen felt she ought to say more, but she sensed that Lady Winbourne was not really attending to her. She was holding her hand tightly, though, as if she did not despise her. It felt good, warm and safe. Lady Winbourne was very courageous. She had fired that pistol without a quiver. And she was pretty, too. Everyone admired her style. It would be wonderful to be like her. How could she make sure that Papa married her?

“Why did you not tell me the truth before, Papa?” Helen demanded when Dolmain and Newton returned to Marine Parade an hour later.

Was she growing up on him, or were ladies born knowing that offense is the best defense? In any case, Dolmain was happy to see his daughter sitting beside Caro, courting her.
Courting
seemed the proper word for the shyly smiling manner in which Helen behaved. She filled Caro’s glass before it was half-empty, and arranged her shawl solicitously although it was not the least chilly in the room.

“I wish I had,” he said, ruffling her curls. “I felt you were too young to be exposed to the harsh truth.”

“I am not a child!”

She looked remarkably like one to her fond papa. “It would have saved a deal of trouble if I had told you, would it not?”

“Did you get the Dolmain necklace back?” Helen asked. She had always called it “Mama’s necklace” before. He took this for a sign Marie was receding into the past, where she belonged.

“Yes, Bellefeuille had not sold it yet. He had pried out the diamonds to sell separately, to avoid detection. The major jewelers would have recognized the necklace. I shall have it restyled when
—
later.” His eyes flickered to Caro, who had removed the wig and gauze collar.

He liked her much better as herself. Now that the ordeal was over, he felt he could come to terms even with Marie’s duplicity. One day he would be able to forgive her. Her life had not been easy before marrying him, and she had paid the ultimate price for her sins. Then, too, she had given him Helen.

“How much money did Bellefeuille demand for Helen’s return?” Lady Milchamp inquired. He could hardly drag his eyes away from Caro. He wished everyone would leave, so that they could be alone together.

“Fifty thousand. I had to hop through hoops to get it. You can thank Caro for saving your dot, Helen. Such a shatterbrained creature as you would have uphill work finding a husband without a good dowry.”

Helen smiled demurely at Caro. “Thank you, Lady Winbourne, I am truly sorry for all the bother I caused. I never dreamed you would be accused of taking the necklace. It was your sitting beside me in Lady Castlereagh’s parlor that put the notion in everyone’s head. And after people did begin to suspect you, I felt it would be all right in the end, because after Mama came back, everyone would know what had really happened to the diamonds, and that you were innocent. It is quite romantic to be wrongly accused, don’t you think?”

“Charming,” Caro said, with a peek at Dolmain, who winced.

“When Bellefeuille said that he needed more money for the trip to Paris, I decided to give him the emerald brooch,” Helen continued. “As you were with me that day, it looked as if you had taken it, too. If Papa had only told me the truth
—
”

“I shall never hear the end of that,” Dolmain said tolerantly. He was too happy to give his daughter the scold she deserved, but he meant to keep a closer eye on her in future. She was too young to make her debut. He would take her back to Elmhurst until next year, and knock some sense into her.

“I accept your apology, Helen,” Caro said. “What is done is done. Let us not make a meal of it. I am more interested to learn how you notified Bellefeuille that you were leaving London, and would meet him at Reigate.”

“The servants knew nothing of it,” Dolmain said.

“I did not use a servant,” Helen said. “Miss Blanchard used to take messages, and when she was killed, I just watched for Pierre from my bedroom window, and threw notes to him. I wrote that we would be stopping at Reigate overnight, and that I would await word there. I knew they would come.”

“What happened to Bellefeuille and Renée, Dolmain?” Caroline asked. “And who is Renée, exactly?”

“She is Bellefeuille’s wife of one year. Newt and I led the pair of them off to the magistrate. They are warming a cell in the roundhouse overnight, and will be formally charged in the morning. Bellefeuille has had his eye on my wallet ever since Marie’s death. It was his meeting Miss Blanchard at one of those French émigrés meetings that put the notion of using Helen into his head. Blanchard told him Helen did not know the truth about Marie, and she encouraged my daughter to idolize her mama, with the intention of later saying Marie was alive, and required a grand sum of money for her rescue from Paris. Why did you not tell me what was afoot, Helen?” he asked, turning to frown at his daughter.

“They said it would be dangerous for you to be involved when you were active at the Horse Guards in the fight against the French. That it might be misunderstood, and the Cabinet would suspect you of spying or some such thing. I was a fool to believe them.” She scowled.

“Next time you are in doubt, talk to me,” Dolmain said.

“She is young,” Lady Milchamp said forgivingly.

“I wanted so badly to believe it was true,” Helen said. She looked so forlorn that no one chided her further.

Dolmain continued his story. “Miss Blanchard was induced by greed to go along with stealing the necklace, but when Bellefeuille escalated the affair to kidnapping Helen, she dug in her heels and refused. She did care for Helen, after her fashion. She foolishly threatened Bellefeuille that she was going to tell me, instead of doing it. That was when he shot her. She had acquired the habit of taking Rex for a walk at night. I fancy those walks were used to exchange messages with Bellefeuille. He arranged to meet her to pick up the brooch Helen had given Miss Blanchard. The strange thing is, he insists he did not get the brooch from her. Someone was coming, and he had to leave before getting it. It is odd he would stick at that trifle when he has admitted to all the rest.”