Dangerous to Love (34 page)

“Why the haste, sweeting? Aren’t Dick and I good enough for you?”

The one named Dick let out a whoop. “God love you, Salty, your eye has deceived you this time around. ’tis the other little dove who is Raynor’s piece.”

Salty’s head jerked round, and he eyed Serena askance. “You’re hoaxing me, Dick! That ain’t no fancy piece, leastways, I don’t reckon she is. She’s as stiff as starch. No, no, she’s a schoolmarm or a governess or some such thing.”

Both men snickered. “Why don’t we ask her?” said the one called Dick.

Serena choked down her fear and glared at them with burning hostility. “You’ve had your jest. Now get yourselves gone before my brothers return and thrash you to within an inch of your lives.”

Ignoring her threats, the two riders walked their mounts in a circle, hedging the girls in.

“I don’t see any brothers, do you, Dick?”

Dick laughed suggestively. “Lud no! I don’t see a single soul.”

There was a wildness about them that turned Serena cold with fright, though she instinctively concealed it. Letty’s fear was obvious as she clung, trembling, to Serena and that seemed to excite their assailants all the more.

Standing stiffly, head thrown back, Serena glared at them. “Our brother is Sir Jeremy Ward,” she flung at them. “We are not playthings for your amusement.”

“She don’t half give herself airs. What the devil does Raynor see in her, that’s what I can’t understand.”

“I aim to find out.”

“Good. I’ll take the other one. She’s a dainty morsel and more to my taste.”

As one rider made to dismount, Serena reached into the picnic basket and came up with a stone jar of Cook’s homemade pickles. Throwing Letty off, she reared back and took aim as she had been taught to do when playing cricket with her young nephews. Her projectile caught Salty’s horse a thunking blow on its flank. Rearing in
terror, almost dislodging its rider, the horse bolted along the bridle path.

With a look of murderous determination, the other rider reached down and made a grab for Serena. She ducked under his horse’s head and raced along the shore. He was on her almost at once. Flinging himself from his horse, wrestling her to the ground, he shoved up her skirts.

She opened her mouth to scream and his mouth came down hard on hers, forcing her breath back into her throat. It was Letty who screamed. Serena heard an answering shout. A shadow fell over her an instant before her attacker jerked back, releasing her. Letty stood over him, arm upraised, ready to strike him again with the stone jar. Flynn, arms waving, came racing down the rise toward them.

With a snarl and a curse, her assailant rolled to his feet. Mounting up, he sneered down at Serena. “Puffed-up bitch! You’ll lower your crest soon enough once Raynor has had his fill of you. Then you’ll be any man’s for the taking.” And digging in his spurs, he took off along the bridle path to catch up with his friend.

When Flynn reached them, Letty immediately began on a long, tearful explanation. Serena, still shaken, went to meet the boys as they bounded down the incline. They knew nothing of what had transpired, and no one enlightened them.

Flynn’s eyes were troubled as they rested on Serena. He was thinking that it was time he had a man-to-man talk with Major Raynor.

   The atmosphere inside that dingy little cottage in the village of Kensington was so dense that it gave the impression of a pea-soup fog that had blown in from the North Sea.

“Would you mind?” said Julian, indicating that he wished to open the window.

Constable Loukas drew on his long clay pipe and emitted another cloud of smoke into the choking interior. “What? Oh, I see what you mean. You are just like my Kate, God rest her soul. She never could abide the smell of smoke in the house either. When she was alive, I did my smoking in the garden.”

Interpreting this as permission to open the window, Julian undid the catch and threw the window wide. After inhaling several long invigorating breaths, he said, “Smoking is going out of fashion, did you know? Snuff is becoming all the rage. Even society ladies are taking it up.”

“As is young Harry. I cannot abide the stuff. Filthy habit.”

“What is Harry getting up to these days?”

Loukas chuckled. “Can you believe it? He’s hired himself on as an assistant to Thomas Burdus.”

“The justice of the peace who has his offices in Bow Street?”

Loukas nodded. “It seems that the law is in our blood.”

“I’m happy for him. I always thought Harry would go far.”

“He’ll want to see you, of course. You should look him up. His lodgings are in the Strand.”

When Julian remained by the open window, Loukas frowned. Enlightenment dawning, he tapped his clay pipe into the empty grate and set it aside, saying gruffly, “Come and sit down, why don’t you, so that I can make my report?”

Grinning, Julian accepted the invitation, not at all put off by his companion’s fierce expression. Loukas and he went back a number of years, to the time Julian had arrived in London as a young stripling and had his first
brush with the law. It was Loukas who had hauled him before Justice De Veil on a charge of breaking the peace, and it was Loukas who had persuaded the justice to go easy with him. Julian had come to know that behind the fierce exterior, Loukas had all the instincts of a true reformer. There was nothing that gave him greater satisfaction than setting a young man on the right road. With Loukas, that usually meant encouraging him to do a stint with the British army. He was a great believer in discipline as a builder of character.

Over the years, they’d kept up a correspondence. When on leave, Julian had spent many evenings supping with the Loukases in this very cottage. It was the nearest thing he had known to home since he had been left an orphan.

There were few people in whom Julian confided. Loukas was the exception, up to a point. Julian had glossed over his early years, mentioning only that he had been orphaned at a tender age. Loukas, however, was the only one who knew the details about his abduction and transportation to Maryland, and that only because Julian had enlisted his aid in trying to solve the mystery behind it.

“I’m listening,” said Julian. “What, if anything, have you discovered?”

Loukas scratched at his wig, dislodging it in the process. “Not very much, I’m sorry to say. Lord Kirkland was telling you the truth when he said there is no record of any magistrate signing a warrant for your arrest. So it would seem that the militia who arrested you that night were rank impostors. You have made enemies, my boy, but I suppose that is to be expected in your profession.”

Julian shook his head. “This has nothing to do with my profession. Promissory notes belong to the house, not to me personally. And even if I were dead, they would still have to be redeemed. My death would not profit any of my patrons.”

Loukas reached for his pipe, recollected himself, and replaced it on the grate. “I suppose your next of kin would be the one to profit?”

Julian frowned. “What am I to make of that?”

“Your wife.”

“You suspect Serena?”

“Hardly. You were not murdered, were you? No, you were transported to America, so whoever is behind it did not wish your death, only your absence.”

Julian made a joke of it. “Perhaps Serena only wished to punish me, you know, for forcing her into marriage?”

Loukas laughed. “And risk your wrath when you finally returned to England? I think not. However, I shall certainly take that into consideration.”

“Fine. Then what do you make of it?”

Loukas hesitated. “I say, Julian, you’re not a government spy, are you?”

Julian cursed long and fluently. “If I had been a government agent, I would not be here now. I would have friends in high places who could help solve the mystery for me.”

“Yet Lord Kirkland, the archenemy of all Jacobites, is your friend.”

“And Serena Ward, the arch-Jacobite, is my wife.”

“I see what you mean. Well then, perhaps your abductors were under the misapprehension that you were working for the other side. That still does not tell us who they are.”

“What about the man who was in charge that night, the one I call Pretty?” he asked.

“Now, I may be onto something there. No, I won’t say anything just yet. But you know, even if I find your ‘Pretty,’ I’m not sure what it will reveal.”

They spent the next half hour speculating on first one
possibility then another, even going so far as to make a list of suspects. It was a long list.

When Julian rose to take his leave, Loukas walked him to the front door. “Do you know what I think, my boy?” The question was rhetorical, and after an interval, Loukas went on, “I think your best course is to complete your business here just as quickly as you are able and set sail for America. Yes, the sooner you leave England, the safer you will be. That’s my considered opinion.”

“No one,” said Julian emphatically, “is going to chase me out of England. I’ll go when I am ready and not a minute before.”

Loukas smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Somehow, I just knew you would take that tack. In that case, if you are determined to unmask the culprits, there is only one thing to be done. We must flush them out.”

“I’ll think about it,” said Julian. “There is something else I have been meaning to say to you.” He looked around the small interior before bringing his eyes back to Loukas. “As things stand, I would feel more comfortable if I had someone I could trust working in my gaming house, you know, someone who could spot anything or anyone unusual. I don’t think I stand in any real danger, but I’d be a fool to take unnecessary risks. Besides, I may want to confer with you, and it’s a bloody nuisance having to come all the way out to Kensington.”

“You are just saying that because you know I am bored with my retirement. It’s very kind of you, my boy, but—”

“Fine,” said Julian, “I shall find someone else.”

“Oh, no you won’t. If you really mean it, I’d be glad to do it.”

“Then be there tomorrow morning sharp.”

Loukas’s list of suspects was still occupying Julian’s mind when he entered his gaming house. It would never
occur to Loukas to seriously suspect Serena. He admired her pluck, and had almost from the first, when he, Julian, had inveigled Loukas and his grandson, Harry, into helping him bring off their Fleet marriage. Julian had convinced them by describing Serena as a green girl whose heart was in the right place but whose politics were abominable. She was her own worst enemy, he told them, and it would take something extraordinary to make her give up the escape route. If she were married to him, he would put a stop to it.

Like himself, Loukas had been touched by the girl’s efforts to save the lives of Jacobite fugitives. At the same time, he’d been horrified that she, a mere female, would run such risks. As for the law that Loukas was sworn to uphold, he took the broad view—the fewer Jacobites there were in England, the less likelihood there was of another Rebellion. If Serena had been involved in agitation and conspiracies, he would have taken a different view.

But he had not seen eye to eye with Julian on his solution to the problem. Marriage was too extreme a step. It was then that Julian had been forced to admit that there was another, more compelling reason for the marriage to go forward. Loukas had looked at him in astonishment, and Julian had flushed to the roots of his hair, stammering out something about Serena being blameless, that he had mistaken her character, that he had been overcome with his emotions and had taken advantage of her. Just thinking about the expression on Loukas’s face that night still had the power to make him blush.

Scowling, he thundered up the stairs and burst into his rooms, kicking the door behind him. His manservant nervously stepped forward to inform Julian that he had a caller who had elected to wait for him in the bookroom.

Flynn rose at Julian’s entrance. “I ’ave brought back
your coat,” he said, “all cleaned and pressed,” and he indicated the velvet coat which was folded over the back of a chair, the coat which Julian had last seen draped around Serena’s shoulders.

“I’m obliged to you,” said Julian curtly. He strode to the sideboard and poured himself a healthy dose of brandy. Raising the glass to his lips, he took a long swallow before turning to face Flynn.
Here,
he thought cynically,
is another specimen who is blind to Serena’s true character.

“Serena,” said Flynn, drawing closer, “asked me to deliver a message to you.”

Julian’s expression darkened. “I have no interest in anything Serena Ward might have to say.”

“This won’t take long.”

“Well? I’m listening. Out with it, man.”

Flynn smiled, and gave it to him, right on the chin, with a blow that sent Julian reeling backward. Glass and brandy went toppling as he landed on the floor, his back coming to rest against the side of his desk. Shaking off the effects of that stunning blow, Julian roared, “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

Panting, feet splayed, Flynn crouched over his victim. “That’s the message you deserve. Now, you and me is going to ’ave a little conversation, see, even if I ’as to beat some sense into that thick ’ead of yours. Well, what’s
it
to be?” He raised his fists threateningly.

Now this was the language that Julian understood. Still, he didn’t want to take advantage of Flynn. Though the boy had broadened and put on some weight in the last two years, he was still a boy. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you, Flynn.”

“Craven!” Flynn flung at him with unconcealed contempt.

Julian grinned. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said,
and with a lightning movement of one leg, he sent Flynn flying.

Downstairs, in the crowded card room, patrons called out and girls screamed as chandeliers began to swing alarmingly. From the room above came the sounds of smashing crockery and falling furniture. A piece of ornate plaster fell from the ceiling and landed with a thud on the carpeted floor.

“Earthquake,” said Colonel Mowbray, viewing the shaking walls with some interest. “This reminds me of Egypt. Did I ever tell you about the time I—”

“Yes!” said several voices simultaneously, heading him off before he could begin on another of his boring reminiscences.