Maggie MacKeever (21 page)

“So I am.” Comfortingly, Lord March patted his wife. “And you are correct, as usual, Mab. Wait here, where you will not be noticed, while I go to keep my, er,
tête-à -tête
.”

“I only hope it is merely a
tête-à-tête
,” muttered Nell, but made no effort to detain him. Marriot bent to kiss her cheek, then stepped out into the fog. Briefly, silence descended upon the three who remained behind.

The night itself was far from silent despite the muffling effect of the dense mist. This narrow street and those which intersected it were well-traveled by creatures of the night. That the fog prevented her taking a closer look at the passersby, Mab could not regret. Some things a maiden was better off not seeing, even a maiden not possessed of overly delicate sensibilities. The carryings-on of that slattern on the corner opposite, for example, who was clutching a male companion with one hand and with the other a bottle of gin.

Those goings-on, deplore them as Mab might, set up a train of thought. Mab took hold of the lowest of Lord Parrington’s many capes and tugged. “Fergus, are you sorry you kissed me?” she asked.

The baron glanced with some astonishment down into Mab’s wistful face. “Sorry? Of course not!”

He had answered without the slightest hesitation, Mab was pleased to note. “Then
that’s
all right!” she sighed.

Lady March, meantime, peered into the fog, following her husband’s stalwart figure to the limits of her vision, and causing herself considerable eyestrain. He strolled toward a well-lighted building, which stood out pale and ghostly in the mist. By the windows of that building many figures passed and paused—even posed, thought
Nell. Squinting, she tried to make the figures out. “Good heavens!” she said aloud, stricken by the belated realization that she observed a bawdy house.

Mab, in lieu of a similar realization, interpreted Lady March’s ejaculation in light of past experience. “Nell, pray do not be a peagoose! Marriot has the situation well in hand, I promise you! Do continue, Fergus! Was there something you wished to say?”

Had he meant to say something? Fergus could not remember. He folded his arms across his chest, doubting he would ever again be warm. “How long must we wait here?” he inquired plaintively.

“Only until Marriot returns to us.” Mab wondered if Lord Parrington might be persuaded to hug her as opposed to himself.

Still Nell stared intently into the thick mist. Occasionally the fog thinned sufficiently for her to glimpse Marriot. He had paused on the street corner as instructed, was waiting for contact to be made—but what was this? Two men crept up behind him. Nell’s voice came out a thin croak. “Marriot!”

Lady Amabel awarded her friend a stem look. “I
told
you not to—” She followed Nell’s pointing finger, saw Marriot knocked unconscious and dragged across the street. “Eek!”

“‘Eek!’ Is that all you can say? ‘Eek’?” Nell grabbed up her skirts, prepared to follow her senseless spouse to the ends of the earth. “Why do you hold me back, Mab? We must do something straightaway!”

“So we must.” Thoughtfully, Mab eyed Fergus. “I think the
first
thing we must do is notify Bow Street. The time for secrecy is past.”

“You
notify Bow Street!” Futilely, Nell sought to free herself from Mab’s restraining hands. “Let me go
instantly!
You would not like it if Parrington was incarcerated in a bawdy house, I daresay!”

“A bawdy house?” Fascinated, Mab stared. “Do calm yourself, Nell! Nothing so very dreadful is apt to happen to Marriot with so many people around. Hurry, Fergus, I beg you! Nell and I will wait right here until you come back.” She thrust the walking sword at him. “Here! Take this, just in case!”

Lord Parrington did not relish the notion of making his solitary way through a London fog, and suspected he would be greeted with derision at Bow Street Public Office. A nobleman kidnapped into a brothel? It did make an unlikely tale. But Mab was looking at him with a mixture of supplication and impatience. If he refused she would doubtless make further adverse comments upon his character. Too, Lord March
was
likely in danger—and was that a carriage he heard approaching, Henrietta’s querulous tones calling out? Abruptly, he plunged into the fog.

Lord Parrington’s departure was not a moment premature.
“There
you are!” cried Henrietta, her head stuck out the carriage window, the ostrich plumes of her headdress sadly bedraggled by the damp. “I thought you had got lost! Why did Parrington leave in that queer abrupt manner? And where is Marriot?” No answer to these questions was forthcoming. Nell moaned.

Eleanor having proven uncommunicative, Henrietta turned her fire on Lady Amabel, who was acting no less odd. Stunned, Henrietta watched Mab pull off her rose-wreathed lace and muslin cap, fling back her velvet cloak, take hold of the buffont of lace that adorned the bosom of her sprigged evening dress. “What
are
you doing, child?” she gasped.

Ruthlessly, Mab ripped away her lace, thus altering her bodice to expose a lush expanse of creamy skin. Smugly, she gazed upon her astonished audience. Mysteriously she whispered, “I have A Plan!”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lord March was possessed of an aching head. Painful exercise of this article informed him that distress in various of his other extremities, moreover, was no less acute. His hands were bound tightly behind him, his legs tied with rope at ankle and knee—trussed up like a chicken for the pot, his lordship thought savagely.

He took stock of his surroundings, a small dark dirty chamber, the chief amenities of which were a single candle and a narrow cot. It was on this latter item that Marriot had been tossed. An attempt to achieve a sitting position having proved useless, he sank back, stared in turn at the narrow dark window, the fly-specked walls and ceiling, the closed door. Was it locked? he wondered. If only he could get his balance he might find out. Yet little would be accomplished, even were that portal opened. Marriot could hardly go hopping through a bawdy house. If only he still had his pistol, or the use of his hands and feet—if only he had heeded Nell’s forebodings and not walked straight into a trap. But Nell and Mab would have seen what happened; he need only await rescue. Having come to this comforting conclusion, Lord March lay back to fret about what was taking his rescuers so long to arrive, and to listen gloomily to the sounds of raucous revelry that came through the thin walls.

Had his lordship but known it, help was on the way, by a very circuitous route that had included a spot of eavesdropping, several forays into rooms otherwise occupied, and currently an expedition up the back attic stair. Leading this expedition was a young woman dressed in sprigged muslin with a very daring décolletage. Following her was a second woman, who was prone to nervously tug at the low, square neckline of her own embroidered gown. Bringing up the rear was a wispy-haired female whose attire merits less comment than her conversation, which was both vituperative and lamentably incessant, if appropriately low-pitched.

“A personal errand!” she muttered. “Personal! I should say it is! In a—a house of ill repute! Never did I think a member of my family—not to mention my own presence! As well as
yours,
Eleanor! What the world would say were it to learn of this—” She shuddered. “Words fail me!”

“I wish that words
might
fail you!” uncharitably retorted Lady Amabel. “If you will recall, we wanted you to wait for us outside. You refused. Therefore, if we are discovered here, you may only blame yourself for whatever scandal may ensue. But this must be the room! Look, the key is still in the lock.” She grasped it and turned. The door opened. Cautiously, the ladies peered within. Their brief excursion through this house had already taught them the folly of looking where they should not—and rather more beside. But no bacchanalian scenes were being enacted in this chamber. “God bless my soul!” uttered Henrietta upon glimpsing Marriot.

Lord March did not immediately realize that his rescue was at hand, due not only to his throbbing head, but also to the dirt with which the ladies had liberally bedaubed themselves in order to add veracity to their disguise. “What the devil do
you
want?” he snapped.

“That is a fine way to talk to your knights in shining armor!” Carefully, Mab closed the door. “Unless—don’t tell us you have lost your memory again, Marriot?”

“Your memory?” Lady March flew across the room and fetched up beside her husband on the bed. “You haven’t, Marriot!”

In some astonishment, Lord March stared at his dirty-faced wife. “Nell! What the devil are you about?”

“Silly!” Lady Amabel joined Lord and Lady March on the narrow cot. “We are pulling your coals out of the fire—or trying to! Do not scowl so at me, Marriot! It was not my idea to bring them along, but Nell would not permit me to come alone, and your cousin would not be left behind. I fully enter into your feelings—you think we shall all wind up in the briars—but you cannot wish to stand on bad terms with your rescuers. Oh,
bother!
I cannot untie this knot!”

“Let me try!” said Nell.

“This,” announced Henrietta, outraged, “exceeds all belief! I have known all along that something very hugger-mugger was afoot, ever since Marriot said he was in Cornwall. Cornwall! You cannot deny, cousin, that you have told a great many untruths!”

“I don’t deny it.” Due to his awkward position—chin practically resting on his knees while the ladies struggled to untie the ropes that bound his hands—his lordship’s voice was somewhat muffled. “But that was because I did not know the truth.”

“Did
not?” Eleanor sank back on her heels. “Marriot, do you now?”

Lord March turned his head. “One thing I have always known, and that is that I love you, Nell!”

“Oh, Marriot!” Her ladyship sniffled.

Neither Henrietta nor Amabel cared for this untimely digression.
“Always?”
Henrietta inquired acidly. “What about Jane?”

“Yes indeed, what about Jane, Marriot?” Mab struggled harder with the ropes. “Confound these things! Nell, do you think you might lend me your assistance before Marriot’s assailants return?”

Looking guilty, Nell hastily resumed her allotted task. “Return?” echoed Henrietta, gingerly approaching the narrow cot. “What do you mean by that?”

Lord March regarded his cousin with keen disfavor. “Mab means Jane is a thief—oh yes, she is! And for the record I did not seduce her, or lend my own efforts to robbery. I recall being set upon by footpads; that much of the tale was true. Jane and her cohorts did
take me in out of the street, for heaven knows what motive! Perhaps they thought I would make an excellent scapegoat, were they caught. As it turned out, I very nearly did for them myself, happening upon them one evening in the very act. During the resultant contretemps, I received a blow on the head.”

“And your only thought was to get home to Nell!” Thrilled, Mab sighed. “How romantic! I wonder why the villains didn’t follow you. Prhaps something scared them off. They must have been desperate to get back the jewels you carried away with you—but why did you smell of the stables, Marriot?”

Lord March sought a more comfortable position, an almost impossible undertaking due to the manner in which he was trussed up. “While my newfound companions were engaged in devilry, unbeknownst to me, I was engaged in honest labor, working as a groom.” His contortions allowed him a glimpse of both his wife and Lady Amabel. For the first time he realized the alterations made to their attire. “Good God!” he said.

Modestly, Lady Amabel patted her largely exposed bosom. “We had to look the part! Don’t scold, Marriot; neither of us is a penny the worse for it. Oh, I wish I had kept the walking sword so that we might simply
cut
these wretched ropes— but don’t despair! We shall yet contrive to get clear.”

Henrietta, too long silent, deemed it time her voice was heard. “I knew I had been told a Banbury tale— several, as it turns out! I knew Marriot wasn’t in Cornwall all along. No, and I knew Jane was up to no good also, traipsing about the house in the middle of the night. She said she was sleepwalking, but I knew better— although I did wonder if maybe the creature had set her cap for Benson since he also seemed always to be about! And now I discover—gracious! I suspected the robberies had something to do with Marriot and Lady Amabel, but I didn’t suspect
what!”

Marriot suspected he might throttle his garrulous cousin, were he still afflicted with her when his hands were set free. “Of all the crackbrained notions!” he said ungallantly. “Mab—and Nell—are involved in this business only because of me.”

“Crackbrained, am I?” Henrietta bridled. “For your edification, Marriot, I am not so very crackbrained as you think! I know, for instance, that your wife would have liked to kiss Parrington—not that one can blame it in her, what with
you
kissing Lady Amabel!”

Eleanor looked bewildered. “I would have liked to what?”

Mab settled herself more comfortably. “Henrietta’s gone off her hinges!” she explained. “Ma’am, I wish you would try not to act like a saphead. Especially now! Jane may appear at any moment, and we cannot untie Marriot’s ropes—and we can hardly whisk him away unnoticed while he is hobbled and bound! Yet somehow we must contrive to get clear of this fix.”

“Act like—oh!” Henrietta glanced about the small and dirty chamber in search of some object that she might hurl at Lady Amabel. Instead, in a far corner, she glimpsed several small furry objects complete with long tails and glittering eyes. Henrietta disliked rodents a great deal more than she disliked Lady Amabel. With a shriek, she leapt upon the bed.

“Oof!” said Mab, upon whom Henrietta had landed. “Pray take your elbow out of my side! What the blazes do you mean, leaping upon me—oh, never mind! Nell, do you think you might leave off being so very attentive to Marriot’s comfort, so that we might plan?”

“You might as well,” said Marriot, elevating his gaze from his wife’s tempting décolletage. “I never
will
be comfortable until these accursed ropes are cut. I wonder if Jane and her cronies have yet discovered that I didn’t return all the jewels. Don’t look so stricken, darling! We’re in no immediate danger. They dare do nothing rash with so many people around.”