Moon Love (21 page)

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Authors: Joan Smith

Tags: #Regency Romance

BOOK: Moon Love
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“Tie their hands behind their backs,” Ravencroft directed. George looked around for a rope. Finding none, he pulled the ties from the curtains and bound their hands behind their backs, while Ravencroft held the gun on them. Ford’s two cohorts, Jermyn and Saxton, were frightened into staring silence.

Ford blustered loudly. “What the devil are you after, eh? My member of parliament will hear about this! It’s an outrage, breaking into a gentleman’s home, threatening him.”

“Stealing his forged currency,” Ravencroft added, with a menacing smile. “Don’t worry, all of parliament will hear about it. You will be infamous throughout the land,”

“You won’t get away with this, Stanford. I have friends in high places.”

“But they are in France,
n’est-ce pas?”
He spun Ford around by the shoulder, pushed the gun into his back and said, “Walk.”

George directed Jermyn and Saxton into line behind Ford. Ravencroft and George followed the three men down the stairs, through the house to the back door, breathing a sigh of relief that all had gone smoothly. Glover and Spinks could help get this trio to the round house to cool their heels until Fitz could be notified. The crew would be taken to London under armed guard to stand trial as traitors.

When they reached the door, Ravencroft said, “George, would you mind?”

George leapt forward and threw the door wide open. He sensed a movement in the shadows, lifted his lantern and there stood Felix Bratty with a smile of triumph on his handsome, stupid face.

“By the living jingo!” Felix exclaimed, “What are you up to, eh, Ravencroft?” As he spoke, he raised his hand, pointing a pistol at Lord Ravencroft.

Ravencroft was momentarily stunned to silence. Felix Bratty! He couldn’t believe it. So his stupidity was an act!

Within the blink of an eye, Ravencroft raised his own pistol, not wanting to kill Bratty, but just to wing him in the upper arm and make him drop his gun. He clenched his jaw and pulled the trigger just as Ford, sensing a chance to escape, made a bolt for freedom. He jarred Ravencroft’s arm. The bullet veered wildly to the left, toward Felix’s heart. Felix stared at him with confused, accusing eyes and a look of utter incredulity on his face.

That one look was enough to tell Ravencroft he had made a hideous mistake. Bratty hadn’t intentionally aimed his pistol at him. He hadn’t come to help Ford, he had merely blundered in at the worst possible moment. He clutched his arm and fell to the ground in a faint. George went after Ford and hauled him back. Glover and Spinks, alerted by the gun shot, came darting forward to help.

Amy, who had been lurking uncertainly in the shadows, also came running forth. She saw her cousin on the ground, saw Ravencroft’s gun in his hand, saw the ravaged look on his face and cried, “Good God, you’ve killed Felix.’“ She rushed forward and fell on her knees beside her cousin.

Felix opened his eyes and blinked. “He’s mad, Amy
,
” he whispered, “A raving lunatic. I came to help him! Don’t leave me! He’ll kill me.”

Amy turned on Ravencroft like a virago, “Why did you shoot him?”

“He aimed his gun at me! How was I to know?” He took a glance, and saw that no significant amount of blood was staining Bratty’s jacket. He thanked God that the blood was on the sleeve, not over the heart. “Get him home and call a sawbones,” he said gruffly, to hide his shame.

After a brief discussion, George was assigned the job of getting Felix and Amy home, while Ravencroft and his servants took the criminals to the round house in Ford’s carriage. They brought the blanket holding the forged money along, but left Ford’s servants tied up behind the barn for the constable to deal with.

By the time the three reached Bratty Hall, Felix had been told of the night’s doings. George assisted him into the morning parlor and ran for hot water, bandages and basilicum powder. When Felix’s jacket was removed and the wound examined, it was seen not to be serious. The bullet was not imbedded in his arm. Amy bathed it and applied the basilicum powder and a bandage. As she worked, Felix expatiated on his part in the night’s affair.

“And you still haven’t told me why you’re dressed like a rat catcher,” he said, frowning at Amy’s rags as he slid his arms into a gaudy silk dressing gown that George had brought down for him.

“I didn’t want to soil my good gown,” she said vaguely, and hurried on with another question to distract him. “How did you come to be there, Felix?”

“Why, you must know Ravencroft sought my help the minute he got to Easton. I have been working with him hand in glove all along,” he said, and soon believed it. “I wondered he wasn’t at the race, when all his chums were there. Had a word with Lord Mercer and Aldritch. They tipped me the clue we was to keep Ford busy as long as we could. When Ford insisted on leaving early, I followed him.

“And a dashed lot of thanks I got for missing the party at Canterbury! Shot in the arm like a poacher. Why the deuce didn’t he keep me informed what was afoot?”

“Why to be sure, he thought you knew,” Amy said untruthfully. “He had seen you keeping an eye on Ford for a few days now. He saw you picking the man’s brains at the assembly.”

After a little consideration, Felix fell in line with this interpretation of events. “But why did he shoot me?” he repeated.

George came to the rescue with an invention of his own. “It wasn’t you he was shooting at, Mr. Bratty. ‘Twas one of Ford’s men, who was creeping up behind you to do you a mischief. That’s who his lordship was aiming at. You must have noticed Ford jarred his arm just
as he fired.”

“I did notice that,” Felix said. “Creeping up on me from behind, was he? Planning to slide a knife between my ribs, the scoundrel. Well done of Ravencroft. We agents have to look out for each other. They’re a bloodthirsty lot, George. You’ve no idea what we’ve been through.”

George accepted this with equanimity. He knew which side his bread was buttered on. This fool would be his master in the near future, and he had no intention of coming to cuffs with him. “You are a brave man, sir. A hero. May I suggest a glass of brandy to help you recover from your dreadful ordeal?” he said, handing Felix a glass, “And perhaps a sling for Mr. Bratty’s arm, Miss Bratty. That is a wicked wound there.” He winked at her over Felix’s shoulder.

Amy was not slow to abet her footman. “Dear me, he will look a regular Corsair when he goes into society,” she said. “The ladies will think you a pretty dangerous fellow, Felix.”

Felix’s eyebrows lifted in pleasure. His part in the whole affair grew
as he sipped his brandy. He was well into his cups by the time Ravencroft came to call.

Ravencroft’s questioning gaze flew to Amy
,
to gauge his welcome. He didn’t notice that she was wearing unspeakably horrible men’s clothes. He only noticed the magical halo of red curls framing her pale face, and the unconscious smile that lifted her lips and lit her eyes as she hastened across the floor to greet him with her hands out. He seized them and held on tight. “Is it safe for me to come in?” he asked.

“It is, but don’t be surprised if you had less to do with this arrest than you think,” she replied with a mischievous smile, as she drew him toward Felix.

“A good night’s work, Ravencroft, if I do say so myself,” was Felix’s greeting. “I was just explaining to young George here how we captured Ford. Got him locked up right and tight, have you? Good lad. Come and have a gargle. Pay no heed to Amy
.
You’d ought to put on a gown, Amy
.
You’re enough to frighten the Dragoons. I don’t know what Ravencroft must think of you.”

Amy’s hand flew to her lips in vexation. She had planned to change and look her best when Ravencroft came.

Ravencroft said, “I came to apologize for –” He glanced at Felix’s arm. “I hope the wound is not serious.”

Felix was enchanted with his sling. It would not be much inconvenience either, as it was on his left arm. “No offense taken, Ravencroft. I lost a deal of blood, but it is not life-threatening,” he said grandly. “We have to expect these contretemps in our line of work. All the same, I believe I shall dart off to London tomorrow to have my own doctor take a look at it. Wouldn’t want to lose my wing.” It was not his doctor but his friends that he wished to have a look at his sling. “You’ll be coming with me, no doubt, to report to – our superior. “

His grave tone and quick glance to Amy and George suggested that he dare not name this important personage in front of mere civilians. Into his mind darted an image of the Prince of Wales, the First Gentleman of Europe.

“Yes. As you are incapacitated, perhaps you would like me to write the report, Bratty?” Ravencroft suggested.

Felix hadn’t expected there would be writing involved. “That might be best,” he agreed, glancing at his sling with seeming reluctance.

“As we will be leaving in the morning, perhaps you could just jot down a few notes to help me now, before I leave?” he said, in an effort to get Felix out of the room.

“Oh, as to that, I leave the paperwork to you, Ravencroft. I am a man of action. You can act my secretary, if you don’t mind. Truth to tell, this arm is bothering me a good deal. I must recover in time to forestall – you know.”

Ravencroft recognized in this obliquity a reference to the royal assassination plot and said, “Just so. We shall need you in London. It might be best if you lie down now.”

Amy summoned George to assist Felix up to his bed. When they were gone, she turned to Ravencroft. “How does he think forged money and assassinating our monarchs are connected?”

“Both French tricks to weaken the country, I expect.”

“So, you will be leaving tomorrow, milord,” she said, trying for a normal tone. But her future seemed unutterably bleak without him. She waited on nettles for his answer, already feeling a profound sense of loss.

“I must accompany the prisoners and the evidence, the forged money, to London.” he explained. “Ford has opened his budget. Kirby and Gash have been picked up. I doubt we’ll ever find Alphonse, but we don’t need him. Fitz will keep a sharp eye that the forged banknotes don’t keep coming in.”

“Did you discover who killed Bransom? Don’t forget to take his watch from Jermyn as evidence.”

“Jermyn and Saxton both say it was Ford who shot him. Ford lured him to the coal yard on the pretense of having some information to sell him. Shot him – in the back – and buried him in the coal pile. Jermyn didn’t have a watch, so Ford gave Bransom’s to him, thinking no one would recognize it
as Bransom was only in town a short while. The watch will go along to London in evidence. I don’t believe we shall require Lord Ashworth’s pistol, that Ford was carrying tonight, to tie him to Kirby.”

Amy smiled sheepishly. “Actually George brought it home and put it back in the case with its partner.” She listened, hoping Ravencroft would say something about returning to Easton.

“I would appreciate it if you could convince Felix he is too ill to travel,” he said.

“Don’t worry about Felix. He just wants to show off his sling. No one will take him seriously.”

“I shall inform Fitz as to who really solved the case.”

“Just tell him the Cougar offered what assistance his condition allowed. You didn’t forget the servants, out behind the barn?”

“They were let go. They believed Ford was only involved in the silk smuggling. No serious matter here on the coast.”

“And Fairmont, how deeply was he involved?”

“To his ankles, no higher. He convinced himself the money from Ford was gambling profits. He was in debt to Ford, and didn’t ask questions, though he must have been suspicious. A banker would be the first to recognize a forged note. He only handled the first shipment, however, and will get off with a fine and a warning.”

“I’m glad.”

“Yes,” he said rather impatiently, and changed the subject. “Amy, I wish you could come with us to London.” She studied him, trying to read if he meant more than he said. He was gazing at her with a small frown growing between his eyebrows. “I daresay you would not leave your papa?”

“I cannot like to leave so soon after his attack.”

They looked at each other in the still room for what seemed a long time. After a stretch of silence, they both spoke together.

“Well, it is getting late,” was overriden by, “Amy
,
I’m deuced sorry – “ They both stopped, and again silence fell.

After a moment, Ravencroft drew closer to her and said in a soft voice, “When can I see you again?”

“I hope you will call if you happen to be in the neighborhood.”

“Amy! I’m not talking about a chance meeting at some vague future date. It shouldn’t take more than a few days to wind things up in London.” He reached for her and drew her into his arms. He palmed her cheeks with his warm hands, tilted her head up and gazed into her eyes, until he felt he was drowning in their dazzling green depths.

“If you can’t come to me, I shall come to you, my darling,” he said in a husky voice. “Can I trust you to keep out of mischief until I return?”

The air quickened around them. “Why would you come – What do you mean – “ she asked breathlessly, gazing at him with hope blazing like the noonday sun in her eyes .

“I mean – this.” He lowered his head and crushed her against him in a ruthless, soul-destroying embrace, until the world faded away and there was only her and Ravencroft and the delightful tumult of their passion. His lips were demanding, and hers answered every demand. She had craved excitement, but she had never imagined the world held such excitement as this,
as if she were riding a whirlwind, and never wanted to get off.

His warm hands moved over her back, pressing her more tightly against the hard wall of his chest. A shudder shook her as one hand moved restlessly to her throat, then his fingers tangled in her hair. Her fears melted away in the heat of his love. She didn’t know how it had happened, could hardly believe that it had happened, that this proud lord had chosen her. She only knew it had happened, and she was the luckiest woman in all of England.

When he stopped for a gulp of air, she said, “But I can’t leave Papa.”

“Then Lord Ashworth shall come with us to Cheyne Bay. He won’t know the difference, Amy. “

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