Of Noble Birth (29 page)

“That’s a good lass. I’ll
get you a cup of good strong tea first. That’ll help you get your
strength back. Then I’ll pick up the fabric when I go to market.”
She smoothed her white apron with her hands. “The tea will take
just a moment, dear.”

Tutty, as Alexandra had
heard the doctor call her, shuttled between the doctor’s office and
his residence upstairs with amazing agility for a woman of her age
and weight. Only minutes later, Alexandra heard her banging around
the kitchen in an effort to produce the promised tea.

The doctor returned just
as Tutty descended the stairs, tray in hand. He joined his
housekeeper at Alexandra’s bedside, a kind smile on his
bespectacled face.

“Feeling any better?” he
asked.

Alexandra nodded. She
didn’t, but she knew they would never let her leave if she told
them the truth.

“Tutty said you wanted to
do some sewing today. I think that should be fine, providing you
don’t overdo. You need several days of bed rest, you
know.”

Alexandra sipped her tea,
thinking she’d go mad staying in bed that long. Memories of
Nathaniel haunted her constantly. She had to occupy her time more
completely to make herself forget the tall, dark pirate, and she
had to get her life in order. The doctor and his housekeeper were
kind, but she couldn’t stay forever in the freshly painted room
with its three other wrinkle-free beds. The fear of the unknown
would quickly undermine her determination to get a
start.

But might Nathaniel come
back?

Alexandra tried to bury
the hope that wiggled at the back of her mind. He wasn’t coming
back. His good-bye the night he left was final, and she needed it
to stay that way. She didn’t want to be around when the duke
finally caught up with him—and she had no doubt Greystone
eventually would.

The doctor was speaking to
her. Alexandra looked up, attempting to catch enough of his words
to provide a coherent answer.

“...
is not common I treat a woman for a gunshot wound. How did it
happen?”

Alexandra remembered the
eyes of the sharpshooter aiming for Nathaniel as vividly as she’d
seen them the day of the battle with the
Voyager.
“My brother was cleaning
his gun,” she said, “and it went off.”

* * *

“Did you find a
messenger?” Nathaniel asked. He, Garth, and the others were waiting
at the hotel with Lord Clifton. Tiny had just returned.

“Aye. I gave ‘im the
letter, an’ ‘e’s on ‘is way to deliver it to the duke
now.”

Nathaniel stroked his
chin. He hadn’t shaved yet and could feel the prickly growth of his
beard beneath his fingertips. “Now all we have to do is wait,” he
told Garth. “If Richard shows up at the Tower, we let Lord Clifton
go.”

Garth nodded, and
Nathaniel leaned back in his chair. The hotel steward had brought
them a breakfast of fried eggs, bacon, a cold joint of meat, and
rolls with preserves, but he had eaten little. Too preoccupied to
enjoy the food, he sipped a cup of tea instead, watching his men
devour everything in a matter of minutes.

From that point, time
passed on lead feet. Nathaniel paced in front of the window,
staring out at the day; the others played cards. Still bound, the
marquess remained on the floor where he had spent the
night.

Rain drizzled out of a
gray sky, lacking any real commitment. Nathaniel wished it would
pour. Frequent rains were the only thing that kept London habitable
during the hot summer months, and it was already a warm spring. The
water cleaned the air and the streets, helping to relieve the
terrible stench that rose from the gutters.

“Untie me, I can’t stand
lying here any longer,” Clifton said.

Nathaniel ignored him. He
had no plans to wrestle with the marquess again today, nor was he
willing to endure any of his half brother’s verbal abuse. He
inclined his head toward the table where he had put a strip of
cloth, just in case they needed a gag, and Clifton got the
message.

At noon Nathaniel sent
John and Garth to the Tower of London for Richard.

They returned nearly two
hours later. Nathaniel could hear their voices as they came down
the hall. At first he thought he heard Richard’s as well, but when
they burst into the room, they were without him.

“He wasn’t there,” Garth
announced. “We waited almost an hour, but there was no sign of
him.”

The marquess closed his
eyes and dropped his head in disappointment. Nathaniel wanted to do
the same, except his men were watching him, waiting.

“What should we do?” Garth
asked.

“We wait until tomorrow
and send the same message,” Nathaniel replied. “Maybe Greystone
didn’t get word in time.”

John stiffened in his
chair. His eyes locked with Nathaniel’s, then turned to stare his
hatred at the marquess. “If the duke has killed my brother, I’m
going to kill his son.”

“And I wouldn’t blame
you,” Nathaniel admitted, watching his half brother shrink away
from John’s intense regard.

The next morning Nathaniel
sent another messenger to Greystone House on Berkeley Square, and
the wait began anew. Only, this time they untied young Lord
Clifton. He sat in a corner, silent and morose, while the rest of
them talked among themselves or gambled.

At noon John and Garth
went back to the Tower. When they returned this time, Richard was
with them. He had a number of bruises, a black eye, and possibly a
broken nose, but he laughed and threw his arms around Nathaniel the
moment he saw him.

“You did it. I’m free from
the bloody bastard,” he exclaimed.

Nathaniel pounded his
friend on the back. “We’re just glad you’re alive.”

Richard shook his head.
“The duke was furious. He had his men beat me one last time, just
for good measure, but you had him by the bullocks, and he knew
it.”

Richard’s carrot-colored
hair was matted with blood from a cut just above his temple, and he
favored his left side, but otherwise, he seemed to be the same
boisterous soul he’d always been.

“What did he do to you?”
Nathaniel asked.

“Nothing more than what
I’d get in a good brawl at the corner tavern.” Richard laughed, but
Nathaniel suspected he’d received a great deal more than that.
“Your father wanted me to tell him where he could find you, and
when I wouldn’t say, he let his men rough me up a bit. Damn near
broke a few ribs, I think.” He gingerly pressed the offended side.
“But I’ll heal.”

Nathaniel glanced at
Clifton. His half brother watched them with obvious relief, knowing
Richard to be his ticket home.

“Tiny, you go rent a
carriage and two extra horses. Bring them down the alley in back,
then come get me,” Nathaniel told him. “Garth, help me tie Lord
Clifton up again.”

“Wait,” the marquess
cried. “What are you doing? You told my father you’d let me
go.”

Nathaniel laughed. “Did
you think I was going to let you walk out of here and go straight
to the constabulary?”

“But you said—”

“I said I’d trade you. I
didn’t say when or how.”

By the time Tiny returned,
Clifton was bound and gagged and lying in his place on the
floor.

“The rest of you be ready
to leave as soon as I get back,” Nathaniel admonished, motioning
for Tiny to help him. Together they lifted the marquess and carried
him out the back way, where they put him in the
carriage.

“You drive,” Nathaniel
said. “Take us out toward Bristol, beyond the city.”

“Aye, Cap’n.” Tiny hefted
himself up to the driver’s box, and Nathaniel climbed inside with
Clifton. It had not stopped drizzling since the day before, but
Nathaniel gave it no heed. He was relieved on two accounts: a
portion of his plan had fallen into place, and he would soon be rid
of his half brother.

The ride took a little
over an hour. Finally Tiny pulled to the side of the road and
stopped in the shade of an elm tree. “This good enough?” he
called.

Nathaniel jumped to the
ground. “Perfect. Untie the horses.” Turning back to the marquess,
he said, “This is where we say good-bye. I hope
forever.”

Lord Clifton squirmed and
groaned, but the gag in his mouth prevented him from formulating
his various grunts into words.

“I’ll take that as a fond
farewell.” Nathaniel laughed and slammed the door. Then he and Tiny
climbed astride the horses and headed back into town.

“Are you goin’ to let the
duke know where the marquess is at?” Tiny asked at
length.

“No. I’m going to let the
stables know where they can retrieve their carriage. They’ll notify
the duke when they find Clifton.”

“That’s a good idea.” Tiny
sounded genuinely impressed.

“We need to rent some
horses from another stable first,” Nathaniel explained.

“We’re leaving
town?”

“Of course.”

“What about the
guns?”

“They can be handled at a
much safer distance, for the time being.”

They rode in silence the
rest of the way. By the time they rented more horses and reached
the Golden Crown, Garth and the others were waiting in the alley.
They each took a mount and climbed on.

“Is it done?” Richard
asked.

“Greenwalt Stables is on
their way to retrieve their property,” Nathaniel informed him.
“It’ll happen soon enough.”

“Then let’s get the hell
out of here,” he whooped. “I hope Trenton’s got the
Vengeance
ready, because
that duke’s hopping mad. I’d say we should head to America, but I’m
not sure it’s far enough away.”

“Trenton will pick us up
in Newcastle,” Nathaniel said. “We’ll deal with the rifles there,
before my father sends any more guns to Russia.”

He nudged his horse into a
gallop and the others followed suit. They cleared the cart-and
vendor-laden streets of the capital and emerged on the rolling
green hills of the surrounding countryside.

Suddenly Nathaniel reined
in.

“What is it?” Garth asked,
slowing along with him.

Nathaniel paused in
indecision. “Nothing. Never mind. Let’s go.” He shook the reins and
started out again, but it wasn’t five minutes before he wheeled
around a second time.

“Is something wrong,
Captain?” Garth’s face revealed his puzzlement.

“There’s something I need
to do.” Nathaniel squinted back the way they had come, knowing in
that moment that he couldn’t leave Alexandra. She drew him back as
surely as a river flowed to the sea.

The entire group slowed to
a stop and came back to meet him. “What’s going on?” Richard
called.

“I’m going
back.”

“But why?” Alarm rang
through Richard’s Scottish lilt.

“There’s something I have
to do. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

“You don’t want to go back
there,” Richard insisted. “Believe me, Nathaniel, Greystone will be
turning that town upside down to find you as soon as he gets
Clifton back.”

“If it has anything to do
with a beautiful blonde with big green eyes, now is not the time,
my friend,” John added.

Then when was the time?
Nathaniel wondered. Once Alexandra recovered enough to leave Dr.
Watts’s, he might never find her again. “I’ll catch up with you
tomorrow. If not, go on to Newcastle without me.”

“I don’t think we should
leave you.” Richard trotted after him. “We’ll come,
too.”

Nathaniel scrutinized his
friend’s battered face—the swollen lip, the black eye, the
congealed blood from the cut at his temple. He was grateful to have
Richard back in one piece, knew he was extremely lucky, in fact,
and wanted him and the others well away from the city. “No. You
stay with John. I’ll catch up.”

Richard lowered his voice.
“You’re foolish to take any more chances, Nathaniel. Being a
one-armed man makes you an easy mark.”

“I’ve always managed to
look out for myself before,” Nathaniel told him, but he didn’t say
what was equally true: though he feared the duke, somehow the
thought of never seeing Alexandra again was worse.

“Nathaniel, don’t.” Tiny
added his voice to those of the others, but Nathaniel waved them
all off as he kicked his horse into a gallop.

“I have to,” Nathaniel
told them, but he didn’t know what he was going to say or do once
he reached Dr. Watts’s. Nothing had changed. He couldn’t take
Alexandra away with him because it wasn’t safe. He had nothing to
offer her, but he had to see her one last time. Surely he could
allow his heart that one small concession.

* * *

The Duke of Greystone
paced angrily behind the huge mahogany desk, inlaid with ebony and
ivory, that stood in the center of his study. The man from
Greenwalt Stables, who had found Jake and brought him home, had
left only a few hours before. But Nathaniel and his men were
already long gone from the Golden Crown, just as Jake had said they
would be.