Royal Regard (50 page)

“You compound your lies. I have heard you
with him. But you will not speak your tender words to him again. Of
that you may be sure,
conasse
.”

“How did you manage to—”

“You English. So concerned for the character
of your servants, but so trusting of a piece of paper. Never
checking it is not false.”

“I see. And no one thought to investigate
Nick’s servants, only mine and Charlotte’s.”

“We have had a girl in his kitchens for weeks
now, to make sure he pays for his insults to
Monsieur le
Duc
. Now, of course, the insult is much greater, but he will
make payment, all the same.”

From the corner of her eye, Bella saw a
slight movement at the kitchen garden door, and she willed herself
not to look, not wanting to draw Michelle’s attention to any
potential rescue, praying it wasn’t some awful compatriot of
Michelle and Malbourne, still bloodthirsty after killing everyone
inside.

Bella took a very slow, small step forward.
After all of the weight she had lost, her mourning dress dragged on
the ground, and she hoped she could advance slightly while hiding
her steps behind the black wool.

“You will stay where you are,
Madame
,
or I will take the life of this little girl you pretend is your
own.”

The garden door opened slightly and Bella
prayed Jewel’s muffled sobs would cover the squeak of its hinges.
When she saw John’s face peek out, shushing her with a finger over
his lips, eyes taking in the scene, she did her best to distract
Michelle, keep her turned away from the door, knowing it meant
Jewel was outside John’s line of sight. She took a step to the
right and spoke a bit louder so John could slip across the garden
path to a spot five feet closer, behind a raspberry hedge.

“She is a child, Michelle.” She added, for
John, “Not even as tall as your shoulder.” He nodded his
understanding. “Let her go. I will get down on my knees and give
you my throat if you just let her go. Please. No, Jewel, sweeting,
be very still. Don’t struggle.” The knife’s edge was far too close
to the girl’s neck. “Hush, hush. Be a brave girl for me. Just be
very still. Yes, that’s it. Very still.”

Once Jewel quieted again, Bella gave Michelle
her attention, so John could move forward another ten feet. “I’m
not sure how you think you will accomplish so many murders,
Michelle. The house is surrounded by soldiers.”

“Not such good soldiers, as I have been
sleeping in this garden, slipping in and out all hours, for more
than a fortnight.”

Not such good soldiers, indeed. Bella felt
the blood drain from her face. She feared for the men under her
brother’s command, seeing his emotions controlled by a will so
strong iron bars might be keeping his jaw in line. She anticipated
dozens of floggings ordered—probably delivered—by her brother for
this appalling oversight.

“I am reminded of spying for
Monseigneur
during
la Grande Terreur,
but this time,
I will avenge him and atone for his family. I will take the lives
of everyone in this house before I am finished,
Madame
.
Everyone you love.”

John aimed his pistol at the back of
Michelle’s head, point blank, only inches above Jewel’s ringlets,
and shot.

Before the knife clattered to a
stop on the garden path, Bella reached out and grabbed her niece
from underneath the fallen Frenchwoman, away from the sight of
Michelle missing half of her skull. Before anyone could do or say
anything, Bella dragged Jewel inside through the conservatory into
the dining room, where any number of John’s men were milling about,
awaiting his instructions.

As she cleared the threshold, she heard John
call out, “Three of you men come here to secure the garden.” They
only waited long enough to bow when Bella and Jewel passed through
the doorway.

Struggling under the weight of Jewel glued to
her side, Bella all but fell into the room. Her niece hung on her
bloody skirts like a limpet, screaming, crying, kicking at the
ground instead of walking. The headache that had been threatening
was long past the point of unbearable, until Bella’s eyes were
unfocused and ears ringing. All heightened by the shrieking, crying
panic of a six-year-old for whom Bella was terrified.

Once they made it to relative quiet in the
drawing room, Bella crouched down and shook Jewel to break the hold
of the hysteria, barking, “Julia Minerva Marloughe, stop that
caterwauling this instant and listen to me!” Jewel swallowed and
choked, still reeling, but took in Bella’s forcibly collected face
and put two fingers in her mouth. The tears still ran, but the
terror had receded for them both.

Mercifully, Jewel had yet to notice the blood
covering her hair and clothes. Bella hugged her tightly, trying to
restrain the rage threatening to engulf her along with everything
else. “You are such a very brave girl, sweeting, but I must be sure
your parents and brother are safe. Do you understand?” Still
sobbing and clutching Bella’s shoulders, Jewel nodded.

Pointing to three of the soldiers, Bella
instructed, “Two of you, please take Jewel to the study and watch
over her, weapons at the ready. One of the maids can clean her and
bring a dress and her china doll from the nursery. Another man find
the nursemaid—she’s gone to the park with Master Alex, possibly
Gunter’s—and stay on the alert once you find them. If any harm
befalls my niece or nephew, I will give testimony to the king. Do I
make myself perfectly clear?”

“Yes, my lady.”

She turned back to Jewel. “These men will
protect you, and you must stay in your papa’s study upstairs with
them. No running off. No coming after me. You do exactly what they
say, no matter what happens, and you must tell Nurse to do the
same. Can you do that for me?” Jewel nodded weakly. “I will come
find you in a very little while.” She looked at the clock on the
mantelpiece and pointed it out to Jewel. “Before the big hand
reaches the six on your Papa’s big clock. I promise.”

“Yeth, Auntie Bella,” Jewel sobbed, but
finally let go of her aunt’s hair. She stuck a third finger into
her mouth and backed away from the men dressed exactly like her
cousin, who had just left her covered in blood.

The older of the two shrugged off his coat
and bent over to take Jewel’s hand, assuring Bella, “She will be
safe, my lady. I have children of my own.” The other man followed
his comrade’s lead, also removing his coat to look less like a
soldier. Neither, of course, left off his weapons.

“Come along, Lady Julia. Chilcott will go
find your nurse, and you and I can find a storybook or a game in
your Papa’s study. Does he keep storybooks for you?” He led her
away, though Jewel kept watching Bella until they turned the
corner.

Bella turned to another man. “Do you know the
Duke of Wellbridge’s residence? Dalrymple House in Grosvenor
Square?”

“Yes, Your Ladyship.”

“Go there, now, as fast as you can. Don’t let
him eat anything, not even a cup of tea, and bring him back here
without delay. If he’s—” Her voice shattered, “—it will be some
sort of poison. Empty his stomach, give him as much vinegar as you
can force down his throat, and you will need to send for a doctor
right away. You’d better take another man, as I won’t have the duke
unprotected if he’s—” She couldn’t even say it. “Just go. Now!”

The soldier didn’t even stay long enough to
agree, just turned on his heel and ran. Before she could give any
more commands, John came back through the garden door.

“You—Crandall—my wife and children are at
home. I want them under our protection posthaste, and detain my
three servants. Sanders, Lady Firthley is at Harding Howell, and
Lord Firthley is at Westminster. Send two men and a closed carriage
for the marchioness and ride for The Lords as fast as you can. If
Firthley isn’t back in this house in one half-hour, I will flog you
myself, then turn you over to him.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Someone go for the doctor, another to Bow
Street, and another man inform the king. I am not immediately
concerned with who does what.” When the few remaining men all
looked like they would rather break bones than explain this debacle
to the king, John reminded them there could be worse fates. “You
may tell His Majesty you only know the countess is safe and
Lemaître is dead. I will make a full report to him as soon as I can
and take the brunt.

“Make no mistake, though. You are better off
with the king, as you are telling him we still don’t understand
what happened, but when you get back here, you are telling me how
Michelle Lemaître managed to live in Lady Firthley’s garden and lay
hands on the marquess’s six-year-old daughter—
my cousin
. You
may as well strip to the waist and bring back the halberds, for I
will have the courts-martial by sundown.”

Again, no response but a rapid retreat to
follow orders. Faster when John gave them.

Once the soldiers had all cleared the room on
one mission or another, John turned to Bella, searching her face,
touching her fallen-down hair, grasping her shoulders, running his
hands down her arms, looking for bruises or breaks.

“Are you all right, sweetheart? Devil be
damned! I cannot believe that woman got in here. There will be
soldiers on gibbets before I am finished.”

Bile and tears blocked her throat and
overwhelmed any reassurances she might give. Choking on her sobs
and barely breathing, she threw herself into his arms, even more
hysterical than Jewel.

He held her away from his chest long enough
to demand, “You must answer me, Bella. Are you injured?” When she
didn’t respond, he used the same voice he had with his men, the
same one she had used with Jewel. “Isabella Rowan Huntleigh! Look
at me this minute!” It was her father’s voice; she shrank from him.
“Are you physically sound?”

“But for my head,” she whispered, “Please
stop yelling,” Wrapping his arms around her, John rocked her,
stroking her hair while she cried.

Eventually, her breathing calmed, though her
skull and neck felt as though they would ache into her eternal
life. Through blurred vision, she saw two identical clocks showing
twenty-five minutes after three, so she pulled back from her
brother and haphazardly dried her eyes. “I have to go speak to
Jewel. I told her I would be there by half-past.”

He frowned and said, “You are going to
bed.”

Her voice hardened. “Right now, that little
girl doesn’t know the difference between reality and a nightmare.
In two minutes, she will know that I am solid, alive, and
breathing, and adults who love her keep their promises. If my head
falls into pieces, I am going upstairs to see my niece and would do
as much for your children. I will appreciate you giving me your
arm.”

He stuck out his elbow immediately, settling
her against his arm and shoulder, walking her slowly to the dining
room door, much as she had once held up Myron on his bad days.

“How brave you are. My baby sister all grown
up, stolid as a soldier.”

“Yes, well… one must be made of stern stuff
in other parts of the world, and I was blessed with tyrannical
older brothers who toughened me up.” She put her hand to her head,
then took hold of the banister and began the ascent. She breathed
deeply, trying to will away the pain behind her eyes. “My head is
about to cleave in two.” When they reached the landing, he swept
her up into his arms to carry her the rest of the way.

“You’ll be lying down as soon as you’ve seen
to Jewel.”

She agreed, “Perhaps even on the floor at her
feet.”

“I shan’t let you fall on the floor. You are
not taking this like any female of my acquaintance.”

“If there had been a weapon to hand, I could
have dispatched Michelle; I know how. But I am rather glad you
saved me from committing murder.”

“My pleasure entirely.”

“Myron shot a Spanish sailor coming after me
in Hispaniola once, and I was more drenched in blood than Jewel,
though obviously, that man hadn’t worked in my bedchamber for two
months before he attacked me.”

“No more hiring of servants for your
bedchamber without my approval.”

She shook her head, wincing. “No, I don’t
imagine I will be in the market for servants. I would sooner carry
my own bath water from a river to a tent.”

Her head shot up at a sudden thought, almost
knocking her skull against his chin. As though it had, her hand
moved automatically to her temple, soothing the shooting pain. “Let
no one eat or drink anything from the kitchen, not even a glass of
water. Tell Cook it will all have to be replaced—every morsel—and
the larder scrubbed top to bottom with strong lye soap. The same at
Ni—the duke’s house, yours and mine, too. And every servant should
be detained, especially new ones. Corbel, Blakeley, and Mrs.
Jemison can be trusted implicitly, but I cannot vouch for
Watts.”