Sally MacKenzie Bundle (182 page)

“I believe he’s more than happy, Gladys,” Lady Amanda said. “I don’t expect you’ll be lingering downstairs tonight, hmm, Sarah?”

Sarah was saved from answering by the arrival of the tea tray. She leapt up to pour.

“Richard will not be very pleased to read about your wedding in the paper tomorrow, James,” Charles said as he took his teacup from Sarah. “I assume you’ve sent the notices to the papers?”

“Don’t need the papers.” Robbie leaned back in the settee and stretched his feet out in front of him. “You’d have to be blind and deaf not to notice the hubbub around here today. Wouldn’t take more than a question here and there to get all the particulars.”

“True. Though even if he gets wind of it tonight, seeing it in print will give him indigestion with his breakfast.” James stayed by Sarah as she finished pouring. “If that were the end of it, I wouldn’t care, but I’m afraid the notice will spur him to desperate action.”

“Surely Richard will realize his cause is lost,” Aunt Gladys protested. “You’re married. What more can he do?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” James said. “Last night, William Dunlap almost strangled me in my bed.”

“Good God!” Charles’s tea sloshed into his saucer. “How the devil did that happen?”

James shrugged. “He drugged the Bow Street Runners I had engaged to help guard the house.”

“How did you stop him, James?” Lizzie asked. Sarah kept her eyes firmly fixed on the teapot.

“Let’s say his head had an unfortunate encounter with a chamber pot.”

“Conked him over the noggin, did you? Well done!” Robbie saluted James with his teacup.

“You always were a light sleeper,” Charles said. “Always the one who heard the enemy sneaking into camp when we were on the Peninsula.”

“Yes, well, I managed to get a confession out of him. I hope it will persuade Richard to give up his obsession with the dukedom.”

“Good luck,” Robbie said. “I imagine you’ll have as much success at that as you’d have getting the Thames to flow backward. The man’s a lunatic.”

“And he’s getting bolder.” Charles leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I don’t believe you have time to try to persuade him, James. He must know that his role in this is exposed. He’ll act quickly. I think you need to trap him now, just as we used to do when we had a soldier we suspected of treason. Catch him in the act. You can do it. You just need the right bait.”

“I don’t think that will work, Charles. Richard’s tried to kill me many times, but he’s always hired someone else to do the job.”

“Perhaps he’s desperate enough to try himself now, especially with Dunlap gone.”

“I don’t know.” Robbie shook his head. “I agree with James. I don’t think Richard will take him on directly.”

“Maybe—” Sarah swallowed, trying to clear the sudden dryness in her throat. “Maybe there’s other bait besides James that would lure Richard out of hiding.”

Charles frowned. “What do you mean?”

Sarah heard James’s sharp intake of breath even before she spoke. “He’s not afraid of me.”

“Absolutely not!” James almost shouted the words.

“But it might work. I’m certainly not a physical threat to Richard.”

“I’ll not allow you to put yourself at risk.”

“I don’t know, James,” Charles said. “If we took the proper precautions—”

“No. Do not even think of it. It is totally out of the question.” James slammed his teacup down on the table. The sound of china clattering against china made everyone cringe. “Now if you’ll excuse us, I think we shall retire for the evening.”

James pulled Sarah up the stairs. The thought of her having anything more to do with Richard made him want to jump out of his skin.

“James, could we slow down to a run? I’m afraid I’ll trip.”

James stopped. “I’m sorry. I’m a little upset.”

“I noticed.” She ran her finger down his cheek. “Let’s sleep on the problem. Maybe a solution will come to us in the morning.”

“An excellent idea.” James started back up the stairs at a slower pace. “Only, I don’t intend to sleep tonight.”

“Not at all?”

“Not at all. I have too many years without you to make up for.”

Chapter 16

“He’s married!” Richard threw his newspaper down on the breakfast table, knocking over the cream.

“Yes.” Philip tried to stem the white flow with his napkin. He’d been expecting this outburst. One of Lord Eversly’s footmen had told him about the activity at Alvord House the night before.

“He’s supposed to be dead.”

“I know.” Philip dodged the teapot that Richard flung across the room. A spray of hot liquid burned his hand. He flinched and wiped it on his dressing gown.

“Where the bloody hell is Dunlap?”

“On his way back to America.”

“On his way to America!” Richard’s eyes narrowed as he leaned over the table. “I thought you told me he could do this job,” he spat between gritted teeth. “You swore he was competent.”

“I thought he was. Apparently he attempted to dispatch James the night before last, but failed. The rumor on the servant grapevine is that Miss Hamilton bashed him over the head with a chamber pot. James got a confession from him and then arranged for his passage early yesterday morning.”

“A confession?” Richard surged to his feet, upending the breakfast table and sending the dishes shattering to the floor.

Philip brushed steak and kidneys off his lap. “No one will believe the word of an American whoremonger.”

“Perhaps not, but I am sick to death of waiting for this to be resolved. I will not wait any longer. Today, Philip. We will settle this problem today.”

“Richard, think. You need a plan.”

“No, Philip, I need results.”

Sarah hovered by a large floral arrangement in Lady Carrington’s ballroom. It had taken hours of argument, but James had finally agreed to the scheme. She couldn’t say she enjoyed playing cheese to Richard’s rat, but if her role led to Richard’s entrapment and removal from their lives, it would be well worth it.

James had lived in the shadow of Richard’s obsession too long. Even the short time Sarah had been the object of his machinations had been too long. But the coal in her gut that kept her determination burning was the thought of what her life would be like if she and James had a child. She would never be able to relax. Every night when she put the infant in his crib, she would worry that the babe would be gone when she came to him in the morning. She would scrutinize every servant, suspect every visitor, search every room, and every quiet landscape for potential danger. It would be hell on earth.

James had worked to reduce the risk. He had insisted that she dress in bright yellow and wear a yellow plume in her hair so she would be easier to trace in the crush of the ballroom or the dim light of the garden. He had Walter Parks alert his extensive network of associates. There was a street urchin by the front door and another at the back gate. A coachman leaned against one of the many vehicles lined up outside. A hackney driver idled halfway down the block, and at the street corner a man in livery chatted with a maid. Even inside the ballroom there were people alert for trouble.

Yet James still could not let go. Sarah had forced him to retreat to the card room, but he kept reappearing at her side at the end of every set.

“James,” she finally hissed. “Nothing will happen if you keep hovering over me like an anxious nursemaid.”

“I don’t
want
anything to happen.” His face turned stony.

“I know.” Sarah sighed. Her next partner was approaching. “We’ve gone through this over and over, James. We agreed to try this plan. Now go play cards.” She gave him a little push. He glared at her, then at poor Viscount Islington, but he did finally turn and stalk back to the card room.

When the viscount bowed at the end of their set, Sarah was certain she would find James at her elbow again, but he’d managed to stay where he’d been sent. Now she was waiting for Lord Pontly, one of the more brainless specimens of the
ton,
to claim her for a country dance.

“Ah, Miss Hamilton—or, I should say,
Duchess.
How is my new cousin?”

Sarah turned slowly. Richard was standing just behind her.

“Mr. Runyon.” She swallowed sudden fear. “How nice to see you.”

Richard chuckled. At least that is what she assumed he intended the noise to be. It sounded more like icicles splintering against the pavement to her.

“You don’t lie well,
your grace
. Since you have allied yourself with my cousin—much against my advice, you will recall—you cannot be glad to see me. Where is James, by the by? He’s been standing guard over you like a dog with a new bone.”

“I believe he is in the card room. If you look, I’m sure you will have no trouble finding him.”

Richard took her arm. “Oh, I’ve found what I’m looking for.”

“Mr. Runyon, I have promised this dance to Lord Pontly.”

“Pontly graciously gave up his dance to me. Now, come along.”

Sarah had no choice—the pressure of Richard’s hand on her arm forced her across the dance floor. She scanned the room, looking for Robbie or Charles, but didn’t see either of them. She hoped the other watchers had noted Richard’s entrance on the scene.

Richard steered her toward a set forming near the doors to the garden. At least it might be cooler on that side of the room. Mr. Symington was to be one of their group. He was partnering a mousy-haired girl who kept her eyes on the floor. He certainly had wasted no time in finding his next victim.

The orchestra struck the first note.

“Shouldn’t we move a little quicker, Mr. Runyon? We’ll miss the set.”

“So eager to dance with me? Too bad. We aren’t heading for the dancers, my dear, but for the doors just beyond.”

“Well, yes, I guess a bit of fresh air might be nice.” Sarah’s eyes skittered over the ballroom as the door loomed closer. Was that Robbie in the corner? She couldn’t tell. And Charles? He might be over by the ficus plant, but unless he had eyes in the back of his head, he would be of no help.

Richard swept her out the door and down the steps. A bulky shadow loomed out of the darkness. Sarah opened her mouth to scream, but a rough hand slapped across her face. Someone jerked a bag over her head and someone else threw a cloak around her, binding her arms to her sides and hampering her legs. Thick arms grabbed her and hoisted her into the air.

“There’s the back gate,” she heard Richard say. “Load her into the carriage and let’s get the hell out of here.”

“I believe you just trumped your partner’s card, old man,” the Earl of Eldridge said.

“For the fourth time!” Viscount Paxton threw down his hand. “My fault for playing with a newlywed.”

Eldridge leered at James. “Mind on other matters, hmm?”

Eldridge’s partner, Baron Tundrow, grinned. “We should raise the stakes. Maybe that will sharpen Alvord’s wits.”

“No, thank you. I don’t care to go home a pauper.” Paxton leaned across the table. “Alvord, get your mind out of the bedsheets or give your seat to another player.”

“Surprised you’re here at all.” Tundrow laughed. “Thought we wouldn’t see you for at least a week.”

Eldridge nodded. “Too horny by half, Alvord. Go home and take your lovely wife to bed. Let poor Paxton here play with a man whose mind is on his partner’s aces, not his wife’s arse.”

James stood. “Then, if you’ll excuse me?” he ground out.

“Definitely.” Paxton gathered up the cards. “Have an enjoyable evening.”

“Very enjoyable!” Tundrow chuckled. He called after James. “We’ll be looking for an heir in nine months, Alvord.”

James ignored him.

He knew he had done Paxton a disservice in agreeing to play with him. The cards could have been written in Sanskrit for all the sense he was making of them tonight. He had not wanted to be in the card room. He had not wanted to be at Carrington’s bloody ball.

He scanned the ballroom for Sarah and saw her yellow plume waving by a mass of flowers. He relaxed slightly.

He hated this plan. Why the hell had he let Sarah persuade him? He had tried to devise every possible safeguard, but he knew that nothing was without risk. Well, this was the first and the last night he was going to allow this insanity. Tomorrow he would hunt down Richard and have it out with him, as he should have done months ago.

James watched the yellow plume move across the ballroom. There were too many people in the way for him to identify Sarah’s partner. He shifted position so he could get a better view.

“Your grace, let me congratulate you!”

“Mrs. Fallwell, how nice to see you.” Melinda Fallwell, one of Lady Amanda’s particular friends and a formidable gossip in her own right, blocked his path. She would talk his ear off if he let her. He tried to see around her elaborate headdress. The forest of purple feathers sprouting from her green turban made it impossible for him to see the other side of the room. Was the yellow plume heading to a set by the garden doors?

“Couldn’t wait for a proper wedding, could you?” Mrs. Fallwell chuckled. “Never knew you were so hot-blooded. Take after your father. He was quite the buck in his salad days, I’ll tell you. I spent an evening touring the shrubbery with him. Oh my!” Mrs. Fallwell’s fan increased its tempo in front of her suddenly flushed face. She nodded her head and her feathers bobbed in agreement.

“But then he married your mother,” she said. “Such a cold girl, she was. Beautiful, but icy. No one could understand what he saw in her. Guess it was just time to start his nursery. Figured he didn’t have to worry she’d sow a cuckoo in his nest.” She folded her fan and tapped James on the wrist. “But it looks like you didn’t make your father’s mistake. From what Amanda told me, your bride has blood hot enough to match you own.”

That caught James’s attention. “Excuse me?”

“You know.” Mrs. Fallwell threw him an arch look and fanned herself again. “That inn. What was it called? The Green Man? Amanda told me all about it at the Palmerson do. Wondered why it took you so long to get a ring on the girl’s finger.”

“I see.” James considered strangling Lady Amanda. He looked around for her—and saw the yellow plume disappear out the doors to the garden.