Tempting a Sinner (26 page)

“Because he was no longer part of the regiment.” Faith consulted a page in the book. “One has to wonder if he is the other surviving ambusher.”

“Who took care of Malinda and her mother with the money he received as his share?” Benedict stared at Adam. “It all makes a horrible kind of sense.”

“I’m afraid it does. And now for an even more worrying question. Do we know if George Makethorpe is still alive?”

“T
his was a mistake.”

Malinda muttered as the carriage slowed yet again to pass through a tollbooth. Being shut in a carriage in luxurious solitude had given her far too much time to think. It was dusk, and they’d been traveling for most of the day. At the last halt, Jon Snow, the man who was in charge of the trip, had told her they would stop for the night at the next inn they encountered.

She shouldn’t have left.

That thought kept drumming through her head, and nothing she could tell herself made any difference. She’d walked away from Benedict once when she was seventeen and now she’d done it again. Even if he didn’t trust her, she should have shown him that she at least had matured enough to trust
him
. . . .

She was a fool. He’d tried to tell her that her sense of being worth less than him and his aristocratic family was nonsense, but she’d pretended not to understand. And then there was the other thing that she hadn’t told him. The even bigger thing.

The carriage slowed and turned down a smaller track toward the lights of a low building with the sign of a blue boar. She barely waited for Jon to open the door before she was speaking.

“We need to go back.”

He clutched her elbow in a gentle grasp. “My lady?”

“I have to go back and tell Benedict something important.”

“My orders were to escort you home, my lady. I’m afraid I can’t deviate from them.”

His voice was firm as he maneuvered her into the inn.

“But you don’t understand.”

He greeted the landlord, who showed them into a private parlor. Jon shut the door and stood with his back to it, his stance and his expression unmoving.

“Lord Keyes was most specific, my lady. He said you might try to challenge my orders, but that I was not to give in to you unless you were on your deathbed, and even then I was to take care.” He gestured at the desk in the corner. “If you wish to write him a letter, I can guarantee that one of my men will take it back to Lord Keyes as quickly as possible.”

“That’s not good enough. I need to see him. If you will not take me, I’ll hire a horse and go myself.”

“My lady, you are still unwell. Attempting such a journey would be ruinous to your health.” He sighed. “Please don’t make me have to resort to drugging you.”

“Lord Keyes condoned
that?
”

Jon retrieved a letter from his pocket. “He said to show you this if you started arguing with me.”

She took the single sheet of paper that was covered in Benedict’s distinctive handwriting and read it out loud. “Jon, my wife is used to getting her own way. On no account allow her access to any guns, knives, or heavy objects. If she refuses to continue her journey at any point, you have my authority to drug her so that she sleeps though the rest of the trip.”

She handed the letter back. “My husband is a
horrible
man.”

“And my employer, my lady.” John looked wretched. “Please don’t make this hard on us both. Write him a letter, continue on to Alford Park, and by the time we get there, he’ll probably have answered you, and everything will be all right again. If it isn’t and he instructs me to accompany you back to London, I’ll do so most willingly.” He swallowed hard. “I have a young family, my lady. I can’t afford to be turned off.”

“Oh, all
right
.”

She walked over to the desk, pulled out a sheet of paper, and sat down with a thump.

“Thank you, my lady. I’ll just go and see about your dinner.”

She heard the key turn and realized he’d locked her in. That had probably been Benedict’s idea too. He really did know her rather too well. Her head was aching and she was shivering. In her present battered condition, the thought of leaping on a horse and charging hell for leather down to London was surprisingly unattractive. But how could she convey how she felt to Benedict in a letter?

She couldn’t. And she certainly couldn’t mention the other matter. She pondered the blank page in front of her and finally settled on an apology for insisting on leaving and a request to be allowed to see him at his earliest convenience. It was galling to have to ask, but she deserved it.

When the door opened and Jon appeared with a tray containing her dinner, she was fairly resigned to eating her food and taking herself off to bed. His relief at her apparent docile behavior was evident and he promised to get the letter to Benedict as soon as humanly possible.

After her dinner, he escorted her and one of the maids from the inn up to the best bedchamber.

“Good night, my lady.” He bowed. “I’ll be outside guarding the door all night and Daisy is going to sleep in there with you. If there is anything you need, just call out to me.”

“Thank you, Jon.”

She went into the bedchamber and allowed the maid to help her out of her gown and into her nightdress. Daisy settled herself on one of the chairs by the fire, and Malinda fell into a dreamless sleep.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this time, Mr. Fisher, Lord Keyes?”

Fred Castleton appeared at the foot of the stairs that divided the tavern from the private rooms at the back and stared at Benedict. The hostelry was quieter than it had been during his last visit and the number of occupants less due to the lack of mail coach passengers hurrying through.

“We have some more questions for you.”

“And what if I don’t choose to answer them?”

“That’s up to you.” Benedict paused. “I heard the magistrate’s court at Bow Street was about to start proceedings against you, but if you are already aware of that, we’ll wish you good night.”

He started back toward the door.

“Wait.”

Benedict looked over his shoulder.

“What have you done, Keyes?”

“I’ve done nothing. I understand that the proceedings were brought by the occupants of the ground floor apartment in my town house.”

Fred Castleton pushed open the nearest door. “Come in here.”

Benedict and Adam followed him through into the room, which lacked a fire and had undrawn curtains and a grimy window that looked out into the stable yard.

“What’s going on?”

“You’re about to be prosecuted for setting a fire at my property in Maddox Street.”

“On whose say-so?”

“The man you hired to do your dirty work. Apparently in an effort to avoid his fate, he told the magistrate who paid him to set the fire. It’s all in the court record if you choose to read it.”

“You bloody bastard!”

Fred went for Benedict, but Adam was quicker. He stepped in between the two men, his pistol at the ready.

“Do you wish to die, Castleton? I’m quite willing to oblige you. But perhaps you might care to listen to what Lord Keyes has to say to you first.” He gestured at the nearest chair. “Sit down.”

Fred slumped into the chair, his chest heaving, and his expression thunderous.

Benedict took the seat opposite him. “There are always opportunities to avoid the full magnitude of the law.”

“If you’re a rich nob.”

“Or if you happen to know one. I’m fairly certain that I could extricate you from this charge if you provided me with the information I require.”

“What exactly do you want to know?”

“The name of the other surviving ambusher.”

Fred chewed his lip.

Benedict continued. “I’m fairly sure I know who it is, but I’d like you to confirm it.”

“Then tell me yourself and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

“That won’t work. I need the name.”

“And if I tell you, you’ll have the charges against me at Bow Street dropped?”

“If your answer turns out to be correct, yes.”

“It was George Makethorpe.”

Benedict couldn’t allow himself to relax or show anything in his face. “Thank you. Do you happen to know if he is still alive?”

“I’d bloody like to know that myself. From what I can tell, he wasted his blunt on Patrick Rowland’s widow and her children.”

“You knew about that, did you? Perhaps, unlike you, he felt some responsibility toward the wife and child of the originator of the plan.”

He wondered if Fred would rise to the bait and claim ownership of the scheme, but wasn’t very surprised when he remained mute. Benedict rose from his seat and nodded at Adam, who stepped out into the hallway to safeguard the door. He turned back to Fred and picked him up by the throat.

“I believe we have a score to settle, Castleton. No man lays hands on my wife and gets away with it.”

He drew back his fist and had the immense satisfaction of seeing it smash into Fred’s startled face and break his nose. Within a second the other man was on him, but Benedict was younger and fitter, and fueled by a rage that demanded satisfaction at any cost. Each blow he landed was for Malinda, each grunt of pain and gasping cry canceled out one of hers. Within a very short space of time, Fred was on his knees and then on the floor, blood streaming from his nose and mouth, his pleas garbled.

With a final, well-aimed kick at Fred’s ribs, Benedict stepped over his opponent’s writhing form and headed for the door.

“Good night, Mr. Castleton. If you dare to come near me or any member of my family again, I’ll kill you. Don’t ever doubt it.”

Rubbing his bruised knuckles, he went through the door and found Adam, who raised an eyebrow.

“Is he still alive?”

“Unfortunately he is. I am a man of my word, after all.”

They exited the inn as quickly as possible and headed back to the Sinners. As they neared the entrance, Benedict slowed.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asked.

“I’m trying to remember what George Makethorpe looked like.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a horrible feeling that I’ve seen him recently.” He turned to Adam. “Order a horse saddled for me. I’m going after Malinda.”

A squeak and a rustle of movement woke Malinda from a troubled sleep. She opened one eye to see Daisy, the maid, leaning over her making frantic circles with her hands.

“That’s right, missy, wake her gently.”

The barrel of a pistol glinted against Daisy’s head. Malinda’s gaze traveled along the serviceable pistol and up the arm and shoulder of the man who held it. She slowly sat up.

“Evening, Mally, love.”

“What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“Just tying up a few loose ends.” He motioned at the terrified Daisy. “I’m going to tie her up while we talk so that we don’t rouse the man on guard.”

Malinda nodded and watched as her stepfather efficiently gagged and bound Daisy to a chair close to the fire. He came back to sit on the side of her bed, and she got her first good look at him.

“Where have you been? After Mother’s death you told me you had business to attend to and disappeared!”

He shrugged. “I had a few things to settle.”

“Your hair is black.”

“Boot polish. I didn’t want you seeing me too soon, and making trouble.”

“About what?”

He sighed. “About the gold, Mally.”

“I don’t understand.”

He patted her hand. “If you’ve been talking to Fred Castleton about it, you probably don’t. Did he tell you about me?”

“No.” She covered her mouth. “Don’t tell me you were one of the ambushers? Oh, God,
no
.”

He looked wretched. “I’m sorry, lass.”

“Why?”

“It was like this. The night before he left to pick up the supplies, Patrick got very drunk. He was angry about the way the marquis had treated you. The more he drank, the more indiscreet he became, until we all knew about the gold. The marquis happened upon us and took Patrick back to his tent. He was furious with him.”

George hesitated. “When they’d gone, Fred Castleton made a suggestion that the three of us should steal the gold ourselves, share it with the men, and have the last laugh on the Marquis of Alford.”

“So my father didn’t know?”

“Not until it was too late and he recognized Fred.” He swallowed hard. “I never meant for it to go that far, lass. I was sickened by both your father’s death and the fact that you witnessed it.”

“You saw me?”

“Aye, but I thought I was the only one.” He took her hand in his. “I couldn’t bring your father back to life, but I did everything I could to make it up to your mother and you.”

“You bought your commission, married my mother, and paid for me to go to the nunnery.”

“Yes, lass.”

“With the rest of your gold.”

“Yes. I was a fool. I knew nothing I did would ever make up for Patrick’s loss, but I had to try.”

Malinda’s breath shuddered out. “Then why are you here now?”

He grimaced. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you since you set foot in England. Knowing you and your belief that the Marquis of Alford was responsible for all the ills in the world, I had a sense the past wouldn’t stay buried for long.”

“You were right.”

“And I also knew that the real source of the trouble wasn’t the marquis, but Fred Castleton.” His face twisted. “Damn him to hell.”

“He certainly seems determined to do away with me.”

He touched her bruised cheek. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore. He really wants me. I’m prepared to go and see him if it means he leaves you alone.”

“I think Lord Keyes is already dealing with that.”

It was George’s turn to look surprised. “The marquis’s son?”

“It turns out that we are still married after all. He feels a sense of ‘responsibility’ for me.”

For the first time George smiled. “Then I’ll be leaving you in very capable hands.”

“You’re leaving? I thought you were planning on coming and living with me at Alford Park.”

“Yes, but I have to meet with Fred Castleton and get him to leave you alone first.”

“Benedict has that in hand, I swear it.”

He squeezed her fingers. “I have to do this myself, lass. He needs to forget that he ever saw you.”

“But you will come back?”

He leaned in and kissed her on the nose. “I’m glad you’ve found Lord Keyes again. You always loved him, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

He stood up and put his pistol away. Despite being in his early fifties, he was still lean and fit and bore himself like a soldier. She had a terrible feeling that she was never going to see him again.