Temptress in Training (31 page)

“His lordship ain't going to give us no trouble,” Tom went on. “He's too soft and cared for to put up a fight. You lay down that knife so he can think straight, and I'll keep my gun on him. We'll take him to get us that locket, then let him on his way. He ain't telling nobody what we're up to; he can't. He don't want nobody to know he's been hunting French treasure and taking up with that whor…that girl.”

What the devil was the boy up to? He knew Lindley was hardly soft or overly cared for. He knew for a fact Lindley would love nothing better than to tell the authorities everything he knew about the locket, the treasure, and this bastard ruining his clothes with his damn knife. So what was Tom doing?

Could it be possible the boy was having second thoughts about turning on him? That was rather a welcome thought. Still, he had no intentions of intervening in the thrashing his father would no doubt give him when this was all finally over.

But Hutch apparently saw reason in Tom's words. He chewed his fat lip a moment or two and then nodded. “Very well. I'll put down the knife, but Tom keeps his gun on you, Lindley. You try anything at all, and he blows a hole in you big enough to stuff in both bollocks and a boot.”

Lindley thought about asking for clarification on whose bollocks, exactly, but decided not to bother.

“Don't worry, Hutch,” Tom said, but his defiant young eyes were very clearly focused on Lindley. “I know what I'm doing. You can trust me.”

By God, Lindley hoped he interpreted that right.

“Get us that locket, then,” Hutch said, tossing his knife onto a nearby table.

Lindley nodded at Tom. “Very well. We'll go this way.”

Tom stepped aside to allow Lindley to lead the way, but Lindley leapt sideways instead. He grabbed up the knife from the table where Hutch had laid it and whirled on him. All Tom had to do was shift slightly so that instead of training his gun on Lindley, now it was aimed at Hutch's heart. Thank God, he did.

“Do I snuff him, sir?” Tom asked.

Lindley paused just long enough to watch the thug sweat. “Hmm, no, I think not. Not here, anyway. Let's take him out back.”

“Very good idea, sir.”

Yes, Lindley had to agree that it was far better than the original plan. He much preferred any plan that left him still breathing in the end. Perhaps he would ask Feasel to forgo that thrashing, after all.

Sophie felt even more out of place in the bright boudoir when Madame brought her back to it. They had not walked far, just up one end of the corridor and then to the other before Madame decided it was time to return for their tea. Still, it was easy to see Haven Abbey was a beautiful place from a beautiful time in Lindley's life. Sophie knew she had no right to be here.

“Well, it appears Annie has our tea ready for us,” Madame said, not bothering to keep her voice down although it was very clear that Annie was now quietly rocking her child to sleep.

The young woman was sitting in a beam of sunlight, holding little Rosie close. If the situation had not been so very unconventional, the pair would have made the most lovely portrait. But unlike the subjects gracing those portraits in the corridor, Annie and her child were not very likely to ever be immortalized that way. A sad, heartbroken whore and her fatherless child were not very much like Lady Marie and her bright-eyed little heir. Especially not considering that Annie was very much alive while Marie was not.

“Shall we sit, Sophie?” Madame asked.

“I poured for you, Madame,” Annie said with a sober gravity that was completely beyond anything tea deserved, ready or not ready. “Your cup is on the left.”

Madame led them to the little table where Mrs. W had placed it. There was only one empty chair in the room, so Madame took it and motioned for Sophie to sit on the bed. Annie was in the other chair, near the window, her arms wrapped tight around her slumbering babe.

“Annie, would you come join us?” Madame asked.

“Certainly I can take her tea to her,” Sophie said, reaching for a cup.

But Madame nearly slapped it out of her hand.

“Annie will join us. Sit down, Sophie. Annie, which cup have you poured for dear Sophie?”

Sophie could hardly see what it mattered which cup was for whom. As if Madame needed to disturb Annie from her comfortable place and risk waking the babe. Sophie could certainly have put in her own milk and sugar; Madame had not needed to order Annie to do it. Yet Annie was already rising from her seat, carefully laying her child on a little pallet she had prepared in the corner. The babe stirred only slightly, so Annie left her to come quickly to their little grouping at the tea table.

“This one is for you, Madame,” Annie said, indicating a cup and then pointing to another. “And this one is for Sophie.”

“And what of you, Annie?” Madame asked.

“I do not think I like tea just now, Madame,” Annie said.

“Ah, I see,” Madame repeated. She placed her own cup back onto the tray.

It was the most bizarre exchange. If it hadn't been regarding nothing more than half-cold tea, Sophie would have been tempted to believe it meant something quite momentous. She was, however, glad to see the babe slept on and did not wake.

“But Sophie likes tea,” Madame announced. “Come along, dear, do not insult Annie. She went to great trouble to make it just as you like it.”

They were both watching her intently. Sophie picked up her cup and smiled for Annie.

“Thank you. I'm sure it is just fine,” Sophie said, taking a sip and finding it to be, as Madame predicted, just the way she liked it. She smiled at Annie and sipped again.

“Very good,” Madame said, rising. “I should go and confer with Mrs. W as to what we shall be having for dinner.”

“Dinner?” Sophie asked. “Will we be staying as long as that? I rather expected we would be on our way to London.”

Annie squeaked a bit. That also seemed as if it should mean something, but as Sophie did not speak Squeak she couldn't imagine what it might be. This whole day was quite beyond comprehension.

“London? Oh, but it seems as if Annie is not as eager to return as you are,” Madame said. “Fortunately for her, then, I should mention I have pressing business in the area. I'm afraid we will be staying a bit longer, my dear Sophie.”

“Business, Madame?” Sophie asked.

What business could Madame possibly have here at Haven Abbey? Especially with Lindley gone?

“So, ladies, please drink your tea and relax,” Madame said and rose with an elegant flourish. “Annie, you're very welcome to drink mine, if you like.”

“No,” Annie said, staring at her hands in her lap. “I think I am not thirsty, Madame.”

The older woman laughed. “Yes, I supposed you might not be. But Sophie is. See that you take plenty of the stuff, my dear. And I expect to find you resting when I return. Annie, it would be well for you to see that she rests.”

“Yes, Madame,” Annie said. “I understand.”

With that, Madame glided out of the room, and Annie dropped quietly to sit in the chair she had vacated. She seemed to glance up at Sophie with an expression of hopeful anticipation when Sophie raised her teacup to her lips. It made her a bit self-conscious, but Sophie smiled and sipped. Anything to help ease Annie's obvious nervousness.

“You should take some tea, Annie,” Sophie said to break the awkward quiet. “You look as if you did not sleep well last night.”

“No. We did not, I'm afraid.” Annie looked away from her, studying her lap instead.

“Did you leave the inn as Madame planned and go to wait for me? I'm so very sorry I did not join you. I wanted to, but Lindley insisted on…”

Annie glanced up, and her soft brown eyes held such concern Sophie wished to heaven she'd not been the cause of any worry for her friend. Yet she knew she had been.

“He did not…er, he was not unpleasant toward you, Sophie?”

Sophie blushed. “He was not. You need have no fear on that count.”

“I am glad. If only…well, I wish Madame had not asked that of you.”

“I wish
you
had not had to wonder what happened to me. Did you wait out on the road very long?”

Now Annie was looking at her lap again. “Er, no. Madame was concerned for you, so we stayed in the inn. We realized Lindley took you away, but then there was a fire!”

“Good heavens, a fire?”

“It was put out quickly, but we were forced to move our things to the inn across the street for the night. Rosie was quite upset by it all, and I was overly worried for you.”

Sophie took another sip of her tea and patted her friend's hand. Oddly, her aim was off and she missed it the first time. Perhaps she truly did need rest as much as Madame seemed to believe.

“You are a good friend, Annie. I would do anything to help you and Rosie make a better life. You know I would.”

She supposed she'd mostly meant the words rhetorically, but Annie was watching her closely now. Too closely. It made her somewhat uncomfortable, in fact. Perhaps she'd insulted her friend by bringing up such a painful subject.

“Do you really mean that?” Annie asked.

“Of course,” Sophie assured her. “You've been like a sister to me, Annie. And I love little Rosie as if she were my own niece.”

Now Annie's eyes grew shiny and somewhat red around the edges. She appeared to be blinking back tears. Sophie reached out again and this time took her hand.

“I am so glad you found me here, Annie.”

But Annie shook her head and began mumbling. “Don't be, Sophie.”

“Of course I'm glad you're here. Why, look at Rosie sleeping so soundly, and here you are giving me such excellent tea.”

To show just how grateful she was, she took another hearty gulp of it.

Yet Annie simply hung her head and mumbled all the more. “I never told you, Sophie. I wanted to, but…oh, I should have told you.”

“Told me what?” Sophie asked.

“I'm not your sister, Sophie.”

Now Sophie laughed. “No, of course you're not really my sister, Annie. I know that.”

She took another sip of tea but nearly spit it out when Annie spoke again.

“No, but Rosie is.”

“What?” Sophie asked quickly, the room seeming to sway around her.

“I never told you who my lover was, Sophie, because he begged me not to. He said you were only safe if you knew nothing about him. But it's true; Rosie's father is also
your
father.”

Sophie could barely grasp the words. What was Annie saying?
Papa
was her lover? Tiny little Rosie was her
sister
? Well, that was unexpected news. Good heavens, it was enough to make her head spin. In fact, her head
was
spinning.

Or maybe it really was the room.

What was going on? She knew she was still sitting quietly on the bed across from Annie, but suddenly Sophie felt as if her head were floating off her body and soaring around the room. Her hands shook, slopping tea.

“Here you go, Sophie,” Annie said, leaving her chair to come to her side. “Drink some more. It will help.”

She did drink, but it did not help. In fact, it made things worse. She found she could not focus on Annie anymore. It began to appear as if there were two Annies, and Sophie was quite certain that had never been the case before.

Oh no, this had happened before! At the surgeon's house, when Papa had given her something to drink.
Drat it all.
She'd been drugged again! She tossed the teacup away, but of course the damage had been done.

“I'm so sorry, Sophie,” Annie was saying, pushing her slightly so that she fell back into the soft bedding. “I had no choice. Madame threatened me—she'll send Rosie away if I don't do everything she asks of me.”

Sophie felt the darkness closing around her, as she floated into a warm, soft oblivion.

“Sleep, Sophie,” Annie was mumbling, her voice far, far away. “It's for your own good. Your father will help if he can. I know he will.”

Sophie wanted to laugh, but that would have taken so much effort. Instead she simply muttered, “You and Papa are too well suited for each other.”

 

“I
S HE DEAD
?” T
OM ASKED
.

Hutch lay face-first in the mud in the deserted alleyway behind the tavern.

“No, I didn't hit him that hard,” Lindley replied. “He'll wake up wishing us dead, I don't doubt. You've made some pretty unsavory friends here, Tom. I daresay you won't want them finding you anytime soon.”

“Damn. I was hoping he might trust me awhile longer,” Tom grumbled.

“Why in God's name would you want that? Your father didn't send you out to pry information from him this way, did he?”

“No, sir. I've been doing some things my father don't quite know about.”

“I see. And obviously running around with thugs like this is one of them.”

“This is one of Fitzgelder's men,” Tom said. “But I wasn't going to help him get that locket back to Fitzgelder, I swear to you, milord.”

“Here, help me tie him,” Lindley said, noticing a tangle of twine discarded among a pile of refuse. “You can explain to me later how you came to be with such a character.”

“Actually, sir…” Tom said, taking up the twine but then putting it back down. “I'd rather not explain things, if I can possibly avoid it.”

“Yes, I'm certain you would rather. Hand me that twine.”

“He's going to be all over angry with you, sir. You ought to just let me kill him.”

“I'd rather you not have blood on your hands on my account, Tom. I'll just have to take care he doesn't find me.”

“He'll hunt you, sir.”

“I can look after myself.”

A light seemed to go on behind Tom's eyes. “Unless he thinks I killed you, milord!”

“You killed me? Now, you must excuse me if I don't rush into believing that's a marvelous idea.”

“If you was dead, milord, these dogs of Fitzgelder's would give up the chase. We could fake your death!”

Well, when put like that, Lindley had to admit the boy's idea had some merit. It had a few holes, too.

“And what will he do when he wants to search my body for the locket?”

Tom frowned. “Oh. I suppose he would insist on that, wouldn't he?”

“Yes, I'm sure he would, and then…” But Lindley paused. “Although if he believed the locket was someplace other than my corpse, perhaps he wouldn't need to see a body. We would be free to go find D'Archaud while these others think me dead.”

“Aye, that might do it, milord.”

“Very well then, Tom. You may tell our friend Hutch when he wakes that you led me to trust you just so you could get information about the locket, then you murdered me and disposed of my body. Think you can convince him to take that news to Fitzgelder?”

“I can do it, sir. But where would you have me tell him that locket is?”

Lindley thought for just a moment. “Tell him…tell him I posted it. To my dear friend Madame Eudora.”

Tom was momentarily surprised, but then he smiled. “Yes, that should do nicely, milord. I think that's damned genius.”

“Thank you, Tom. Now hurry. I suspect we don't have long before your partner there wakes up. We've got to make things look as if you rid the world of my poor body.”

“Can I say I threw you in the river?”

“It's not much of a river here, is it, Tom? No, something far less worthy of my station, I should think.”

“How about a hay cart? Can I say I tossed you up into a hay cart and hid you there and the driver left with it for Coventry?”

“Hmm, perhaps…”

“Or manure, sir? Perhaps you are in a load of manure carted off to parts unknown? Surely he'd be disinclined to hunt for you there.”

Lindley had to laugh. “Very well. Manure it is. I should think Fitzgelder would get particular enjoyment from that notion.”

“Indeed, especially as he will think it gets him nearer to that locket. He is determined to find it, sir. He said you would probably get it from the girl, so he sent us after you, but I heard him say he's got someone taking care of her just in case.”

Lindley's lip curled at the thought of Fitzgelder “taking care of” Sophie. Thank God he'd left her somewhere safe. Still, even knowing she was secure in Haven Abbey with Feasel keeping guard, Lindley could not be at ease. Not until this was over and he had proof enough to see Fitzgelder hanged. All he needed for that was to find D'Archaud.