The Belligerent Miss Boynton AND The Lurid Lady Lockport (Two Companion Full-Length Regency Novels) (34 page)

Freddie scanned the room and saw the two grease-filmed plates of barely-eaten stew on a side table. "Then Peter was here with your food? Why haven't you eaten? Are your stomachs a bit queasy as you contemplate your fates?"

"Indeed not," Amanda corrected him. "I wouldn't feed such swill to the hogs on the home farm. When Jared takes me back to Storm Haven it will be time enough to dine. Cook was planning pheasant, I believe. So much more palatable than crow, don't you think?"

Amanda could see the fine sheen of sweat forming on Freddie's upper lip as she spoke, a strange phenomenon in such a chilly room. He didn't look so sure of himself anymore, and probably needed to see the more clever Blanche Wade soon, for another infusion of bravado. However, if the sounds Amanda had been hearing this half hour or more from the next room were any indication, Freddie Crosswaithe was soon to be unsettled further.

"Your man Peter was in to see us about an hour ago, but deserted us to follow Lady Wade to that little bedroom under the eaves, and we've been alone and unguarded ever since. Perhaps he's helping her chew that sad excuse for meat in the stew? Do you play chess, Freddie?" she continued without a pause. "If you can unearth the traveling set from the pocket of my carriage I would dearly appreciate the diversion. My aunt has been sleeping all this while, she's that confident of her nephew's ability to rescue us."

Her voice dripped innocence as she inquired, "Why Freddie, wherever are you off to now? You don't have to feel ashamed if you've never mastered the game. Perhaps a rousing round of snakes-and-ladders would better suit your talents, although I myself haven't indulged since I left the schoolroom." The door closed heavily, and Freddie turned the lock on the feminine laughter that tore away at his already shredding nerves.

"I don't know what we're finding so amusing, pet," Lady Chezwick said at last. "He means our death."

Amanda shrugged and said, "I was more in awe of him before, when I was in the first flush of panic. But Jared and Kevin will be here soon, and I believe I have more faith in my husband's intelligence than I do in Freddie's elaborate plan. He's a dreamer, Aunt Agatha, a schemer. And he has no bottom, as my papa used to say. He could no more kill somebody than fly to the moon. The only person who concerns me now is Lady Wade. In that I agree with Freddie, for the woman is another matter entirely, I fear, and quite dangerous."

Amanda grimaced as another pain began in her lower back and wrapped around to grip hard at her stomach. "I only hope Jared arrives before his son," she said, ending on a small gasp. "Oh, this one is quite strong."

"This one?
This one
! Good heavens, girl, don't tell me you're planning to give birth in the middle of all this fracas—and in a miller's loft, no less? Really, you'd think you could have timed things far better than that."

As the pain eased, Amanda smiled weakly at her harassed aunt and apologized. "I quite agree, Aggie, but I'm afraid I have little to say in the matter. The imp has taken it quite out of my hands. Do you by chance know anything to the point concerning our, um, responsibilities if birth becomes, um,
imminent
?"

From the blank expression on the old lady's face it was apparent she did not. "This should prove educational then," Amanda quipped halfheartedly. "Jared has been so worried about this day, you know. Wouldn't it be wonderful if all the commotion were over by the time he arrived? Please do help me out of this gown and under the covers, for I believe I should then be more comfortable. Is there a nightgown of some sort in one of the drawers of that chest? I doubt it to be all the crack, but at least I should feel less like an overstuffed pigeon. Oh, dear Aggie, I'm rambling and I know it. Please forgive me."

Lady Chezwick gathered the frightened girl into her arms and rocked her for a few moments. "We will contrive, my dear child. We will contrive. As you say, it could even prove to be wonderful."

Suddenly they were shaken by voices raised in anger in the next room, and Amanda giggled nervously, then whispered with a gleam in her golden eyes, "Why, Aggie, I do believe Freddie may have found his valet."

#

Amanda had thought from the beginning that Peter showed an inordinate amount of interest in Lady Wade and, if her opinion of the woman was correct, Blanche would lose no opportunity to amuse herself by passing the evening with such a handsome, virile-looking specimen.

In this she was very right. Blanche considered it a challenge to lure away the loyalty of Freddie's prized valet, for she detested the man necessity had forced her to deal with and jumped at the chance to upset him. Luring his valet into her bed (and redirecting his loyalty) would be quite an accomplishment, and such a superb physical specimen should make easy work of ridding her of Freddie when the time came. After all, why should she, the genius behind this entire brilliant scheme, settle for just a portion of Freddie's inheritance when, with a little luck and planning, she could have it all?

It wasn't that she was tired of London, but London had more and more been growing weary of her. Too many indiscretions, too many scandals traced to her name. Jared was to have saved her from all of that by making her his wife. But now? Now she knew she had to leave; hostesses had stopped sending invitations, gentlemen had begun shunning her. All she needed was Freddie's inheritance and some lovely, sunny place like Italy, and she could start over, find herself another brilliant marriage where she wasn't known.

Blanche had been flirting shamelessly with Peter behind his master's back ever since they had first met in Scotland at Freddie's ramshackle hideaway after Rawlings' visit had frightened her into removing herself from London. The boy had been very difficult, swearing his allegiance to Freddie, but over the weeks she had steadily worn away at his resolve with her enticing smiles and the occasional brush of her hand as he held her chair or fetched her fan.

His capitulation had been inevitable, but why did he have to choose tonight? It was damned risky, bedding the lad with Freddie downstairs, but Peter had been insistent. She didn't know that he feared the dawning of a new day might well bring his death, or that he was determined to at least know a woman the way a man should before facing hell's everlasting fires.

After a few halfhearted disclaimers pointing out the danger involved in such a daring act, that same threat of discovery sent delicious shivers of excitement down Blanche's spine. "Oh, very well, my fine young buck. But I warn you, don't dawdle!"

He didn't. It wasn't too many minutes later that Peter bent his tall frame to negotiate the small doorway back to the hall, and it was a simple matter for Freddie to secure a good grip on the valet's ear as he spared a few moments to shout invectives at Blanche before roughly piloting Peter the few steps to the ladies' prison.

"Stay in here and guard these two, you miserable traitor," Freddie warned tightly, "and don't believe a word either one of them says. Is everyone to desert me in my time of need?" he ended with a small sob. Then he stormed out, locking the door behind him.

That done, he pushed open the door to Blanche's room and advanced purposefully inside. The prisoners and their gaoler were afforded the dubious pleasure of listening to Freddie's verbal tirade and Blanche's earsplitting and highly unladylike protests until strangely, she fell silent.

#

Peter was one frightened young man. He shook his head sadly and cast his worried gaze over his, it now seemed, fellow prisoners. He hadn't liked any of this from the beginning, but loyalty to the man who had rescued him from the workhouse prevented him from backing away from the situation. Until now. Now he would gladly stay locked in this room with Lady Storm and the old lady and wait for someone to come rescue them all. Perhaps then they would not have him hanged, or transported, or whatever people did to valet's who were where they really shouldn't be.

Because Peter was only nineteen years old, and he had no wish to die. Blanche had given him his first taste of the joys of manhood and he wanted to live on, and enjoy those pleasures again with other women, as often as possible. Maybe it wasn't a very worthy reason to want to live, but he couldn't think of another at this particular moment.

In despair, he turned his woebegone face toward the women. His look was met by two pairs of wary eyes and a barrage of quick questions. He tried to tell them he would protect them from Freddie, from Lady Wade, but that promise ended in a sob as he sank to his knees on the floor.

Lady Chezwick relieved him of the pistol Freddie had somehow overlooked and patted him gently on the head. "There, there. We'll protect you, lad, never fret," she promised.

Once Peter was calm, Lady Chezwick took time to examine the weapon, then struck a determined pose. "This is not a time for faint hearts, Peter, my boy," she said with some spirit before she wrinkled up her nose and inquired almost coquettishly, "That being the case, dear boy, I would consider it a kindness if you would show me how to work this blasted thing."

Even in the bitter cold of the winter evening, Tempest was heavily lathered by the time Jared turned into the slush-clogged lane that led to the mill, and Jared's breeches were stiff and foam-flecked. He walked Tempest to a spot not five hundred yards from the cottage, dismounted, and left the great beast tied to a nearby tree, promising to provide him with better shelter as soon as he could. If left standing too long he knew the horse could become ill, and even if he escaped Freddie's plans for his demise Amanda would then surely murder him.

The cottage was in near darkness, as he had suspected, but as he circled around to the rear he could see a faint glow of candlelight coming from an upstairs dormer window. Mandy! It had to be; why else would a candle be burning in a room too far from the view of the road to be of use to the kidnappers?

Quietly Jared crept to a small ground-level window and looked through the murky glass. He could make out the figure of a short, ugly-looking man sitting at table, the half-eaten joint of some sort of game clenched in his filthy fist and a bottle of cheap gin at his elbow.

Jared wondered what Freddie had done with the miller and his family, and hoped they had not come to any harm. But for now he was here to reconnoiter, check out the lay of the land before Kevin and Bo showed up to execute their part of the plan, and to find some way inside the cottage.

There was more to this fairly large main room, but the poor quality of the glass and the wavering light cast by the fire furnished the remainder with only a flickering pattern of strange shapes that he could not make out. He stepped carefully away from his vantage point and, in a near crouch, half ran back to the shelter of the trees.

Again he approached the cottage, this time angling toward the front of the building. He saw a most unhandsome fellow standing guard just outside the door, two long pistols shoved into his belt and an evil looking club in his hand. The man looked cold, and tired, and none too happy with his assignment.

So, there were at least the two hired thugs Jared had been sure of. Add to that number the dear Cousin Freddie and quite possibly Blanche—who would probably consider it a rare treat to be allowed in on the "kill"—and the odds were not nearly as bad as they might have been.

Now Jared had to get himself inside the cottage, even if it meant allowing himself to be captured, so that one of the small rescue party would be close to Amanda if the evening's events turned ugly. As he didn't relish the thought of handing himself over to his cousin quite so easily, his option of climbing in through an upstairs window was most appealing, if he could but locate a ladder.

The door to the mill proved to be unlatched, and once inside Jared not only found a ladder, but the miller and his brood as well, all snoring soundly in one corner of the room, a pile of half-empty plates by their sides. A quick sniff at the food remaining in the large iron pot that had obviously been the source of their meal confirmed Jared's fears that the unfortunate family had been drugged. Further investigation found them all to be breathing easily, even the youngest.

Jared hefted the rough ladder onto his shoulder and was about to leave when he heard a muffled sound coming from one of the covered bins in the rear of the building. With pistol at the ready, he crossed to the bin and threw back the lid, exposing the tightly bound-and-gagged figure of his coachman, Jennings.

The man was swiftly released and he immediately snatched up an evil-looking club to be used, as he told his Lordship, "with a willin' and happy hand" should anyone try to harm the defenseless mill family as they slumbered.

Once Jared had positioned the ladder in line with the window where he had seen the light, he rechecked his pistols, tucked them more firmly into his breeches, shed his greatcoat, and stealthily began his climb toward the faint light that guided his way.

The window opened easily under his hand, and he made a mental note to double check all the locks at Storm Haven so that his security would never be so easily breeched. He slid the sash all the way up and placed his booted foot inside, where it found purchase on a homemade chest that creaked dangerously under his weight. When he had hauled the rest of his body inside he choked back an exclamation as his eyes became accustomed to the faint light and he could see none other than Lady Blanche Wade—bound and gagged as thoroughly as had been Jennings, and twice as angry.

Blanche first implored Jared with her eyes, then tried vainly to verbalize her pleas before realizing the man before her was not only unsympathetic to her plight, but actually seemed to be deriving pleasure from it. Her entreaties turned to unintelligible curses as she struggled against her bonds.

"Well, someone has been very obliging, I see. You make new friends wherever you go, don't you, Blanche? That's one down," Jared then said to himself, quickly his alert gaze around the rest of the room to make sure he was alone before he went to the door. Turning at the last moment, he executed a flawless bow in the direction of the livid Blanche before making his exit.