The Guise of a Gentleman (19 page)

But the thought of Jared harming her seemed so contradictory to the gentle man she knew. She touched her lips with her fingers and relived his passionate kisses, the way he held her, needed her, the sheer joy and completion she’d felt in his arms.

If she hadn’t heard him utter those words a moment ago, she never would have believed it. But the more she thought of it, the more pieces fell into place; his constant state of wariness, the way he always remained guarded, listening, watching, as if expecting attack.

With the skill of an actor exceeding anyone on the stage, he’d donned a new name, a new identity, and duped them all. He had to be a natural mimic to have fooled them so perfectly. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she dully wondered his true name.

She pressed her hands over her eyes, her thoughts churning. She would have to contact the authorities. What to do? To whom should she go? The constable? The magistrate?

But could she really? She quailed at the thought of seeing him hang, this man who’d touched her so gently. Kissed her so passionately. Fished with Colin and treated him with such affection and respect. Rescued her when her horse had fallen.

His face haunted her, its chiseled, masculine beauty, eyes as deep as the sea, infectious laugh, gentle hands, soft yet hungry lips.

As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, she’d heard Jared say in his own voice he had killed the real Jared Amesbury in cold blood and stolen his name to work further evil.

Hot tears ran down her cheeks. He’d murdered. He’d deceived them all. He no doubt planned to carry off a scheme far more nefarious than any of them suspected. A man such as that deserved to be punished.

How could she have been so easily taken in? What an utterly gullible simpleton she’d been to fall prey to a handsome face and a glib tongue. He’d lied to her. He’d deceived her. He’d used her! Anger boiled through her and she leaped to her feet.

A sound to her right turned her head. Rough hands grabbed her and clamped a strange-smelling cloth over her mouth. She bucked and kicked, but her limbs quickly lost their strength. A dark face under a wide-brimmed hat leered. All faded to black.

Jared lounged in an armchair in Greymore’s study. “The codes returned by special messenger last night.”

Greymore raised his brows in anticipation. “Don’t keep me in suspense, man, out with it.”

Jared retrieved a packet of papers from an inner pocket of his waistcoat. “This lists three ships scheduled to leave within the week, the names of their captains, cargo, and destination. All are from different shipping companies.”

Greymore whistled softly. “What are our orders?”

“Confront Von Barondy and persuade him to reveal his informants. Then turn him over to the authorities. I suppose we could offer him a choice; the law or allow him to be a gentleman and shoot himself. We could arrange for it to appear an accident so his property isn’t seized and his wife is spared both poverty and the scandal of having a traitor for a husband.”

Greymore looked revolted at the thought of condoning the heinous crime of self-murder. He rubbed his temples. “And the ships?”

“In addition to their cargo, they’ll be filled with navy sailors spoiling for a fight. Other naval ships will wait nearby. It will be spectacular. The pirates won’t have a chance.”

Greymore eyed him. “Wish you could be there?”

Jared sighed and stopped his hand just as it touched his cravat. “No, not really. I’m through. I’ve seen enough bloodshed to last several lifetimes. But it would be satisfying to see the pirates meet their end.”

“I sense a personal interest in this.” Greymore leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.

A twinge of remorse briefly surfaced that he kept so much from his closest friend. “I’ll tell you about it someday.”

Greymore nodded. “When do you wish to approach Von Barondy?”

“Now?”

Greymore stood. “Very well. Now.”

He kissed his wife goodbye and told her he and Jared were calling upon Lord Von Barondy. She nodded gravely, clearly sensing the tension. They rode on horseback side by side to the Von Barondy house. Jared quivered with anticipation.

Von Barondy kept them waiting half an hour.

“He’s reminding us he’s a peer and we’re beneath him,” Greymore muttered as they waited in the front parlor.

A pretty parlor maid slipped in to straighten and dust the room. When she saw them, she straightened. “Begging your pardon,” she said bobbing a curtsey.

Jared narrowed his eyes. She seemed familiar.

She glanced his way and did a double take, a puzzled frown touching her brow. She passed a searching gaze over him.

Jared realized with a jolt she was the girl he’d startled the night he’d found the evidence against Von Barondy. Affecting a cool demeanor absolutely devoid of any recognition, he raised a brow as if to chastise her for her bold perusal.

Blushing, she stammered an apology and fled.

Jared took a silent breath of relief that she hadn’t recognized him.

Greymore glanced at him inquiringly.

Smugly, Jared shrugged. “It happens all the time. Women just can’t keep their eyes off me.”

Greymore let out a snort. “Blind, all of them.”

Lady Von Barondy fluttered in, greeted them with a flash of jewels, and fluttered out. At last, the butler invited them into Von Barondy’s private study.

The red and gold brocade upholstery and wallpaper looked overwhelming rather than elegant. A portrait of a younger Von Barondy, painted in a manner to make his likeness more noble and handsome than accurate, hung over the mantle, next to one of his wife, similarly inaccurate.

Von Barondy greeted them with condescension. “May I offer you a brandy?”

They both demurred. Greymore glanced at Jared. Normally Greymore would take the lead, but this had been Jared’s assignment for far longer, and he was considered the senior operative in this case.

Jared cleared his throat. “My lord. You’ve recently purchased a large number of shipping companies. You own an alarming percentage of all the privately owned ships in England.”

“You are mistaken. I only own a few.”

“Many of them are under false business names. With patience, they were all eventually traced to you.”

Von Barondy stilled. “There’s no law against owning ships.”

Jared withdrew a paper from his waistcoat pocket. “I have here a copy of a code that I retrieved from your floor safe.”

Von Barondy’s eye twitched.

“And here is a copy of what that code says after the experts at Headquarters broke it. As you can see, you are clearly named as the leader of the pirate ring who has been receiving information about cargo, embark dates, and destinations of several merchant ships.” Jared pinned him with a stare. “O Ladrão, is it? You realize, of course, consorting with pirates makes you a pirate. But since you are a peer, the charges become more serious. It makes you a traitor.”

Von Barondy turned pasty, and turned an imploring look upon Greymore. “We’ve been neighbors since our youth. How can you believe this of me?”

“The evidence is irrefutable,” Greymore replied evenly.

As a calculating light entered Von Barondy’s eyes, Jared calmly folded the papers and put them back inside his pocket. “Yes, our superiors know of this. We’re here under orders to speak with you. Sorry, old boy, killing us would not help you. It will only further affirm your guilt. Not that proof is lacking.”

Von Barondy’s shoulders slumped and he passed a hand over his eyes. He turned to stare out the window.

Jared pressed on. “The pirate ships who received this information will meet with the navy. Those not killed in battle face the hangman’s noose.”

“I suppose there’s nothing left for me to say,” Von Barondy said dully.

“Do you wish to bear the consequences alone, or will you tell us who your accomplices are inside the shipping companies?” Greymore interjected.

Von Barondy’s breathing became irregular. He reached into a drawer. In a flash, Jared and Greymore both had their guns out and pointed at the viscount.

Von Barondy froze. “I merely reach for paper.” With shaking hands, he retrieved parchment and a pen. He wrote four names neatly on the paper, carefully sanded it and poured off the sand. His eyes, when he lifted them, looked tortured. “My wife…”

Surprised that a man of such a criminal nature would think of his wife at a time like this, Jared faltered. Then he poured scorn into his voice. “She will suffer social ruin and poverty, as all your property and possessions are seized.”

Jared picked up the list, read over it, and tucked it away. He waited to let Von Barondy suffer. Because of this man’s greed, Jared had endured three years as a pirate. Seeing it all come to an end seemed dream-like.

Jared sent a meaningful look at Von Barondy. “You could choose to die as a gentleman.”

The viscount nodded as if he’d already considered that alternative. He moistened his lips. “Allow me a pistol with a single shot. I’ll make it appear as an accident. Please. I beg you. Spare my wife the shame. She is innocent.”

Suddenly drained and unexpectedly moved by the man’s apparent concern for his wife whom he obviously loved, Jared glanced at Greymore who looked utterly defeated. “Very well. If you wish to add suicide to your many crimes, we will not prevent you.” He leveled his gun at the viscount to ensure no trickery.

Gray and shaken, Von Barondy went to a cabinet where he retrieved a gun and all his cleaning supplies which he laid out in a meticulous row. He stopped and looked hard at Greymore first, and then at Jared, before carefully loading it.

If the coroner suspected suicide, Von Barondy would be a murderer in the eyes of the crown. The consequences to his wife would be as bad as if he were executed for treason. To avoid that, they’d have to make sure his death really did appear accidental.

“Tell my wife, my final words were of affection for her.”

Greymore nodded.

Jared stood, hoping he appeared unmoved by the sorrow in Von Barondy’s voice, while his conscience stabbed him for the savage delight he took in seeing this traitor meet his end. But the viscount did not deserve pity; he was only sorry to have been caught. He felt no remorse for his crimes. That Jared actually felt sympathy for the blighter came as a surprise.
Perhaps Jared’s love for Elise and the hope she offered him had softened his heart.

“We
’ll tell her,” Jared said gently.

“I’ll wait until you’ve left the house to avoid any suspicion.” Von Barondy heaved a deep breath and began cleaning his gun.

They nodded and left him alone, bidding good day to the servants as they took their leave. Riding beside Jared, Greymore turned to him. “You enjoyed that,” he accused grimly.

“I’m sorry if he were a friend.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Jared kept his focus straight ahead. “I’ve been on this assignment for three years, impersonating a pirate to find the leader; by far, my most distasteful task. I’m glad to see it end. And yes, I am glad to see the man behind it meet his own defeat.”

Greymore remained silent.

Jared added, “If it makes you feel any better, I did actually pity him at the end.”

A moment later, the sound of a gunshot roared.

“But I’m free now.” Jared wondered why the sound failed to satisfy his sense of vengeance.

****

A few hours later, Jared and Greymore rode side by side after the ugly business of setting the record straight with the authorities had been completed. Their superiors had come from London and they’d managed to keep the distasteful incident surprisingly quiet. The coroner declared the shooting a tragic accident; unfortunate, but unsuspicious. It never failed to astonish Jared what the Service could accomplish.

“What will you do now?” Greymore asked.

“Resign.” He hesitated, haunted by doubts. “Then court Mrs. Berkley. Hope she can overlook my evil past.”

Greymore raised a brow, satisfaction edging past his grimness. “Ah.”

Jared grimaced, waiting for Greymore to begin gloating.

Greymore didn’t disappoint him. “She’s a fine woman. Think you could really give up all the adventure for someone so entrenched in the quiet life?”

“Without a doubt.”

A gunshot crackled, echoing in the hills. Greymore grunted and slumped over in his saddle. A bolt of terror shot through Jared.

Not Greymore!

Still alert for further danger, Jared put a hand on Greymore’s back to keep him from falling off. He grabbed his pistol and did a quick scan of the terrain. Greymore’s labored breathing quelled Jared’s blinding fear that his friend had been killed.

Moaning, Greymore straightened. “I can ride.”

“Head for cover.”

Greymore’s face paled but he remained in the saddle as they galloped to the nearest copse of trees. Inside the cool, protective shade, they waited for further sign of danger. Greymore collapsed onto his horse’s neck.

Jared felt for Greymore’s pulse. It was there, erratic but strong.

“I’m still with you,” Greymore managed.

A lone rider galloped away, long black braids flapping behind.

Jared cursed. “Santos.”

He must have shot Greymore accidentally. No doubt Jared had been his target. Fortunately, he lacked Leandro’s determination to kill the right person or he would have remained behind and finished the task.

Greymore opened his eyes. “A friend of yours?”

Jared pursed his lips together. “Can you make it home?”

Greymore nodded. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. They rode as fast as Greymore could tolerate, but by the time they’d reached Greymore’s home, he barely clung to consciousness.

Jared yelled for help and practically carried his friend into the house. The butler ushered them into the nearest room and Jared lowered Greymore on a settee. Charlotte hurried in and came to an abrupt halt.

Jared forced himself to look her in the face. “He’s been shot.” He nearly choked as the full realization hit him. He drew a steadying breath. Now was not the time to fall apart.

She gaped in disbelief, but quickly collected herself and sprang into action with all the calm efficiency of a trained operative. “Mawbry, send for the doctor and have Standage come help me. Bring clean cloths and water.”

She continued with her instructions while the servants scrambled to obey without question. She peeled back layers of Greymore’s blood-soaked clothing while the color continued to drain out of the man’s face. Blood bubbled from a wound in Greymore’s side below his ribs.

Jared ripped off his cravat and used it to help stem the flow while Mrs. Greymore continued calling instructions. Clenching his teeth, Jared pressed the cloth over the wound.

It should have been him. He had no doubt Santos meant to kill him. And now, Greymore could die. His lungs seized at the thought.

Greymore caught his wrist with surprising strength. “Stop it.”

Keeping steady pressure on the wound, Jared met his gaze.

“Stop blaming yourself. It’s not your fault,” Greymore said.