The Least Likely Bride (38 page)

Anthony’s face was suddenly bleak. “I may tell you one day.”

“An’ mebbe I don’t want to know,” Adam muttered. “So best get on wi’ it.” He gestured significantly towards the kitchen, where Bert could be heard banging pots.

Anthony nodded and went out to Olivia. “He’s in the chamber at the top of the stairs. Run up and knock on the door. Call out to him, so he knows it’s you. We’ll be right behind you.”

Olivia glanced up again at the shuttered windows, a considering frown drawing her thick black brows together. “D’you know which window is his?”

“I think the one in the center, from what I know of the inn.”

“Then I have a better idea,” she said firmly. “I’ll throw stones at the shutters until he wakes up. He’s bound to come to the window to see what’s going on. When he sees me, I’ll beckon him and he’ll come downstairs. He’s bound to.”

“If you think that’s a better plan,” Anthony said.

“I do. It keeps me out here for a start.” Olivia bent to pick up a large round stone. She hurled it at Brian’s shuttered window with such force that the wood splintered.

Anthony raised an eyebrow and strode back into the inn. “Ready, gentlemen?”

Soft-footed they mounted the stairs and pressed themselves against the wall on either side of Brian Morse’s door.

Outside, Olivia hurled stones merrily at the shutters. Her aim was amazingly true, she discovered. It took four crashes before the shutters were flung open and Brian Morse stood there in his nightshirt. The man she saw bore little resemblance to the Brian she remembered. This man had white hair and a face creased with
suffering. But his eyes were the same, his mouth was the same, and the power of his malevolence jumped out at her.

“What in hell’s teeth is going on down there?” he demanded angrily. “You wretched urchin! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to wake you up, Brian,” Olivia called sweetly, softly. “I have a message for you from Lord Channing.”

Brian stared at her, recognition slowly dawning.
“Olivia!”

“The very same.” She dropped him a mock curtsy made ludicrous by her britches. To her astonishment she was enjoying herself. It was just the way she had felt when she’d put powdered senna in his ale and condemned him to hours of purging on the close-stool.

“Come up here!” he commanded.

Olivia shook her head and laughed at him. “I’m not such a fool, Brian. I’ll see you in the open street. I have a most urgent message from Lord Channing.”

Brian retreated from the window, and Olivia went into the dim cool of the inn’s hallway. She stood listening, her heart thumping. He would come down. He wouldn’t be able to resist.

Everything happened very quickly. She heard a muffled cry, then footsteps on the stairs. Heavy footsteps. Three men went past her, carrying a wrapped shape. They disappeared into the street.

Anthony and Adam came slowly down the stairs.

“All right?” Anthony touched her cheek.

“Yes.”

“You want breakfast or not?” a plaintive voice called from the taproom.

“Yes, but we’re only three now, I’m afraid,” Anthony responded cheerfully. He put an arm around
Olivia’s shoulders and urged her ahead of him into the taproom.

Bert looked at the tumbled black hair, the female figure outlined in the tight-fitting britches and jerkin, and thumped three laden plates on the counter without a word.

O
N THE BATTLEMENTS
of Carisbrooke Castle, Colonel Hammond stood and watched the dawn. Behind him two sentries marched their route, back and forth with monotonous rhythm.

“You’re up and about early, Hammond.”

The governor turned at the pleasant tone. “As are you, Lord Granville.”

Cato nodded and came to stand beside him.

“There was quite a fracas out at St. Catherine’s Point last night,” the governor observed. “Those damnable wreckers were about their business but someone stopped them. We got a message from someone not willing to give his name to go and pick up the pieces. We found the beacon and a neat parcel of wounded men waiting for us on the beach.”

“ I wonder if Caxton had a hand in it,” Cato mused. “I’ve just had my sergeant’s report on the couple he took into Yarmouth Castle last night. There seems little doubt that Caxton
is
our man. Turns out he’s both a pirate and a smuggler … has a frigate which he keeps in some secret chine. He knows this coast and the French like the back of his hand.”

“Then we had best pick him up,” Hammond said. He
looked around in some annoyance. “I sent for Channing half an hour ago. It’s not like him to delay answering a summons.”

“Perhaps he’s a heavy sleeper,” Cato suggested. “We do face a small problem in picking up Caxton.”

“Oh?”

“We don’t know where to find him,” Cato pointed out gently.

The governor only grunted at this reminder.

“Yarrow mentioned a cove, Puckaster Cove, that he thinks might have some relevance to Caxton’s ship. Roth-bury’s gone with some men to take a look. They’ll throw a net over the area and see if they catch anything.”

“If he doesn’t know we suspect him, he might turn up here. He did last night … played whist with the king.”

“I think we need to move the king,” Cato said decisively. “Move him in secret to Newport.”

Hammond looked worried. “I don’t have orders from Parliament,” he pointed out.

“You may consider that you have,” Cato said aridly. “I’m representing Parliament in this matter.”

“You will take responsibility?”

“Haven’t I just said so?”

Hammond bowed his head in acknowledgment. “It might be difficult to move him secretly.”

“We do it now while the island’s still half asleep. Have you visited His Majesty this morning?”

“Not as yet. I don’t usually go in to him until after seven.”

“Well, let us pay him a visit now. Have a closed carriage ready and waiting in the courtyard. We’ll both accompany the king to the barracks in Newport. You’d best send a messenger ahead to have his lodging prepared.” Cato was already moving briskly back along the battlements as he spoke.

The governor hurried after him. “Channing can take the message, but where the devil is the man? You there …” He beckoned a servant, who came running. “Go to Lord Channing’s chamber again. This time make sure he’s awake before you leave. Make sure he answers you.”

The man ran off.

The sentry outside the king’s chamber in the north curtain wall saluted.

“Has His Majesty sent for his valet as yet?”

“Aye, Colonel. He’s with him now.”

Cato knocked imperatively on the door and it was opened by the valet.

“His Majesty is not yet attired to receive visitors, my lord.”

“His Majesty will excuse our intrusion,” Cato said brusquely. He stepped around the valet and bowed to his sovereign. “I give you good morning, Sire.”

The king was in the process of being shaved. He looked at his visitors in some indignation. “What is this?”

“Your Majesty is to be moved to Newport,” Cato said.

The king paled. He wiped soap from his face with a towel and stood up. “I beg your pardon?”

“Parliament’s orders, Sire.” Hammond stepped forward and bowed. “You are to be moved immediately.”

The king’s eyes burned in his white face. It was the end, then. They had been discovered. Within hours of his rescue. His disappointment was so profound he made no attempt to conceal it. He knew it had been his last chance.

“May I ask why?” he demanded when he had mastered himself sufficiently to speak.

“I believe Your Majesty knows why,” Cato said quietly. “You will leave within the hour.”

“I have not yet broken my fast.”

“It is but two miles to Newport, Sire. A meal will await you there.”

The adamant tone was laced with courtesy, but it didn’t disguise the fact that the marquis had given his sovereign an order.

“Granville, you were once loyal,” the king said sadly. “A most loyal friend.”

“I am loyal to my country, Sire, and I would continue to stand your friend,” Cato said in the same quiet voice. “I will leave you to your preparations.” He bowed low and stepped out of the chamber.

Colonel Hammond made his own obeisance and followed. The servant he had sent for Godfrey Channing was waiting in the corridor.

“Lord Channing, sir, he wasn’t in ’is chamber. His man said his bed ’asn’t been slept in.”

“Good God!” Hammond exclaimed. “How could that be?”

“It seems unlike the man,” Cato observed. “He’s always been most assiduous about his duties. However, it seems we must do without him for the moment. Who else can you send to Newport?”

“Latham. He can keep a still tongue in his head.” The colonel sent the messenger for his other equerry. “D’ye care to break your fast, Granville, while we wait for the king to complete his toilette?”

B
RIAN
M
ORSE GAZED
up into the face of a man he’d never seen before. A man he felt sure he would never wish to see again.

The man knelt beside Brian as he lay bound, swaddled tightly in the thick, heavy folds of a cloak, under a dripping hedge some half mile from the village of Ventnor. Brian had been carried to this spot, his mouth stopped with the folds of the cloak. Three men had carried him as easily as if he were a baby.

Anthony surveyed him in silence. His face was
expressionless except for his eyes, and what Brian read in those eyes filled him with a cold dread.

“So you like to play with little girls,” Anthony said softly. “Tell me about it, Mr. Morse.” He jerked the folds of material from Brian’s mouth. “Do explain the fascination for me.”

Brian spat pieces of lint from his mouth. “So my little sister has been telling tales to her lover, has she? I never thought she’d turn whore. She always swore she’d never have anything to do with a man.” Somehow he managed to sneer even through his fear.

Anthony’s hands closed around Brian’s throat. The long, slim fingers squeezed. Hands that could hold a ship steady into the wind in the teeth of a gale. Brian gasped like a gaffed fish. His chest was so tight he knew it was going to burst. Spots danced before his eyes. He could feel them bulging. The hands squeezed tighter. And then the black wave swamped him.

Anthony took his hands from Brian’s throat. He flexed his fingers, then massaged his palms with his thumbs.

“You have killed him.” Olivia stepped forward, her voice flat. “You killed him.”

Anthony shook his head. “I have never yet managed to kill in cold blood, however great the temptation,” he said. “Besides, I would rather condemn this piece of vileness to a living hell.”

He reached into his pocket and took out a small vial. “Hold his head, Adam.”

Adam put an arm behind the unconscious man’s neck and lifted his head on his wrist. Brian’s mouth fell open as his head fell back. His neck was livid with the marks of Anthony’s fingers.

Anthony tipped the contents of the vial down the opened throat, and the unconscious man swallowed convulsively. “That will keep him out for twelve hours.”

He stood up and addressed the three men who stood beside the limp figure. “Put him on a cart and carry him to Yarmouth.
Seamew
is waiting with her other passenger for the noon tide. Give this to her master.” He dug into his pocket again and took out a leather pouch. It clinked as he passed it over.

Olivia’s gaze was riveted by the immobile bundle that was Brian. Now, looking at him, it was hard to imagine how he had terrified her. He looked so old and yellow and lifeless.

Anthony glanced up at the full-risen sun and turned back to Olivia. “You will be missed, I fear.”

Olivia dragged her eyes from Brian. “I’ll find an explanation,” she said absently. She was thinking how it didn’t much matter now. Anthony would be gone from the island in a matter of hours.

“I’ll be off to Yarmouth, then, see about the Yarrows,” Adam said. “I’ll find a fishin’ boat in Ventnor to sail me round.”

“How are you going to get into the castle?”

“Crab pots,” Adam said laconically. “Powerful fond of crabs, is the cook. An’ she’ll tell me a thing or two. Quite gabby, she is.” He sounded faintly disapproving of Mary’s useful vice.

“See who’s on duty. Pete will—”

“Aye, there’s no need to teach yer grandmother to suck eggs,” Adam interrupted. “I’ll ’ave ’em out of there, don’t you worry.”

Anthony laughed. “I don’t, old man, I don’t. But I need you back on
Wind Dancer
by early afternoon. You need to tell the crew that there’s been a change of plan. I’ll not return to the ship until I have the king. Warp her out of the chine on the ebb tide and take her into the Channel. Jethro should sail her for Puckaster Cove at nine tonight. He should be in position by ten. But before that, Sam should
sail the dinghy and beach her in the cove, so she’s ready and waiting for us.”

Adam nodded and set off back to Ventnor to find a boat to take him to Yarmouth.

Olivia had listened to this exchange in slowly dawning horror. “Anthony, you can’t still mean to rescue the king!” she exclaimed. “Not now that they know.” She looked at him as if he was out of his mind.

“My flower, I have a promise to keep,” he said, taking her hand and walking with her back to the field where they had left Gowan’s horse.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Whoever this woman is, she wouldn’t expect you to do this
now
. No woman in her senses would.”

Anthony’s response was instant and unthinking. “This is
my
business, Olivia. My commitments are
my
affair, not yours.”

She pulled her hand out of his, stopping dead on the lane. “What are you saying?” Her eyes were bewildered. How when they had talked of love could he dismiss her concern so curtly?

He read her confusion and her anger in her eyes and moderated his tone as he tried to explain. “I’m the master of a ship, Olivia. Men rely on my decisions. I must make those decisions alone and take their consequences myself. It’s always been like that for me, and, believe me, I learned the lessons the hard way.”

“So you never listen to advice?” she demanded in disbelief. “You never change your mind?”