CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“What are you doing here?” My heart hammered as he wrapped his fingers around my arm. “How did you find me?”
“As it happens, I was here on some other business when I became aware of your presence,” Laing said. “Quite a serendipitous turn of events, don’t you agree?”
“No, I don’t. Let go of me.” I tried to pull myself out of his hold.
“Now, now,” Laing said through a smile that was more a gritting of teeth than anything else. “It would be unwise to draw attention to either of us. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to your new friend, Laetitia.”
I stilled. “What do you mean?”
“Only that an acquaintance of mine is currently outside Miss Tiffins’ home, and should he not hear from me shortly, then he has certain … instructions.”
“You’re not even going to pretend you’re not a criminal any more, are you?” I demanded, fear leaping like a flame inside me. The man in front of me was a ruthless killer, capable of anything.
Laing made a tsking sound of disapproval. “ Criminal is such a common word. There’s really no need at all for any unpleasantness. I’d much rather do this in a civilized manner. Over tea, perhaps?”
He was guiding me down the narrow street towards a tea shop.
“You wish for us to have tea?” I said, dazed.
“I wish for us to have a rational conversation,” he said, nudging me through the door and smiling at the waitress, who hurried over to greet us. “A table for two, please.”
“Certainly, sir.” The waitress beamed, clearly assuming we were a young couple in love, as Laing held me close, his hand clamped round my waist. “Right here in the window, our best table.” She winked.
“Thank you.” Laing smiled warmly back at her. “My fiancée and I would both love the Assam tea, and we’ll try a scone too. I hear they’re very good.”
“Finest in Cambridge,” the waitress agreed brightly, and she bustled off to fill the order while I sat stiffly, watching Laing in silence. If he truly had someone watching Laetitia, I could do nothing that might threaten her safety.
He was utterly relaxed and didn’t try to resume our conversation until our tea and cake had been delivered. Then he leaned forward and poured a cup for me.
“Milk?” he asked. “Sugar?”
I looked at him. His face was a mask of politeness. This felt like a joke – the domestic scene of the tearoom, all frilly tablecloths and carefully pressed napkins, while I sat across from the man who had kidnapped me and tried to blow up my friends.
“Just milk,” I said finally, willing my voice to remain calm and steady. No one was going to be helped by me falling into hysterics.
Laing treated me to a look of approval. “You see,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I knew you were a woman of good sense. Now, I feel certain that we can resolve our differences with some plain speaking.”
“You tried to kidnap me,” I said, lifting my teacup and taking a sip.
An expression of displeasure flickered across Laing’s face. “I wanted only to speak with you. Had you not flung yourself so cavalierly from a moving carriage, you would have found yourself taking only a simple detour on your way home. None of this would have been necessary. It became expedient for us to talk when you and your colleagues infiltrated a certain warehouse.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, but the words sounded weak even to my own ears.
“Come now,” Laing chided, spreading butter over one half of the scone on his plate and transferring it to my own. “There’s no need for pretence between us. I’m perfectly aware of the little organization your sister-in-law is caught up in, the one running out of the haberdasher’s on St Andrew’s Square. Did you think a man in my position would miss such a threat?”
I only stared at him.
“Unlike many of my contemporaries, I’m not blind to the potential of women,” Laing continued, picking up his half of the scone and munching thoughtfully. “I’ve been rather impressed by the Aviary’s skills. They have – unwittingly, of course – thrown a wrench into several of my own schemes. The matter of Samuel Morland, for instance – although that was easily rectified.”
Samuel Morland was a politician who had died a couple of years ago. I had no idea what his connection to the Aviary was, but it seemed there was one.
“I could have dismantled them, of course,” Laing continued, “but our interests have aligned more than once. They’ve been doing an excellent job of removing my … shall we call them competitors ?”
“Villains,” I said firmly.
Laing laughed, and the laugh was full of easy charm. “Certainly an improvement on criminal . But now their interference is proving difficult. And then, of course, there’s you.”
“Me?” I asked. “If you know anything about the Aviary, you know that I’m not an agent.”
“No,” Laing said coolly. “That simplifies things. When they sent you to infiltrate my poker game, I was delighted. Here, I thought, was finally a woman with a mind as brilliant as my own.”
“Thank you,” I said, the words dry as sand. He seemed not to notice the sarcasm, only nodded.
“I saw that you would be able to grasp the true scope of my ambition, the intricacies of my vision. The Aviary are playing chequers, my dear. I am playing chess. My goal is no ordinary one.”
“So you keep implying. But I don’t understand what your goal is .”
“Power, of course.” There was a flash of something unbalanced in his eyes then, a slip of that jovial mask. “It’s what all men want, but it is what I am made for. My destiny was forged in the fires of my early struggle. I’m not soft like those currently in power are, but a truly gifted, self-made man. Someone who could – should he choose – have the world dancing to his own tune. I’ve been working from the shadows for years, pulling at many strings, and my greatest personal achievement is about to be realized.” He sat back, toyed with the teaspoon in his saucer, a pleased look on his face. “My mind doesn’t work like the rest of theirs. And neither does yours.”
“I’m nothing like you,” I said, deciding I’d had enough of this game. “And I don’t want to sit here having tea with you. Tell me what you want and let me go.”
His expression hardened. “I had hoped we could avoid threats. That you would see the benefit of a true partnership. What I intend, Lady Felicity, is for the two of us to marry.”
“I already told you that will never happen.” I had to fight the urge to shoot to my feet, to fling my cup of tea in his face.
“It will happen, for several reasons,” Laing said flatly. “Firstly, your position will legitimize my business in ways that I will find helpful. Secondly, the access I will have to your brother and his government work will also be useful. Thirdly” – he trained those not-quite-sane eyes on me – “I want you. You interest me, and I have decided you will make a pleasant wife. Once I’ve made a decision, it is set in stone, Felicity. And you would do well to remember that, if you care for the safety of your family and friends. Winnie Phillips, Sylla Banaji, Maud Crestwell, the woman they call Mrs Finch.” He listed the names with a cold indifference. “Your mother, your sister-in-law, of course, and your brother.”
“You wouldn’t get near my brother,” I hissed, but my heart clattered in my chest. I tasted fear, sharp on my tongue.
“No?” Laing raised his brow. “Why do you think he’s been kept out of the country on business for so long? Because I wanted him out of the way. I have influence you cannot imagine. If I decided I wanted him removed on a permanent basis, he would be extinguished as easily as blowing out a candle.”
I felt all the blood leave my face. “You wouldn’t,” I managed.
“Not unless it becomes necessary,” he replied silkily. “I rather fancy having a duke for a brother-in-law. You will agree to marry me, Felicity, and return to London, where we shall be seen attending several important social events including, naturally, Queen Charlotte’s Ball. There’s a train this afternoon and you’ll be on it. I will meet you in London once my business is concluded.”
A moment stretched between us then, a moment where I tried desperately to see some other way through.
“I can be on the train,” I agreed finally. Anything to keep my friends safe, anything to get away from him.
“My man will be pleased to escort you.”
“Your man?”
“Oh, don’t worry about Milton,” Laing said easily. “An excellent fellow. He won’t hurt you unless instructed to do so, and there won’t be any reason for him to hurt you, will there?”
“Of course not,” I replied, my throat dry.
“Wonderful.” Laing reached into his pocket and began placing coins on the table to cover the bill. “But, Felicity, I must warn you. If you attempt to contact any of your friends, there will be consequences. I am having all of them watched.”
There was still Izzy, I thought desperately. He couldn’t prevent me talking to her.
“And, of course, your sister-in-law is unfortunately out of town,” Laing said as if reading my mind. “I’m afraid I set a false trail for her that should keep her quite busy up north for a while. Oh, I almost forgot!” Laing exclaimed. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen. “I’ll need you to write a note to our friend Baron Ely. To apologize for your unexpected departure.”
I felt my blood freeze then, the last flicker of hope truly doused. Laing was looking at me with the twisted enjoyment of a predator toying with its prey. He was glad to separate Ash and I, I realized. He took pleasure in the pain that it would cause me to part from him.
“The young baron is going to find himself a jilted lover,” Laing mused. “Still, no need to break his heart yet. A simple note saying that Mrs Finch called you back to London and that she has assured your safety. You’ll see him there when he returns.” He gestured to the paper. “And don’t try to be clever, Lady Felicity. Only the words I’ve said.”
“Why do you dislike him so much?” I asked. “I felt it from the first time the two of you met.”
Something leaped in Laing’s eyes. “I don’t care for people who try to take what is rightly mine.”
I leaned against the table to write the note. There would be no reason for Ash to question it, I knew; no reason for him to guess that I needed help.
Laing glanced out of the window.
“Here is Milton now. He’ll escort you back to Miss Tiffins’ house where you can gather your things and say your goodbyes. We don’t want to alarm her.” He stood from his seat and gestured for me to walk out of the tea shop in front of him. I kept my chin high. I would think of something, I told myself, some way out of this mess. I was not helpless.
We stepped out on to the street where Laing’s henchman waited for us. I recognized his lumbering shape as the man who had attempted to kidnap me.
“Thank you, Milton,” Laing said. “Lady Felicity is pleased to have you as an escort.”
Pleased was not the word.
“Hey! Reeves! Is that you?” A young man who had been strolling past came to a sudden stop beside us. He looked like a student who was a touch worse for wear, having spent his afternoon in the pub rather than the lecture theatre. His face was currently scrunched up in an expression of delight. “Reeves!” he said again, the name slurred. He put his hand on Laing’s arm. “What are you doing back in town?”
“I’m afraid you have mistaken me for someone else,” Laing said, barely glancing at him.
“But…” The man frowned. “My apologies,” he said, “’m a trifle bosky!” then he shrugged and bobbed off, tossing a confused glance over his shoulder.
Laing returned his attention to me, giving a small bow, his mouth curling in a smile. “I shall see you in London soon, Lady Felicity.”
He made the promise sound like exactly what it was: a threat.