Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
P ounding his fist against his palm in frustration, Jack glanced yet again out the carriage window. “Can’t your coachman manage more than a snail’s pace?”
“The road is clogged with revelers,” said James. He twisted a brass latch on a storage compartment and drew out a carriage pistol. “You should have told me about these new developments sooner. I would have kept a closer eye on the ladies while you were away.”
“It was all too vague. I had nothing but nebulous suspicions,” answered Jack. “But I should have anticipated the worst. Now Harriet...” His throat suddenly tightened too much to go on.
“We’ll find her.” James checked the priming of his weapon, then slipped it in his coat pocket. “Are you sure Theo is not attending the party?”
“Yes. She did not accompany Harriet to have a costume made, so she would have nothing to wear.”
His friend nodded grimly. “Good. Then we may concentrate all our efforts on finding Harriet.”
Jack twitched at the drapery, refusing to think about what to do if they didn’t. “Bloody hell,” he growled, suddenly rising from the seat. “It will be faster to go on from here on foot.”
James followed him out the door, and they began weaving in and out among the snorting horses and jostling vehicles. Up ahead, the torches around the entrance lit the night with a reddish glow. An ominous omen? Quelling a spurt of fear, Jack started to run.
Ignoring the curses of the coachmen, he dodged stomping hooves and bumping wheels, his boots crunching over the rutted gravel as he rounded a lumbering barouche.
A whip cracked. Veering sharply to avoid the lash, Jack stumbled up against an oncoming carriage. Moonlight played over the lacquered trim and brass, illuminating the familiar decorative trim.
“Lord Leete!” gasped Harriet’s maid as she cracked open the door. “B-but how can that be? We saw you waiting?—”
“Where?” he demanded.
“Right at the main entrance. Harriet recognized the red and black domino.”
James skidded to a stop just in time to catch the maid’s words. “They can’t have gone far,” he wheezed.
Jack didn’t bother pointing out that a spiderweb of dark, twisting pathways ran through the sprawling Gardens. If Harriet were a captive, they could search all night and not find her. He didn’t even know what costume?—
“What is she wearing?” he asked.
Ellie quickly described Harriet’s gown and mask.
It was a very thin thread on which to hang his hopes. He could only pray it wouldn’t snap.
“We haven’t a moment to lose,” he said to James.
“Miss Harriet ordered me to return home and have Bailin lock up the house,” said the maid in some confusion.
“Do so,” he ordered. Seeing the fear on Ellie’s face, he added. “I won’t allow any harm come to her.” A rash promise, but he meant to keep it.
Slamming the door shut, he spun around and grabbed his friend’s arm. “Follow me.”
Branches snagged on her skirts, jagged yew needles scraped her face as La Rochelle dragged Harriet through a narrow opening in the trees and into a small pleasure pavilion. A latch clicked shut, and a lantern flared to life.
Choking back her fear, she fought for breath as she finally managed to pull off her mask and attached tiara.
“Sit down, Miss Farnam.” Camille motioned with a golden arrow to the single stool set in the center of the small space. She was dressed in a flowing white tunic, fastened at the waist with a jewel-studded belt. A quiver filled with more golden missiles hung at her hip.
“The persona of Boudicca, the Warrior Queen, suits you well,” said Harriet, making no move to do as she was told. “But if you recall history, Boudicca was defeated soundly.”
“You have a clever tongue, Miss Farnum,” replied Camille. She dropped the arrow and pulled a slim dagger from the quiver. “Too clever. You’ve created a great deal of trouble by disrupting our plans. Now, you shall help make amends.”
“Put the weapon away,” counseled Amirault, who stepped out from the shadows behind her. “I am sure Miss Farnum will see reason without us resorting to unpleasantness.”
Harriet quickly glanced around. There were no others present. But three against one did not offer good odds for extricating herself from this coil, she thought wryly.
“What is it you want from me?” she asked as calmly as she could.
“Information,” said Amirault with poisonous politeness. “Pierre was hoping to obtain the list of names we need from your father’s study. But as Camille pointed out, you interfered yet again. However, we know you serve as hostess and occasional scribe for your father. It seems likely you have in your head what we need.”
“You are mistaken,” answered Harriet. It was the truth. Her father took his responsibilities very seriously and did not share confidential government matters with anyone.
“I think you are lying,” said Camille, her blue eyes reflecting the dancing lantern flame as she took a step closer.
“Do not make this difficult, mademoiselle,” said Pierre. “You will be released unharmed as soon as you tell us what we need to know. And then, voila —we may all forget this unfortunate interlude.”
She doubted that she was meant to leave the room alive. After all, Pierre and his wife hadn’t flinched at conspiring to murder Jack.
Jack. Looking down, Harriet thought furiously on how to draw out the questioning. That Jack would be able to find her was unlikely—the Gardens were too vast, and he hadn’t a clue as to what had happened. But surrendering to despair, and the manipulative wiles of Camille, caused the taste of bile to rise in her throat. No matter how hopeless, she meant to fight to the end.
“Why do you need the list of important Royalists?” she queried.
“To talk and perhaps deal—” began Amirault.
“To eliminate those who stand in the way of us emerging as the leaders of the new monarchist government in France,” interrupted Camille. “The Bourbon heir to the throne is weak. The real power will lie with his advisors.”
“And you see your husband and Comte Amirault as filling those roles?”
“But of course.”
“That seems a rather cold-blooded means of achieving your goals,” said Harriet. “I confess, I find it hard to understand how you could have allowed an attack on Jack, given the special friendship that had developed between you. He credits you with saving his life through your kindness and compassion.”
“Friendship! Alors , poor Jack. His sense of English nobility makes him very na?ve. My caring for him was simply because we decided that having the heir to an English earldom as a grateful friend could prove useful if the fortunes of war turned against Napoleon. But when dear Jack proved too honorbound to help me with my plans, he became a liability rather than an asset.”
Harriet couldn’t repress a shiver of disgust. “I would call you a snake, but that would be maligning reptiles.”
Anger blazed in Camille’s eyes. The dagger was still in her hand and she jabbed it perilously close to Harriet’s face. “I suggest you swallow your insults and turn your tongue to telling us what we want to know. And quickly.”
Taking the steps two at a time, Jack raced up to the private terrace overlooking the Grove, which had been reserved for the duc’s party. A footman in livery tried to block his entrance, but he pushed him aside and headed for the center of the marble-tiled expanse.
James hurried after him, leaving a trail of mud on the pristine white stone.
Silently cursing the fancy masks, Jack turned in a slow circle, trying to spot Camille or Amirault.
“Lord Leete?” An elegant lady in an elaborate Georgian gown and plumed headdress approached. “Lord Osborne? Is something amiss?”
Jack recognized Mrs. Currrough’s voice. “Have you seen Mrs. La Rochelle and Comte Amirault?” he demanded without preamble.
She came closer and answered softly. “I noticed an urchin sneak through the balusters and whisper something to the Comte. A few minutes later, he left with a lady. I could not tell who it was.”
“How long ago?”
“Ten minutes, no more.”
He hesitated, exchanging a worried look with James. There were few options left, and none of them were good.
“Is Harriet in trouble?” asked the Irish Beauty.
“I fear Amirault is holding her captive somewhere here in the Gardens,” he replied tersely. “But I haven’t a clue as to where to begin looking.”
She fisted her hands in her skirts. “I may be able to help. A friend of mine in the demimonde occasionally consorts with men of Amirault’s circle. There is a small pleasure pavilion hidden close to the Dark Walk that they favor for their revelries.”
Hope flared in Jack’s chest. “Can you describe where it is?”
“Better than that, I can show you to the pathway.”
He took her arm. “Then lead the way—as fast as your feet will carry you.”
“I’ve told you, I know nothing,” said Harriet, parrying yet another question.
Amirault expelled a mournful sigh. It was clear her interrogators were losing patience. “Alas, I find that hard to believe. We have spoken to a great many people about your father, and it is said he has the utmost respect for your judgment and intelligence.”
Harriet didn’t feel very smart at the moment. She should have been more careful. “My father may give me credit for possessing a brain, but that does not mean he shares government secrets with me.” Though she knew it was unwise, she couldn’t help but add, “Unlike the three of you, he is a man of honor and integrity. He does not betray his oath of allegiance.”
“Honor is a pitiful notion for lackwits and fools.” Camille brandished the dagger. “As you are about to learn.”
“I think not,” came a low voice from out of the gloom.
Harriet hardly dared to believe her ears.
Camille whirled around, then gave a light laugh as she saw Jack step from the shadows. “What do you intend to do, cheri ? Shoot me?”
“If need be,” came the calm answer.
The Frenchwoman’s face betrayed a spasm of surprise as he raised his weapon. She hesitated for an instant, then made a lunge to grab Harriet.
A bang reverberated off the walls and, for an instant, a shower of sparks lit the sliver of steel slowly spinning into the shadows.
As Camille cried out and clutched her bleeding hand to her breast, La Rochelle started to draw a pistol from inside his coat, but suddenly froze as James appeared from the shadows and touched a gun barrel to the back of his skull. “I, too, will have no compunction about pulling the trigger.” A metallic click punctuated the warning. “So drop your weapon.”
Slanting a murderous look at Jack, La Rochelle did as he was ordered.
Shaking off her initial shock, Camille attempted a tearful plea. “Surely you must know that Miss Farnum was never in real danger, cheri . I confess, we were trying to frighten her into talking just now.” Her lashes fluttered as she essayed a tentative smile. “The misunderstandings will all be explained if we can simply discuss this like friends?—”
“We are not friends,” said Jack coolly. “Your charm has worn thin, my dear. It is clear we never were.”
Camille’s gaze narrowed and her bleeding fingers tightened into a fist.
Harriet didn’t give a fig for the reaction of the Frenchwoman or her compatriots. She was only aware of Jack, and the flare of firebright emotion in his eyes.
Amirault’s look of shock slowly turned to a cynical smile. “Well, well. It seems we have lost a chance at winning a victory. But the game is simply a stalemate, not a loss,” he said. “You cannot turn us over to the authorities for abducting Miss Farnum without exposing her to some very unpleasant gossip. Her reputation would be utterly ruined. And since you cannot prove any other crime against us...”
He lifted his shoulders in a self-satisfied Gallic shrug. “Come, Pierre, let us take Camille away and see to her injury.”
“The three of you won’t be going anywhere.” The door flew open and Beaumont, his mask tipped back to reveal a grim look of satisfaction on his handsome face, stepped aside to let four men enter. They too were in masks and costumes, but quickly revealed themselves to be no ordinary revelers.
“You three will be leaving here, but only to make the journey to Newgate prison,” announced the man dressed as Richard the Lion-Hearted. His sword might have been made of pasteboard, but the pistol he drew was quite real. “As head of Foreign Office intelligence, my men and I are authorized to place you under arrest. Monsieur Beaumont alerted us that there might be trouble at the duc’s party tonight, and when we saw Lord Leete and Lord Osborne leave so abruptly, we followed.”
“They heard everything, Amirault,” added Beaumont. “I’ve long suspected you meant to use nefarious means to gain control of our Royalist cause, but murder?”
The next few minutes passed by in a blur. Harriet was only dimly aware of the prisoners being secured and marched away. All her thoughts were on the warm, hard press of Jack’s muscled arms around her, the faint stubbling of whiskers along the line of his jaw, the possessive press of his lips.
A kiss? This time, there was no room for doubt. The intensity of it had all her senses reeling. Holding him close, she abandoned herself to the sweet sensation of his mouth, and all the glorious things it was doing to hers.
If only...
If only it would last for more than a fleeting interlude.
Jack broke off the embrace with a ragged sigh. “I—I thought I had lost you,” he whispered. And then to her surprise, his lips feathered over her brow, her cheeks and came to rest on the tiny hollow at the base of her throat.
Her pulse began to quicken, spreading a sweet heat to chase away the fear lingering in her limbs.
It was a long moment before he slowly raised his head. “Those varlets didn’t harm you in any way, did they?”
“The only injury I suffered is a bruise to my pride,” answered Harriet, as she smoothed her fingers through his wind-snarled hair. “What a fool I was—I should have known as soon as he touched me that it wasn’t you.”
“It’s me who’s the fool,” said Jack. “I never imagined my friends—my former friends—were capable of such evil.”
“That’s because you are, at heart, such a good and honorable man.”
His arms tightened around her. “God knows, I have my faults and weaknesses. Too many to count.”
“That’s just as well. I’m not very good at mathematics.”
A chuckle stirred deep in his throat. “What a corker—I know for a fact that you are prodigiously skilled in doing all sorts of complicated calculations.”
And yet, Harriet wanted to say, the only equation she cared about was exceedingly simple—one plus one equals two. Instead, she merely murmured. “It was a devilishly difficult conundrum to solve. There’s no need to tally up mistakes. We both made them.”
“But one of mine put you in mortal danger,” countered Jack. “Can you ever forgive me?”
She buried her face in the collar of his coat, reveling in the comfortable feel of his closeness.
“What are you thinking?” he asked softly.
“Just that...” She didn’t intend to go on, but the words seemed to have a will of their own. “Just that it seems as if I fit perfectly into the chiseled contours of your body, all the hard and soft edges melding together so well that it is hard to tell them apart.” Embarrassed at how it sounded aloud, she added, “It’s a silly thought, brought on, no doubt, by an excess of emotion.”
Jack hugged her closer. “I don’t find it a silly thought at all. I was thinking much the same thing.”
“Were you really?”
“Yes. And here is what was foremost in my mind.” He released his hold and slowly tipped up her chin. Their eyes met for an instant, and then his mouth gently touched hers. “You are so sweetly soft while I am all rough edges. And yet, when I kiss you, the differences seem to disappear. Like so...”
“Ah,” said Harriet when after a lengthy interlude he lifted his lips. “That was a very thorough explanation.” She reached up to caress the tip of his chin. “Just so you know, I like your rough edges.”
“And I like all your nuanced softness—your silky hair, your velvety skin,” Jack pressed his cheek to hers. “I even like the brick-like bumps I get when we butt heads.”
“I can be very hard-headed,” she said.
“Delightfully so.”
Harriet laughed, but before she could respond, a discreet cough interrupted the exchange.
“Forgive me for intruding on this private moment, but Mr. Farraday of the Foreign Office and his men have taken away the prisoners,” said James. “And so I was wondering whether you intend to stay here all night whispering endearments to each other? Or would you like to return to Mayfair in the comfort of my carriage?”
“The Dark Walk was made for stolen kisses,” murmured Jack. “But much as I would like to linger, I am sure Harriet has seen quite enough of Vauxhall Gardens for now. And we ought to inform our households that all’s well that ends well.”
She would have been quite happy to stay in his arms until dawn, however, Jack’s dry humor did remind her that Ellie and Bailin would be very worried.
“Yes, we had better go,” she agreed.
“Excellent,” said James, stomping his muddy boots as he turned. “My feet were getting awfully cold out there.”
They quickly made their way clear of the dark trees and emerged on the Grand Walk. James tactfully forged ahead, leaving Harriet and Jack some privacy to follow along at their own pace. Overhead, the diamond-bright winking of the stars was suddenly highlighted by a burst of colorful sparks as the gala fireworks display began.
Jack looked up, the trailing glitter of fire gilding his profile. “We have much to celebrate.”
“Indeed,” she replied, though heading for home was a bittersweet reminder that with the mystery solved, she and Jack would have no real reason to be spending time together in the future.
To mask her plummeting spirits, Harriet quickly added a light quip. “The festivities are quite spectacular tonight. I am almost sorry that we are not attending the duc’s party.” She fluffed her jewel-trimmed skirts, which were now a little worse for wear. “It’s not that I am in the mood for frivolities, but it’s a pity to waste Madame Deauville’s magnificent costume.”
Jack twitched a faint smile, yet his expression took on an odd little pinch. He walked on in silence for several strides before replying. “As to that, we could have a masquerade ball to celebrate our wedding.”
Her heart spun in a slow, dizzying circle within her ribcage. “But you didn’t really ask me to marry you. We agreed that I am supposed to cry off.”
“Yes, well, you certainly have every reason to do so.” His gaze remained riveted straight ahead. “I’m an unsteady, moody fellow—and I nearly got you killed by drawing you into such terrible danger.”
Another bright burst colored the black velvet sky with red and gold sparks.
“Actually, it was fun,” murmured Harriet around the large lump that had formed in her throat. “We work well together. I shall... miss it.”
I shall miss YOU.
“I don’t suppose...”
Harriet held her breath as more fireworks exploded into the night.
“I don’t suppose you would consider amending the original proposal,” said Jack, after the booms had died away.
“That would depend on what you have in mind,” she answered carefully.
“I was thinking...” He finally turned his head and the quiet fire in his eyes was infinitely brighter than any fancy display of pyrotechnics “...that perhaps you would consent to making the arrangement more permanent.”
“Are you perchance asking me to marry you for real?”
Jack smiled. “That was the idea. I know you would like to have it all wrapped up in flowery words. But I’m not very romantic?—”
Harriet cut off the rest of his words with a fierce hug. “Yes,” she said simply.
His arms wrapped around her and suddenly she was floating on air. “A wise decision.” His breath tickled lightly against her ear. “Otherwise you would have been subjected to some truly awful poetry, my love.”
“I shall make you recite it at some point, but for now I would rather you repeat the last word you just said.”
“You mean ‘love’?”
“I just want to be sure I heard you correctly,” murmured Harriet.
“Then I shall say it again. Love. I love you, Harriet.” Jack kissed her. “I shall shout to the Heavens if you wish.”
“Not necessary,” she responded, and then kissed him back. “I heard you perfectly.”
“Nonetheless, I shall say it again.” His face softened, his gaze turning warm as melted chocolate. “I love you, Harriet. For years I’ve been wandering in the dark, but my heart has brought me back to the light of my life.”
“I love you, Jack,” she whispered, and then simply held him close, feeling no need to say anything more.
“ Ahem .”
Harriet looked up just as James let out another long huff. “The fireworks have ended,” he pointed out.
“But our journey together is just beginning,” murmured Jack, just loud enough for her to hear. He took her hand. “Yes, yes, we’re coming.”