Chapter Seventeen #2
“What about you, madam? Have you been treated ill?”
Nanny’s cheeks flushed. “No.” She shifted slightly on the chair. “That is, aside from being brought here against my will, of course.”
Bear turned to the open door, still perplexed. “The door was unlocked.”
“That’s no matter to me, sir. When a man with a pistol tells me to stay put, I stay put.” Nanny folded her arms over her considerable bosom.
Bear raised an eyebrow. “What does the man look like?”
“Small and shifty,” she answered quickly. “But with shoulders like a bull.”
Her description could easily be applied to Edgar Chawton.
“Come with me, both of you,” he instructed, glancing back over his shoulder to ensure the landing was still empty.
Toby bounced up immediately, but his Nanny didn’t move.
“I beg pardon, sir. But who are you and why should I trust you?” Her rounded chin lifted defiantly.
Bear swallowed his surprise, telling himself the woman was only looking out for her young charge.
“I am Benedict Fairfield, son of the Duke of Alton,” he announced, wondering privately when the time would come that he might cease to be defined by his father’s status.
For now though, it suited him. The word duke tended to galvanize others toward his desired action.
But not today.
“And how is it that Master Toby is already acquainted with you?”
His mounting irritation was instantly soothed when the little boy came to stand beside him. “Bear is Mamma’s friend,” he announced. “He likes birds and squirrels.”
“I do,” Bear nodded, remembering their conversation in the park. “And boats.”
“I like boats,” Toby’s eyes widened joyfully. “Can we go now, Bear?”
“We certainly can.” Bear moved toward the door, motioning for Nanny to follow. “Stay close to me,” he told the little boy.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Nanny declared. “You might be leading us straight into a trap.”
Bear froze, confusion rendering him momentarily speechless. “Madam, you are already in a trap, held here against your will.”
The woman folded her knitting, looking for all the world as if she was in a grand drawing room rather than an ill-smelling room with bare walls.
“The man with the pistol told us to stay here,” she said flatly.
“And now I’ve arrived to free you.” Bear fought the urge to draw his own pistol, if that was how the old lady liked to be directed.
“But I don’t know you,” she insisted, small eyes blazing.
“This is Bear.” Toby swung his hand, happily oblivious to the undercurrent of danger.
Bear stiffened. A minute too late his soldier’s instincts broke through to ask him why the woman was so reluctant to leave.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the landing. Bear hoped desperately for Pyramus, but it was Edgar Chawton who appeared in the doorway. He had changed into a smart tailcoat and his blue shirt was clean, but the buttons still strained over his swelling belly.
“Lord Benedict Fairfield,” he drawled. “My man downstairs told me you were here. And so we meet again.”
Bear stared at Nanny. “You are working for him?” Disgust filled his voice.
The old woman crossed her legs, looking mighty pleased with herself. “With, I’d say, sir. Not for.”
Edgar grunted and came to stand inside the room. If Toby’s small hand weren’t clasped in his, Bear thought he might have swung for the guy.
“With, for, it makes little difference.” Edgar slowly withdrew his pistol and trained it on Bear. “What matters is we’ve caught ourselves a bigger fish than we ever imagined.”
Nanny cackled. “What ransom might we demand for the duke’s son?”
“Don’t think for one moment that you’ll get away with this.
” Bear moved so his large body shielded Toby.
“You will both be languishing in Newgate Prison before the day is over.” He projected an air of confidence and calm, but all the while his keen mind assessed the situation and their likely means of escape.
He could pull his pistol on Edgar, but that might end badly.
The little room yielded little else to use as a weapon, save the rickety chair that Nanny sat on.
His main hope, at this stage, was Pyramus.
I must keep them talking.
He relaxed his stance and shot Nanny his most charming smile. “Or maybe I’m mistaken. It has been known.”
She chuckled. “That’s a first, I must say. A member of the gentry admitting such a thing.”
“What is this all about?” He kept his gaze trained on the old woman.
She shrugged. “Righting a wrong, that’s how I see it.”
“Righting many wrongs,” Edgar interjected.
“You are related?” Bear gestured from one to the other.
Edgar visibly bristled. “Not at all.”
“That’s put the wind up him.” Nanny chuckled. “You are mistaken there, sir, just as you foretold. I’m no relation to the Chawtons. But my niece, Millicent, took a position at Medstead Hall and found her reputation ruined thanks to Lady Brewood and her holier than thou ways.”
Bear heard Toby’s small gasp of shock and wished he could squat down and offer the lad some comfort.
“Your niece was Toby’s nurse?” Bear recalled the story of the nurse who dosed Toby with laudanum.
“Not for very long.” Nanny sniffed with disapproval. “And she hasn’t found a decent position since, thanks to her lack of a reference.”
“So you plotted this together?” Bear injected a note of admiration into his voice. Was that Pyramus he could hear, striding toward them? “Very clever,” he almost bellowed.
Unfortunately, Edgar was less dim-witted than Bear had hoped. He also heard footsteps and wasted no time in slamming the door closed and sliding the bolt across.
Seconds later, the handle rattled and Pyramus’s booming voice demanded, “Open this door.”
Edgar’s eyes gleamed and he lunged for Toby, but Bear was too quick for him. Holding the little boy tightly, he darted out of Edgar’s reach and paused by the window, some safe distance from the door.
“We’re in here,” he shouted. “Shoot out the bolt.”
It was a spur of the moment decision and one he almost instantly regretted as mere seconds later a loud blast sounded from the corridor.
There was an almighty crash and the sound of splintering as the wooden door swung open and banged against the wall.
Smoke billowed in from the landing and Bear was dimly aware of Nanny coughing and spluttering, before a great ringing began to sound in his ears.
It was the smoke that proved to be his undoing.
The gray, billowing smoke, which thickened when Edgar’s pistol went off in retaliation.
Bear was transported back to the battlefield outside Paris, with groaning men and the sound of war and his own pounding urgency. He couldn’t see Edgar or Pyramus. He forgot that he was in Fenwick’s Gymnasium, rescuing the son of his betrothed.
Acting purely on the visceral impulse to escape, Bear hauled up the large sash window, tightened his hold on the small, warm body next to him, and jumped.