To Catch an Earl--A Bow Street Bachelors Novel

by Kate Bateman

  “She brings out the best in you. And just think, life will never be boring.”

  “Well, that’s true. I never know what the hell she’s going to do next.”

  Seb sighed. “I wish you luck, my friend. That woman has been one step ahead of us for months. You might have the upper hand right now, but she has a lifetime of tricks up her sleeve.”

  * * *

  Deciding to give Emmy a little space, Alex made sure her letter was delivered to her grandmother, checked that her request for food had been accommodated, and joined Seb in the Tricorn’s private dining room for a meal provided by the wonderful Monsieur Lagrasse.

  When he finally entered his rooms, it was to find Emmy looking ridiculously attractive in a moss-green velvet dress he hadn’t seen before. She’d obviously had a bath—her skin was pink and rosy, and her hair had been put up in a complicated-looking twist. That damnable perfume of hers swirled in the air.

  Instead of striding over there and kissing her senseless, which he very much wanted to do, he frowned and took a seat behind his desk to hide the telltale bulge in the front of his breeches. “Where did you get that dress?”

  “Sally sent it over.” She took the chair across the desk from him and placed her hands neatly on the top. “She thought I might need something clean and warm for tonight. So, do we have a plan?”

  “We do. Danton wants you to meet at Kew, in the grounds of the castle King George has been constructing for the past decade.” He glanced over at the mantel clock. Eight thirty. “It’s about eight miles as the crow flies, across the river from Brentwood. It should take about an hour with the carriage, so we need to be leaving soon. Dan will drive you, but when you reach the gatehouse, you must get out of the carriage and go on alone with the jewels. Don’t worry. Seb and I will be hidden in the undergrowth. We’ll always have you in our sights.”

  “That’s reassuring,” she said dryly. “I’m sure I’ll feel much more relaxed knowing you’re tracking my progress with the barrel of a Baker rifle.”

  “It’s not you we’ll be aiming for. It’ll be Danton. And you won’t be completely alone. Seb spoke to Franks at the British Museum. He’s lent us Brutus, the dog, as extra protection.”

  Emmy bit her lip to prevent a smile, but he saw it anyway.

  “Considering your success at the museum, I’m assuming you and Brutus have an understanding?”

  Emmy nodded. “He’s particularly fond of steak.”

  “All right. We’ll ride with you until we’re almost there, and then we’ll flank you and lie in wait. Do whatever Danton says. As soon as an opportunity presents itself, we’ll run in there and arrest him.”

  Her face was pinched with worry, but she pasted a brave smile on, and Alex impulsively leaned over the desk and squeezed her hands. “It’s all right. We’ll get Luc back unharmed, I swear.”

  She nodded.

  He stood, and she did the same. “All right, let’s go.”

  She disappeared into his bedroom and returned, pulling on a velvet pelisse. Its many buttons fit snugly over her breasts and fastened up her white throat. All completely proper, but just the hint of those feminine curves had Alex thinking dissolute thoughts. He gave himself a mental slap on the head. He needed to concentrate. There would be time enough to do all the things he wanted to do to her after tonight’s trial was done.

  He ushered her out and down the stairs. Mickey stood in the yard, feeding a delighted Brutus a strip of Chef Lagrasse’s finest sirloin. The dog bounced around and barked in excitement at the end of his leather leash. When he saw Emmy, he leapt forward, almost pulling Mickey’s arm out of its socket, and reared up on his hind legs to give her an enthusiastic greeting.

  Emmy yelped in alarm and stepped back so the enormous animal’s paws fell back to the cobbles.

  “Down, Brutus!” she commanded, half-laughing. “Yes, it’s good to see you too, but do stop licking me. It’s disgusting.”

  Mickey managed to coax the giant beast to jump into the carriage and secured the leash to one of the sconces. After an investigative sniff of every inch of the carriage, the beast sat down on the threadbare seat, facing forward just like a human passenger, ears pricked and ready to go. Alex was intensely glad they were still using the run-down vehicle he’d purchased in Lincolnshire. It didn’t matter if the monster shredded the seats or drooled on the upholstery.

  He’d already packed his trusty Baker rifle in his saddlebag, and he knew Seb had done the same. He’d sent a message over to Benedict’s town house to see if he’d changed his mind about coming to help, but Alex didn’t expect it. Benedict adored adventures like this, but he enjoyed the company of his wife even more. He and Georgie were a rarity amongst the ton—a couple who genuinely liked each other.

  Alex hoped he and Emmy would be able to emulate their example. He’d do everything in his power to make sure she’d be happy married to him.

  With that thought, he handed her into the carriage and accepted the box of jewels from Mickey. He placed it on her lap, then fished in his jacket pocket and withdrew the Carrington ruby. Her eyes widened in surprise as he opened the tin and added it to the glittering pile.

  “Just in case Danton wants to see it,” he explained. “What? Did you think I was going to keep it for myself? Some of us have principles, Miss Danvers,” he couldn’t resist teasing. He closed the carriage door with a snap. “Just remember, when you meet him, keep him talking. That way, he’ll be focused on you.”

  She nodded again, and he left her and mounted Bey. The Tricorn’s coachman clambered up in front of her, and Seb mounted his own horse.

  “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 40.

  They travelled west out of London, through the Knightsbridge turnpike and down past Bayswater. Emmy tried to quell the anxious churning of her stomach as she thought of the ordeal ahead.

  She was grateful for Brutus’s distracting presence. The dog poked his huge head out of the open carriage window, tongue lolling, delighted by the novelty of travelling in such a way. He barked at every late-night passerby, rider, coach, and animal they passed.

  Reaching down, Emmy slid open the catch on the tin box and took one last look at the jewels. Apart from the sapphire Danton had stolen, all the other major gems her father had wanted to recover were here, on her lap.

  So near and yet so far.

  Tears pricked her eyes. She and her father had taken such pains to amass this collection, but they would never be returned to France. Still, better the British government have them than that murderous, blackmailing swine Danton. The self-absorbed Frenchman was no match for Alex. Harland was a seasoned, wily strategist with years of experience. He would defend her.

  Emmy closed the lid with a snap and secured the latch.

  Never had she felt so unprepared. If this had been a heist, she and Luc would have done meticulous research on the location to anticipate every eventuality. If only they’d had time to visit this meeting site, to assess all the exits and entrances, to find the places of elevation and blind corners. If only she’d learned how to shoot a pistol or wield a knife.

  The coach rattled over Kew Bridge and rocked to a stop. Alex’s dark shape appeared at the window. “This is where we leave you.”

  Emmy managed to nod, even though she felt almost nauseous with nerves. He nudged his mount closer and reached his gloved hand through the open window to stroke her cheek.

  “It’ll be all right, Emmy. Trust me.”

  She allowed herself the brief indulgence of pressing her cheek into his palm, then pulled away. She refused to think that this might be the last time she ever spoke to him. “Go.”

  A few minutes later the coachman angled the vehicle through an arched red brick entrance, and they started down a tree-flanked lane. Emmy peered through the darkness. After half a mile or so, they pulled over and she looped Brutus’s leash around her wrist and jumped down from the carriage, then turned and hefted the tin.

  The coachman pointed through the trees to
where the partly constructed battlements of a great stone edifice gleamed pale in the moonlight. “’Is lordship told me not to get too close. But don’t you worry none, milady. ’E’ll ’ave yer back, all right and tight.” He saluted her with a finger to his cap.

  Emmy started down the dark lane. The trees arched overhead, their branches dark and menacing, and she tried to regulate her breathing. Just a nice walk in the moonlight, that’s all. Brutus tugged at the leash, eager to investigate everything, snuffling in the shifting undergrowth. A gust of wind brought the distinctive smell of the river to her nose, and she realized they weren’t far from the Thames. She spied the silver-grey sliver of water between the trees.

  The main building came into view: white stone crenelated walls, round turrets, and small windows in the Gothic style. In the moonlight, it looked like a medieval ruin, a folly, but Emmy knew it was in the process of being built, not falling down.

  King George’s “new palace” had been featured in the newspapers for years. Still unfinished more than a decade after construction had begun due to the king’s many bouts of madness, it was a constant source of derision, outrage, and scorn. Its detractors decried it as ruinously expensive, ugly, and tasteless. A monument to folly and unfinished dreams. A prime example of the foolishness and profligacy of the monarchy. One politician had even likened it to the Bastille.

  Building work had clearly been at a standstill for some time. Brambles and weeds had overgrown the joists that protruded from the unfinished walls. Emmy shivered, hating the place with an instinctive dread. Danton had chosen his meeting place well; there were a hundred places he could be hiding, dead ends and shadowy corners. He could be watching her even now.

  Brutus let out an excited bark. Nose to the ground, he tugged her down a path that led through the trees toward the river, a muddy track obviously once used by the workmen. Emmy almost turned her ankle in one of the wheelbarrow ruts before she hauled him to a stop.

  She glanced around, her heart thumping against her breastbone as she tried to decipher the dark shapes in the darkness. Every rustle of leaf, every snap of a twig, made her want to scream. Was Danton lurking in the shadows? Did he have a gun trained on her even now? She clutched the metal box tighter to her stomach, almost numb with terror. What was to stop him shooting her and taking the jewels from her corpse?

  She clenched her jaw. No. He would want to be certain she had the jewels before killing her. And Alex was somewhere out there too. She tried to guess where he might be hiding but could see nothing.

  Her heart leapt as the undergrowth rustled and Danton’s squat figure materialized from the shadows.

  “Miss Danvers,” he called out, his tone genial, as if they’d just met on the street and not in some terrifyingly isolated piece of woodland. “I’m glad you came.” He took a step forward and glared at Brutus. “But not alone, I see.”

  “Brutus needed some air.” The dog gave a short, unfriendly bark and strained at the leash. Emmy wrapped it around her wrist and clutched the heavy tin box in front of her like a charm to ward off evil. “Where’s Luc? I want to see him.”

  Danton’s wide lips curled in a derisive sneer. “He’s not been harmed. He’s aboard my yacht, which is moored down by the water.” Without taking his eyes from her, he half-turned and shouted, “Danvers!”

  His voice echoed through the trees, and Emmy strained her ears for an answering shout. Her knees almost crumpled in relief when a reply—undoubtedly Luc’s voice—came from afar.

  “Emmy! I’m well.”

  She glared at Danton’s impassive face. “All right, then. I have the jewels.”

  He stepped forward eagerly. “All of them?”

  “All except the Ruspoli sapphire. You stole that yourself, I hear.” she added caustically.

  He gave a careless shrug, and anger began to replace her fear.

  “You killed a man for it,” she pressed. “And made it look like the Nightjar’s crime.”

  He smirked. He was a monster, utterly unfeeling. He’d taken a human life, kidnapped her brother, blackmailed and threatened her, and clearly felt no remorse. She was almost shaking with the urge to throw the box at his head.

  “You need not fear that I shall ask you to steal again,” he said calmly, mistaking the look on her face. “Once you hand me that box, our acquaintance will be at an end. I’ll have no further tasks for you. The Nightjar can retire gracefully.”

  Emmy narrowed her eyes. She didn’t believe him. She was a witness; what incentive did he have to let her live? He’d already killed the last man who could identify him.

  Brutus, apparently an astute judge of character, strained toward him and growled. Danton flicked the animal an irritated glance. “Tie him up.”

  Emmy looped the dog’s leash around a tree branch.

  “That’s better. Now, the jewels. They’re in that box?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He indicated a spot about six feet in front of him. “Put it down on the ground, then step back.”

  Emmy did as she was told. She watched as the Frenchman squatted awkwardly and lifted the lid. The gems sparkled, even in the dim moonlight, and his smile of triumph made her want to slap him. Where was Alex? Why wasn’t he rushing forward to arrest him? What was he waiting for?

  Chapter 41.

  Alex was waiting for a clear shot. He inched forward, crawling on elbows and knees, cursing the abundant undergrowth. It was useful to disguise his own position, but the sheer density of it made it impossible to get a clean line of sight to Danton. The Frenchman had chosen a good place for his rendezvous.

  He caught a glimpse of Seb moving around to the rear of Danton’s position, and was reminded of all the times they’d done similar maneuvers during the war, belly-down in the dirt, hiding in the bushes with their rifles. It was good to have Seb at his side.

  He squinted through the trees and tried to locate Emmy. That velvet dress of hers was fetching, but it made her bloody hard to see. She almost disappeared into the shadowy foliage. All he could make out were her pale hands and her equally pale face. She looked frightened but determined; her freckles stood out starkly against her cheeks.

  He watched her put the box on the ground and say something to Danton. The Frenchman ducked out of sight and Alex cursed silently. He glanced over at Seb, who shook his head in a silent message to indicate that he didn’t have a clear view, either.

  Alex inched to the right, trying to line Danton up with the V-shaped notch on the end of the Baker’s barrel. Another tree blocked his aim. Bloody hell. He’d only graze the Frenchman’s arm if he fired now.

  Danton picked up the box of jewels. Alex held his breath, waiting for the bastard to step into his line of sight. He wasn’t about to kill the man, but he could certainly incapacitate the bastard. He tightened his finger on the trigger.

  Danton was almost in range when he drew a pistol from his coat and Alex’s blood ran cold.

  He leapt to his feet with a savage cry and fired. His bullet went wide, but Danton, as he’d hoped, whirled around and fired the pistol wildly in his direction, instead of at Emmy. The ball whistled past his head and embedded itself in a tree to his right with a dull thud.

  The scent of spent gunpowder took him right back to the Peninsular and he started to reload his rifle without conscious thought. He’d already placed the butt on the ground and was reaching back for a paper twist of gunpowder when he remembered he had his dueling pistol in his belt. He threw down the rifle, pulled out the smaller gun, and started sprinting through the trees toward Danton.

  Brutus had been thrown into a frenzy by the gunfire. He was barking wildly, twisting and straining on his leash. With an athletic lunge, he broke free of the branch and leapt toward Emmy. She shrieked in alarm, but he surged past her and headed straight for Danton, his teeth bared in fury.

  Danton threw his spent pistol at the dog and turned to run just as Alex fired. The ball caught the Frenchman midthigh, and with a high-pitched scream he went sprawl
ing to the ground. The tin fell from his arms and burst open, spewing jewels onto the muddy ground. Brutus was on him a second later, barking fiercely, his front legs splayed wide to corner him and guard Emmy.

  Danton rolled over with a howl of fury. Alex grabbed hold of Brutus’s flailing leash and tugged the dog back toward Emmy, who was standing frozen as if in shock. He thrust the leash into her hand.

  “Here. Hold him.”

  She grasped it automatically, still watching Danton’s writhing efforts to crawl away on his hands and knees.

  A blinding fury seized Alex. He strode over, grasped Danton by the collar, and dealt him a punishing blow across the jaw. Panting through his teeth, he punched him again and again.

  He didn’t fight like a gentleman. The bastard had tried to shoot Emmy. He deserved no such courtesy.

  Seb grabbed his shoulders and tried to pry him away, but Alex shrugged him off. He hauled Danton to his feet, ignoring his screams for mercy, and punched him in the kidneys. His flabby stomach absorbed most of the blow.

  The Frenchman doubled over with an agonized exhalation, gasping for breath. When Alex let him go, he dropped to the ground and lay curled around himself, his hands grasping his middle. Alex gave his injured thigh a contemptuous kick for good measure.

  “Easy, Alex. Enough!” Seb’s urgent words pierced his red haze of anger. “We need him alive to hang, dammit!”

  Alex shook out his fists. His knuckles stung. He looked down at the whimpering, cowering heap below him with disdain. Threaten Emmy, would he? Bastard.

  Seb stepped in front of him and ushered him a few steps away.

  “Can’t we just shoot him here?” Alex growled.

  “You’ve already done that.”

  “Only in the leg. It’s just a flesh wound. Let me try again. Somewhere really painful this time. The knee? The hand?”