Will couldn’t easily disguise himself amid the throngs of Mayfair. He had the Viking proportions and distinctive bone structure of an Ives. The small, aristocratic world his brothers moved in knew of Will’s existence and habits. The dog confirmed his identity if any had doubts.
It was the woman at his side that confused him as well as everyone else they passed. She was dainty, with the graceful bearing of a lady as she glided along, holding his arm. She wore abominable black bombazine and the heavy widow’s veil of a much older rural matriarch. Most of Mayfair might not recognize Lela’s form, since she did not come to town often. But her face. . . once they met her, they would know her. And the men would be stumbling over their feet to acknowledge her—hence, the ugly veil.
And she was walking on his damned arm on his way to a potential villain’s house as if she were a nobody. They both had bats in their belfries.
True, they were surrounded not only by the duke’s grooms and footmen but those of his brothers. The servants lurked on street corners, in the alleys, held horses and carriages all up and down the thoroughfare. Theo probably had one of his telescopes aimed at them. Jacques would be in a coffee shop nearby, all for the sake of Lela.
Unaccustomed to having his actions so closely observed, Will was deuced uncomfortable. He prayed to all that was holy that the two marquesses had better things to do than watch him at work. It wasn’t as if his brother or hers discussed their plans with him. Rain had stormed off, leaving Will the responsibility of looking after Lela. That made him sweat enough.
“Really, Will,” she murmured as they approached the rear of Lady Simmons’ townhouse, “I doubt the lady keeps weapons under her parlor cushions. This is much safer than all the plans you and Rain suggested.”
“Waiting for confirmation of our surmises would be safer,” he complained. “I could have led Ajax down this alley without your company.”
He’d given Ajax the ransom note to sniff again, but the dog hadn’t picked up much, as Will had feared. Still, searching for Rush’s driver would be easier without Lela on his arm. Only the lady who had barely left her room before, now couldn’t be persuaded to stay in it.
He was terrified that she’d come to harm again. The world needed this compassionate lady. He needed her. But the duke had sheltered her for too long. Will couldn’t smother her as well, much as he would like to.
“You can’t hear what’s happening inside that house,” Lela insisted, as she’d been doing since Will had said he was taking Ajax out. “Why did the carriage driver try to come into our house? He was obviously not ill as he claimed. He may have been up to no good. They could be talking about it even now. Hush, and let me listen.”
Will swallowed his pride and acknowledged her gift was far more useful than his when it came to cities and people.
The alley had no personal stables the way the duke’s grandiose home did. These were narrow townhomes. Walking down the delivery alley led them past kitchen gardens on either side. Will kept his mind open to dog scents as Ajax obediently sniffed the mud and fences, while Lela listened.
Will noted one of Ashford’s grooms loitering ahead. He knew another of the duke’s men whistled on the corner behind them. Lela should be perfectly safe. He just wasn’t accustomed to sharing his searches with anyone, much less a woman.
And there was the crux of it—the duke wanted him to marry his beautiful, intelligent, talented daughter, who might possibly help him in his searches for lost children and other victims. If she’d been anyone other than a duke’s daughter, Will would have been thrilled to have her talent at his side.
He was an inverse snob. He thought the nobility couldn’t do what he did.
Lela gripped his arm tighter and tugged him to a halt. He couldn’t hear anything. He linked with Ajax, who had found an interesting scent. Will couldn’t tell if it was the right scent.
“Lord Rush is arguing with his manservant,” she whispered. A moment later, she added in a puzzled voice, “He doesn’t speak like a servant.”
Which was when Will began to suspect the truth. How the devil did he handle this? Delicate ladies shouldn’t be faced with indelicate matters. Real gentlemen did not allow their ladies in situations like this in the first place. He was no gentleman. . .
“Cornett,” she murmured again. “His man’s name is Cornett. They are arguing over money and. . . privacy? Really, he sounds almost as educated as Rush. He speaks in military terms of cutting losses, taking the offensive, not retreating, gaining ground. . .”
Cornett. Crockett? It could be coincidence. Or sheer lack of imagination. Cutting losses. . . Rose and Bess?
The mastiff woofed and Will turned his attention to what the dog was telling him.
Lela stiffened and tugged him toward the alley exit. Will needed to linger. . .
A door opened and a man shouted, “You’ve the spine of a guppy!”
Forgetting what Ajax was sniffing, Will hurried Lela out of the line of fire.
“You’ve the soul of a guttersnipe,” a deeper voice retaliated. “And the imagination of a cretin! My way is safer, and you know it. You’re just jealous.”
Will put Lela in front of him so the man storming into the alley could only see his broad back. He shoved her at the tall footman whistling on the corner, who nodded and signaled a nearby carriage.
Lela resisted. Of course, she resisted. But she didn’t head back to the alley. Instead, she turned the corner toward the main street in front of the house.
Will swore under his breath and glanced helplessly at the footman. Neither of them was likely to manhandle the duke’s daughter in public, even if she looked little better than a dowdy domestic. Will strode after her.
“The Cornett person is objecting to Lord Rush courting me. He’s insisting that they retire to their rural estate. Lord Rush wants my dowry and to stay in town. It’s all very tawdry,” Lela said angrily as she marched down the walk. “There are reasons I never listen to people.”
Will’s gut lurched as he imagined what else she’d overheard. Rush’s manservant must also be his lover—a lover who wouldn’t want Rush marrying and bringing an inquisitive female into their lives. The pieces began to fall together in a ghastly picture. “So why are we not in a carriage heading back for your home?”
“Because I want to know what Lady Simmons thinks about her daughter-in-law’s disappearance,” she stated with a deadly resolve that brooked no argument.
“They mentioned a disappearing daughter-in-law?” Will asked, looking around for the carriage. Public manhandling or not, if these people knew anything of Bess’s torture and near-death, he wasn’t letting Lela near them.
“Lord Rush seems concerned about the whereabouts of his brother’s missing widow and child and isn’t convinced that they won’t return and claim the estate Cornett wants them to occupy. If they’re talking about Bess, he doesn’t seem to know she’s supposedly dead. I believe Rush is mostly innocent, but I’m surmising from Rose’s reaction that his manservant most decidedly is not.”
Will stepped into the street, halting the duke’s carriage that had been following them. Before Lela could protest, he flung her inside as soon as the footman opened the door. If there were murderers running about the street, he wouldn’t allow Lela in their path.
Ajax howled as a long-legged gentleman in a black coat ran out of the alley in their direction.
Will swung to block the runner. The dastard looked up, saw him, and reversed his direction. Will unleashed Ajax. “Find,” he ordered.
The bitch knew the command and knew to connect it to the ransom note. Without hesitation, she raced after the fleeing servant. That meant Ajax had scented the writer of the ransom note. Will was torn between racing after the blackguard and protecting Lela.
“Damn you, man, come back here!” A man’s shout echoed from the alley. Rush.
That decided that. Will mentally ordered Ajax to bring down the fleeing servant. Cornett screamed as the mastiff pinned him to the walk. Wi
ll braced himself for the encounter with Lela’s lavender-loving suitor.
He hadn’t prepared himself for Lela leaping out of a moving carriage. She shouldn’t even be able to unlatch the damned door!
Ahead, Cornett shouted and a knife flashed in his hand. Ajax!
Without hesitation, Will removed his brother Erran’s inventive, three-shot pistol from his pocket. Rush and Ajax were in between him and his target, blast it. He ran, deliberately smashing into Rush to remove him from his path so he could find a better angle to stop Cornett from gutting the mastiff, who was merely holding him down.
“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot,” Rush cried in horror. “Corny, stop, don’t hurt the dog!”
Even with one hand bandaged, Will preferred fists to guns, but he wouldn’t allow Ajax to be hurt any more than he would allow Lela to be. He took aim.
Lela screamed. Torn between the dog and the woman he loved, Will had no choice. He swung around to aim at anyone causing her harm.
Not a soul touched her. She’d removed her veil and men ran from every corner to surround her. She’d summoned her own reinforcements.
Will swung back to the villain, but Ajax had intelligently sunk her teeth into the wrist brandishing the knife. Cornett wouldn’t be stabbing anyone soon.
He had half a mind to put the gun back in his pocket and walk away. He was a peaceful man, a man who went about his own business and left others to theirs. He worked alone, with responsibility for no one but himself.
And now, because of a duke’s daughter and his own stupidity, he was wielding pistols, ready to take off heads, and he had half London on his heels. And a self-satisfied lady waiting for him to catch a villain.
Chapter 23
“I am feeling exceedingly vaporish,” Lela announced, taking the arm of a footman. She watched in satisfaction as a murderous-looking Will planted his big boot on Cornett’s arm. Spitefully, Lela hoped Will broke it. The man deserved it for attempting to knife a dog. Ajax obeyed a silent command and sat back, tongue lolling innocently.
“Please, Lord Rush, if you would. . .” She turned to the older man with graying sideburns, who appeared torn between rushing to his friend’s aid and the approval of the members of society gathering around the scene.
He barely gave Lela a second look. He knotted his hands in anguish as Will hauled Cornett to his feet. “Please,” he said, “Corny was only protecting himself from a vicious animal. I will pay for any harm.”
Lela rolled her eyes. Since Will and her not-besotted suitor paid her no heed, she had to assert herself more forcefully. She was fully focused on Will, so summoning her wits was easy enough.
“Lord Rush, you will take me to your mother this instant,” she commanded in a no-nonsense tone that mimicked her father at his worst. “Mr. Ives will not harm that vile creature unless I give the word.”
Will glared at her for her presumption, but he pinned Cornett’s arms behind his back and marched him down the street. The manservant was tall but almost cadaverous. He could not match Will’s strength, no matter how much he struggled.
“You will go nowhere without a battalion of trained soldiers,” Will contradicted her. Before she could object, he jerked his head peremptorily at someone behind her. “If Lady Simmons is at home, we’ll all pay her a visit.”
Lord Rush suddenly looked petrified. Lela swung around to see Jacques Ives-Bellamy leading a policeman through the throng. Will’s younger brother looked as delighted as if he were in the audience of a good production of Midsummer Night’s Dream.
“The rest of you may depart. The lady is in good hands,” Will ordered, wearing a ferocious scowl.
And every wretched man on the street did as Will commanded, bowing to his authority even though he dressed like a rural squire. Within minutes, the crowd had melted away. The policeman took Cornett, who fought his hold until smacked with a nightstick. Jacques took Ajax. Lord Rush, looking petrified, led the way. And Will held Lela’s gloved hand pinned to his arm as if he’d never let go.
“What do you think you are doing?” she asked under her breath.
He gave her one of those dark masculine looks from his long-lashed eyes, the kind of a look that made her insides flutter but focused her mind exceedingly well.
“Clearing the air,” he said succinctly.
“Of the stench of villainy?” she suggested.
He nodded approval and returned to ordering people about—as he most likely always did when commanding rescue missions. Her insides fluttered even more, although she had a strong urge to beat him about the ears with the policeman’s stick.
Will was not a man who would melt at her feet, but she understood him—as he understood her. Rather daunting, if she thought about it.
Jacques winked at her and lifted his tall gray hat. “I’ll take the animal home, shall I? She’s served her purpose, I believe.”
Will grunted. Lela nodded. She was attempting to follow a multitude of conversations, but Will’s presence kept her head spinning. Perhaps she would be better off without him.
The thought sent her into a panic, and she clutched his arm tighter in realization. Once this was settled, he’d be gone.
Lord Rush’s door opened before anyone knocked. A stout lady of formidable years and exuding disapproval filled the entry. “Hammond, what is the meaning of this hullabaloo? The entire household is abuzz. Come in and leave those common fellows—”
Her tirade halted when Lela stepped forward. She doubted she’d ever met Lady Simmons in more than a reception line, but if the viscountess was from Yorkshire, she knew the duke’s family. “Lady Simmons, I believe?” she said sweetly. “There’s been a bit of a bother, if we might impose on your hospitality for just a few moments. . .”
“My. . . my lady, of course,” the widow stammered, before bestowing a frosty glare on Lela’s companions. “I cannot imagine you wish these ruffians to accompany you. Really, Hammond, I told you Cornett would end up in gaol. I cannot understand why you have suffered him all these years.”
Before any of the men could answer that, Lela stepped aside to gesture for the anxious bobby to lead his prisoner inside. “On the contrary, my lady, we need the aid of these gentlemen to solve a mystery.”
When the lady stood there, stunned and blocking the entrance, and Lord Rush did nothing but stammer helplessly, Will emitted a soul-deep sigh. With a curt apology, he took Lady Simmons’ silk-clad arm and all but pushed her inside, out of the way.
“Bit of a brute, eh what?” Rush muttered, extending his arm for Lela to take now that Will was inside.
Lela considered that. Once upon a time, she might have agreed, if “brute” meant large, intimidating, lacking patience, and inclined to do as he wished and not as told. But it was only Will’s clothes that allowed him to be considered more animal than gentleman, which was what Rush implied.
“Entirely a man, and a gentle one at that,” she replied. “A brute would have shot your manservant on sight.”
He dropped her arm the instant they crossed the portal. Will was there to take it. She sent him a blinding smile that made him blink and freeze. And then, with that assurance she loved so much, he smiled back and led her after Lady Simmons into the parlor.
Will had smiled. At her. She walked on clouds.
“Bess?” Lady Simmons asked in confusion. “Why would you want to know about Bess? She’s probably consorting with. . .”
Standing behind Lela’s chair, Will coughed to cover up what she was undoubtedly about to say and nodded at the duke’s daughter.
The lady cast Lela a mortified look and moderated her tone. “My daughter-in-law is no better than she should be, I fear. I cannot imagine where she could have got to. Is she wanted by the law?” she asked, almost hopefully. “Is Rose safe?”
“You do not communicate with her, even though she’s carrying your grandchild?” Lela asked.
Will noted with approval that she kept her voice neutral. He knew families didn’t always talk to each other or even
like each other, and in this case, there might even be good reason for it. Bess wasn’t the most tractable, pleasant person he’d ever encountered. However, it wasn’t their place to judge.
“Grandchild?” Lady Simmons looked to her son, who had collapsed in a faded wing chair and stared only at his feet. “Bess is with child? Why wasn’t I told this?”
And then her eyes widened, and she stiffened. The old lady hadn’t lost any of her sharp wits. “She could be carrying the next viscount! I should have been told.”
Before anyone could question further, there was a commotion at the front door. Will winced, recognizing the deep voices of authority ordering the servants about. He squeezed Lela’s shoulder and returned to the foyer.
Sure enough, both marquesses had bullied their way in. Without giving it a second thought, Will grabbed their elbows and shoved Rainsford and Ashford back out the entrance. “You do not want to have to testify in court later. This is what I do. You go do whatever it is you do.”
Rainsford tried to swing around again. “Lela. . .”
“Is mine,” Will stated firmly and emphatically. “I will see to her.”
And he felt fine saying it. He filled with joy saying it. He was blatantly insane and Rainsford’s look confirmed it, but Will didn’t care. The lady was his, just as soon as he asked her.
Remembering how she’d rejected every other proposal she’d received, he had a sinking feeling about that. Which made him shove harder.
There were two of them. They could have overpowered him. But Ash merely tipped his hat in acknowledgment. “Find a better tailor,” he admonished, before striding off.
Lela’s brother looked mutinous. Will shut the door in his face and threw the bolt. “Don’t let anyone in,” he told the duke’s terrified footman.
Lady Simmons was still upbraiding her son about being kept in the dark about her younger son’s wife and child. Lela smiled at Will as he returned, and he thought his blood heated to boiling. Before he could decide how to steer the subject back on topic, Lela spoke for him.
No Perfect Magic Page 24