Sweet Deception (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  "Gavin Waxton, I'll be vexed! Why didn't I figure out it was he who helped them escape?" Hunt murmured.

  Robards came in with a tray, serving first Hunt and then the woman. He set the tray of freshly baked fruit pastries on a small table between them and made a hasty exit.

  "Now tell me," Hunt said, sipping his wine, "how did you know I was looking for the gentleman and the lady?"

  She took a gulp of the white Rhenish, wrinkled her nose, then took another gulp. "I got a cousin across the river in Kent who was tellin' me the beginnin' of last week how some duke's men come through lookin' for two gentlemen and a red-haired lady on the run. My cousin, she said there was a hefty reward." She raised a hand, pleased with herself. "I knew there couldn't be more than one bunch like that, so I come all the way here as quick as I could." She leaned forward, fingering several pastries before she chose one. "Just how much is this reward, anyways?"

  "More than sufficient." Hunt leaned closer. "If this is true, tell me why you came and not your husband?"

  She took a big bite of a cherry tart and chewed loudly with her mouth open. "Oh, you don't know my Bobby. The gentleman that was well paid Bobby not to tell anyone. Bobby's such a fool he'd go to his grave not tellin'." Cramming the remainder of the tart into her mouth, she wiped her fingers on the bodice of her gown. "But me, I know a stroke of luck when I sees one."

  "So where does your husband think you are if he doesn't know you've come to London to seek me?"

  She reached for another pastry. "Oh, the old bog! He thinks I crossed the river to go to my cousin's lyin'-in. He won't be lookin' for me for another week." She grinned, obviously pleased with herself, oblivious to the crumbs of flaky pastry that clung to the corners of her mouth.

  "I see." Hunt set down his glass, deep in thought. When he looked up at Mrs. Bockgard, she was on her third pastry. He stood. "Well, I must thank you for your help. You see, these men took my wife against her will."

  The woman got up, frowning. "Funny, Bobby didn't say nothin' about that. Said the three of them was pretty friendly."

  "I would guess they are," Hunt murmured.

  Not catching what he said, she leaned forward. "Your Grace?"

  He smiled handsomely. "Nothing, Mrs. Bockgard." He laid his hand on her shoulder and guided her toward the door. "I want to thank you for all your help. It is greatly appreciated. I can't tell you what it will mean to have my wife back in my loving arms again."

  "Glad I could be of some help to you, Your Grace." She stopped. "What about my re-ward?"

  "My secretary will see to it. Just follow along the hall and wait in the blue antechamber. He'll be but a moment."

  "Good day to you, Your Grace." She curtsied clumsily in the doorway. "And thank you for the pasties. Best I ever et!"

  The duke gave a little wave, then bellowed, "Robards!"

  The secretary bounded in. "Your Grace?"

  Hunt lowered his voice. "Dispose of the woman. I want no one to know she's been here."

  Robards screwed up his lips but nodded his assent. "It's her, isn't it? It's Thomasina at Havering House."

  The duke looked down at his secretary. "It is, indeed, and she's there with the Earl of Waxton, it seems."

  "So I get rid of the old woman. Then what?"

  "We prepare the men to ride. I want them armed heavily. I'll not have her get away this time."

  "How many men?"

  "At least a dozen." The duke smiled, walking back toward the gallery windows. "We're going to take a little ride out into the Essex countryside, Robards." He smiled at his own stark reflection in the glass. "And bring ourselves home a prize . . ."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  "It would simply be more sensible if you left me behind," Richard said, sipping one of Mrs. Spate's hot brews from a china cup.

  Ellen sat on a stool beside Richard's bed. Gavin stood leaning on the fireplace mantel across the room. She glanced significantly at Gavin, then back at Richard. "That wasn't the agreement. The agreement was that you would travel to the Colonies with us." She placed her hand on his pillow and smoothed the embroidery. A lifetime ago she had sewn those pale blue pansies on the hem of the pillowcasing. "You promised me, Richard."

  "I know what I promised, but it just doesn't make sense. Not now." He sighed. "Tell her, Gavin. Tell her this wound is going to kill me."

  She frowned. "It isn't! Don't say that, either of you. You're better today. The bleeding's nearly stopped. You feel stronger. You said so yourself."

  "Today, yes." He handed her his cup. "But by tomorrow it may be far worse. Ellen, I can barely draw enough breath to get out of bed to relieve myself. I'm not going to be able to make a journey back into London and then across the Mary blessed Atlantic!"

  She set down the china teacup on the mahogany table with a loud bang. Tears stung behind her eyelids, but she refused to cry. "Gavin, please talk some sense into him. Those powders you gave him have made him light in the head."

  Gavin came away from the fireplace to stand beside Ellen. He rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You get on a horse with us at sunset, Chambray, and you head for the ship with us, or none of us go."

  Ellen nodded. "We won't go without you, Richard. Just as you wouldn't go without us."

  Richard glanced up, his blue eyes riveted on Gavin's green ones. He gave a laugh, but he wasn't amused. "Surely you jest?"

  "I should think you know me better than that. Ellen's right. We made an agreement. You'll go with us . . . or die trying."

  Richard swore a foul French oath beneath his breath. "I don't know which of the two of you is more of a lackwit! Even if Ellen refuses to believe it, surely you, Gavin, know the chances of me surviving this wound!"

  "Your chances aren't good. But what are your chances if you stay here? Eventually word will leak out. Eventually Hunt will find you, and then what? Hell, Chambray, what have you got to lose? If you're going to die, why not among friends with the taste of brandy on your lips, instead of alone in some stinking dungeon?"

  Richard looked away. He was tired, too damned tired to fight with the two of them like this. In the last few days he had come to truly appreciate Gavin and the friendship the man had offered, not out of pity, but because he genuinely enjoyed Richard's company. Now that neither man felt he was in competition with the other for Ellen, they had found how much they had in common, how much they enjoyed each other's male companionship.

  "All right," Richard finally conceded, lying back on his pillows. "All right, I'll go. I'll do whatever the two of you want. Just leave me the hell alone so I can get some sleep. Dragging a dying man across the ocean, damnedest thing I ever heard of . . ." His words were harsh, but his tone was one of tenderness. Richard knew Gavin was right; he just didn't want to be a burden to him.

  There was nothing here for Richard in England any longer, no place to go where he'd be safe. He had no living relatives other than his mother, and she had remarried during the winter and seemed perfectly content with her new baron, who doted on her. If Richard did make a miraculous recovery, he could think of no better way to live out his life than in the company of Ellen and Gavin.

  "We leave when the sun sets," Gavin said. "We'll travel through the night, take refuge during the day so as to avoid soldiers, and then ride the next night. With a little luck, we'll make Londontown before dawn. Mrs. Spate's son said Julius would be ready to sail the moment he spotted us on the dock."

  "Good enough." Richard closed his eyes.

  Ellen pulled the coverlet up over him and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I love you, Richard," she whispered. "I always will."

  He patted her hand. "Get yourself ready to go, Ellen. Just come wake me in an hour."

  Ellen met Gavin at the door and the two slipped out into the hallway together. He caught her hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly. "It's going to be all right, sweet."

  She smiled up at Gavin. "It really is, isn't it?"

  "I promise." He kissed her lips as if to seal a pact. "Now
I have some last minute business to attend to with Mrs. Spate. I want to be certain everything is in order for the sale of the house and goods. Why don't you go lie down and rest in our chamber. It's going to be a long night of hard riding. We may not be able to stick to the main road."

  She smiled, watching him as he released her and started down the hallway. It was difficult for her to believe her fortune. After all those years of unhappiness, who would have thought her life would have taken such a turn for the good?

  Still smiling, Ellen walked down the hall to the bedchamber she and Gavin shared. She packed her few belongings, including her hairbrush and mirror, in her bag and added two books from the library. For safekeeping, she also pinned her mother's crucifix inside the bag. She treasured the icon, not so much for its religious aspect as for the fact that it was all she now had left of her mother and of her mother's child, Thomasina. Ellen had broken the chain the other day and had been unable to fix it. Once she arrived in the Colonies, she'd have Gavin find her another. Her packing complete, she set the bag and her cloak by the door.

  Then, instead of lying down as Gavin had suggested, she picked up several books she'd left on a table near the fireplace and headed for the library to return them. Her father had always insisted his precious books be kept in their proper places. Once when she was ten, he had taken her library privileges away from her for six months for carelessly leaving a book on the floor. As she held her father's books in her hand, books that would be sold at auction, it seemed a fitting farewell to Havering House to take care of this last detail.

  Downstairs the house was quiet, save for the tick of a tall case clock in the front hall. Ellen entered the library, her slippers clicking on the cold slate floor. As she walked to an appropriate shelf on the far wall and tucked a book into its place, she looked up at the faded fresco paintings on the dome ceiling.

  She had always both loved and feared this room, even as a small child. This was the room where once she had learned to read; she'd found solace in the dusty pages of other's words, in other's lives. But here had also been the place where her father and later her husband had often dealt their blows, either physical or emotional.

  She stared at the dark paneled walls, taking in the scent of fresh wood polish left behind by Mrs. Spate's dust rag, which mingled with the pungent odor of mildewed draperies. She stared at the massive desk that had been her grandfather's. Her mind flickered back to the day her father had called her into his library to tell her he'd married her off to Waxton. She had been only thirteen, not yet even a woman.

  She felt a lump of sadness rise in her throat, not so much for the thirteen-year-old child as for the broken man who had been driven to such drastic measures by inadequate insight and bad politics. For all these years she had hated her father for what he'd done to her, but now, standing here in his library, she felt only pity. He had been a weak man. He had been a poor decision maker. He had done what he thought was right, no matter how wrong it had honestly been.

  "There you are."

  Startled, Ellen turned around, wiping her damp eyes with the sleeve of her gown.

  "I thought you were resting upstairs." Gavin dropped his hand on her hip. "It's almost time to go. The horses are being saddled." His brow creased as he gazed into her dark eyes. "Are you all right?"

  She smiled, lifting her arms to hug him tightly. "I'm fine."

  He held her at arm's length. "You're certain? You've been acting a little odd since we got here. I'm beginning to think it's me. Tell me you haven't changed your mind, because if you have, I'll be forced to throw myself from my brother's tower window—"

  She pressed her finger to his lips. "That's not amusing." Her voice trembled. She touched his smooth-shaven cheek. "It's nearly dark," she said, feeling a sudden sense of urgency. "Let's get Richard and go. I want to get aboard the ship. I want to go far from here . . . with you, Gavin Wax ton. I want to leave England and never look back."

  Holding her in his arms, he brushed back heavy locks of bright red hair off her shoulder. "What's suddenly brought this all on? You seemed content enough to wait yesterday."

  She laid her head on his shoulder. "I don't know," she answered, thinking it was only a half-lie. "Just impatience. I'm ready to begin our new life together."

  He tipped up her chin and brushed his lips against hers. "No more ready than I am. I ache to see my soil again, to smell the green of the forest, to hear the voices of my friends again. I—"

  "My lord! My lord Waxton!" Mrs. Spate's eldest son, Rob, came racing around the corner, sliding on the slate floor as he came to an abrupt halt. "Men, sir! Comin' up the road! I seen 'em from the hayloft of the barn!"

  Ellen froze.

  "Men? Speak sense, boy. What men?"

  "Don't know, sir. But it don't look good. Men in uniforms with swords coming up the hill on the main road from the village."

  "Hunt," Ellen whispered.

  Gavin swore but didn't hesitate a moment before moving into action. "Rob, I want you to bring the horses around to the kitchen door, but don't tie them there where they can be seen." He thought for a moment. "The woodshed lean-to. Put them there. You have got the horses saddled, haven't you?"

  "Yes, sir. Done just like you tole me."

  "Good boy!" He patted him on the buttocks. "Now see to the horses, then get your mam and your brothers, and you run for the village and you hide there, you understand me?"

  The red-haired boy stared for a minute, stunned into silence. "They've come after you, haven't they, my lord? They're bad men, aren't they?"

  "Go!" Gavin shouted.

  The child, frightened by Gavin's shout, spun on his heels and raced out of the library.

  Gavin grabbed Ellen's elbow and led her out of the room. "Go upstairs and tell Richard to get himself out of bed. I want the two of you to meet me in the kitchen, ready to go."

  "Where are you going?"

  "To get my weapons, then up to the tower to see what we're up against." He started down the hall at a run, and Ellen picked up her skirts to run with him. They sprinted up the steps side by side, then parted as Ellen ducked into Richard's room and Gavin went for his sword.

  Panting, as much from fear as from loss of breath, Ellen burst through Richard's doorway. He was already up and dressed, seated on the edge of the bed with a brandy in his hand. "What the hell is going on?"

  She ran to a side table to get his sword belt and pistol. "Horsemen are approaching. Rob saw them."

  Richard leaped up, appearing suddenly unhampered by his chest wound. He strapped on his sword belt as he questioned her. "Hunt?"

  "The boy didn't know. Gavin went up to the tower to see. But who else could it be, Richard?" She handed him his sword, his cloak draped over her arm. "We're to meet Gavin in the kitchen. He has horses ready for us. Mayhap we can just slip out undetected."

  "Maybe," Richard echoed, but he didn't sound convinced. He looked up at Ellen. "Are you ready? Where's your cloak? Your bag? I take it you still have the letter."

  "I just have to go the room and get my things. I'll meet you in the kitchen."

  "No, wait. I'll go with you!"

  She threw a hand over her head as she ran out the bedchamber door, ignoring his plea. "I'll see you in the kitchen!"

  Ellen raced down the hall and darted into her room. She slung her green woolen cloak over her shoulders and grabbed her small carpetbag. On the bed lay Gavin's cloak and feathered cavalier's hat, forgotten in his rush. She picked them up and raced for the door. There was nothing more they needed.

  In the hallway she ran for the landing, but instead of going down the steps to the first floor, she dropped her belongings and headed for the tower steps. She had to see for herself if it was Hunt. She had to see with her own eyes.

  A flood of sickening memories invaded her thoughts as she hurried up the crumbling stone steps leading into the tower that had once been Waldron's laboratory. Ellen kept her back against the wall. She didn't need to see in the darkness to know that on the
other side of the steps lay no railing, only blackness.

  Reaching the top landing, she ran through the charred doorway into Waldron's laboratory. The room was scarred black from the fire of more than two years past, and it stank of burnt chemicals and scorched stone walls.

  "Ellen?" Gavin spun around from the boarded window where Waldron had fallen to his death. "What the bloody hell are you doing up here? I told you to get Richard and meet me in the kitchen!"

  "Richard's on his way." She came up beside him, her fingers brushing against a strip of burnt drapery as she craned her neck to see through a break in the boards. "I had to see for myself."

  Gavin grabbed her arm as she caught sight of more than a dozen soldiers riding up the long drive toward Havering House. The Duke of Hunt took the lead. There was no mistaking him. Even from here, Ellen could see the inhuman hue of his skin. She could feel his pink eyes boring into her as he looked at the burned-out tower.

  "I don't know how he found us." He pulled her away from the window. "It doesn't matter now, though. What matters is escaping." He stepped over a broken stool colored black from the fire. "If we hurry, maybe we can make it out of here without him ever seeing us!"

  Ellen allowed Gavin to lead her down the winding staircase, as she held up her skirting with one hand, keeping a hold on his sturdy arm with the other. "Where's Mrs. Spate and the children?"

  "Safe. I told young Rob to take his mother and brothers and run to the village. Hunt won't bother with them. He'll be too busy looking for us."

  "For Richard and me, you mean."

  He hurried her along. "I mean for us. You don't think he can be too pleased with me, do you? I helped you get out of London."

  They reached the staircase landing, and Gavin grabbed his cloak and hat and her bag. "Let's go!"