“Duck, Chase! Now!” he shouted.
Chase hit the ground as the knife went sailing above his head to hit a fountain cherub and plop harmlessly into the water.
Traubridge drew his pistol and shouted a command in what sounded like Arabic.
Nothing happened.
He cursed and shouted again!
Still nothing.
He looked frantically around him, impatient for his men to appear. This time he tried in English, “Attack men! Attack!” And fraught moments later, they did arrive. All muzzled and bound, and guarded closely by Spares.
“No help there, Traubridge.” Reed and Jace moved out from their hiding spots and edged closer, rifles raised.
Traubridge suddenly grabbed Adley, whose face was already stark with terror, and held the little Mincer tightly in front of him, while he began backing down the path toward the trees.
“This way is blocked too, Edgar.”
Traubridge tensed on hearing the Chief’s voice behind him. His hatred of his step-brother was evident in the snarl on his face and spit of his words, as he spun around to confront his relative.
“So it’s the new Marquess of Olvin,” he mocked. “I should have killed you at the funeral, brother. But I thought I’d have time to arrange a little accident. Unfortunately, before I was able to do that, I received news you were about to have me apprehended as soon as I returned to London. I couldn’t allow that, now, could I?”
“There’s nowhere to go, Edgar. No way to hide your treachery anymore. It’s time to pay,” Olvin told him, still remaining a distance back.
“Never!” Traubridge shouted. “And if I’m to die, so will you!” Before anyone could stop him, he lifted his pistol and shot his brother in the chest. Olvin keeled over backwards like a felled tree.
There was a collective gasp and then all hell broke loose. Reed rushed Traubridge and kicked the pistol from his hand with one foot, then twisted his body to take the beast down by using his other foot behind a knee and yanking the Vanisher’s sleeve backward with his hand. Jace leapt on him and held him down while Max and Reed stood over him. Reed turned to the angry group of men, who seemed eager to hang the wretch for killing the Chief, and shouted, “Don’t do anything stupid, men. We want them both alive. Too many people’s destiny depends on them talking.”
Jace manacled Traubridge’s hands behind his back and Max secured his ankles.
Hearing a scuffle, Reed looked around and saw that Chase and Francis had Adley well in hand and were busy shackling his wrists in the same manner. The Mincer looked ready to soil himself.
Jace and Max handed the Vanisher over to the Chief’s men. They might treat him roughly but they understood he was not to die under their watch. Seeing that everything was in hand, Reed went over to the Chief, who was still lying on the ground. “Are you all right, Chief?” He helped Olvin sit up.
Traubridge’s shocked gasp was loud enough to be heard by all.
Reed, joined now by Jace and Max, turned in time to see the Vanisher’s head snap around to find them in the faint glimmer of the moonlight.
The Chief was sitting without their help now. He groaned. But at their concerned looks, he exclaimed, “I’m alive!” He looked stunned by that fact. “This cuirass of yours is amazing, Selwich.”
Everyone, except for the three who had known, was standing there in shocked amazement.
The Chief glanced over at Traubridge, who was gaping at him in disbelief. The new Marquess chuckled with grim amusement at the incredulity his step-brother was unable to hide. “Ahhh…” He winced and held his chest. “You thought me dead, did you?” He struggled to unbutton his great coat, waving Reed away when he would have helped. Opening the coat, he showed his brother the cuirass he wore. Tapping the rhinoceros-like metal scales, he said, “Japanese. Selwich collects them.” He stood shakily to his feet with help from Reed and Jace. “Luckily, we’ve become adept at reading your insanity. Now, we’ll have all the time we need to pry your secrets from you.”
Traubridge scowled and cursed him vilely and the Chief shook his head sadly, watching his step-brother and Adley being taken away. Once they were out of sight, he turned back to the large group of men congregated there and gamely lifted his hand, gesturing like a magician. “Presto! The Vanisher vanishes. God willing, for good.” Still visibly in pain, he smiled tiredly and quipped, “Good work, gentlemen. Just proves Spares are worth a lot more than they’re given credit for.”
All the Spares laughed as if the Chief had told a good joke, but the proud glow on their faces revealed how pleased they were to be acknowledged.
“Heirs did themselves proud tonight too.” The Chief gave an enthusiastic pat on the back to Reed, who moved just in time so that this time his good shoulder received the impact. “Marvellous invention, this. I know some of the elite in the military used them in battle, but we, the militia and investigators, should be using them out in the field too. Especially these more malleable types. I will be forever grateful for your forethought, Selwich.” Olvin was still marveling at his close call. He gave Jace a stern look. “You’ll see that the men are supplied with these when you take over, Mallory.”
“Yes sir.”
Satisfied he’d made his point, the Chief turned and walked away to speak with his militia.
Jace crossed his eyes at Reed.
Reed chuckled, Jace joined in, followed by Max. Soon the entire group, spares and heirs alike, were laughing like buffoons. It was only when Chase complained about having worked up an awful thirst that they retired to Sylvester’s to celebrate their successful mission.
Chapter Thirty
Tally hadn’t left her new home since moving in. She was mortified at the error they’d made in houses and at the resulting chaos.
“So tell me again why we’ve changed houses, my dear?” Ever since their move, her grandmother had been pestering her, prying, wanting to know what the real reason for their move was. Otherwise, she seemed a little subdued and not her usual self.
Tally suspected her grandparent had, on her first visit, recognized Reed and now her secret agenda was to see Tally and Reed wed. No doubt she was disappointed to have her hopes dashed.
“As I’ve told you,” Tally repeated for the tenth time at least. “We made a mistake, Grandma. We were given the wrong address, which is why we ended up next door.” She slid quickly past the matter of keys. She didn’t want to confess that they had broken in through a back window! “Now everything has been straightened out and we’re where we’re supposed to be.” She moved over and picked up one of her grandmother’s invitations. “You were talking about a rout you plan to attend...”
For once her grandparent let the subject drop. “Lady Willingham’s rout is always a good one, dear. We must send our acceptance.”
“You may send your acceptance, Grandma.” She was more determined than ever to shun ton activities. “I have no intention of attending any ton events, no matter how interesting. My agreement with my sisters was for one party only. Venetia’s. Now, they’ve gone to Paris as planned, and I’m to be left alone to do as I please.”
Her relative muttered something about rats abandoning ship and how she had expected them to stay and be of more help.
“And I intend to hold to that.” She modulated her tone and, adding a touch of syrup to her voice, said, “However, I realize you do like to socialize, and I wouldn’t want to deprive you of attending your usual functions. But you must do it with your friends and receive visitors in your own home, because I don’t intend to hire more servants, nor do I want a host of strangers visiting here.”
“Harrumph!” Her grandmother couldn’t hide her frustration at her grandchild’s obstinacy.
Well, that was just too bad! She had made her intentions clear, and she knew she couldn’t give an inch or Grandma would be dragging her to every occasion she could.
“I never knew you to be so unsociable, my dear. Quiet, yes, but not anti-social.”
“You know my chi
ldhood circumstances made me this way, and I don’t care to change at this point,” she said. “There might come a time when I don’t mind joining in social activities — though I doubt it — but right now, I’m not interested in such frivolities.”
“It saddens me to hear that, my dear. I had hoped to help you make a good match this Season.”
She spared her grandparent her usual discourse about never getting married. It would only upset her grandmother more. “It isn’t to be, Grandma. Certainly not this year. I’m too young to give up my freedom so soon.”
“What a lot of nonsense you young ones talk! Getting married doesn’t take away your freedom.”
“Perhaps you were lucky enough to find the right marriage, Grandma, but that isn’t the case for scores of women who are condemned to losing their freedom, their fortunes and, too often, ending up in dire situations. I’ve had enough of such circumstances. I intend to remain free for as long as possible.” Forever! though she refrained from telling her grandmother that.
“That son of mine has a lot to answer for. Still…”
A stubborn look settled on her grandmother’s face. But all she said was, “We shall see, dear. We shall see about that.”
* * *
As usual, Tally was up in her studio the next morning, when she heard pounding on the front door. Lately, it felt as if there was always someone knocking at the door and, thus far, it never boded well for her. This time, the knock had an urgency to it that alarmed her.
Reed! Was something wrong next door?
She barely took the time to remove her smock and head scarf, before she raced downstairs. It was difficult to hide her dismay when she heard Mr. Dubuc’s raised voice. What was he doing here at this unfashionably early hour?
“But why have you moved?” she heard him ask Foster. “I went next door and the butler told me you were living here now.”
Reed already had a new butler! His attorneys must have been working round the clock to make up for allowing strangers to live in his home.
Mr. Dubuc spotted her and came to wait for her at the bottom of the stairs. He repeated his question.
“It’s a long story.” And none of your business! She wished they’d moved further away, so she couldn’t be found this easily.
How uncharitable. Mr. Dubuc had been all that was kind to her. It wasn’t his fault she didn’t want to marry him… or any other man!
She came down the last few steps. It wasn’t just him. She didn’t want any visitors. She only wanted to paint all day. She’d wasted so much time since arriving in London and she was feeling thwarted by her lack of progress.
He seemed about to probe for more of an answer, but she cut him off. “Why are you here at this hour? Is something the matter?” Not the most hospitable of greetings, she granted, but showing up on her doorstep at just past dawn, allowed for such discourtesies. There must be a serious reason to bring him here at this hour, in this agitated state.
She hoped he wasn’t planning on proposing to her again!
She motioned Foster to have Mrs. P bring some tea and crumpets, then almost stalked ahead of their visitor into the drawing room. She hoped he didn’t plan on staying long. She hadn’t even taken the time to put away her brushes and paint.
She was astonished to find her grandmother already ensconced on the sofa, busily embroidering. If the buttons on her fastidious grandparent’s day dress hadn’t been askew, she might have been deceived into thinking that she had been sitting here serenely at work for quite awhile, but Grandma Eva’s less than pristine appearance and quickened breathing gave her away.
“Good morning, Grandma.” She walked over to press a swift kiss on the elder lady’s cheek, thankful for her interfering nature this time. “You must have slept well, seeing that you’re having such an early start to your day?” She couldn’t resist teasing the old dear, even if she was grateful for her presence.
She almost laughed aloud when her usually slug-a-bed relative, smiled placidly and said, “Of course, dear child.” Her grandparent took advantage of Mr. Dubuc’s momentary inattention to slant a reproving glance at Tally. “I slept very well, indeed.” She raised her, not-so-perfectly-coiffed, head to eye their visitor. “I see we have an early caller.”
Mr. Dubuc was obviously taken aback by the presence of her relative. “Pardon me, Lady Lawton, I hadn’t realized…” He quickly changed his sentence. He obviously didn’t want to reveal to Lady Lawton that he’d thought Tally was living alone with only her servants. Had her sisters been indiscreet enough to remark on it in his presence? Instead, he ended with, “…it was quite so early.”
“You remember Mr. Dubuc from the party the other night, Grandma? Monsieur Moreau’s nephew.”
“Yes, of course, dear. I’ve been meeting Victor since he was a small boy accompanying his uncle to your father’s exhibitions,” she said smoothly, nothing in her demeanor revealing she’d never thought much of him, but her granddaughter knew the older lady well. “You look out of sorts this morning, Mr. Dubuc.” Just her shift to his family name, when the rest of the family called him Victor in private, was sign enough she did not favor him.
Tally offered him a seat, which he took with alacrity. But he was clearly too keyed up to remain seated, for no sooner down, than he jumped back up almost immediately and took to pacing. She darted a quick glance at her grandmother, who cast her eyes toward the ceiling in dramatic fashion.
Tally hastily covered her mouth with her hand to hold back the chuckle longing to escape. What an irrepressible imp her Grandma was.
“How did you know we were here?” Lady Lawton asked him. “We only moved yesterday.”
Tally was amazed at how smoothly her paternal matriarch implied she had been living with her granddaughter all along.
“As I told Miss Lawton, the butler next door directed me here.” Mr. Dubuc repeated. “He seemed confused by the name, but told me the people who’d been living there were living here now.” Then, rather rudely, he asked, “Why have you moved?”
By now, Reed likely knew Mr. Dubuc was here. Yet he hadn’t appeared. Guess he’d only been jealous when he thought they were married.
“It’s a long story,” she replied curtly. She had no intention of satisfying his curiosity. “Suffice it to say that this is where we will be from now on.”
Her annoyance must have penetrated his thick skin, because he quickly changed tone. “I apologize for calling so early, but I was distressed and I knew you’d want to know immediately.” He paced nervously over to the window and back.
“Know what? What is the problem?” She couldn’t help reflecting that his actions looked more like bad acting in a poorly conceived play, than true distress. His clothes were impeccably turned out, as usual, and not a hair on his head was displaced. Surely a man in such a lamentable state of nerves would look a little more disheveled.
“The studio burned down.”
“I beg your pardon, what studio?” Her thoughts scattered. An ominous sense of foreboding told her there was only one studio he could be talking about. “Surely you don’t mean–”
But she knew, even before he said it.
“My uncle’s studio!”
It couldn’t be! She jumped to her feet. Her hand flew to her mouth, but this time it wasn’t to stem her mirth, it was to hold in a moan of agony. “Wh… what happened?” Shock had her stammering.
“During the night... flames destroyed the whole building and almost spread to the neighbors’ homes. Luckily, the neighbors set up a pail brigade that prevented the fire from razing their homes too, but my uncle’s place burned to the ground. Nothing is left and, because it was well doused with water, anything that might have remained is completely ruined. The paintings…” He left that last word hanging, but his meaning was clear.
“All the…” She sat down again, heavily. “You mean all the artwork was… is …”
“Gone. Up in flames… charred… nothing left.”
She heard only the odd word
of his disjointed account. Her grandmother’s “Dear me!” and dropping of her embroidery added to the confusion.
She was stunned. Shocked. Staggered!
Gone. All her work was gone.
The words “nothing left” kept reverberating in her mind. Nothing left. All her planning, all her hard work, all for naught.
She’d have to start over again. No Moreau. No paintings. No career.
She noted movement at the door and glanced up. Reed!
He immediately sensed her distress and came to her side.
She didn’t even worry about how to explain him to Mr. Dubuc, which should have been her first concern.
Reed took care of that by introducing himself. “Good morning, I’m Gordon.” He gave the younger man a brief nod, before turning all of his attention back to her.
She was so glad to see him, now — when her whole world had been turned upside down — that the thought of the whole charade becoming unraveled right here, right now, never even occurred to her. It should have, especially if Reed wished to punish her for pretending to be his wife. But, frankly, at the moment she didn’t care. She was too shocked to be worried about appearances.
Mr. Dubuc looked puzzled. He was probably wondering who Reed was and where he had come from unannounced. She looked at Reed and said, “My… er… Monsieur’s studio burned down during the night. All the artwork... my...” Suddenly realizing what she had almost revealed, she changed what she had been about to say. “... my father’s paintings, were in it and have gone up in flames.”
Reed wouldn’t understand what that meant to her. He couldn’t know it spelled the end — for a long while — of all her hard fought dreams. Even more so if Monsieur didn’t return soon!
Nor could he be aware that the financial bind she was in had just gotten significantly worse, until her attorney wrested control of her funds back from her brothers.
He knelt down on one knee beside her and took both her hands in his. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
Mr. Dubuc’s loud intake of breath as well as her grandmother’s gasp pulled her out of her gloom and made her realize what Reed had just said.
The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife Page 41