Sapphires Are an Earl's Best Friend

by Shana Galen

  Until last night.

  But even last night he had not wanted her. He wanted a way to be rid of her. She didn’t blame him for resenting his father’s lecherous behavior so soon after the Duchess of Ravenscroft’s death, but she did not appreciate the implication that she was some sort of grasping woman who was only after money and a title. Didn’t Darlington know her better than that?

  Apparently not. And perhaps his judgment hurt most of all. She could not reveal her mission to him, but she would have liked him to at least question her interest in his father. Perhaps wonder at it. He seemed compelled to think the worst of her almost immediately. She would have to be certain to avoid him from now on.

  Lily stretched and supposed she should ready herself for the day. She was at-home today and would undoubtedly have callers soon. And then she had the theater and work tonight. She rang for her maid and left her bed for her dressing room. The perfect day gown would make her feel better.

  She had a dozen or more lovely gowns. As a courtesan, she was expected to dress fashionably. The Earl of Sin provided her with a small but steady allowance for these luxuries, which was supplemented by admirers who hoped to gain her favor by presenting her with gifts—everything from jewels to horseflesh. She loved jewels, but horses were much easier to sell. After all, a girl had to eat.

  Now she chose a green-and-white striped muslin gown with sheer gauze sleeves for the afternoon, and later changed into a sapphire-blue silk gown with silver embroidery for evening. She wore her favorite sapphire necklace and sapphire earrings to match. She felt quite beautiful and only regretted her companion for the evening was the Duke of Ravenscroft. He had offered to escort her in his coach, but Lily did not relish being trapped inside a small space with the man. The countess had warned her long ago that unless she fancied fighting off her escort for a quarter hour, she should always take her own conveyance. That way Lily could leave when she wanted, especially if the evening did not go well.

  She left her town house, giving her servants the rest of the evening off. She gave her coachman instructions and sat back in her seat, trying to prepare herself for the task ahead. The more time she spent with Ravenscroft, the more he would grow to trust her, and the more he would reveal. Most men, she had learned, were lonely and wanted someone to talk to. Lily was an exceptionally good listener.

  Suddenly the coach lurched to a stop, and she heard a commotion. There were shouts and curses and what sounded like a scuffle in the coachman’s box. The carriage rocked, and she wondered why the coachman would have jumped down. Not waiting for an explanation, Lily reached under her seat for her pistol and parted the closed carriage curtains. She saw a blur of movement and then a man’s face pressed to the window. She jumped and slammed the curtains closed.

  “Idiot!” she chided herself. “You have a pistol!” But before she could open the curtains again, there was pounding on both sides of the carriage. It took Lily a moment to realize what she was hearing. Someone on the outside was nailing boards across the doors, trapping her inside. “No!” She pushed at the doors, tried to force them open, but they were quickly sealed closed. The carriage began to move, and she threw the curtains open and tried to lower the window. But that had been sealed shut as well.

  She pounded on the windows, hoping someone would see, but the carriage was streaming past the other conveyances. She pounded on the roof, demanded the driver stop. The carriage continued on at a breakneck pace. Lily knew when to bide her time. She could waste her energy now, when fighting was futile, or she could save her resources for when the carriage stopped. Gradually, the sounds of the city faded, and she realized they were leaving London. Her abductors could be taking her anywhere, and the plank in front of the window prevented her from seeing clearly where she was headed.

  Wherever it was, her fashionable matched Norfolk Trotters would tire soon, and the drivers would either have to stop for the night or pause to change horses. If they stopped at a posting house, she would alert the grooms there. If they stopped somewhere remote for the night…

  Lily clenched her pistol and waited.

  ***

  Macbeth was as gloomy as ever. Darlington hated tragedies. Even with Kean playing the lead role, the production did nothing to alleviate the melancholy Andrew had felt since his mother’s death. He needed a good comedy or a humorous opera—something by Mozart. Or perhaps what he really needed was an evening with an opera singer…

  He smiled as the actors departed the stage for a brief intermission. Andrew had been watching his father’s box throughout the play, but he glanced at it now and saw the Countess of Charm had still not made an appearance. Good. His father looked annoyed. Perhaps this would be the end of the duke’s interest in the courtesan. And Lily never need know that Andrew engineered her little side trip.

  He exited his box and made his way along the corridor, pausing when he saw a familiar flash of silvery blond hair. He inhaled sharply.

  It was Juliette. No doubt Pelham would be with her. Andrew wished to avoid both of them. He turned to go back the way he’d come, when he saw a disheveled servant break through the men holding him back and call out to the Duchess of Pelham. Andrew paused, wondering what had possessed the man. He would be arrested for certain. But Juliette, always the most gracious of women, held up a hand to ward off the men who might restrain the servant. From where Andrew stood, he could see the man more clearly now, and he noted the man wore sapphire livery. Where had he seen that livery before? It was not Pelham’s.

  Andrew edged closer, in time to hear the man tell the duke and duchess he feared for his mistress’s life.

  “Where is your mistress now?” Pelham asked, his voice cool and composed.

  “I don’t know, Your Grace. When I came to, the carriage was gone.”

  “Wait a moment,” Andrew muttered. He knew who the man was now. It was one of Lily’s servants—probably her coachman. He was the man who would have had to be replaced to keep Lily from attending the theater tonight. But why was his clothing torn and his face battered and bruised? Fear seized Andrew’s chest like a fist. He’d specified no one was to be hurt. Lily’s coachman and outriders were to be replaced and her carriage diverted. He had instructed the men he’d hired to drive her around for several hours and then bring her to the theater. Andrew pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. He hadn’t realized how late it was. Lily should have been here by now… unless she’d just gone home. That was the more likely possibility.

  “Darlington!”

  Andrew’s head jerked up. He knew that voice. Juliette was looking right at him with those light blue eyes that made him feel as though she could see into his soul. Could she see his complicity in Lily’s disappearance? He went to her, his feet moving without his mind’s permission. But when Juliette called, he had no choice but to obey.

  “Darlington,” she said again. “Have you seen or heard from Lily? Her coachman was accosted and two of her outriders seriously injured.”

  Injured? Damn it! No one was to have been harmed! He glanced at Pelham, but the duke appeared stoic as always. “I haven’t seen her,” Andrew said. He half-expected Juliette to call him a liar, but despite his fears, she couldn’t see his thoughts. And even if she had been able to, there was nothing to worry about. Lily was probably home right now, sipping tea. “I’m certain there was some misunderstanding,” he said. “She’s undoubtedly at her town house.”

  “Undoubtedly?” Pelham said, raising a brow.

  “Lord Darlington,” Juliette said, placing her gloved hand on the arm of his coat. “Would you please go to Lily’s home and see for yourself? I would feel so much better.”

  Andrew looked down at her hand and then up at Pelham. Pelham stared at her hand on his arm as well—and scowled. How could he refuse Juliette? He would have rather stayed and spent more time with her, but Pelham did not look as though he favored that idea. Darlington bowed. “Anything for
you, Duchess.”

  Pelham stepped between them, removing Juliette’s hand from his arm. “Send a note when you have found her, Darlington.”

  “Of course.” And so Andrew found himself searching for the Countess of Charm—the very woman he had paid to make disappear for the night. He would find her at her town house, pen a note to Juliette, then head to the opera. If he hurried, he could call on his favorite opera singer in her dressing room.

  But Lily was not at her town house. In fact, the lone servant in residence had not seen her or heard from her. Andrew checked his pocket watch again. She should have been returned by now. Perhaps the thugs he’d hired had mistakenly taken her to his town house? He traveled home, which was in St. James, and back across Town. She was not there either. And now it was very late, indeed. Too late for opera singers. Too late for Lily not to have arrived home.

  But not too late for Andrew to realize he had made a grave error.

  ***

  The carriage slowed to a stop, and Lily jolted awake. Drat! She’d been trying to stay awake, but a steady diet of too little sleep, coupled by the sway of the carriage for what seemed hours and hours, lulled her into a light slumber. She was still holding her pistol, cradled in her arms, and now she hurried to prime it. She might have time to fire only one shot, but that would be one less man to fight. She heard the scrape of metal against the board sealing the door of her carriage and pushed herself into the darkest recesses of the interior. She was thankful she’d worn the sapphire gown. It was dark and hid her well.

  When the door opened, she calmly aimed and fired. The pistol jerked back, the sound deafening her, and the force of the explosion making her arm sting. A man screamed, and the carriage door slammed shut again.

  “She’s got a pistol!”

  That’s right. Lily’s hand was shaking, but she immediately bent to prime her weapon again. It was difficult with her hand shaking and powder falling on her skirts, but she would show these men she was no easy target. She could hear them whispering outside the conveyance. Their voices were farther away, and then all was quiet. She held the pistol in her hand, poised to fire again. When she heard the banging, she jumped. They were nailing the doors shut again. Good. She was not safe yet. But it bought her some time.

  Quite a lot of time, as it turned out. She tried to remain vigilant, but she was tired and hungry, and her eyes glazed over when the black of the carriage began to fade to a subtle gray light. Suddenly, she snapped to attention. She looked around, disoriented.

  “Up here, little girl.”

  Lily looked up and cursed under her breath. She’d forgotten the hatch. It wasn’t large enough for a man to fit through, but a man was peering down at her now, a pistol in his hand and aimed at her heart. He grinned. His front teeth were black, and one of his incisors was missing. His scrubby beard and stringy brown hair framed a gaunt face marred with old scars and fresher wounds.

  “Now, do as I say, and no one gets hurt.”

  “I rather doubt I will not be hurt.”

  He grinned wider. “My way, you have a fighting chance.”

  Not much of a chance, but she had to take it.

  “Hand me yer pistol.” He narrowed his eyes. “And no tricks.” He shifted his body and pushed his hand into the carriage. Lily looked at her pistol and looked at the hand. It was grimy, dirt under the blunt fingernails, the ratty wool coat dirty and stained. “I’m goin’ t’count to three, and then I’m goin’ t’shoot you. Somewhere painful where it won’t kill you.”

  Lily blew out a breath and slapped the pistol into his hand.

  “Got it!” he said, raising his prize triumphantly. When he moved, she could see the streak of light in the sky behind him. It was just past dawn.

  As soon as the man spoke, his companions went to work removing the board from the door again. It came off easily, and the door was thrown open. Lily stared at three grinning men—the man from the hatch and two others who looked just liked him. All three were thin and dirty—and leering.

  If the other door hadn’t been sealed shut, she would have escaped that way, but as it was, there was one entrance and one exit. The men studied Lily, and she stared back. Her fear warned her to run, to try and escape. She ignored the instinct and waited. Let them strike first.

  It didn’t take long. A man with matted red hair reached for her, and Lily kicked out, striking him in the jaw. He fell back and came up roaring. Wildly, he reached for her again, and she easily evaded him, managing another kick at his chest. But the third time she was not so fortunate. He caught her foot and dragged her off the squabs. She landed unceremoniously on the floor of the carriage, and the men caught hold of her legs and dragged her out.

  Lily went limp, allowing them to think she’d given up or fainted. As soon as she hit the grass outside the carriage, the men released her and stepped back.

  “I’m first,” one of them said.

  “I got her out.”

  “I got her pistol. I’m first.”

  Lily rolled, cutting her foot across the knees of the man who had spoken. He wobbled and went down as Lily jumped to her feet. She threw soil in the face of one of the men gaping at her and slammed her elbow into the face of the man kneeling before her. With a quick swipe, she had her pistol back. She held the pistol straight out, trying to keep her arms from shaking. “Now who’s first?” As she spoke, she assessed her surroundings. There was an abandoned cottage behind the men and a copse of sparse trees lining the road behind her. The trees would provide just enough cover that she couldn’t expect anyone traveling past them to see her, especially since the sky was still pewter gray.

  The boy with the red hair sneered at her. “You have one shot. Kill one of us, and there’s still two more to take revenge.”

  The man kneeling wobbled to his feet and extracted his pistol from his belt.

  “Shoot her and be done with it,” the third man said. He was the shortest and looked barely one and twenty.

  “Idiot,” the man with the pistol said. “She’s worth more alive than dead. We could ransom her. That gentry cove thought she was worth something.”

  “Or you could return me to London,” Lily suggested, “and we forget all of this happened.”

  “I don’t think so,” the redhead said.

  Lily shrugged. It was worth a try. “Fine. Then my original query still stands. Who wants to be first?” Without waiting for the men to respond or react, she swiveled to the biggest threat—the man with the pistol—and fired. The shot went a little wide, and the ball hit his shoulder instead of his chest. The force was enough to push him backward and to grab the attention of his companions. Lily took advantage of the distraction, hurled her pistol at the men, lifted her skirts, and ran for the road in the distance.

  She was wearing a ball gown and slippers. Even if she were an extremely fast runner, she wouldn’t outrun the men coming after her. Her only hope was to flag down another conveyance traveling this road. She emerged through the small brush of trees and ran for what she hoped was London. She could hear footsteps behind her, but was it her imagination or did she hear hoofbeats ahead?

  Please. Please. Please.

  Suddenly a coach was upon her. The horses reared, and Lily raised a hand and threw herself out of the way. She tumbled off the road, tasting blood and dirt in her mouth. When she looked up, the coach had stopped. The rising sun was behind it, blinding her and making everything in front of the carriage appear dark. The carriage door flew open, and a man in black boots stepped out, his black opera cape swirling around him, his tall hat hiding his face. This man was wealthy—a gentleman if his dress was any indication. She squinted into the light, but she couldn’t make out any distinct features. Two of her abductors were on the road, but they’d slowed now, as the man stood before her, hands on his hips. “What is the meaning of this?” He gestured to her.

  Lily shook her head and trie
d to rise. Her ears were ringing.

  “It’s the rich nob from London,” one of the men said. Lily’s heart faltered. She was not saved after all. This man was in collusion with the other two.

  “I paid you to delay her, not to abduct and assault her.”

  “You wanted her out of the way. She’s out of the way,” the red-haired man said.

  “I am not pleased,” the gentleman said and gestured to his outriders. The last thing Lily saw before she closed her eyes were her abductors running for their lives and men in what looked very much like the Duke of Ravenscroft’s livery in pursuit.

  Four

  “That’s enough,” Andrew said to his outriders. “Enough!”

  His men stepped back, straightening their coats. The three men who’d abducted Lily were lying on the ground. One had been wounded from a pistol ball, but the wound did not appear fatal. The other two probably wished they had been shot. But Andrew left them alive with minor injuries that would heal after a few days. That was more courtesy than they would have shown Lily.

  “If I ever see you—any of you—in Town again, I won’t stop my men from ripping you apart.” He walked away, back toward the carriage. In his hand, he held a small, feminine pistol inlaid with sapphires. It had to be Lily’s, but he would never have expected her to carry such a weapon. If Fallon had a pistol or twenty, he would not be surprised. But Lily… would she even know what to do with a pistol? Had she actually shot that thug, or had there been some sort of misfiring accident? His coachman met him in front of his conveyance, concern on his face.

  “How is she?” Andrew asked without preamble.

  “I put her in the coach, my lord. She was able to walk unassisted.”

  “Good. Then she is unharmed?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Andrew started for his coach again but paused when his coachman cleared his throat. “She seems a little… perturbed, my lord.”

  “I can imagine.” Andrew continued walking.