The Renegade Wife

by Warfield, Caroline

  “I’m so ashamed,” she whispered.

  “If so, that’s a tragedy,” the earl said, leading her forward. “Your only crime is loving your children.”

  They reached the stairs and began to climb. Meggy couldn’t formulate a reply.

  “Am I wrong, Mrs. Blair? Is there some other crime you wish to confess?” he asked when they reached the landing.

  “I’m a married woman who allowed two men to remove her from her husband’s care—and to take his children also,” she said through the thickness forming in her throat.

  “Care? I am led to understand that the man abdicates his duty to protect you and is hardly worthy of those precious children.”

  “But the law gives him—”

  “Ah yes, the law. Did he beat you over the head with those words?” the earl asked. When Meggy didn’t answer, he went on. “Of course he did, the miscreant. He used them to control you. Men like that always do.”

  He watched her thoughtfully for several moments. “Rule of law prevents us from falling into anarchy, and we must respect it. There are those, however, who twist it for their own gain. Such men must not be allowed to manipulate the law for their own purposes. Sergeant Blair will not be permitted to harm you or his children, however much he waves the law in our faces. We will find a way.”

  His voice carried the weight of authority and reassured her in ways Rand’s passionate assurances never did. For the first time, she felt an inkling of hope. “Thank you, my lord,” she said.

  “Not ‘my lord,’ please,” he pleaded, turning their steps to the next flight of stairs. “I shall go mad if I have to hear that all day. The boys call me Will or sometimes Uncle Will. Can you manage it?”

  When she had no answer, the earl filled the silence. “I am the brother of Charles’s mother, making me his uncle. Catherine is Fred and Rand’s sister, making me their brother-in-law, but they are much younger than I. So I am Uncle Will and usually just—”

  “I feel like an imposter in this house, my lord. Familiarity doesn’t sit well,” Meggy blurted out.

  “An imposter? Are you not Meggy Blair?”

  “I am Marguerite Marie Campeau, daughter of Francois Campeau and Marie Dusault who was herself the daughter of an Ojibwa woman from the upper lakes. And, yes, I’m Meggy Blair, wife of a foot soldier, a Scot at that. Does that sound like someone who belongs at an earl’s dinner table, my lord?”

  By the time they reached the nursery floor, a grin had enveloped the earl’s face.

  “Actually it does, particularly this earl’s table. Catherine and I revel in having a house full of interesting people, and you, Meggy Blair, are most definitely interesting. May I call you Meggy? If I do, will you permit yourself to call me Will?”

  “As you wish . . . Will.” She smiled back. “Just one thing, though. Do you really have a store of stories? Lena will demand one, and she expects only good ones.”

  “Do you doubt me? Does she like dragons? My children can testify that I have some marvelous dragon stories. Let’s go entertain her, and then you can rest for tomorrow,” he said, opening the door.

  Tomorrow. Meggy followed Will into the nursery and tried not to dread it.

  Chapter 32

  They crowded into Chadbourn’s formal drawing room—Rand’s family, their friends, two agents his cousin insisted on, and Meggy. The Duke of Sudbury, honorary uncle and influential member of the opposition party, took pride of place from both rank and habit. Rand missed Andrew Mallet, ever the voice of reason, who had sent word he was ill.

  Sudbury’s duchess, known to them all as Lily, sat next to Catherine. The two women spoke seldom but seemed to speak with one voice when they did. Rand suspected they consulted with one another by silent gestures only the two of them understood. Will listened intently from his place next to the ladies. Charles, all restless energy and determination, stood against the mantel across from Sudbury.

  Meggy leaned forward from a chair by the windows, slightly behind the animated circle, aloof from the discussion, but listening to everything. Rand would have preferred she stay away, but she refused. After breakfast, she had asked a dozen questions, most of which had no ready answer, and insisted she hear what “all those fancy titled friends of yours” had to say until they quarreled. She hadn’t spoken to him since. She kept her head bowed during introductions and slipped quietly behind the group when they took their seats in the drawing room. He watched her over Will’s right shoulder while she pretended to ignore him.

  Charles insisted they needed agents who had no connection with the government because government men were well known. “A bigger issue,” he explained, “is that we don’t know who to trust.” Then he introduced Walter Stewart, Sudbury’s former protégé, now a gentleman engaged in private inquiries, and Ananias Brill, a grizzled former Bow Street runner. Neither of the two men he introduced had any connection to the government. Both were well known to Charles and Sudbury, who trusted them completely.

  “Why do we need outsiders?” Rand demanded, meeting his cousin’s eyes. “Why can’t the two of us handle it?”

  Charles shot him a disgusted look. Rand’s heart wasn’t in the forgery investigation, and Charles knew it. “They know us, Rand. We’d be finished before we started, with Blair after you for kidnapping and Lord knows what else. You need to lay low.”

  “We have enough information now to arrest Blair,” Rand insisted. Blair mattered. Meggy and the children mattered. As harmful as counterfeit currency might be to the economy, it couldn’t compare. Blair had to be removed. “Drew’s testimony alone would do it.” Meggy’s anxious face worried him. Does the blasted woman want Blair to go free?

  Will spoke before Charles could. “The boy has courage, but Blair’s solicitor is likely to get him barred from testifying.”

  “He’s as bright as they come,” Rand responded. “We can easily convince a judge he knows right from wrong. You’ve heard him. He knows what he heard.”

  “Perhaps. Suppose he testifies. Do you want the boy subjected to the kind of questions they’ll give him? They’ll claim the witness is tainted by his mother’s affair—and make no doubt about it, that’s what they will call it—with the brother-in-law of the Earl of Chadbourn.”

  Rand saw Meggy pale, but Will couldn’t see her face. The earl went on, “My reputation can stand it, but others’ may not.”

  Meggy glared at Rand over Will’s shoulder until he dropped his eyes and lowered his head. If they tried and failed, Blair would be on the loose with Drew in his sights and a bigger grievance than ever. He racked his brain for another way to make sure Blair was imprisoned, transported, or if he had his way, sent to the gallows but could think of none.

  Charles went on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I suggest we begin by sending Stewart and Brill to Portsmouth to go over—”

  “Bristol.” Meggy spoke quietly, but the sound of her voice startled everyone to attention. Sudbury and the earl turned to face her. Rand thought for a moment she would say no more, until she straightened her shoulders and went on. “You have Drew and Pratt’s information, as well as what His Grace was able to figure out. If you wish to stop the forgers and get proof of my husband’s crimes, you must go to Bristol.” She explained that the regiment’s orders were for Bristol. “I never understood why we lingered in Portsmouth until Drew told me about them passing forged coin through navy pay.”

  Sudbury turned halfway around in his chair to address her. “They made excuses to linger in Portsmouth. I can see that. What makes you think they have gone?”

  “Fergus, Sergeant Blair that is, told me we would leave. ‘Off to Bristol in a day,’ he said, after they arrested Rand.”

  “Randy, isn’t Bristol where you were attacked?” Sudbury spun back around to ask him.

  Catherine broke in to remind them all about Rand’s inj
uries and how he arrived. He saw Meggy’s stricken face and hated that she had to hear it.

  He gave a jerky nod.

  “All that from inquiries about Sergeant Blair? The operation is in Bristol, no doubt,” Stewart said.

  “Blair could be anywhere,” Rand interrupted. “He probably pursued us. He may have the house watched. He—”

  “We have our own people watching the house, Rand,” Sudbury told him. “There has been no sign that you were tracked here.”

  “You will continue the surveillance?” Stewart asked.

  “Of course. We also have Private Pratt inside to watch the nursery floor. Should Sergeant Blair attempt mischief, he will be dealt with,” Sudbury said.

  “If you arrest him, you won’t be able to avoid the trial,” Stewart pointed out. “That puts the boy in an awkward spot again.”

  “All the more reason for you to gather a stronger body of proof, and quickly,” Will responded.

  Stewart acknowledged that statement with a nod. “We’ll begin in Bristol after we’ve had a chance to interview this Private Pratt and the boy. And Mrs. Blair also, of course.”

  Meggy looked like someone facing a firing squad. She wrung her hands in her lap. “I know little, Mr. Stewart, beyond what my son and Ra—Mr. Wheatly told me. I’m afraid my husband kept me in the dark about his activity.”

  Stewart smiled kindly. “You may know more than you think you do.”

  Meggy nodded and appeared thoughtful. “I don’t have information for you, but there are things I do know. I know Fergus, I know his associates, and I know the camp followers—where they stay, who they trust, and how to talk to them. I’ll be more help in Bristol.”

  Rand’s chair fell over backward in his haste to rise. “No! You will not go near that animal!”

  Meggy felt like a veritable fool weeping in Catherine’s arms. They stood in the corner of the dining room just outside the door. Catherine and Lily had swept out of the meeting with Meggy in tow. “Decide quickly, please,” Catherine demanded as the women left, but the discussion raged on.

  Meggy wiped a shaking hand across her eyes and pushed back. “Those men are going to talk to my son. I need to be there. He needs to see me.” She wiped her hand on the skirt of yet another borrowed dress and tried to muster some dignity.

  “You certainly do,” Lily agreed. “Those men may know how to ferret out information from miscreants, but they don’t know children.”

  “Come now, Lily. Walter Stewart has two of his own. He won’t be unkind,” Catherine disagreed, her eyes on the door where sounds of argument continued. The earl’s voice interjected periodically, and Meggy hoped he added sense to the proceedings.

  “Not unkind, no, but the boy will want his mother nearby,” Lily responded. On that the women agreed.

  All three stared at the door. Only a few words of the raised voices could be heard clearly. “Shoot him” and “murder” alarmed Meggy most of all, especially since they came from Rand.

  A sudden silence alerted them just before the earl opened the door. “Are you quite finished? You’re upsetting Meggy,” Catherine demanded tartly, sweeping back into the room.

  “Actually, my dear, I believe they reached a compromise—at least in regards to Meggy traveling to Bristol.”

  “Compromise? Don’t I get a choice?” Meggy demanded. She had begun to think that the men who agreed to protect her could be just as controlling as the one who abused her.

  “Meggy, my dear, your courageous offer to assist Stewart and Blair made sense to all of us,” Will said. He frowned at Rand, who colored, and glowered back at him; Charles stared at the floor.

  Rand opened his mouth to speak, glanced toward his sister, and bit his lip to allow the earl to continue.

  “We are all sensitive to putting you in danger—” Will began.

  “I meant what I said. I can be of the most help in Bristol,” Meggy insisted.

  Charles spoke up then. “The thing is, Meggy. We can’t do that without a plan for your safety.” He outlined what had been decided. Meggy would travel disguised as Stewart’s wife with a maid to provide countenance. She would pretend to be ailing and keep to her room. Charles would pay one of his unannounced visits, this time to Bristol. He would serve as bait to draw them out while Brill provided protection.

  “It won’t work,” Meggy replied.

  “Why not?” Charles asked.

  “Look at me, Your Grace,” she said. “With my black hair and dark coloring, I’ll never pass for an English rose. Even if I only move around the inn, someone is bound to notice an exotic and start gossip. Fergus will know.”

  “I told you it wouldn’t work,” Rand said savagely. “He’ll go after her.”

  “It is far easier for me to go back to him, and—”

  “No,” Rand shouted. She ignored him.

  “—also easier to get the information you need,” she concluded.

  Sudbury turned to Brill and Stewart. “Can you pull her out if she’s in danger?”

  “If we have a signaling system, perhaps,” Stewart answered.

  “This is insane. I won’t have it,” Rand insisted.

  “I will tell Fergus the horrifying tale of my kidnapping. I’ll tell him a madman took us.”

  “He’ll never believe it wasn’t me!” Rand exclaimed.

  “No, but he’ll believe I had nothing to do with it, when I spread word that my miscreant cousin has disappeared,” Charles said. “That will lend me credibility.”

  “Are you actually considering this, Charles? Have you lost what remains of your mind?” Rand demanded, hands fisted at his side.

  Meggy ignored them both. “I can tell him Rand acted wildly, that he’s lost his senses. I’ll tell him he dragged us along the coast.”

  “To Cornwall?” Lily suggested. “That might work. Tell him Rand has the children, but you escaped.”

  “He might try to pursue if she says that,” Stewart objected. “We need him in Bristol.”

  “I doubt it,” Charles said. “If the Under-Secretary of State for War and the Colonies is investigating again, Blair will stick close by. I need to go first, with Meggy appearing a day later. Stewart, it might be best if you travel as my assistant.”

  Stewart nodded. “It’s possible,” he said, studying Meggy. “We need to know who he talks with. We need to know where the foundry is located. Can you get that for us?”

  “I’ll have to gain his trust,” she said, biting her lower lip, “but yes. Someone will know. I’ll find it. One thing, though.” She waited until she was certain she had Rand’s attention.

  “I can do this because my children will be safe here with you. Promise me, whatever happens, you will take care of them.”

  Rand pushed forward and took both her hands. “I would guard the children with my life, but so would Will. They will be safe here without me. If you insist on this insane scheme, I’m going to Bristol.”

  “You can’t!” Charles pulled on his arm. “Are you forgetting they will be after you?”

  Rand rose up to his full height and turned on his cousin. The resolve in his eyes chilled Meggy.

  “Henri needs to train your new valet so he can travel with you,” Rand said, not taking his eyes off his cousin. “Meggy may be hard to disguise, but I won’t be. I’m going to Bristol.”

  Chapter 33

  The proprietor of the Swan Hotel in Bristol gaped and scraped at the unexpected arrival of the Under-Secretary of State. His establishment, though respectable, rarely served people of the duke’s elevated status, being as it was below the top tier of the city’s inns. The hotel had one advantage not obvious to its proprietor: it housed the higher-ranking officers for regiments billeted in the city.

  Charles had insisted they delay their arrival, descending upon the h
otel at the dinner hour with full aristocratic splendor. The excessive delay tactics when they finally arrived only irritated Rand. Get on with it. Get us to our rooms.

  Rand stood among mountains of luggage in the public room of the inn. His false facial hair itched, his newly altered livery pulled tight across his shoulder, and his back hurt from the necessity of keeping his nose in the air in a show of hauteur expected of a duke’s valet while he watched his cousin hammer the innkeeper with demands. What the hell is Charles up to now? He glanced at Walter Stewart who stood nearby holding an impressive document case in front of him, its lacquered sides flashing reflected light and drawing every eye in the room. As Charles intended, no one could ignore it.

  Their massive traveling carriage blocked the entrance to the inn while the duke demanded housing for the coachman and the three rather large outriders who waited stoically next to the vehicle. Brill, who was one of them, had his gray hair shoved under a cap; he composed his face into a mask of stillness and endurance. Rand suspected the man’s mind worked full bore behind the mask and his eyes missed nothing. Charles continued to make his requests sound more complicated than they needed to be. Stewart kept his expression blank.

  The duke waved a scented handkerchief, managing to convey a foppish foolishness. The degree to which his cousin could make his eyes appear vacant under lazy lashes astounded Rand, who knew too well the keen reasoning behind the show.

  Charles minced over to Rand, gave a dramatic sigh, and spoke. “Have this man’s people shown sufficient care with our bags? If so, see to our rooms. Make sure it is habitable and has no unwanted”—he paused for effect and shuddered—“visitors.” He waved a hand to the stairs and turned his back on Rand to ask the proprietor again about various dinner requests the man could not possibly fill.