“Then she should be making her move soon. Why don’t you go back to Rushton House and I’ll meet you there when all this is over.”
“I hope you’ll have good news.”
“I hope so too.” Lord William sighed. “Now, go on before we are both discovered.”
Larissa rushed back to the waiting carriage and reboarded. It continued down the street toward Portman Square.
Larissa paced in front of the blazing hearth in the drawing room, unable to read or to hold a hoop and needle steady to embroider. For the hundredth time, she spun her skirts around her legs to change direction. It had been more than two hours. Yes, two hours, she confirmed when she glanced at the mantle clock. How much longer could this possibly take?
The sound of footfalls ascending the staircase. Finally Lord William had returned. She wrung her hands with impatience, anxious to hear of his findings.
“Larissa, my dear!” The voice of Lady Rushton echoed from the stairs. She greeted her niece with wide open arms.
“Aunt Ivy?” Larissa squeaked out, bearing her aunt’s embrace. Lord Rushton joined them only moments later. She felt more shocked than relieved at their unexpected arrival. “You’ve returned early.”
“Your aunt had the most frightful notion that some terrible fate had befallen you or some such thing.” Rushton gave a hearty laugh and strolled past them into the drawing room. Ivy followed, leading Larissa by the hand.
“You see, my dear, your niece is fine.” Rushton moved to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy.
Larissa kept quiet, unnaturally so.
“If all is well, then I believe I shall take the opportunity to rest a bit. It was such a long trip and I was in such a hurry to come home and see you.” On her way out, Ivy pressed Rushton’s hand. “I apologize for causing you to race home.”
“Do not give it another thought, my angel. I am only too glad to comply with your every wish.” Rushton smiled and kissed her cheek.
Ivy smiled and gave a wistful sigh. “I fear I am more fatigued than I thought. I shall see you at dinner, my dear.” She turned to Larissa before leaving. “Have you done something different with your hair? In any case, it looks lovely.”
Rushton waited until Ivy had climbed up the next set of stairs before asking, “Pray tell, where is my nephew?”
“My lord,” Larissa began, sinking into the sofa to face him. “I fear there is bad news.”
“My nephew again, is it?” By the tone of Rushton’s voice, she suspected the earl already knew the answer even as he asked the question.
Larissa fortified herself to make the explanation. She knew he wouldn’t be at all pleased. Before she could reply, Lord William entered.
“My word—William Felgate!” Rushton spouted.
“Lord Rushton….” Lord William blustered, equally surprised.
“He and my aunt have just this minute returned,” Larissa informed him. “The earl is asking about Sir Randall.”
“Randall…. Have you told him?” Lord William’s already grim expression became more so. “The news is most grave.”
“How bad can it be?” Rushton sat in a chair, remaining unconcerned for the most part. “Randall is one of those lads whose behavior rivals a saint’s.”
“Not this time, I’m afraid.”
Rushton returned a hard stare at Lord William. “I’ll have your hide if you’ve had a hand in this.”
“My lord, Lord William has been most kind and is doing everything he can to help Sir Randall from his unfortunate predicament.”
“Help?” Rushton looked from Lord William to Larissa and back again, narrowing his eyes. “What kind of trouble is the lad in?”
Larissa and Lord William exchanged glances, a silent interaction of who would relay the tale to the earl of his nephew’s fate. Lord William’s look told her if she couldn’t do it, he would take on the responsibility and the violent reaction that was sure to follow.
“My lord, I regret to inform you Sir Randall is presently incarcerated,” Lord William bravely stated.
“Prison!” The brandy sloshed out of Rushton’s snifter when he bolted upright.
“He has been arrested for robberies under the identity of the highwayman known as Bussin’ Billy.”
“Robbery!” Rushton snorted in outrage. “This is preposterous. I’d stake my title on his innocence.”
“We are fully convinced of that as well,” Larissa concurred.
“We’re trying to discover who did this horrid thing,” Lord William continued.
“Do you know?” the earl questioned.
“We have our suspicions.” Again, Lord William and Larissa exchanged looks. “But the evidence against Sir Randall is irrefutable.”
“But still circumstantial,” Larissa added in a ray of hope.
“Speaking of evidence,” Lord William began, “I’ve managed to recover my brother’s family crested ring and matching stickpin.”
Rushton arched a brow, giving a suspicious glare. “And how exactly did you come by this stroke of good luck?”
“I made a point of checking some pawnshops in hopes of retrieving further clues.”
“‘Pon my oath, my nephew had no part in this. Someone has framed him. Who do you think is responsible for this outrage?”
“Lady Dorothea Brookhurst,” Larissa enunciated each syllable in a concise tone. She went on to explain the further details of how it came to be that she and Sir Randall accepted the invitation of Lord William after their secret marriage had been discovered.
Then she explained how the arrival of Melton and his party changed the laconic country stay into the beginning of tirade of thieves by the highwayman Bussin’ Billy. How the thief’s torn greatcoat and muddy boots planted in Sir Randall’s wardrobe at Carswell Castle were discovered after the Bow Street Runners were called in. The gunshot wound he incurred the same night as Bussin’ Billy convinced the earl of the intricacy of the plot.
After Larissa had finished, Rushton sat silent for several minutes. “I see.” is all the earl said, taking a brief pause. “And precisely how did you think to free my nephew?”
“We thought if we could convince Dorothea he had already been released, she would have her accomplice appear again as Bussin’ Billy to reimplicate Sir Randall. If Billy were to strike while Randall were in jail, the authorities would have no choice but to release him.”
“Speaking of accomplices,” Lord William spoke, “I followed our bird to Albemarle Street.”
“Grillion’s?” Rushton wondered and Lord William nodded.
Larissa shook her head. The name did not mean anything to her.
“It’s a fashionable hotel where single gentlemen stay,” Lord William explained.
“That doesn’t tell us any more than we already know,” Larissa said. She had hoped something more would be learned by following Dorothea.
“If we were to capture the highwayman,” Rushton went further to postulate, “we could solve this puzzle once and for all.”
Rushton eased back into his chair.
“It’s time to move on to stage two,” Lord William advised.
“And what would that be?” Rushton inquired.
“To parade the newly released Sir Randall about town,” Lord William declared. “By donning his clothes, darkening my hair and escorting my friend’s new wife about town, I believe I can successfully convince the citizens of our fair city I am Sir Randall Trent.” Lord William gave a gracious bow in an imitation of the baronet’s finest.
Rushton pursed his lips and nodded his approval. “Yes, I think it just might work.”
“I think it’s a stroke of genius,” Lord William praised.
“One of your schemes, is it? More sound than the ones you usually come up with.”
“I have to be honest. It is one of Lady Trent’s.”
“Yes, Lady Trent, indeed.” Rushton regarded her with raised eyebrows. Larissa forced a smile and took the credit, but wondered what rampant thought fueled the earl�
�s questioning gaze.
That very afternoon, Larissa and a disguised Lord William traveled to Hyde Park. Riding in the earl’s crested coach lent credence to their performance. The coach stopped, allowing its passengers to disembark and stroll along the path. Larissa took the inside track. Her escort’s back faced the approaching pedestrians. From behind, one would assume the dark-haired gentleman under the curly brimmed hat and fawn coat with velvet lapels would be her husband, Sir Randall Trent.
Larissa used her parasol to shield Lord William’s face from recognition. Alternately, Lord William used his hat to mask his identity when the parasol could not. They thought to keep their distance from the rest of the throng yet greet those on foot as well as those in passing transports openly.
Talk of their presence would soon be widespread and get back to Dorothea, hopefully to spur her into action. After a very public disclosure of marriage and the sudden news of Sir Randall’s arrest, the rumor of his release should be seized with equal enthusiasm.
After the stroll, Larissa and Lord William met up with their coach. Larissa knew the only way to be rid of the surreptitious glances and intrusive stares from the onlookers would be when the coach rounded the corner and pulled out of the line of sight of the public. Until then they were onstage.
“Did you see the look on Mrs. Peacock’s face?” Larissa whispered, approaching the coach.
“Can’t say I did,” he mumbled.
“She looked as though she had seen a ghost. And Lady Jersey looked absolutely stupefied.” Larissa made her final visual sweep of the area. “They saw who they wanted to see. I’m sure the news will be spread within the hour.”
“Dash it all,” he swore. “I had my back to everyone. I couldn’t see a blessed thing.”
The liveried footman opened the door. Before handing Larissa up, Lord William delivered a smart slap to her derriere. She gave a sharp cry, leaping into the transport.
Larissa kept silent, only glaring at him until the coach moved off. “What did you do that for?” It was all she could do not to rub the assaulted area.
Lord William sat on the opposite bench, facing her. “Harding said Randall wasn’t a gentleman, that he treated you badly and all that. I was just throwing myself into the part.”
“Well, you can just throw yourself out,” Larissa huffed. “Nothing could be further from the truth. Sir Randall was a consummate gentleman.” Unless she counted the steamy gazes followed by the sensual half smile he effected while in her presence.
She did not want to admit she might never experience another moment of his company. Yet, it might happen if Sir Randall were to be found guilty.
“It was meant as a love pat, an endearment, that’s all,” Lord William continued.
“I’ll ask you not to repeat that endearment, thank you.”
“As you say.” Lord William leaned forward and doffed his hat as an apology, causing the sound of tearing fabric to fill the interior.
Larissa could see the fabric of the jacket strain across the shoulders. Lord William’s arms were held tight. A slight shift to his right side provided Larissa a view of the ruptured shoulder seam. He tried to look for himself, but could not quite see.
“Oh, goodness,” Larissa whispered.
“Oh, bloody hell,” he swore. “This is Randall’s favorite coat. I’ll have the devil to pay when he finds out.” His eyes softened when he met Larissa’s gaze. “But I would gladly take the thrashing if our scheme works.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
You didn’t expect Billy to charge out and take action right away, did you?” William inquired the following evening.
Larissa wrung her lace handkerchief. “How much longer do you think it will be?”
“Can’t say really. It was only yesterday the two of you paraded through Hyde Park,” Rushton remarked. “The impostor must strike soon if they are to keep up the pretense that my nephew is the highwayman.”
“I don’t know what I expected. It just feels like we’ve been waiting forever.”
“Waiting is such a terrible business,” William agreed, downing his brandy and immediately refilling it. “Can’t do a blessed thing but sit here all the while. I don’t know how much more I can take myself.”
“Don’t know if my cellar will last,” the earl remarked, commenting on his guest’s brandy consumption.
Dressed to the nines, Ivy breezed into the room. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Rushton.”
“And worth every extra minute, I’ll wager.” Rushton reached out for his wife’s hand and eyed her thoroughly. Emeralds and diamonds glittered from her ears, throat, and wrists. “You are an absolute vision, my sweet.”
“Rushton,” she whispered, chiding him. Her dark green dress rustled when she stepped back. “Do stop.”
“We shall be off to do our part,” the earl announced. “I’ll see what tidbits of news I can gather tonight. Perhaps if we’re lucky one of the guests will have had the horrible tragedy of an unexpected meeting with the highwayman.”
“No need to sound so jubilant about someone else’s misfortune,” the countess scolded. “If we don’t leave now, Rushton, we’ll be more than fashionably late.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming, my dear. No need to threaten to leave me behind.”
“I never said I would leave without you.”
“You haven’t yet,” Rushton said, producing a teasing smile. He made a final farewell gesture to Larissa and William.
William raised his glass in a toast. The Earl and Countess of Rushton left. William took the empty decanter to the sideboard and searched for a full bottle. “Why don’t you take yourself off to bed.”
Larissa resumed her pacing. “I do not think I shall be able to face sleep until they return.”
Unable to find his drink of choice, William found a substitute, filled his glass, and sank into the wingback chair next to the fire. He stretched, then crossed his legs at the ankles and rolled his glass between his palms. “All I can say is we had both better prepare ourselves for a very long evening.”
Three hours later, Larissa heard the steady sound of footsteps approach the parlor. William’s, she thought, or perhaps Laurie’s. She froze with her needle poised in hand when she looked up and saw Sir Randall standing in the doorway.
The embroidery hoop slipped from her fingers and fell off her lap. She rushed toward him, but stopped just beyond arm’s reach. “You’re back,” she gasped with suppressed pleasure, an exuberant smile, and her heart nearly pounding out of her chest in excitement.
“I have a hard time believing it myself.” His voice sounded as gritty as his rumpled and torn clothing. A dark wash of whiskers covered his chin, causing the dark circles under his eyes to stand out on his drawn, gaunt face. “They told me they had the wrong man and I was free to return home.”
“Good Gad! I can’t believe it, you’re back!” William approached his friend from behind and clapped both hands on Sir Randall’s shoulders in welcome. He immediately withdrew them, leaning away and brushing them together as if soiled. “You look a fright and you smell worse.”
“As bad as I feel, no doubt,” Sir Randall groaned.
William carved a judicious path around his friend, entering the room to stand next to Larissa. “Here now, Randall. You’re no fit sight for a lady.”
Sir Randall looked down at himself. Did he not know of his own condition?
“Your bath awaits, sir,” Laurie announced from out of nowhere.
Sir Randall gave a brief nod, excusing himself. Laurie followed. In the silence that ensued, Larissa could hear the butler continuing his discourse. “The cook is preparing your meal now, sir. It should be ready by the time you finish.”
“Laurie, I can’t ever remember when I’ve been so hungry. I didn’t think I’d ever taste Amendola’s fare again.”
When Sir Randall was well out of sight, William gave a leap, clicking his heels in midair. “We did it!” he shouted. “At first I thought that plan of yours was fairl
y half-baked. But it certainly did set things to rights.”
“You never told me you thought it unsound.”
“I didn’t have anything better to suggest,” William confessed. “What a sight, what?” His brows wrinkled. “Can’t imagine what it would have been like to be in such a place.”
Larissa tilted her head, unable to discern his meaning.
“He wasn’t in the debtor’s side, you know.” He rubbed his chin in a contemplative gesture. “Randall’s been in with the murderers, thieves, and cutthroats.”
“How horrible. How very horrible for him.” She shuddered. “Hopefully all of it will soon be forgotten. All that matters now is that he is back where he belongs.”
Randall could hardly believe he was safe in his uncle’s house. Soaking in the heated water of his bath, he scrubbed at the dirty layer of prison that accompanied him home. He hoped the experience of the dark, dank communal cell he occupied would soon be forgotten.
During his incarceration, bouts of doubt and hopelessness had weaved their way into his mind. He could not move past the notion that he was a lost cause and beyond help.
The days had passed. Just as he had given up all hope, he was set free. He did not know how it came about, or who he could thank for this miracle, but decided chances were good the person or persons responsible resided in this house.
The realization of freedom dawned on him when he stepped onto the brick walk of the Portman Square townhouse, the most wonderful sight in the world.
Satisfied with his exterior, he was ready to abandon his bath and move on to his internal needs. The rumblings of his stomach were causing white caps to form on the water.
Randall feasted on Amendola’s reheated culinary masterpiece, and would never have complained of it in a hundred years. The roasted beef and vegetables were a feast compared to the slops they called food at the prison. Satisfied with his solitude, he had no doubt Larissa or the countess would have scolded him on his table manners. He ate like a starving man. He was a starving man.
He had come to realize he loved Larissa. Their unfulfilled scene, tragic in its outcome, lay unresolved in his heart. It was the solitary thought that had cut through his blackness and desperation to give him hope. Randall had been given a second chance at life and he did not want to spend the rest of it without her.
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