by Diane Gaston
* * *
When it was finally dark outside, Walker could tolerate no more waiting. He decided to leave the rooms and gather whatever information he could.
‘I’ll be back as soon as I am able,’ he told Penny. ‘Do not allow anyone to enter. Do not even respond if there is a knock on the door. Pretend you are not here.’
She nodded, her beautiful blue eyes wary.
‘Go sleep in my bed. I’ll take Fitz’s when I return.’ He put on a black coat, raising the collar to better hide his white shirt.
‘I won’t sleep until you return,’ she said in a trembling voice.
He reached over and touched her arm.
Her eyes looked into his. ‘You must be careful.’
‘I will.’
She then did a very unexpected thing. She rose on tiptoe and kissed him. The simple touch of her lips ignited his senses. And made him feel valued.
He now possessed a reason to be careful, so he could come back to her. No more living for the moment, not caring what came next. In fact, he no longer liked the idea of the trade he and Fitz were involved in. When this was all over, he’d tell Fitz he wanted to do business on the up and up. He wanted to be a man deserving of Penny’s sweet kiss. He wanted to spend the rest of his life making hers happy.
He climbed out a back window and dropped to the ground. Soundlessly he made his way out the small yard behind the building and onto the street. Hiding in the shadows, he spied two men still watching for Fitz. He wished he could warn Fitz before he returned and walked into a trap.
Walker hurried away, bound for the tavern where he’d met Kellford’s valet. He walked in the place and ordered ale, thirsty after hurrying through town. He threaded his way through the tables, looking for the valet.
‘Walker!’ a voice called.
It was Kellford’s valet, seated at a table alone. The fussy man looked uncharacteristically dishevelled. His clothing was wrinkled and he’d not shaved.
Walker approached the man’s table. ‘What has happened to you?’
‘I hoped you’d come,’ the man said, slurring his words. ‘I’ve been given the sack. Summarily discharged without references or prospects.’
Like Penny, Walker thought. He joined the man’s table.
The valet peered at him. ‘Do you work for Mr Fitzmanning?’
No sense lying about it. ‘I do.’
‘And you wanted information from me?’ He looked wounded.
Walker nodded. ‘Fitzmanning is a family friend of Miss Covendale and does not wish to see her ill used.’
‘Ah.’ The valet’s brow cleared. ‘I understand perfectly. The poor lady. But you need not have engaged in deception.’
‘I did not deceive,’ countered Walker. ‘I merely did not tell you the name of my employer.’
The valet waved a hand. ‘Makes not a whit of difference now. I’m sacked because Kellford assumed I’d been the one to tattle about the bank clerk and his whereabouts.’
‘I am sorry to hear it,’ Walker said with honesty. ‘Do you know where the bank clerk is at present?’ If he could find the bank clerk tomorrow, there would still be time to ensure the clerk’s cooperation.
‘Covent Garden, but I do not know precisely where. Kellford’s newly hired men took care of it.’ He paused. ‘Those men were hired to eliminate your Mr Fitzmanning. Kellford’s sparing no expense.’
‘We’ve been made aware of that fact.’ Walker reached into his coat pocket and removed a calling card. ‘This has my direction. Come see me. You’ve helped us and we will help you.’
Chapter Twenty
The next morning Mariel requested a bath, something she longed for, but also something that provided her an excuse to avoid her parents.
Her father had made her so angry the day before that she could not think straight. To send Penny away! It was unconscionable. To have no word of her—coupled with not knowing Leo’s whereabouts—was driving her mad.
Perhaps Edward would pass notes for her. He’d acted as her ally before.
Heartened by this idea, Mariel was able to relish the clean water and the fragrant French soap that was her favourite. She bathed thoroughly and washed her hair and, with one of the housemaids to assist her, dressed in a morning dress.
The maid made a great effort to see that she was comfortable. The girl did not speak directly, but Mariel suspected all the servants knew by now that she did not want to marry Kellford and that she’d been with another man. It touched her beyond measure that the servants showed her sympathy rather than censure.
Combing the knots and tangles from her hair brought back the memory of the river and how close she and Leo had come to death. How much it had changed things for her. Nothing mattered more to her than Leo being alive and unharmed, but she could not know if he were ambushed or captured or...worse.
She held her head. Her mind was spinning as it had done two years before, consumed with fears and speculation, not knowing where he was, if he was safe.
Please let him be alive, she prayed. Please just let him be alive.
The maid knocked on the bedchamber door and opened it a crack. ‘Lord Kellford to see you, miss!’
‘Kellford?’ What did he want?
‘Edward said he is waiting in the drawing room.’ The girl’s voice showed the alarm Mariel felt inside.
‘This is the last person I wish to see,’ she muttered.
The housemaid nodded in agreement.
She took a breath and gestured for the maid to come over. ‘Help me put my hair up into a cap.’
The girl twisted her still-damp hair into a bun and secured it with hairpins.
‘My caps are in the second drawer in the chest of drawers.’ Mariel stuck in more hairpins while the maid ran to find a cap.
She brought back one made entirely of Belgian lace, edged in a ruffle and embellished with a pink silk ribbon. It was the prettiest one in her possession.
She would have preferred to look dowdy.
She did not want to tarry, however. She wanted to hear what Kellford had to say, hear if he would speak of Leo.
When she entered the drawing room, Kellford was seated with her mother. Her father stood nearby.
Kellford immediately stood and approached her with arms open. ‘Good morning, my dear!’ he exclaimed, placing a kiss upon her cheek.
It paid to be careful. This was a man willing to kill Leo on the mere chance he might spoil the scheme to marry her. She must not let on that she knew anything about that, nor that Leo had survived the attempt.
‘Why are you here?’ she asked, finding it impossible to be entirely civil.
Her father sent her an anxious glance.
Kellford chuckled good-naturedly. ‘Why, to see my prospective bride. Why else? Only one more day to go, my dear.’
‘It is so exciting!’ her mother piped up. ‘Tomorrow at this time we shall be at the church with several of our dear friends to share the day with us.’
Kellford smiled. ‘Are you quite prepared for the wedding, my dear?’
She faced him without expression. ‘Not entirely.’
He gaped at her in mock horror. ‘My goodness! You had better get busy. I do not wish to be kept waiting at the altar.’
‘She will be there,’ her father said reassuringly. ‘I will see to it.’
Kellford’s grin widened. ‘I trust you will, sir. I have never doubted your willingness to give away your daughter.’
‘I do think she jests.’ Her mother tittered nervously. ‘Her bridal clothes are ready. All is in preparation for the wedding breakfast. I cannot see what more needs to be done.’
Kellford walked back to Mariel’s mother and took her hand. ‘I am certain you have personally seen to every detail. I could not be more grateful
to you.’
Her mother had done more fretting than anything else, but Mariel did not care about the wedding breakfast. She did not care about the wedding clothes. She only wanted Leo to be safe.
‘Mother,’ she impulsively asked, ‘would you mind terribly if I spoke to Lord Kellford and Father alone?’
Her mother looked alarmed. ‘Well...no... I suppose not.’ Kellford assisted her in rising from her seat.
Mariel’s father glared at his daughter, but a twitching hand showed he also feared what she might say or do.
She walked her mother to the door.
‘You will be good, will you not, Mariel?’ her mother pleaded.
Perhaps her mother was more aware than Mariel thought. ‘Do not worry, Mama.’
When the door closed behind her mother, Mariel leaned against it. ‘I have a proposition for you.’
Her father braced himself against the back of a chair. Kellford merely smiled, as if whatever transpired would amuse him.
One last try, Mariel thought.
She walked towards them. ‘As you both know, I do not want this marriage.’ She glanced at her father. ‘But I also do not want my father to be apprehended for theft and I do not want scandal. I have a solution for all of us.’ She faced Kellford. ‘I will pay your outstanding debts. I will even double the figure.’
Kellford’s eyes were cold. ‘You have no money, my dear, not unless you marry me.’
‘I can borrow the money,’ she retorted. ‘In two years’ time I will be able to repay the debt.’
Offering Kellford this proposition was surely a forlorn hope, but she had to try.
Kellford slithered closer to her. ‘See? That is why I must marry you, my dear. You have no idea how to manage money. It would be foolish to double a figure when half the amount would do. And where would you get such a loan? I assure you no bank would lend to you.’
She straightened. ‘Perhaps not a bank, but I suspect the Duke of Manning would.’ Or his brother. ‘I am certain my friend, his sister, would convince him.’
Kellford’s eyes flickered, but he resumed his apparent good humour. ‘Not without charging interest and then you would lose even more of your fortune. And to no good purpose, I might add.’ He shook his head. ‘No, you are no manager of money, my dear. You must marry me and let me take that burden off your shoulders.’ He turned to her father. ‘You agree, do you not, Mr Covendale?’
Her father nodded. ‘Of course I agree.’
‘Do not be ridiculous,’ Mariel said. ‘You want my fortune, nothing else.’
She had known this all along, of course, but could not resist one last attempt.
Kellford’s eyes flickered with malevolence. ‘I assure you, I want more than your fortune.’
Mariel shivered.
Kellford slid a glance back to her father. ‘Mr Covendale, it is my turn to ask an indulgence. May I have a few moments with my lovely betrothed?’
‘Certainly.’ Her father could hardly be more agreeable. Anything to keep Kellford from reporting his crime, Mariel suspected.
Her father left the room and Kellford turned back to her. He was no longer smiling.
She stood her ground while he came so close she could smell his breath.
‘I have had enough of you involving the Fitzmanning Miscellany in our affairs.’ His voice lost all its charm. ‘It stops now.’
She made herself stare blankly. ‘Asking my friend to make the request of the duke is not involving the whole family.’
He ran his finger down the ruffled lace of her cap. ‘Do not play innocent with me, my dear. I know you sent the bastard brother after the bank clerk.’
She did not flinch. ‘Bastard brother?’
He laughed. ‘You know perfectly well whom I mean.’ He gave her a self-satisfied look. ‘But you need not concern yourself further with Leo Fitzmanning.’
Her knees weakened. Had something happened to Leo? Or did Kellford still believe Leo drowned in the river?
‘Concern myself? Are you jesting?’ She made her tone indifferent, but her heart pounded.
Please let him be alive, she prayed. Let him be alive.
Kellford smirked. ‘An unimpeachable source informed me that Fitzmanning and his brothers left town yesterday.’ He stuck out a prideful chin. ‘Rode away, all four of them, over the Westminster Bridge. They are gone, my dear. Perhaps I had some influence over their leaving. I would fancy I did.’
Relief washed over her. His brothers were keeping him safe. She could envision it—Leo’s brothers discovering the attempt on his life and spiriting him away. They could be taking him to Ramsgate to catch a packet to Calais, for all she knew. He would be safe.
He wagged a finger in her face. ‘So none of the Fitzmanning Miscellany will be riding in to rescue you. And, believe me, if they are looking for the bank clerk, they will not find him. He is in town, close by in case I need him.
As the housekeeper in his hunting lodge had told Walker.
Mariel must not appear affected.
She scoffed, ‘You needed my father to leave the room so he would not hear that the Duke of Manning and his brothers rode out of town? You could only tell me this privately?’
He leaned close again. ‘I wanted you to know that I have ways of eliminating people who become troublesome to me. If you value your friends, you will not allow them to cross me.’
‘I am so warned,’ she responded sarcastically.
‘And you will not cross me, my dear,’ he continued. ‘Recall that once I have your fortune, your value to me will be greatly diminished.’
She understood that implied threat.
‘Well...’ she stepped back and pasted on a false smile ‘...we are done, then. It has been so charming to have this little tête-à-tête with you, Lord Kellford.’ She extended her hand for him to shake. ‘I will remember to pass on your fondest farewells to my parents.’
He shook her hand, then scowled when he realised she had manipulated him into it. And that she had dismissed him. He walked out with an angry step.
Mariel sank into a chair. She felt faint with relief.
Leo was safe!
It was good that he’d left town, she told herself. Good that he was seeing matters her way and honouring her wishes for him to stay safe. His brothers would surely see to it that he did not rush in to stop the wedding. This was the best solution. Everyone she cared about would be uninjured.
She alone would pay the price.
* * *
The day dawned grey and overcast over Brighton, matching Leo’s mood. He wanted to feel hopeful. His brothers’ support and optimism ought to have helped, but when he woke in his room at the Castle Inn, a sense of foreboding washed over him.
Leo and his brothers had ridden to find Lord Doring. Stephen had heard he’d left London two weeks earlier for his country estate near Brighton. A horse breeder like Stephen, Doring wanted to be present to supervise the foaling of one of his favourite mares.
They’d ridden hard the day before, reaching Brighton at dusk. Leo felt buoyed by his brothers’ company. Their support humbled him. At the inn, they’d stayed awake late into the night, talking, clearing the air between them. He’d told them some of what he’d been through the last two years. They’d listened.
It should have been enough to hearten him, but too much was at stake this day and he’d already experienced so much failure.
At midmorning the inn’s stable boy brought their horses to them. Nicholas had provided Leo with a strong mare, one that Stephen had bred. Once on horseback again, in the weak sunshine, Leo felt his spirits rise and his determination grow. This time he could not fail. Mariel’s happiness—her life—depended upon it.
They rode past the Brighton racecourse. According to the direction given to them at the Castle I
nn, Doring Park was nearby.
‘How fitting that Doring’s estate is near the racecourse,’ Stephen remarked as they rode by. ‘He is passionate to a fault about horses. Worse than you and I ever were, Leo.’
It was hard to believe that anyone could be more passionate about horses than Leo had been. It seemed a long time ago, but, he had to admit, that passion was gone now.
Soon Doring Park’s stately white mansion came into sight. Built on a gentle rise and surrounded by pasture, it became visible when they were still some distance away. When they turned onto the long, winding private road that led up to the house, Leo lagged behind.
This was a great gamble he embarked upon. He planned to tell Doring about his lord cousin’s theft and to convince him to overlook it. If he failed at this, it would cost Mariel’s father his life and create the ruin Mariel feared for her family.
As if reading Leo’s mind, Brenner turned around and gave him a reassuring smile. All his brothers were full of confidence and that did reassure him.
Their approach was announced by a shrieking peacock who displayed his colourful tail. By the time they reached the front entrance, two footmen had emerged.
Nicholas did not even give them a chance to speak. ‘The Duke of Manning and his brothers to see Lord Doring,’ he said in an imperious voice that reminded Leo of their father.
The footmen’s jaws dropped. Obviously dukes did not often call.
One footman collected himself quickly and bowed. ‘Your Grace. I will announce you immediately.’
‘Very good,’ Nicholas responded.
Leo and his brothers dismounted.
Nicholas gestured to the horses. ‘Have someone tend to the horses, as well.’
The other footman hurried to hold the horses.
‘If your Grace would follow me,’ the first man said.
They entered the house into a large hall with dark wooden floors and a sweeping staircase. Another footman appeared to take their gloves and hats.
The first man led them to an oval-shaped drawing room whose many windows made the most of what little sunlight there was that day. None of the brothers sat, nor did they speak much while they waited for Lord Doring.