The Surrender of Miss Fairbourne

by Madeline Hunter

  Penthurst rose and walked to a table behind his chair. He lifted a brandy decanter with an offer in his eyes. Darius nodded, and soon two glasses had joined them in their conversation.

  “I am told that by the end he was cursing the decision to send him over at all, with no more protection than the pretense of fleeing France. It seems they had a more secure way of doing it that fell apart recently, perhaps a few months ago. Your chain may have caused that disruption, I suppose.”

  “Did he describe the old way of doing it?”

  “Someone watched from the coast and sent a signal into the night that the way was clear. The French boat would put in not far from where your people found his, and its special passenger was met and brought to a house that was safe. As soon as possible, he would be moved on to London, or whatever town or city he aimed for, where another safe abode waited. Information would be given to the special passenger, and he would leave the same way.”

  “He was a courier, then. Did he say who sent him, or who was to meet him? Did he give names of who passed him information?”

  Penthurst drank some brandy. “Regrettably, he was not in the best of health. A bad heart, I am told. He unexpectedly expired before he shared those details.”

  Darius glared at Penthurst. “Damnation.” He stood and paced away to relieve his outrage. There was much about this story that raised profound concerns. That the most important pieces had been lost maddened him.

  “If it helps at all, I have expressed my displeasure to Pitt,” Penthurst said. “I suggested that if England is going to dirty its hands thusly, we should at least find men to do it who get all the information before their darker natures get the better of them.”

  “He probably expressed shock that you would think such things happened at all.”

  “Of course he did. Still, I was heard.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned before I hand over another one to them.”

  “You will do it yourself instead?” He ruminated. “You could use Kendale, I suppose. Do it the army’s way. Just put a pistol to a temple and ask the questions. The poor bastard has only to look at Kendale to know he would pull the trigger.”

  As would you. Darius almost said it, but swallowed the words along with more brandy. If Penthurst had killed a friend, he could kill a spy.

  Penthurst looked over with the vague smile of someone who knew Darius too well. “Yes, I would, if necessary. As would we all.” He set his glass aside and stood. Both dogs rose up in unison. “Come with me. I will show you where I hung the Guardi.”

  Darius had not intended a social call, and did not care to do anything that would make it one. Still, he had been received and had been given the information he sought. He had no choice except to follow Penthurst and the hounds out of the library.

  “That woman at the auction house. Fairbourne’s daughter,” Penthurst said as they made their way to the gallery. “Have you had her?”

  Six months ago the question would have been normal, even expected. Tonight, under the circumstances of both their estrangement and the recent conversation, it was startling.

  “Why would you ask?”

  “Curiosity. Nothing more. She has a certain something to her. I thought you might have found out just what it is.”

  It was well past midnight when Darius returned to his house. He immediately went up to his dressing room. “Open it,” he said through the door.

  The latch moved. Kendale opened the door and stood aside. “There has been no undue curiosity from your household,” he said. “Our guest is so contented with the accommodations that he is asleep.”

  Darius paced into the dressing room. Ambury looked over from a chair where he read a book. Snoring came from a divan, where the man with the sack had stretched out.

  Darius was in no mood to behave like a gentleman. He had hoped to learn from Penthurst that the spy had talked long and fast and revealed the name and location of all the others he would meet while in England. Instead this fool on his divan might be the only chance left to discover that information.

  Darius walked over, grabbed the front of the sleeping man’s coat, and jerked him upright.

  He woke up fast, with a yelp. After a moment of confusion, he righted himself and turned his body so his boots hit the floor. He glanced askance at his company, each man in turn.

  Darius pulled over a chair. Ambury set aside his book. Kendale hovered behind the divan, which made their guest very nervous.

  “I am going to ask questions again, and this time you will answer them. What was your business at the auction house?” Darius bit out the words, but his anger was not so much with this man as with a situation that was slipping out of his grasp. He silently prayed that what he suspected was not true, and waited for this man to say something to relieve his sickening worry.

  The fellow’s response was to tighten his lips hard.

  “What is your name?” Kendale asked. “I can find out within a few hours if I have to. It might go better for you if you do not put me to the trouble.”

  He thought it over and decided he could reveal that much without endangering whatever or whomever he sought to protect. “Hodgson.”

  Still standing behind him, Kendale leaned over so his mouth was very close to Hodgson’s ear. “Now, Mr. Hodgson, you will answer my friend’s questions. You have already wasted too much time. We are with the government. Your body will never be found, and no one will be the wiser if we kill you.”

  Hodgson twisted his neck to stare at Kendale in astonishment. Hodgson proved Penthurst correct. Hodgson clearly concluded that at least one man in the room would indeed kill him.

  “I was only negotiating a little private business at that auction place,” he said. “I stole nothing. The money in the sack is mine.”

  “We do not suspect you of theft,” Darius said. “Did you leave town for a few days recently? Did you visit Kent?”

  Hodgson’s eyelids lowered. “What if I did?”

  Ambury groaned with impatience. “Listen to me. We know enough to hand you to men who will surely learn the rest from you. They will use ways that will make being killed a mercy. If you went to Kent, you went by stagecoach and we can learn about that too, from the staging inns. You are facing the noose and worse, Mr. Hodgson, and your only hope is to speak plainly. If you do, perhaps we can use our influence to keep the worst from happening.”

  Kendale glared his disapproval at the last part of that. Hodgson’s eyes grew wide at the word noose.

  “I’m only a messenger. I deliver this an’ that, is all!”

  “Why were you in Kent?” Darius asked.

  “I was to meet a man, and bring him to London. He never came, though.”

  “This was not the first time you met men. You have been to the coast often before on similar errands, haven’t you?”

  “A few times.”

  “Tell us about your business with Maurice Fairbourne, and now his daughter.”

  “Ah, hell. Ye already know about that?” Hodgson flushed. His expression fell into one of miserable worry. “I would bring him messages. I’d also bring him some things, wine and such, for his auction house to sell. That is where that sack of coin came from.” He coughed and rubbed his mouth with his sleeve. “He has a cottage on the coast, and a few times these men I met—usually they do come, not like the last one—would stay there a night or so before we went to London.”

  “Did you kill him? Push him from that cliff? Was that one of the messages that you delivered?” Darius asked.

  “No! That fall was nothin’ but trouble for me. No cottage after that, and no help. The fool went and fell on his own.” He shook his head. “What a bad night that was. See here, I keep telling ye, I am just a man who does errands. I deliver things. Now, I’ll admit that it entered my head now and then that I was being hired by them that smuggle, what with that wine and such, but that ain’t a real crime. Most everyone does it.” He tried a smile. “Most likely your lordships have drunk some of it, at those fine p
arties you have.”

  “Who gave you the messages that you gave Fairbourne?” Ambury asked. “Who instructed you on these deliveries and who paid you?”

  “Sometimes the men I met gave me the messages to deliver. And sometimes…there might be another one who came too, and made me explain how it had gone, and might give me messages or even notes to deliver, or I would deliver such to him. That one did not stay with me. I think he would go back, though.”

  “You knew this was not about smuggling,” Kendale said dangerously. “I hope they paid you well for your treason.”

  “Treason! Goods came in those boats and goods is what I brought to Mr. Fairbourne.”

  “Goods and spies,” Kendale snarled.

  Hodgson turned to Darius. “M’lord, you surely do not think that—”

  Darius held up a hand to stop him. “Fairbourne was convenient to your duties. Once he died, that must have been a problem.”

  “Hell of a problem, truth be told.”

  “Were you told to replace him with his daughter? Is that why you were at the auction house?”

  “Replace, hell. Same family. It was thought she knew what to do.” He shrugged. “Was easier for it to be her as someone else. She was happy enough to do it.”

  Darius saw red. He was on his feet and halfway to Hodgson before Ambury caught his arm, hard, stopping him. Hodgson reared back at the threat, visibly shaken by Darius’s reaction.

  Darius found some restraint, barely. He did not sit, however. Nor did Ambury. Mr. Hodgson looked up at the three of them now hovering over him. Darius’s fist still had not unclenched.

  “You blackmailed Fairbourne and his daughter into this,” Darius said. “Why else would you have that sack of money and all this help you claim they gave? Fairbourne did not need whatever goods you brought him.”

  “I keep telling ye. I did not do anything. I was only a messenger!”

  Impatient now, Darius grabbed him by the coat again. “What message did you give that would make Maurice Fairbourne help you?”

  “His son!” Hodgson yelped. “I was told to tell him his son was being held, and would only live if he helped. He was to signal to the boat if all was clear, and take in a guest that I might bring now and then.”

  “You fed him a lie, then. Did you ever see his son?”

  “Of course not. Where would I see him? I was told to tell him that and I did, and I explained it to the daughter when she proved ignorant. She wanted to pay a ransom and be done with it. It was so high she had to help anyway.”

  “Damn you.” Darius made to hit him again.

  Ambury pulled Darius away and warned him off with a glare, then went and sat beside Mr. Hodgson. “You are in a bad spot here. There’s two men here ready to hang you now, and others who will be more than happy to do it later. Your only hope is if you can help us find some of these men whom you met on the coast and aided in entering England.”

  “But I don’t know where they be now.” Hodgson was sweating badly, and appeared desperate. “I’d help if I could. I swear it.”

  “That is unfortunate. However…perhaps you know if another one is coming soon,” Ambury suggested. “Are you expected to meet anyone on the coast again soon?”

  Hodgson shot him a cautious look. He glanced over his shoulder at Kendale, and quickly checked Darius’s demeanor too.

  “I was planning a journey to the coast again next week. That is how it is done. If the man doesn’t meet me the week he is supposed to, I go a fortnight later again.”

  Darius did not want to hear more, if more was coming. He would not stand there while this bastard described how Emma would be signaling from the cliff walk and opening her cottage to spies looking for very discreet lodging.

  He strode from the dressing room before he thrashed Hodgson bloody. He went to his bedchamber and slammed the door in his wake. His head filled with a fury so black he could barely contain it.

  Damnation. He should have seen it. Should have guessed. Smuggling, hell. He had been an idiot. Emma would never risk so much for so little. Of course the “everything else” had to do with graver matters than a few wagons of illegally imported goods.

  She should have told him. He would have found a way to get her out of it. He would have shown her how her father’s refusal to accept Robert’s death had led to this, and how she must not allow herself to be coerced with the same stupid lie. He would have explained how holding steadfast on that belief created a vulnerability that anyone who knew of the belief could exploit. He would have—

  His mind saw her in the garden, looking so lost after Hodgson left her. Was that when she had learned the real price? His memory of her there, so torn and confused and unbearably unhappy, made too much sense now. It touched him despite his chaotic thoughts and raw emotions.

  She could not tell him, of course. She could not ask for his help, no matter what she thought was at stake. She did not trust him to spare her if he learned about it, either.

  He strode to a table that held some books and took out a folded letter tucked in its drawer. The paper’s condition reflected the way he had crumbled it in his fist on first reading the words on it yesterday. His reaction had been immediate and explosive. If there had been a fire lit, he would have tossed it in.

  He read it again now, and its meaning did not anger him nearly as much. He saw it was not the harsh repudiation he thought. Actually, it had little to do with him at all.

  My lord,

  After much thought and much honesty with myself, I have realized that our alliance is as unwise and ill-advised as I first thought it would be. Forgive me for not having the fortitude to act accordingly after the auction. I can only blame my girlish excitement in the day’s triumph, along with your winning ways.

  As the Season ends, so do auctions of note. Fairbourne’s will have no forthcoming business to conduct for at least two months. Therefore I am leaving London. Perhaps a visit to the lake district will offer me retreat and solitude.

  Upon my return, I trust that you and I can treat each other as respected business associates. We should, however, permit nothing more to exist between us.

  Emma Fairbourne

  Ambury entered the bedchamber just as Darius was folding the letter again. He just stood there, as if expecting Darius to say something.

  “I am sorry to learn that she is as involved as she is,” Ambury finally said.

  It was the sympathy of a friend, but it was also a reminder of her betrayal.

  “She thinks her brother is alive, just as her father did,” Darius said.

  “Yes. However, that doesn’t make a difference in the end, does it?”

  No, damn it. His fear for her had become a burning coal in his chest.

  “Kendale wants to use Hodgson and have him meet his man as planned. He thinks we then can follow the courier and find the men he meets with in London and elsewhere.” Ambury tried to sound skeptical. “You know Kendale—he is picturing an entire network brought down.”

  Darius said nothing. There was great sense in Kendale’s plan, and Ambury knew it. The only flaw was that having Hodgson meet that boat and its special passenger would require allowing Emma to make her signal and give the spy refuge. They would use not only Hodgson, but also Miss Fairbourne. Instead of stopping her, they would let her play her designated role.

  Ambury looked at him with eyes too aware and too concerned. “If you say the word, we will not do it. I think that I know what she means—”

  “No. It must be done. If it is another courier, he might lead us to five more. Ten perhaps.”

  Ambury did not reply.

  “When does the game start?” Darius asked.

  “Monday, Hodgson said. We can take him to the coast. Kendale has created a little army out of his household staff, it seems. His own private citizens’ unit. They will help. You need not be there.”

  “Of course I will be there. I will go down to Kent tomorrow, and send my sister and aunt back to town so we can use Crownhill. I wil
l inform the other gentlemen watchers of what is happening. I expect that most of them will join us, so your plans can assume plenty of eyes and pistols being available. I will also talk to Tarrington and alert him too, so he does not move on that boat until the man Hodgson is meeting has left the shore and moved inland.”

  Ambury nodded. “We will come to Crownhill directly from town.”

  Darius turned away. “Please get that man out of my house, Ambury. Let Kendale deal with him until you make the journey.”

  Ambury left. Darius looked at the letter still in his hand. His mind saw Emma again in the garden. The memory of her distress pained him.

  She thought she was saving her brother. It was, he supposed, the most noble reason imaginable for the most ignoble act. He was not at all sure, if he were in her place, that he could have chosen differently.

  Chapter 28

  Emma let herself into the cottage. She set down her valise and immediately opened the windows to air out the space. A breeze blew in, bringing with it the scents of the coast and the sounds of her hired carriage rolling away.

  She set about unpacking the two baskets of food that she had purchased on the way. There would be no Mrs. Norriston to cook on this brief visit, and no Mr. Dillon to feed, so she had kept the provisions simple. Some ham and a few fresh eggs. Some bread and, as an indulgence, some peaches. She should probably eat something now, as it was evening, but she was too sick with worry to be hungry.

  Once all had been sorted and stored, she went up the stairs and did the same with the garments she had brought. Then she went down again and searched for lanterns.

  She found one in a kitchen cupboard, and two in the horse stable. Lining them up on the kitchen worktable, she fitted them with candles that she had brought with her. Then she lit one.

  She sat with a book near that light. No pages turned, however. She kept watching night come, and checking the time. She noted the hour when the last of twilight’s glow had faded. No clock chimed the time, but her heart and fear did.

  In exactly twenty-four hours she would begin her mission to redeem her brother. Once it was over, surely she would reconcile herself to what she had done. The prize would surely be worth the price. Right now, however, she could muster no excitement or anticipation over seeing Robert again. She knew only a dread that left her unable to do anything but wait.