Lord Hunter (Secrets & Scandals Book 6)

by Tiffany Green

  “While you slept the morning away, we were making plans,” Jeremy said.

  Lucian swallowed a bite of ham. “What plans?” he asked, reaching for his coffee.

  “We were considering while you and I dash off to bath to secure the special license from the archbishop, the ladies take the coach to Bristol. We can meet them there.”

  Lucian lowered his cup, shaking his head. “That is much too dangerous.”

  “Whitehall isn’t looking for two ladies,” Evie pointed out. “And Jeremy has already secured outriders for our protection.”

  He slid his glance to Emma. “Why do we not all go to Bath? You can send a message to Sean to come there.”

  Her hand reached for his. “Sean is in hiding for a reason. I do not think he can come.” She gripped him tight. “We must go to him.”

  Lucian turned to Jeremy. “You agree to this dunderheaded plan?”

  His friend flashed a smile. “Was actually counting on you to dissuade them. They are ruthless, the pair.”

  Evie frowned at her husband. “You have yet to provide a better plan.”

  “I have a better plan,” Lucian said, crossing his arms. When everyone turned, he continued. “While Emma and I retrieve Sean, Jeremy and Evie collect the special license. We meet at Ravenwood House in Bristol.”

  Jeremy grinned and Evie nodded. Holding his breath, Lucian glanced to Emma. After a moment, she lifted her head. “We should keep our disguises.”

  “What of Dempsey? How can we be certain he has not rejoined Whitehall?”

  “We must take the risk, Lucian.”

  The day had turned overcast, gray, allowing no sunlight to penetrate the thick swath of clouds as Lucian rode beside Emma. He breathed in the salty air, hoping for no rain. Would make for a miserable trip and slow them down. Glancing over his shoulder, he nodded to the two guards who rode with them. Jeremy’s idea, but a very sound one. The men had knives and pistols hidden everywhere.

  The rain held off as they neared Renfield estate. The three-story Georgian house made of pale gold stone was plain and sat on a rise with few surrounding trees. Lucian had been there once and frowned at the memory of retrieving Rebecca when she tired of yet another lover. She had sent for the coach and was surprised when Lucian had come himself to fetch her. Back when he thought there was hope his wife would change.

  Lucian blew out a breath. He should have known better.

  They slowed to make the turn at the drive. Lucian had wanted to stop first at Ravenwood House but Emma would not hear of it. He supposed he could not blame her for being anxious to find her brother. The two had been separated much too long.

  He glanced down at his tattered clothing and grimaced. How to explain to Renfield without telling the man about the treasure? Lucian would have to think of something plausible. Maybe, he had been robbed.

  Rubbing his chin, he could not think of anything else and decided that was what he would tell Renfield. Glancing to Emma, he told her his idea.

  Her brows rose. “That would explain why you look like a dock worker. How to explain why you are at Renfield, though?”

  Lucian looked at the house growing closer and knew Emma was right. He had to give a credible story about why he was there. Why had he not gone to Ravenwood? “I could say the robbery just happened and Renfield was closer than Ravenwood.”

  “Yes, that could work. And while you keep the man busy, I will look for Sean.”

  He frowned at her. “Let the men look for your brother,” he said nodding at the two flanking them.

  Her brows snapped together and she shook her head. “They can help me look.”

  He wanted to say more, but they had arrived at the house and the front door was opening. A butler stepped out, giving them a glare. “Servants entrance around back.” He scowled. “As you should know.”

  Lucian slid to the ground and marched up to the man. “Lucian Townsend, the Earl of Hartford, here to see Lord Renfield.” He crossed his arms. “I was recently robbed, and the reason for my current state of dress.”

  While he did not look an earl, he sounded like one. The butler’s disbelief faded and he withdrew into the house. “A moment, my lord, while I confer with Lord Renfield.”

  The door closed and Emma rushed to his side. “I told the men to check the stables.” She rubbed her hands together. “I will come inside with you once Renfield accepts your invitation.” She slid him a sidelong glance. “He will accept, will he not?”

  “Oh, he will accept. But I do not think you should come inside.”

  Emma swiveled around. “Then, how am I to check the house?”

  “I will check the house.” He tipped his head to the men disappearing around the side of the house. “Go with the men. There might be another message painted on the stable door.”

  She scowled. “The men will tell me if that is so. I told them what to look for.” She plopped her hands on her hips. “I will come inside with you.”

  As Lucian started to speak, the door opened. The butler gave a bow. “Lord Renfield will see you, my lord.”

  With a sigh, he swept his arm toward the door. “After you,” he told Emma.

  She gave him a smug grin and followed the butler inside. Shaking his head, Lucian stepped through the entryway and marched behind Emma, trying not to remember the last time he walked the same path to the same salon.

  A footman opened the door and the butler announced, “The Earl of Hartford.”

  Renfield had changed little in four years. Still tall and fit with wavy blond hair and pale brown eyes. “I had heard you became an earl,” the man said, his voice deep and grating. Renfield waved away the butler. “So, tell me, Hartford, what in the hell are you doing here?”

  Lucian tamped down his anger. “Did your butler not tell you?”

  White teeth flashed against his tanned face. “Said something about you getting robbed.” His smile widened. “How unfortunate.”

  Lucian’s hands balled at his sides. He did not know how long he could stand not storming to Renfield and shoving a fist down the man’s throat. “Yes. It is.”

  A blond brow rose. “And what is it you wish me to…?” his voice trailed away when he noticed Emma. “Who is this you have with you?”

  Lucian stepped to the side to obstruct Renfield’s view. “A lad who helped me find clothes after I was robbed.”

  “A lad, you say?” Renfield chuckled and shook his head. “Obviously not.”

  The hot ball of anger simmering in his chest swelled. Lucian took deep breaths, hoping to cool it down.

  “What is it you want from me, Hartford.”

  Before Lucian could speak, Emma marched up to Renfield. “My brother, Sean Wickham. Is he here?”

  The smile slid from Renfield’s face, and his eyes sharpened on Emma. “Ah, so you are the sister.”

  She nodded. “I am. Where is my brother?”

  Something was amiss. Lucian felt it in his bones. He reached for Emma. “Come, we must leave.”

  “Not without my brother.”

  Lucian settled a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “We are leaving. Now.”

  Renfield crossed his arms. “You would allow Miss Wickham to leave without seeing her brother?”

  Emma gasped and shook off Lucian’s hand. “Take me to Sean.”

  Unfurling his arms, Renfield went to the door and pulled it open. “Come, I will take you to him.”

  Lucian grasped Emma’s arm before she could dash away. “Wait.” He lowered his voice. “Something is wrong. I do not think we should go with him.”

  She pulled her arm free. “You dislike him, Lucian,” she hissed. “That is all that is wrong.”

  Watching Emma disappear through the door behind Renfield, Lucian straightened and followed after them. Could she be right? Were his emotions clouding his judgement? He shook his head. Perhaps. Yet, the skin on the back of his neck tingled, warning him to be cautious.

  They came to the rear of the house and Renfield opened the door.

&nbs
p; “Where are you taking us?” Lucian asked, slowing his steps.

  Renfield glanced over his shoulder. “The summer house. It isn’t far.”

  The tingling on his neck intensified as he stepped outdoors. A heavy mist hung in the air and made it difficult to see. Lucian kept his eyes on Emma’s stocking cap, watching water beads collect as she loped after Renfield. He stayed close to her, ready to pull her to him. If anything went wrong, he would have to act fast.

  The path sloped down and Lucian slowed to keep from sliding. The mist swirled around his boots as he picked his way over the slick grass. He glanced to Emma and noticed her wobbling to right herself. Reaching out, he kept her steady with hands beneath her arms. “I’ve got you,” he said and helped her stay on her feet until the path leveled.

  “It’s just there,” Renfield said, pointing to the small house almost invisible in the gray-white mist.

  When Emma would have dashed to the house, Lucian plopped a hand on her shoulder. “Let me go. I will call you if it is safe.”

  She drew her brows, about to argue, then sighed and nodded. “I will wait here. But not for long,” she added, crossing her arms.

  Lucian stepped to Renfield’s side as the man reached for the door. “This had better not be some sort of trick,” he warned.

  Renfield threw open the door and stepped inside.

  Sliding his hand in his coat pocket, Lucian felt for the pistol. He would pull it out if necessary. Then he crept in, his boots thudding against the wood floor. The room was dim and it took him a moment to adjust to the lack of light. In the center, two brown leather sofas faced each other with several chairs at either end. A stone fireplace took up one wall with a smattering of cobwebs hanging from the corners. The opposite wall bore a huge carved desk, covered in a thick coating of dust. Across from the front door, heavy curtains fell over the windows, keeping the room dreary.

  Movement near one of the sofas made Lucian turn. Renfield stood there, glancing down. Something, no someone, lay on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. A man. Very tall, from the size of the boots peeking out the end.

  Lucian stepped to Renfield’s side and gazed down at the sleeping man. His head was wrapped, blood staining the left side, near his temple. Dark hair, almost black, spilled out of the bandage, and heavy stubble covered his cheeks and chin. Was this Emma’s brother?

  “What happened to him?”

  Renfield shook his head. “Found him like this. On the road about a mile from here. He was barely conscious and bleeding. Said men were after him. Asked that I hide him.”

  “Did he say—”

  “Sean!” Emma dashed around him and scrambled to the man’s side.

  Well. Hell. That answered one of his questions.

  “Sean, can you hear me? It’s Emma.” She fell to her knees and scooped up his hand. “Sean?” Glancing to Renfield, she asked, “What happened to him?”

  “Three days ago, I found him wounded about a mile away. He told me his name and that men were after him.” Renfield blew out a breath. “He asked me to hide him, and I thought this was the best place to do so.”

  Emma nodded and glanced to her brother. “Does he wake at all?”

  “Sometimes, yes.”

  She pressed a hand to his cheek. “He has a fever. Do you have any white willow bark?”

  Renfield drew his brows and shook his head. “Never heard of it.”

  Emma rose. “Will you please check with someone in your house? Your butler? This will make my brother well. Please.”

  Renfield gave a nod. “Of course. I will return as fast as I can.”

  When the man left, Lucian glanced at Sean. His skin was pale beneath the whiskers. He stepped to Emma’s side. “How do you know about the tree bark?”

  She drew in a breath. “When you do what we do, you learn all you can about healing.” Emma lowered to her knees and brushed back her brother’s dark hair with her fingers. “We do not often have a doctor at hand.”

  Her fingers stilled when Sean’s eyes fluttered. Emma leaned forward. “Sean? Can you hear me?”

  His dry lips parted. “Emma?”

  Lucian leaned forward. Sean’s eyes opened and sharpened on Emma. They were the same color as hers.

  “Yes, I am here.” She brought his hand up to her lips. “You are safe now.”

  He swallowed. “Not safe. You must go.”

  Something in Sean’s insistence gave Lucian a bad feeling. The back of his neck tingled once again.

  “Go? Sean, I am not leaving here without you.”

  “You must. Go, now, Emma.”

  Lucian settled a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe we should listen to him.” He glanced around, hoping for something to say to convince the stubborn minx. “We can find a doctor.”

  She shook away his hand. “I am not leaving without my brother.”

  “Emma, you must go,” Sean panted. He stopped to wince, bringing his hand up to his ribs.

  “No. You are hurt, Sean. I will stay and heal you.”

  Sean lifted his eyes from Emma. Through the pain, Lucian saw a question in them. “Jonah was my mother’s brother,” he explained.

  Closing his eyes, Sean relaxed. “Please, take Emma from here. Renfield is—”

  “Involved?”

  Lucian swiveled around. Renfield stood in the doorway, a pistol in each hand. Men crowded behind him, dark blobs in the mist. And over his left shoulder, Whitehall. Smirking.

  Renfield stepped inside, his boots clattering against the floorboards. He spoke to Whitehall. “Check Hartford for weapons.”

  The weasel unfurled his arms and walked to Lucian, patting his pockets. With a wicked grin, he pulled the pistol from his pocket. “That’s all he has,” he said and moved back outside, slipping the pistol in his belt.

  “Good,” Renfield said and took another step. “Now, I have a proposition for Miss Wickham.” He held the pistols steady on them. “Tell me where to find the gold or all of you will die.”

  Chapter 15

  Emma rose to her feet. Her heart thundered in her chest. Whitehall worked for Renfield. She should have known something was amiss.

  Renfield jerked one of the pistols. “Come with me, Miss Wickham.”

  She took a step and Lucian held up an arm. “She isn’t going anywhere without me.”

  “You think this a game, Hartford?” Renfield glanced to Whitehall. “Shoot Mr. Wickham in the head.”

  “No!” Emma scrambled around Lucian’s arm. “Do not shoot my brother. I will come with you.”

  Lucian reached for her, but she skittered out of his reach. “Emma, do not go with this man.”

  She turned, her gaze sweeping Sean trying to rise, then to Lucian. “Take care of Sean while I am gone. Please,” she added when he started to shake his head.

  Lucian gave her a hard stare. Then his dark, glittering eyes slid to Renfield. “If you harm her in any way, I will come after you with everything I’ve got.”

  Renfield chuckled. “Why would I harm so lovely a creature?” He waved the pistols. “Remain with Mr. Wickham, Hartford, and once I have the gold, I will return her.” His smile widened. “Unharmed, of course.”

  Emma stopped halfway between Lucian and Renfield, crossing her arms. “If I am to help you locate the gold, you must send for a doctor.” She scowled at the man. “And make sure they have plenty to eat. Would help my concentration if I am not so worried.”

  Throwing his head back, Renfield laughed. “Yes, yes, Miss Wickham, it will be as you say.” He turned to one of the men. “Tell my butler to send for the doctor at once, then to have Cook prepare food.” Swiveling back around, his eyes danced. “There, does that suffice?”

  Blowing out a breath, Emma nodded and unfurled her arms.

  “Emma.” After glancing over her shoulder, Lucian continued. “Do be careful.”

  “I promise you I will.” Her gaze dipped to her brother. “Take care of Sean for me until I return.”

  He gave a solemn nod and Emma turned back
to Renfield. The man stepped from the house and spoke to Whitehall. “Half the men remain here to guard. The other half watch the estate.”

  Whitehall nodded and spouted orders. Then Renfield pocketed the pistols and turned toward his estate. “This way, my dear.”

  They walked into the cool mist, and Emma had a difficult time keeping up with the man’s long strides. She trudged up the hill, slipping once on the wet grass, and was breathless at the top. Her breaths sawed in and out of her lungs, and she slapped her hands over her knees.

  Renfield stopped and turned. “Come, Miss Wickham, there is much to do.”

  With a nod, she straightened and followed after. Hearing a horse gallop down the drive, Emma squinted at the rider disappearing into the fog.

  “Sending for the doctor,” Renfield said. “You see, I keep my word.” He turned to the front door. “Come, I am anxious to begin.”

  Drawing in a deep breath of cool, damp air, Emma followed Renfield inside. He walked to the stairs and snapped his fingers at a maid polishing the bannister. “Tea. My study.”

  She dipped a curtsey and dashed away.

  Renfield motioned for Emma to follow and walked beyond the stairs, down a long hallway, to the room at the end on the left. He removed a brass key from his pocket and unlocked the door.

  Pulling off the itchy stocking cap, Emma stepped into the room, smelling of old books and cigar smoke. She closed her eyes a moment, the smell reminding her of her father, then followed Renfield to a long table in the center of the room. She jerked to a halt, recognizing the copy of the map she had drawn herself.

  “I see you recognize this,” Renfield said. “Good.” He pointed to a smaller piece of paper, the one with the coordinates. The wrong coordinates. “This, I do not understand. It ends back in the channel.”

  Before Emma could respond, the tea arrived. The maid rolled the cart into the room, poured the tea, and scurried away when Renfield dismissed her. “Come, refresh yourself. Will help you think more clearly,” he said, filling a plate with cucumber sandwiches.

  Emma set aside her cap and piled sandwiches and lemon cakes on her plate. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation as she moved to one of the chairs beside the fireplace. Low flames danced on the wood, removing the damp chill from the air.