“I—”
“Geoffrey even told me he’s discovered that Carroway has made plans to plant the evidence, since by now he’s realized that obviously he can’t get rid of it without us knowing.”
If there was one thing Geoffrey didn’t lack, it was nerves. And his tale had enough of a flavor of the truth to make repudiating it extremely difficult. “Papa, there’s more to this than you may realize.”
“Than I may realize? Yes, I suppose thirty years serving in His Majesty’s Army and three years as a senior member of the Horse Guards counts for nothing compared to the games of you and your cronies.”
“That is not—”
“I beg your pardon, sir, but you may not enter this house!” Ballow’s voice came, pitched high with distress.
Lucinda whipped around, just in time to see Robert shove the butler against the door and stride into the foyer. She could tell, just from the light glinting in his eyes, that he’d been successful. Her heart leapt. Less than a second later, though, tension and dread strangled through her again. If he’d found the papers, he should have gone straight to the Horse Guards. “Robert,” she said shakily, “what are you doing here? You don’t have—”
“Lucinda,” he said, stopping at her side. His gaze, though, was on her father. “I require a word with General Barrett. In private.”
“I want you out of my house, you damned rogue. Don’t mistake my patience for leniency.”
“Luce,” Robert murmured, leaning closer, “please wait for us in the library.”
She nodded. “Is everything all right?” she whispered, touching his sleeve.
“It will be.”
Robert waited until she’d gone, then faced her father again. “Shall we do this in your office, or here in the hallway?”
“We won’t do it at all,” the general retorted. “Don’t make me throw you bodily out of here, Carroway. Have the dignity to leave on your own.”
“I will. In a few minutes.” Robert gestured at the office, doing his best to conceal his own anger and frustration. “Inside, sir.”
General Barrett gave him an assessing look, obviously calculating the three inches in height and twenty-five years in age difference between them. Looking as though he’d rather chew glass, Barrett nodded. “Two minutes,” he snapped.
It would probably take longer than that. Robert followed him in, closing and locking the door behind him. “Sit, sir,” he instructed.
“Nothing you say will convince me that you are anything but a traitor, Carroway. So unless you intend to kill me—which I don’t suggest, given the number of witnesses in this house—you need to leave. Not just my home, but the country. That is the only favor I will do for you, and that is for Lucinda’s sake.”
“In April of 1814,” Robert began, sitting in one of the desk’s facing chairs and keeping his gaze on the cluttered desk surface, “you were in charge of one of the Army divisions surrounding Bayonne.”
“I was there,” the general snapped. “You don’t need to tell me.”
“Yes, I do. Bonaparte was finished; both sides had called a ceasefire.”
“I know—”
“But you knew that General Thouvenot was still holding onto Bayonne, and that he wouldn’t let go. And you also had word from French deserters that Thouvenot intended to attack you.”
“That information was unreliable.”
“Ah. So that’s why you sent a patrol out in the middle of the night to take a survey of French entrenchments—because you knew no one was going to be changing positions.”
“That is correct. What—”
“That was my patrol, General Barrett,” Robert forced out, having to clench his fists to keep his voice low and steady. “A thousand French soldiers against fifteen English troops. Most of my men were dead before they could raise their weapons. Me they beat into unconsciousness, because their command wanted British officers for questioning.”
The general’s face had gone very still, gray tinging his usually ruddy countenance. “We had word,” he said after a moment. “Everyone in the scouting patrol was killed.”
“All but one. And then, twenty days after you beat him back into Bayonne, Thouvenot finally accepted that Bonaparte had abdicated, and the war ended.” He leaned forward, lifting his gaze to meet the general’s steel gray eyes. “But not for me. Chateau Pagnon never surrendered. The British Army never tried to take it. Their network stayed active, planning and plotting for Bonaparte’s escape. They asked me about you, about your family, because you were my division commander and they were looking for ways to either assassinate British leaders or blackmail them.”
“You—”
“I didn’t say a word, General. And then finally, after seven months, when I realized I wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer, after I’d seen…things I won’t ever be able to forget, I tricked them into killing me. Or into making a good try at it, anyway. Deciding I was dead, they tossed me over the wall. The Spanish resistance found me two days later and threw on enough bandages to hold me together.” It had been worse than that, but telling it didn’t serve any purpose. All he needed to do was convince General Barrett that he wasn’t a traitor. The rest was for him, and he had no intention of sharing it.
“So…you blame me for what happened to you,” the general said slowly, his voice rasping, as though his mouth had gone dry. “Is this why you—”
“Yes, I did blame you,” Robert retorted. “But I don’t want revenge. And I damned well don’t want another war.” He shuddered. “What happened to me, I would never wish on anyone else.”
“Then—”
“Now, I need you to listen to me, very carefully. And not just for my sake or yours, but for Lucinda’s. No interruptions, no contradictions, until I’m finished. Is that clear?”
The gruff look came into the general’s face again. “If that’s the only way to be rid of you,” he growled, but his voice lacked conviction.
“It is. First, how long were those documents missing from the Horse Guards before the rumors about the theft started?”
Barrett narrowed his eyes. “One day,” he finally said.
“And how long after you told Lord Geoffrey Newcombe that I’d been imprisoned at Chateau Pagnon did that news come out?”
“I don’t—”
“Answer the bloody question.”
The general thought about it; Robert could see the reluctant affirmation in his eyes. “Twelve hours. Perhaps less.”
“I make a good scapegoat,” Robert murmured, “but I didn’t do it.”
“And you think Geoffrey did.”
“I know Geoffrey did.” Taking a breath, Robert pulled the folded papers and blueprints from inside his coat and laid them on the general’s desk. “I found them a few minutes ago, in Geoffrey’s uniform trunk. The Duke of Wycliffe will attest to that fact, if it becomes necessary.”
“You put them there. He told me you would attempt to put your theft onto his shoulders.”
“Why? What would I have to gain from taking them in the first place?”
“I…” The general swore. “But what would Geoffrey have to gain?”
“Geoffrey wants a command in India. At the moment, he’s a poor soldier with a good name. He can marry Lucinda and gain a promotion, but that’s only if she agrees to it. In the meantime, he needs insurance. With those papers, he gains the money for selling them, and another war with Bonaparte, either or both of which would suffice to net him precisely what he wants.”
“And what about your involvement?”
He shrugged. “I’m convenient, and not very popular, and a potential rival to Lucinda’s affections. But the real question, General, is what about your involvement?”
The general lurched to his feet. “Are you accusing me of—”
“No, I’m not. But you’re the reason Geoffrey had access to the Horse Guards, and he’s made it clear to anyone who will listen that he considers you his mentor. This will probably have repercussions
for you.”
“He was just here,” Barrett said, almost to himself. “Newcombe. Telling me that Lucinda and her friends had hatched a plot to save your reputation and discredit him. I was furious, but at the same time I remember thinking that Lucinda’s friends had married an interesting assortment of rogues—Dare and St. Aubyn, to be exact—and I couldn’t figure out why in the world they would have decided to dislike Geoffrey. Lucinda likes him, you know. Or she did.”
“Yes, she did.” Robert pushed to his feet. “So you have the recovered papers there in front of you, and my story to weigh against Geoffrey’s. And your own reputation to think about. I’ll be in the library when you come to a decision about what to do.”
“And then you’ll go ahead and discredit Geoffrey and myself and go your merry way, laughing.”
“No, I won’t, because that would hurt Lucinda.” He paused, wondering whether the general could hear in his voice how important that particular point was to him. “I will abide by whatever you decide,” he continued. “The only thing I ask is that if you decide to blame me for all of this, you will make certain my family is cleared of any wrongdoing.” What it would mean if soldiers came to his door to arrest him, he didn’t know, but he did know that the choice rightfully needed to be left to General Augustus Barrett. And right and wrong, justice and iniquity, had come to be very important to him over the past few years.
He left the office, closing the door behind him. Lucinda sat on a couch in the library, her hands folded primly on her lap and her gaze out the window. Her knuckles showed white through her skin, and she practically vibrated with tension, but he supposed that anyone who didn’t know her would think her the portrait of tranquil patience.
“Lucinda,” he murmured, entering the room.
She swept to her feet. “What’s happened?” she demanded, charging up and grabbing his sleeves in her fingers. “Did you find the papers? Geoffrey was here. I don’t know everything that he told Papa, but he was trying to blame—”
Robert leaned down and covered her mouth with his. She felt so warm and alive—so different from the cold black story he’d just told her father. “I found the papers,” he said quietly, tucking a straying lock of brown and copper hair behind her ear.
Lucinda wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. “Thank God,” she breathed, her slender body shaking. “Thank God. I was so worried. When I saw Geoffrey here, I thought—I didn’t know what to think.”
He backed off a little to gaze at her face. It was becoming difficult for him to remember the grayness in his life before Lucinda—everything seemed colored by her compassion and her beauty. If these rumors had occurred a year ago, he would simply have left. Nothing had mattered, nothing felt…real—until he’d spoken with Lucinda and her hopefulness had touched him. Even with his arms around her now, it wasn’t enough. She felt so fragile, as though she might vanish into smoke if he closed his eyes. And yet he knew how strong she was, how caring and honest.
He wanted to tell her. Wanted to tell her how much he loved her. That, though, wouldn’t be fair. She wanted to marry someone simple and amiable, someone of whom her father would approve, someone other than him.
“Robert,” she whispered, her brow furrowing, “what is it?”
He forced a smile. “Nothing. I’ve left everything with your father. I suppose the next step is up to him.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That was between two soldiers, Lucinda. I can’t tell you.”
General Barrett cleared his throat. They both turned to see him eyeing them and the way Robert had his arms around her waist, and she had hers around his shoulders. He would have pulled away, but Lucinda locked her fingers behind his neck, keeping him there.
In his own hands, the general held the stack of stolen papers. “Lucinda, Robert and I need to go somewhere.”
Her heart froze. Robert’s muscles stiffened beneath her fingers, but he didn’t move otherwise. What had they talked about? What had her father decided? She was afraid to let Robert go; she had the terrifying feeling that she would never be able to hold him again. “Go where?” she asked.
“To the Horse Guards, an—”
“No, Papa! Robert didn’t do it!”
Her father stretched out one hand. “I know that. Now.” He glanced at Robert, and then back to her. “Will you do me a favor, Lucinda?”
For the first time, she wanted to ask what the favor might be before she agreed to anything. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she had always been able to trust him before. “Of course.”
“I assume that the rest of your conspirators are at Carroway House?”
Robert nodded. “That’s the designated meeting place.”
“Good. Lucinda, I need you to go to Carroway House and ask the gentlemen there to locate Lord Geoffrey Newcombe. They’re not to do anything but locate him, and send word back to Carroway House. Robert and I will be there shortly.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.” He cleared his throat again. “I may be a bit tardy, but I intend to do the right thing.”
“I’ll get my bonnet,” Lucinda said, and hurried upstairs.
“ ‘The right thing,’ ” Robert repeated. “You know what that could do to you.”
“If this is deemed to be my fault, I will face the consequences,” the general answered. “At any rate, I will not let Geoffrey get away with this merely so I can save face.”
Robert hadn’t expected that. He’d thought at best that perhaps Geoffrey would make an unexpected trip to Australia or the Americas, and that the papers would magically turn up somewhere at the Horse Guards. He’d observed General Barrett over the years, looking for anything that would illustrate his boorishness and cowardice, or whatever it was that had caused him to send a patrol straight into an ambush. Perhaps he’d judged too harshly.
Lucinda reappeared in the doorway, out of breath and still practically shaking with tension. “I’ll take Helena and the curricle. We’ll get the search started.”
“Be careful, Lucinda,” Robert said.
To his surprise, she stopped halfway out the door and turned back. Striding straight up to him, she tugged on his hair to lower his face, and then kissed him soundly. “You be careful,” she murmured, and was gone.
“Ahem.”
The general stared at Robert, who gazed coolly back at him. He could draw whatever conclusions he chose; as far as he was concerned, Lucinda could tell whatever tale she chose about the two of them. Whatever lay between them, belonged to them—and no one else.
General Barrett had his gelding saddled, and the two of them rode in the direction of the Horse Guards. Neither spoke; Robert didn’t want to, and Barrett obviously had a great deal on his mind.
“We had contradictory information,” Barrett said abruptly, his eyes on the road ahead. “We were told that Thouvenot might make a run through St. Etienne the next morning. That’s why I wanted information on any troop movement and cannon placement. If I’d known, I never would have sent out a lone patrol.”
It wasn’t an apology, but Robert wouldn’t have accepted one, anyway. Instead he nodded. “What I told you about how I left Chateau Pagnon—that goes no further than the two of us.”
“Agreed. I—It might be best if you waited in the foyer. You’re not very popular here at the moment.”
“It was never my aim to be popular at the Horse Guards.” Swinging down from Tolley, Robert noted the suspicious looks from the sentries and otherwise ignored them. “I’ll wait here.”
The papers gripped in one hand, General Barrett strode into the building. Only to himself would Robert admit that he felt more comfortable staying close by Tolley, just in case he needed to make a quick escape. With its enclosed parade grounds, the Horse Guards looked far too like a prison for his taste. Hopefully the general would be quick and persuasive, and then they could figure out what they wanted to do with Geoffrey. And then he could figure out how to prevent Lucinda from s
etting her sights and aiming her lessons at someone else.
Chapter 25
I would die to make her happy.
—Victor Frankenstein, Frankenstein
“Bit went to the Horse Guards?” Tristan demanded. “Voluntarily?”
Lucinda tried to catch her breath. She didn’t think she’d ever driven so fast, but even with wings it would have felt too slow. Robert and her father needed help, and they’d put her in charge of arranging it. “My father promised they would be here as soon as possible. Please. We need to locate Geoffrey.”
Evelyn and Saint had joined the group as well, and Wycliffe remained, along with all of the Carroway brothers and Georgie. Everyone had jammed into the frilly morning room, which was beginning to look a bit overcrowded.
“I suggest we fan out in teams of two,” Bradshaw contributed. “That way if we find him, one of us can return here with word, and the other can keep an eye on him.”
Dare nodded. “That sounds good. Wycliffe and me, Shaw and Andrew, Saint and—”
“You’re not leaving me out,” Lucinda stated, folding her arms. “There are places I can look, as well.”
“We can look,” Evie amended.
“I’m going, too!” Edward yelled.
Dawkins scratched at the door. “Begging your pardon, my lord,” the butler said, squaring his shoulders, “but if there’s anything I can do to help, I should like to volunteer, as well. And I believe most of the household and stable staff agrees with me.”
“Whatever we do, we need to do it fast,” Wycliffe said. “Once Geoffrey reaches home, he’ll know we found the papers. He could be halfway to Bristol by now.”
“I don’t think so,” Lucinda returned. “He seemed fairly confident that he’d managed to turn the suspicion back on Robert. If he were to run, he’d definitely look guilty. It’s more likely he’s out trying to do more damage.” She blanched. “Or trying to convince Bow Street that Robert’s a traitor and needs to be killed.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Tristan said, though his already serious expression became even grimmer. “All right. Dawkins, you stay here, to collect any information that comes back. We’ll use grooms and footmen as our runners, but I think Georgie should remain.”
England's Perfect Hero Page 30