Let Me Be The One

by Jo Goodman

  "She did tell you," the baron almost crowed. He glanced at his wife. "Did I not say that she would? She told you that pathetic story that Louise helped her concoct. It soothed Elizabeth, I think. She wanted to believe it was true."

  "Harrison," Louise remonstrated with him mildly. "This serves no purpose."

  "I want him to know." Battenburn's thick hair whipped in the wind, but his jaw remained stubbornly set. "It is a small thing, Louise. Let me have this one small thing." His eyes shifted back to Northam. "I was her lover," he said. "The father of her child. I had her first, Northam. Think about that as you—"

  Elizabeth's cry was positively feral as she vaulted through the embrasure and over Northam's shoulders, hurling herself at Battenburn. North pushed Sutton and Whittington broadly to the side, ducking and throwing himself forward as the baron reflexively fired off his pistol. He caught Battenburn just below the knees as Elizabeth's body collided with the baron's chest. They brought him down together. Louise's cry could not quite smother the sound of her husband's skull cracking on the cold stone floor. Northam rolled off Battenburn and made a grab for Louise's ankle as she recovered her wits and began to run for the door. He missed her boot, scrambled to his feet, and gave chase. One thought propelled him forward. If Louise managed to flee to the secret maze of corridors in Battenburn, even Elizabeth might not be able to find her again.

  Elizabeth shook off Lord Sutton when he would have helped her to her feet. Her eyes followed the trail of blood from Battenburn's supine body to where Northam was prepared to throw himself at Louise's retreating back.

  Her warning shout came a moment too late. Louise turned suddenly, brandishing her weapon. She waved it wildly, not at her pursuer, but in Elizabeth's direction. Northam's vision was clouded by a red haze, part terrible anger, part mind-numbing fear, and part something he did not quite understand, a sense that all was not just as it should be. Not entirely of his own volition, he pitched forward, his outstretched arms grasping the baroness's gown. Caught off balance, Louise stumbled through the open doorway and into the stairwell. A heartbeat later, Northam's momentum propelled him through the same opening.

  Elizabeth, Sutton, and Whittington were all running to the door as the pistol fired. The report echoed hollowly in the stone stairwell. Louise's body tumbled down the spiral steps, twisting limply in a flurry of petticoats until it lay still some twenty feet below. Elizabeth caught North by one leg before he snaked and rolled along the same route as Lady Battenburn. Sutton leaped over Northam's body to lend aid to Louise, while Whittington helped Elizabeth get her husband to his feet.

  Northam staggered up, leaning heavily on both supports. They were uneven bookends. Elizabeth's shoulders were below his own, while Whittington was taller by several inches. Still, he was grateful for their assistance. He was finally able to identify the thing that was not quite as it should be.

  "You are shot, North," Elizabeth said. "Come, rest here. I will stay with you while Lord Whittington finds a—"

  From the stairwell they all heard Sutton's robust voice reverberate against the stones. "Her neck is broken. Lady Battenburn is dead!"

  Elizabeth had no feelings to spare. She steadied North. "Come. Sit here. You must—" She stopped this time because her husband was paying not the least attention to her.

  "Where is he?" he demanded.

  Elizabeth followed the direction of his gaze to where the baron had been lying. A smear of blood marked the spot where his head had hit the floor. The drops beyond it, though, were from North's wound and led directly to where they stood. There were no such markings to identify the path of the baron's escape.

  A feeling that was akin to dread, though not nearly so powerful or compelling, made Elizabeth's eyes lift to the same opening in the battlement that she had climbed through. She glanced at Northam and saw that he was of a like mind. Knowing she could not hold him back, she chose to assist him instead. Whittington helped her get him to the wall. By the time they reached it, Lord Sutton had joined them.

  Like knights of old they lined up between the stone merlons. Instead of tipping cauldrons of boiling tar over the lip, they leaned forward through the low intervals and stared down.

  Below them, ignominiously sprawled on the frozen ground, lay Harrison Edmunds, the last Baron of Battenburn.

  Epilogue

  So many well-wishers trooped through the residence at Merrifeld Square that Northam remarked he was as popular an attraction as a two-headed calf at the Hambrick fair.

  "Oh, I wouldn't say you were as fashionable as that," South said. "We stood in line for above an hour to see the calf." He looked to Eastlyn for confirmation. "We did not have to wait so long as that here."

  Eastlyn leaned back in his chair and propped his heels on a footstool. He accepted the glass of port that West placed in his hand. "No waiting in the least," he said. "Shown right in."

  "The two-headed calf was a fraud," West pointed out. "And North's injury is quite genuine." He paused in the act of pouring a glass of wine for Southerton as though struck by the possibility they were all being gulled. "It is genuine, isn't it?"

  "Must be," South said practically. "North's already married. It's not as if he requires a ruse to garner the sympathies of the muslin set."

  "Would you like to see?" North asked dryly.

  The patient was ignored and South went on. "He has Lady North to take care of him, and she appears to be doing the thing right. Fretting. Coddling. Nurturing. Scolding."

  He sighed and held out his hand to West, who promptly placed a glass of dark ruby wine in it. "One is quite envious."

  Elizabeth's lips twitched. "Why, thank you, my lord. I think." Sitting at the foot of the same chaise where North reclined, Elizabeth could easily reassure herself of his presence and his fitness. "Do I scold, North?"

  "Only with the most loving intent," he said dutifully.

  His friends hooted and Elizabeth smiled serenely. When West looked to her for permission before he handed North a glass of wine, she nodded, which only made them laugh harder.

  North pretended to be unamused. He accepted the wine West offered him with a long-suffering sigh. This earned him several sympathetic pats on his blanketed legs from Elizabeth and more laughter from the Compass Club. "I would gladly keep you entertained, but I fear I may be delaying your departure."

  East, South, and West all exchanged glances. "I have no plans," Southerton said.

  Eastlyn raised his glass. "None here."

  Westphal dropped onto the sofa beside South. "I am also without another engagement. Came to hear the story of what happened at Battenburn. The colonel gave us an account, but it's not the same as hearing it from you."

  "Perhaps he isn't up to it," East said. He did not look to North for a response, but Elizabeth. "Will it tire him overmuch?"

  Elizabeth smiled sweetly and assured him, "He is well enough to land you a facer if you keep having him on."

  Now it was North who laughed. "Nicely done, my lady." He regarded his best friends with a sheepish grin. "She is my champion."

  West raised his glass in a gesture of salute. "So we are given to understand. To the fair Elizabeth."

  "Here. Here," Eastlyn chimed in. "To Lady North."

  Southerton leaned forward and touched his glass to theirs. "Lady North."

  North lifted his own glass and added huskily, "Elizabeth."

  Touched, Elizabeth's beautifully expressive eyes grew luminous as they toasted her. With a smile that was somehow both modest and radiant, she waited until they were finished before she held up her own glass. She looked at each of them in turn. "Gentlemen, I give you the Compass Club."

  The members grinned at one another. With no word passing between them, they shared in unison the secret toast from their Hambrick Hall days.

  "North. South. East. West.

  Friends for life, we have confessed.

  All other truths, we'll deny.

  For we are soldier, sailor, tinker, spy."

  Deli
ghted, Elizabeth made them repeat it before they drained their glasses. She showed more prudence and sipped from hers, reflecting on how suited they had become to the pledge of their youth. She sat back, quiet and perfectly content to listen, as North related the particulars of the events at Battenburn Hall. His audience was attentive throughout, interrupting only occasionally for clarification or an admiring aside. They showed restraint in not heaping praises upon her for her timely rescue of Sutton, Whittington, and their own dear friend, correctly surmising that North would not thank them for encouraging such activities as climbing out windows and scaling battlements in the future. Neither did they express any overt interest in North's description of her manly attire, but the looks they cast in her direction were rather more appreciative than disapproving.

  They were curious about North's account of the recovery of a certain cache of jewelry, all of it purported to have been stolen by the Gentleman Thief. The strongbox was hidden in Lady Battenburn's bedchamber, but North explained away the find as a happenstance discovery without ever revealing Elizabeth's other identity. By now the rest of the Compass Club had worked this out, but they showed admirable restraint in keeping it to themselves.

  They were considerably more vocal in their judgment as to whether Lord Battenburn had met his end trying to escape or because it was his intention. North and West thought it was the former, East and South, the latter. Elizabeth refused to weigh in with her opinion and effectively ended the discussion with her telling silence.

  Somewhat sheepishly, Southerton flung his arm around the curved back of the sofa, settling back as North's tale drew to a close. "I've been wondering how Elizabeth knew where the baron and baroness had taken you and the others."

  North smiled and gestured to Elizabeth. "You must ask her."

  "Elizabeth?"

  "I followed in the passage. Northam kept talking, you see, and I could hear him. He made certain that Lady Battenburn gave him directions. When I realized their destination must be the roof, it was not so difficult to find a way out to the outer wall. It was the window in the room where you stayed that provided the most efficient exit."

  Southerton could only shake his head, remembering all too well the difficulty North had had negotiating the stone wall outside that window. "But the parapet at Battenburn is enormous. You couldn't have anticipated where along the crenelation they would take North."

  "It was not entirely good luck that sent me in that direction. I knew which way the door to the roof opened. I considered it likely that they would march North and the others straight ahead to the wall. It was the shortest path."

  Eastlyn rubbed his chin. "How did Lady Battenburn not find you in the passageway before she came upon North?"

  Elizabeth set her wineglass aside. "I heard her approaching. There was no time to give North warning, but I was able to escape farther down the corridor. When she disappeared into the hidden room off the library, I went back and waited. North had given me his pouch to hold, but it did not occur to me to search the contents. I thought it contained candles and some foodstuffs." She gave her husband a mildly reproving look. "I did not believe that he would lie about having a pistol in his possession."

  Northam immediately looked to his friends for support. "Would you have told her about the pistol?"

  "Not the point at all," East said. "You didn't, and now you're in Dutch. Don't want to be in Dutch with you. No one does."

  Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand, hiding her smile. She cleared her throat, bringing their attention around to her. Her hand fell back in her lap. "I have never fired a pistol before," she admitted. "My lord's decision was perhaps the wisest one."

  Eastlyn snapped his fingers. "There. You see, North, just like that you are out of Dutch. Very forgiving sort, your lady. I wish Sophie were of a like mind." He glanced at Elizabeth. "Do you think you could speak—"

  "East!" The three other members of the Compass Club said his name in unison.

  "Oh, very well," he said."I shall keep my own counsel." While his friends enjoyed a chuckle at his expense, East took solace from the fact that Elizabeth offered him a surreptitious wink.

  "Go on," North encouraged her.

  "I was only going to say that if had I found the pistol and attempted to use it, I might have been a worse shot than Battenburn."

  "Or a better one," North said, looking down at his shoulder. Beneath his white linen shirt, the bandages were visible. After a week the wound was still tender but already showing signs of healing nicely. He had been the one to insist on leaving the Battenburn estate after only four days recovery. Elizabeth had warned him there would be a parade of visitors to Merrifeld Square once it was known he was returned to London, but he had been insistent. "I think if I had but ducked another inch it would have missed me entirely."

  Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly. She did not like to think of the consequences had North not ducked at all. "It is behind us now and I am glad for it." She moved from the end of the chaise toward the middle when North extended his hand. His fingers threaded through hers.

  Westphal stood suddenly and motioned South and East to do the same. They rose together, acknowledging, as West had, that Northam and Elizabeth were both tiring. For all their good humor and willingness to speak of what had happened at Battenburn, the retelling was not completed without exacting a toll on them.

  Elizabeth escorted them to the front door. "It was kind of you to come today. I know North was hopeful that you would."

  South bent and kissed Elizabeth's cheek. "You have our thanks."

  "Your thanks?"

  "For watching his back," East said.

  "For saving his life," West added.

  Elizabeth's smile was gentle. "You have it quite wrong," she said softly. "He saved mine."

  * * *

  Turning carefully on his side, North propped himself on his uninjured arm and caught a glimpse of his wife's bare white shoulders before they were lowered under the water. The fragrance of lavender was lifted in ribbons of steam above Elizabeth's bath. Her elegant neck was exposed in a smooth, glistening arch as she leaned her head back against the lip of the copper tub.

  North sighed. "You might have tarried until I was situated. It cannot be safe to dive into such a shallow pool."

  "I did not dive."

  "Well, then, you were very quick about it."

  "I am a modest woman," she said coolly, soaping her washcloth. "And you have a lamentable tendency to ogle."

  North did not take issue with Elizabeth's description of herself as modest, but the stirring of blood in his groin was evidence that he was prepared to do much more than ogle.

  "It remains a fact that you will eventually have to get out and I shall be lying in wait."

  She turned her head sideways and regarded him through half-lowered lashes. "Please say you do not mean to pounce. I do not think you are well enough to be pouncing."

  "I shall lie quietly," he promised.

  Elizabeth smiled and tilted her head back. Her eyes closed as she ran the soapy cloth across one raised arm. The water was deliciously hot, just a degree or two below her tolerance. It suffused her skin with heat and color and made every movement richly languorous. The smooth surface of the water was broken as she lifted one foot and rested the heel on the edge of the tub. Water droplets ran over her calf and fell back in the tub, shifting the rising pillars of steam.

  "A post arrived from my father after the Compass Club left," she said.

  "Oh? You have left it until a late hour to tell me."

  "You were resting when it came. "But that did not explain why she hadn't said anything when he awakened or later, over dinner. "He is asking permission to visit us here." She glanced at North to see if he was as surprised by this notion as she had been. Her answer was there in the lift of both his dark brows. "I did not know what to make of it. My father has never applied to me for permission for anything. I needed to think about it before I told you. I hope you will understand."

&n
bsp; He did. In Elizabeth's place he would have done the same. "Rosemont will have heard that Lord and Lady Battenburn are dead. While he cannot know of your involvement, he must entertain a great many suspicions."

  She nodded. Few people knew that Elizabeth had been at Battenburn, and it was her intention to let it remain so. Colonel Blackwood, the Compass Club, Sutton, and Whittington were those privy to the truth. Even North's own mother thought Elizabeth had merely ridden there when news of the shooting was delivered to her. "Perhaps he wants to make amends," she said, unaware of the wistfulness in her voice. "I still do not know what I want to tell him. He will not approve of me accompanying you."

  North gave a short laugh. "I had not realized he and I would find agreement on any matter so soon."

  "Do not be smug. He will blame you for permitting it." She saw that sobered North's grin, and her own expression became earnest. "We have not talked about it, North. I confess, I have been afraid to broach the subject, and today, when you were telling the others what happened on the roof, you never mentioned it."

  "Elizabeth," he broke in gently. "It will remain between us."

  "Lord Sutton... the earl... they both heard what Battenburn said."

  "And they will never repeat it. You must harbor no fear on that score. They are in your debt."

  Elizabeth pushed herself upright. A cascade of water fell over her shoulders. Her movement caused a small tide to lap at the curves of her breasts and against the side of the tub. "But you, North? I do not want your silence because of some imagined debt. I want us to speak of it now and never again because you know that Battenburn lied."

  North heaved himself to a sitting position. Pain made him wince, but it was all the attention he gave it. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and closed the distance to Elizabeth in a few strides. His nightshirt billowed around him as he hunkered beside the tub. Ignoring both her startled look and the way she pressed herself against the copper tub's curved back, North cupped her chin and held her steady.

  "If ever I believed Battenburn's accusations—and I did not—the notion would have been immediately dismissed by your own response. I do not know if he could have said anything that would have unleashed so much fury or so much strength. When I felt you clawing at my back, seeking purchase to haul yourself up to the embrasure, I was not certain you could do it. In order to help you I would have had to reveal your presence. It was Battenburn who made that unnecessary. He put forth a lie so abominable to you that it had the power to catapult you over that wall."