Suddenly his horse reared and screamed as only a horse hit by lead did.
Damn, Griffin thought as he rode the horse to the ground. Doomed now.
As his horse fell, Griffin lunged free of the crushing weight, dragging his sword in his weakened arm.
"Master!" Jabar shouted. "Run!"
Griffin knew that less than a minute had passed since the unknown assailants ambushed them, but time seemed to lose all meaning. Each second dragged on as a singular eternity as he rose from his knees and spun to face the next attacker. On foot, he was at a definite disadvantage, he thought, feeling oddly disjointed, accepting. On foot, he would likely die.
The sound of pounding hooves on the road tore Griffin from his calm.
"Forward! Attack!" came a feminine voice Griffin recognized.
The approaching horsemen were dressed in the red and blue colors of Lena's late husband. At point, rode his Lena in men's breeches and a blue and red cloak. She held a sword high over her head, leading the charge, a sword far too heavy for a woman with a failing heart.
Griffin didn't know what was happening exactly, or who was responsible, but he knew he'd been set up.
More gunfire exploded in the mid-afternoon air. Griffin's attackers fell rapidly around him. The eight men still astride were no match for Lena's thirty-odd soldiers, trained to fight in her late husband's army. Men screamed as they went down on their wounded and dying mounts.
Leave it to Lena to come to my rescue, he thought as the last of the attackers fell. A smile crept across his blood-spattered cheek. My sweet—
Before his eyes, the bullet hit her square in the chest. No warning. Only that determined look on her lovely face, and then the shock that came with knowing you've been mortally wounded.
Griffin bounded toward her as she fell, her horse dancing artfully away from her as it had been trained.
"No! Lena!" Griffin cried. Once again time slowed to an agonizing tick . . . tick . . . It took minutes, hours, weeks to reach her.
"Lena, Lena!" Griffin fell on his knees and lifted her into his arms. Her thick plaits of red hair tell over her shoulders and brushed the gravel road. "Lena!" He shook her and magically her eyes opened.
She smiled. "Griffin." It was barely a whisper, just a breath. The wide, wet wound in her chest bubbled.
"Good you could come," he choked. He knew she was dying. She knew she was dying.
Again came the smile. She didn't look as if she were dying, just sleepy. Her eyelids fell shut and then blinked open again.
"Tried to send word . . . but then . . ." She took in a rattling breath. "Then, knew it was too late. Had . . . had to meet you."
"Who were they?" Griffin leaned closer so he would not miss a word.
"S—Simeon's men. Simeon."
An iron vise gripped his chest. "He knows about me and Julia?"
She nodded and closed her eyes. "One of his new footmen was a spy. Mine. Old trick. Worked."
"I've got to get back to Bassett Hall."
Her eyes remained closed. "Worse."
"What?" He leaned closer. "How could it be worse? Julia's not safe in that madman's house."
Lena tightened her grip on Griffin's neck. "Worse," she repeated.
"How?" He didn't mean to be harsh, but he was so afraid. He was losing Lena. He couldn't lose Julia and his child, too. "How?" he asked more gently.
She took a long moment to answer, so long that Griffin feared she didn't have the strength. But then her eyelids flickered, and for a moment he was looking into the same brilliant green eyes he had looked into so many times over the years. Eyes he trusted. Depended upon. Loved.
"Traitor," she said firmly. "B—bastard knave is the traitor. W—wanted gold from my hold to help finance an army." She laughed, and then jerked in response to the pain. "Promised me a duchy when he was king."
When he was king? Icy tendrils gripped Griffin as tightly in his gut as if he'd been shot there, too. Simeon was the master of the spider's web.
And Julia was tangled in the midst.
Griffin took a moment to let this new revelation sink in before he met Lena's gaze again. She was staring up at him.
"Go," Lena whispered. "Go to her. Save her. Save yourself. No time."
She was right, of course. If they were to have any chance at all, he had to go now. But he couldn't leave Lena dying here on the side of the road. The sound of her breath told him she only had minutes to live. "In a moment." He brushed his lips against her dry cheek, fighting the tears that stung the back of his eyes. "I love you," he said. "Always have. Always will."
"No goodbyes. We'll meet again, you and I." She closed her eyes and smiled. "Sweet dreams."
Griffin held Lena as she took her last breath and died in his arms. He choked back a sob as he stroked a lock of her bright red hair. "Sweet dreams, my lady wife."
He kissed her cheek one last time and ever so gently laid her down. He wiped at his eyes and rose to beckon one of Lena's soldiers. It was time to take action; there would be time to mourn later. Now Griffin had to get to Bassett Hall and Julia, before it was too late.
Chapter Twenty-six
In late afternoon, Julia observed the door creak on its hinges and slowly swing open. Simeon crept into her sitting room. With the door ajar, she could hear music drifting from the new gallery on the floor below. The ball had begun.
He squinted into the dark room. Julia had settled Drusilla and Lizzy in the bedchamber and closed the door so that the last of the sun's rays did not penetrate the sitting room. The light from the hallway cast a long shadow of Simeon's form across the tapestry on the wall.
"I wondered how long it would be before you checked on us." Julia sat relaxed in the chair, her hands folded in her lap. She would not be beaten by this man. She would not.
Simeon was unable to hide his surprise. "Ah, you're . . . awake." He slid his pristine, gloved hand down the front of his new green and white doublet, made especially for his birthday ball.
"I think you mean ah, still alive."
His gaze shifted to the food tray still on the floor near the door. Drusilla had covered its contents with a crested napkin. "Not hungry, wife?"
"Not very."
"And the others?" He glanced at the closed door.
"Weren't hungry, either."
To Julia's complete surprise, Simeon's thin lips drew into a smile. "You're a clever woman. More clever than I thought." He nodded, seeming genuinely pleased.
Though her blood boiled, she remained calm, her hands still folded. "This isn't going to work. You have to let us go, Simeon."
"I think not." He raised one gloved hand to his chin. "But you have certainly altered my plans." He tapped his chin with one finger. "I've an idea." He held up the finger. "As a reward for your intelligence, you can come to my party. Everyone's so disappointed you're not there. They're looking for you, and we can't have that, can we?" He scowled, lifting on eyebrow. "You would almost think they came to see you and not me."
Her first impulse was to say that she wouldn't come to his birthday ball if it was the last stop on the road to everlasting hell. Thankfully, her logic prevailed. If she wanted to escape Bassett Hall, obviously she had to get out of this room.
"I should like to go to the party, my lord," she said carefully, rising. "I've so looked forward to it." She wondered if he could see through her lie.
He watched her. "I suppose you would. The refreshment is quite fine. You're probably hungry after your long day."
She started for the bedchamber. "Lizzy and I can be down in an hour."
He laughed so loudly, so obnoxiously, that she turned to face him.
"I said nothing of the dimwit," he declared. "She will stay here." Seeing her blanche, he added more gently, "With her nursemaid, of course. For safekeeping."
Trapped. He had trapped her again.
Julia hesitated, her hand on the doorknob. Did she remain here to protect Lizzy, or take her chances beyond the doors? What if he attempted to have L
izzy removed while she was below? Could Drusilla save her?
Julia's gaze met Simeon's, and she realized she had no choice. "I can be dressed in an hour's time."
"Excellent. I'll be up to escort you in forty-five minutes' time. I'd like you to wear your wedding gown rather than the one you were to wear."
Julia felt a strange shiver of premonition. "My wedding gown?"
"Now, now." Simeon held up his finger. "You are not in a position to argue." He lowered the finger she wanted to sever at his knuckle. "Mr. Gordy will remain behind to watch over your sister," he continued. "Should there be trouble, with her or the crone . . ." Simeon stared, deadpan. "He will slit their throats."
Julia stood at the far end of the gallery, engaged in conversation with a handful of guests. The room was brilliantly lit with hundreds of candles that glimmered off the wall of window glass. Ladies and gentlemen drifted, goblets in their hands, admiring the new gallery and its art collection and remarking as to what an impressive, powerful man St. Martin had become. If anyone noticed that she was dressed in the same gown she had worn for her wedding, they did not mention it.
Julia felt as if she were dreaming. Nothing around her seemed real. She was going through the motions of serving as Simeon's hostess, but she felt as if she were standing back watching herself, rather than actually participating.
She was frantic with worry over Lizzy and Griffin's safety. Would Simeon try to kidnap Lizzy while Julia was at the party? Had he really sent an army to attack Griffin? Where in heaven's name would Simeon get an army?
There were so many unanswered questions, and she didn't know where to begin finding the answers. She'd thought she had some idea what kind of person Simeon was, how he would react, but she was utterly confused now. Why had he released her from her bedchamber? Surely he'd not forgiven her for her transgression. But had he truly released her from her bedchamber prison so he would have a hostess for his birthday party? The idea seemed absurd. But at this point in the evening, what didn't seem absurd?
Someone spoke to Julia, remarking on the splendor of the painted plaster ceiling. Golden cherubs with harps and flutes danced above them in fresh gilded paint. Over the guest's shoulder, she caught a glimpse of Simeon. He was watching her. It was all Julia could do to nod and make some nonsensical response to her guest.
She'd been carrying a glass of wine with her for more than an hour, but it was still full. She knew it was foolish to be afraid of the food and drink. St. Martin certainly couldn't poison half of London. But despite the irrationality, she couldn't bring herself to sip anything but a little water.
As the guests that surrounded her chatted merrily, she studied their faces. She needed to make known her situation, beg for aid, but who could she tell? Who was not allied to St. Martin in one way or another? And even if she knew who she could confide in, how would she tell them? Simeon's beady brown eyes followed her every movement.
Julia felt so weak that she wondered if she were going to faint. She didn't even have a wall to lean against, as they were now behind the curtains she herself had seen hung only two days ago. Behind the curtain was the rear gallery wall, still wet from mortar filled in by the masons as late as this morning.
"If you'll excuse me," she murmured to the circle of ladies and gentlemen around her.
"Your servant, madame. Your servant," the men echoed.
Julia set her glass on a passing footman's tray and walked alongside the wall that was floor-to-ceiling windows. The music that played from the musicians' balcony high above them seemed to carry her along. She had no idea how she was going to get Lizzy and Drusilla and herself out of here so she could find Griffin, but she was going to do it. Tonight with a house full of people would be their best chance. Tonight before Simeon sent poisoned water to her bedchamber, or Mr. Gordy with his blade.
Lizzy lay completely still in the bed and opened one eye. Drusilla sat slumped in the chair, her eyes closed, her mouth open so that Lizzy could see the gaping holes in her mouth where teeth had once been. Drusilla exhaled in a noisy snore.
Carefully, quieter than any mouse she'd seen in the cellar, Lizzy slipped out of the opposite side of the bed and tiptoed into the sitting room. She closed the door without so much as a squeak of the hinges.
Lizzy had a plan. The earl had made Julia go to the ball. Julia said she was going to figure out a way to get help and come back for Lizzy and Drusilla. Lizzy didn't argue with her sister because she was already upset, but Lizzy had a plan of her own and her plan was better.
She stepped into a pair of quilted petticoats, not bothering to remove her sleeping gown. She stuffed the gown into the petticoat and tied it behind her. Without her corset she'd never fit into her bodice, but she could wear Julia's blue wool jacket. She snatched up the discarded garment and thrust her hands through the armholes.
Lizzy's idea was perfect. Julia was tired and worried about Lord Archer. It was going to be so hard for her to find help to get them out of Bassett Hall with the earl watching her. So Lizzy would get help. She would go to the farm where Amos milked cows and bring him back. He would know how to get Julia out of the house, because he was a smart man.
Lizzy tucked her unbound hair beneath one of Drusilla's silly mob caps. Now all she needed was a cloak. But they were in the clothes presses in Drusilla's chamber. Lizzy would have to walk through her own bedchamber to get to Drusilla's. Too risky, she decided as she rolled on a pair of stockings. She'd borrow one from the stable when she got the horse.
Lizzy found her shoes beneath the chair where she'd left them, and slipped them on her feet. Quietly, ever so quietly, she tiptoed to the door. It wasn't locked. She knew it wasn't locked or barred because when Mr. Gordy had checked on them after Julia left, he never locked it.
He must have forgotten, silly goose.
Lizzy turned the knob and opened the door. She peeked outside. The hall was dark and quiet. She stepped out and closed the door behind her. Light as a feather, she tiptoed down the hall. She passed the grand staircase. She was too smart for that. She'd take the back stairs to the servants' hall. Out the kitchen. To the barn. It was a perfect plan. Julia would be so pleased.
Lizzy slipped down the steps, still quieter than a mouse. She was so happy. She was going to find Amos. He was going to save her sister and marry Lizzy and make babies in her. Maybe they'd even go to the American Colonies and look for Sally the dog.
It was so dark at the bottom of the staircase that Lizzy had to feel her way along the wall. But she wasn't afraid. Thinking about Amos and his kisses kept her from being afraid.
Lizzy found the doorknob of the door that led from one hallway to another. She had thought it was silly to have a door there, but Amos said it had something to do with the hall being added so servants could get to the new gallery without being seen by guests.
Lizzy turned the knob.
She didn't expect light.
She didn't expect Mr. Gordy.
"Oh." Frightened, Lizzy took a step back.
"I knew you would come to me," Gordy said, taking a step toward her. "I prayed you would come." He took another step. "He said to kill you, but I could never do that. I could never—"
He put his hand out to touch her hair, and Lizzy opened her mouth to scream.
Mr. Gordy moved so quickly that she didn't have time to get out of his way. He grabbed her around the waist, and his hand clamped down so hard on her mouth that no sound came out.
Lizzy struggled in his arms, trying to scream. She kicked him in the legs. He grunted, but held her tighter.
"Shhhhh," he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. "You mustn't fight me. You mustn't draw any attention, Lady Elizabeth, else how will we escape?"
Julia drifted through the gallery, toward the servants' rear entrance between the main house and the gallery. Just when she was beginning to think there would be no hope in escape, sweet luck had struck. She'd not seen Simeon in half an hour. She didn't know where he'd gone or what he was doing, but he was defini
tely not in the gallery.
He'd been there beneath a Dutch still life around half past nine, watching her, and then when she looked up again, he was gone. For half an hour she had laughed and smiled and pretended to sample the exquisite menu. All the while she had watched for her husband.
Simeon often slipped out of his parties to meet with one or two of his guests privately in his library. Julia didn't know what business they discussed, and didn't care. She only prayed that this was the case tonight and that the business was lengthy.
Her plan was simple, and perhaps not the best, but it was the only thing she could think of. Without knowing who she could trust, she decided she could trust no one. She had no one to rely on but herself. With Simeon gone, she intended to slip into the front hall, take down one of the weapons, and go to the cellar and get gunpowder and musket balls from the locked armory. Thank the sweet Lord she'd had the sense to bring the household keys she'd borrowed from the housekeeper. With the loaded pistol, she would go upstairs to release Lizzy and Drusilla. Gordy had backed down once, she only prayed he would back down again. If he didn't, she'd shoot him.
With Lizzy and Drusilla free, they would make their escape out onto the street. They wouldn't take time to have horses saddled. She doubted the old nursemaid could ride. Instead they would flee to a busier street and hire a coach. They'd ride from London toward Lena's and pray they found Griffin unharmed.
Julia turned to respond to a gentleman in a blond periwig, when Simeon appeared directly beside her.
Julia's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't seen him coming.
"Wife?" Simeon smiled so pleasantly that she knew he was up to something.
"Husband?"
"Excuse us," Simeon said to the guest as he took possession of her arm. "Household business."
The guest bowed and turned away.
Julia attempted to remain at the man's side, but Simeon tightened his hold on her and forcefully steered her away. "I think that's quite enough dancing and dining, my dear, considering your delicate condition. I'm certain you're fatigued." He nodded, smiled, and spoke to guests as they passed.
In Love with the King's Spy (Hidden Identity) Page 27