Grabbing a sturdy brass candlestick that had been knocked to the floor, she launched to her feet with no clear plan except to find Gabriel and help any way she could. Her gaze shot across the room and landed on the gleam of a gun barrel aimed at Sir Samuel’s back. Without thought, Jane lunged, swinging her makeshift weapon at the gunman’s head with all her might just as he pulled the trigger.
The man tumbled forward, his shot going wide of Samuel’s back, striking the edge of the fireplace instead.
“Jane!”
She whirled around at the sound of Gabriel’s voice. Even above the din and wild confusion, she could hear the fear in it.
She took two running steps toward him, then spun about again and dodged left when a dark shape leapt toward her from the side. She caught a flash of blade and heard her own abrupt cry of pain at the sharp, biting sting on the back of her arm.
And then Gabriel’s arm wrapped around her waist. He yanked her clear off her feet, hauling her backward, before spinning her around and crushing her to his chest with one arm. His hand wrapped protectively around her head just as another shot rang out, close to her ear. She felt the report reverberate through Gabriel and into her.
Jane tried to shove away from Gabriel, her instincts screaming at her to fight. But Gabriel only pulled her close again.
“It’s all right. It’s done. It’s done, Jane.”
She noticed it then—the stillness in the room. There was no more fighting or shouting, only the muted sounds of harsh breathing, muffled groans, and the roar of blood in her ears. Beneath her cheek, Gabriel’s heart pulsed strong and fast.
“First man to move will be the next man to die,” she heard him announce to the room at large. “Understood?”
She turned her head, looking out from the shelter of his arms, and saw that Mr. Kray and his men were on the ground, some of them groaning and twitching. Lord Renderwell was divesting them of any remaining weapons. He had a gash over his right eye, a rapidly swelling lip and a blackened tear on the edge of his coat that looked suspiciously like a near miss with a bullet.
Sir Samuel was equally bruised and bloody, but Lady Brass appeared to have escaped visible injury. Her gown was torn at the sleeve and hem, but there were no cuts or blood that Jane could see. Sir Samuel, however, appeared unconvinced as to her general health. He ran shaking hands over his wife, swearing all the while.
Jane looked back to Renderwell as he crouched next to Mr. Kray, then shook his head at Gabriel.
At Jane’s shiver, Gabriel shifted, placing himself between her and Mr. Kray’s body. He ran his hands up her arms in comfort. “You don’t need to be here. Let’s get you—” She flinched when he reached her shoulder, and his face paled when he snatched his hand away and saw the stain of blood on his fingers. “Christ, you’rebleeding. Where is it? How bad—” He spun her none-to-gently to get a better look at the injury on her upper arm. “Why the hell didn’t you say something?”
“I forgot,” she murmured, twisting her neck for a better look. “It only hurt at first.” And even that first sting had been more surprising than painful. “Damn it, that’s twice. That’stwice I’ve been pricked in two days.”
“It’s not a prick, Jane. You’ve been stabbed.”
“I have not.” She frowned at the injury as Gabriel quickly unknotted his tie. It was difficult to tell from her viewpoint, but it didn’t appear to be more than an inch in length, and it didn’t feel particularly deep. “It’s a slice at most.”
“By all means,” Gabriel ground out, “let’s be technical.” He tightened the makeshift bandage round the injury, then began to inspect her in the same manner Sir Samuel had his wife. “Where else are you injured? What hurts?”
“I’m not. Nothing hurts.” She was shaking, out of breath, and her knees felt weak, but she was certain at least half of her symptoms stemmed from sheer relief. “I’m all right. What happened? Who shot?”
“Mr. Jones happened,” a new voice offered from the doorway, and Jane turned to see Mr. Fulberg stride into the room.
“Bloody traitor,” Samuel snarled.
“No, he came to offer help. Such as it was. He brought a half dozen men of his own. We routed Kray’s little army quick enough, but one of Jones’s men saw the standoff through the window and either panicked or imagined himself a hero. He took a shot at Kray. And missed, the idiot.”
“Our men?” Gabriel asked.
“Perkins and Sizemore are injured, but they’ll recover. Knife wounds, mostly. Kray’s men were poorly armed, and trying for a sneak attack.” His eyes roamed over the men on the floor. “I’m sorry to say they were partially successful.”
“Not your fault,” Renderwell replied. “Where is Jones?”
“On his way in.”
Mr. Jones arrived seconds later, timing his entrance with that of Lady Renderwell and the Harmons. As Lottie flew into her husband’s arms, Gabriel rounded on Mr. Jones, a middle-aged, diminutive man with thinning hair and round spectacles that sat loosely on a thin blade of nose.
“You set Kray on us.”
“On the contrary,” Jones replied evenly. “I sent Mr. Kray to retrieve Mr. Ballenger’s effects from his sister’s cottage.” He spared one disinterested glance at Kray’s lifeless form. “Obviously, I was unaware Mr. Kray was familiar with the very traitor whose identity I’d hoped to discover by searching those items.”
Jane looked to Lady Brass. “You said it was Mr. Kray’s name on the list. But it couldn’t have been. It doesn’t make sense.”
“It was his name,” Lottie replied. “And it wasn’t. Esther and Samuel left with Renderwell before I’d finished the last bit of deciphering. The name on the list is Oscar Kray the second.” She looked to Mr. Jones. “I assume he had a son?”
Mr. Jones blinked twice at the information, then gave a single nod. “He’ll be dealt with.”
Without thought, Jane found Gabriel’s hand and clasped it in her own. “He was protecting his child.”
“If you expect me to feel sympathy—”
“I don’t,” she replied softly. “It’s just sad, that’s all.”
“It was damn near disastrous for all of us. Why did you bring Kray in on this?” Gabriel demanded of Mr. Jones.
“He requested the assignment. I saw no reason not to oblige him.”
“You saw no reason to refuse his request to dismiss the men I’d chosen, and bring a small army of convicts to a lady’s isolated cottage?”
There was a slight, meaningful pause before Mr. Jones responded. “Mr. Kray never failed to perform the services requested of him in the past.”
“And you’re not in the habit of questioning the tactics of successful agents, is that it?”
“It is the nature of the work, I’m afraid. Miss Ballenger, you have my apologies. Had I known of Mr. Kray’s torn loyalties, this could have been avoided.”
Renderwell gave him a hard look. “You need to get your house in order, Mr. Jones.”
“And teach your men how to frigging aim,” Fulberg grumbled.
“Indeed.” He spared one more glance for the men on the floor. “In the meantime, I’ll have them deal with Kray and his lot.”
“I presume you’re still eager to have Mr. Ballenger’s list,” Lady Renderwell said. “It’s just down the hall, if you care to follow us.”
“Wait,” Jane called out when Jones moved to follow Samuel and the ladies from the room. She pulled away from Gabriel. “Mr. Jones, did Mr. Kray—either of them—kill my brother?”
For the first time, Mr. Jones’s expression and tone softened. Just a little. “No, Miss Ballenger. By all accounts, your brother died of influenza. I am sorry for your loss.”
She offered a stiff nod before Samuel led him from the room.
Lady Brass followed, but paused at the door frame. After the briefest hesitation, she turned around and took Jane’s uninjured arm in a firm grip. Her voice was urgent but quiet, meant for just the two of them. “I saw what you did for Samuel. I c
ouldn’t get to him in time. But you did.” Leaning over, she kissed Jane on the cheek and gave her arm a quick squeeze. “I am in your debt, Miss Ballenger. I won’t forget.”
***
In less than two hours, Mr. Kray, Mr. Jones, and all their men were gone from the house. Jane thought that were it not for the odd bang and scrape that arose from the repairs in Gabriel’s room, it might have seemed as if the violent events of that day never happened. Well,that,and the wound of her shoulder. And also the fact that Gabriel was standing in her room alternating between fussing over said wound and snapping at her for stepping between him and Mr. Kray in the first place.
“I was the last person in the hall,” she explained as she dropped onto the end of her mattress. “And I heard you and Mr. Kray. What else should I have done?”
Gabriel stopped in the act of pacing between the window and the fireplace to scowl at her. “You should have fetched Samuel.”
“And Mr. Kray might have shot you in the meantime.”
“He wasn’t going to shoot me that quickly. He needed me to get the list.”
“Well I didn’t know that, did I? Stop poking.” She slapped at his hand when he tried to reach for the bandage on her shoulder again. “It’s perfectly fine. Mrs. Harmon knows how to fasten a proper bandage. It’s little more than a scratch, at any rate. Look.” She waved her arm about, ignoring the slight twinge and pull of the cut. Unless she proved her arm wasn’t one soft breeze away from dropping off, he’d never stop fussing over her.
“Stop. For God’s sake, you’ll make it worse.”
“I’ll stop if you promise to cease your hovering and tell me what else you learned from Mr. Jones. Did you ask him about the lamp, and why Edgar—”
“I asked him about everything,” Gabriel cut in. “According to Mr. Jones, your brother meant to return to England and deliver the identity of the traitor in person, but in the days leading up to his trip, he began to suspect he was being followed. Fearing assassination, he created the list and had his man of business, who was familiar with his work, send it to you. Then he telegraphed Mr. Jones informing him of the lamp, but to be safe, he made no mention of its location. Edgar’s plan was to have his man tell Mr. Jones where to find the lamp only in the event of his death. After your brother’s passing, the man intended to disappear for a time, wait until things settled down, and then send the message. But first, he saw to it that you received your brother’s effects. Originally, he shipped them to the Foreign Office, as would be expected of him. But he used a personal contact along the way to secretly reroute the shipment to Twillins Cottage. When Edgar’s things failed to arrive in London, Mr. Jones began a search for them in the hope they might have been sent to the same individual who received the lamp.”
“And they were,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Mr. Jones told Mr. Kray of the lamp, I suppose.”
“He did, but it’s likely Kray was already aware of its existence. It wouldn’t have been particularly difficult for his son to have discovered the contents of that first telegram to Mr. Jones.”
“And this man of business, he must have been found if Mr. Jones knows all this—”
“He was, and is now safely on his way to London.”
“Good. That’s good.” She let out a long, slow breath. “It’s really done, then. All of it.”
“It’s over,” Gabriel agreed and reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “You and the Harmons are out of danger.”
“We can return to Twillins.”
His hand hesitated a beat. “If that’s what you want.” He let his fingers linger on her cheek, stroking across her skin. “Is it what you want, Jane?”
“I don’t know,” she said carefully. “That depends…” She cleared her throat, and suddenly found something on the cuff of her robe intensely interesting. “That depends on you. I’ve told you how I feel. What do you want, Gabriel?”
He remained quiet until she finally found the courage to look at him again. “I’ll be honest. It’s not to live at Twillins. It’s a perfectly lovely home, and if you’re there, I’ll be happy. I’ll do everything in my power to see that you are as well. But I’d rather be happy with you someplace else.”
With her, Jane thought. He wanted to be someplacewith her. It wasn’t a declaration of love, not yet, but it gave her a thrilling jolt of hope. “Where?”
“Someplace warmer, to start.”
“And not so isolated, I imagine. You want to live in London.”
“I like London. I don’t need to live there. And I’m not sure I’d categorize it as warmer.”
“But you work there.”
“Most of my clients live there, but it isn’t necessary that I do. Commissions and contracts can be negotiated on visits and by telegram. It’s what Samuel and Esther do, and it works well enough for them.”
“I… The Harmons…”
“May wish to stay on at Twillins, but I rather doubt it.”
“They can live with us?”
“Whatever you like, Jane. Whatever makes you happy.”
“I’d like… Well, I’d like to know exactly what it is we’re discussing. Are you suggesting we—”
“Wait.” He threw a hand up quickly. “Don’t. Don’t ask.”
“Why not?”
“Because I bungled our first kiss, and our second kiss, and made love to you for the first time above a tavern when I had no business putting my hands on you at all. I’ll be damned if I can’t muddle through this part in the proper fashion.”
He shuffled his feet for a moment and muttered something she didn’t catch. Looking as embarrassed as any fully grown man might, he finally dropped down to one knee in front of her.
“Jane Ballenger. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
In the past, when Jane had succumbed to the temptation to dream what a normal life might be like, she’d envisioned friends, parties, trips to town. Not even in her wildest dreams, her most romantic fantasies, had she imagined a future with a man she loved. Never had she hoped for a moment like this. “I’ll be of no help to you in society. Dinner parties and balls…”
He smiled at her. That wonderfully secret, rakish smile. “I don’t need help. I’m not interested in ascending the social ladder. I needyou. Marry me, Jane. Say you’ll be mine. And say it quickly because I feel like a prize idiot.”
“Iam yours.”
“Yes, but I want a contract.”
“And references?” she said on a laugh. “I think Lady Brass might oblige.”
“She thinks you hung the moon and stars now. And she’s right.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips to press a kiss to her palm. “God, I love you. Say yes, Jane. Say I can fall asleep every night with you in my arms, and wake up to your smile every morning. Tell me you’ll always be here to keep my secrets. Let me catch you when you jump from trees. Let me show you the world you’ve been missing. Let me protect you from it, too. Let me be your husband. Let me be yours.”
“Yes.” With tears filling her eyes, she pulled Gabriel to his feet and pressed her mouth to his. “Yes, please. Always.”
A Dangerous Deceit (Thief-Takers) Page 30