Trevor looked away, bitter, shaken, and confused, feeling as though this hoped-for future was about to be snatched away from him, too. He knew he couldn’t afford to get rattled right now, but he was suddenly more afraid of her reaction to his naked savagery than he’d ever be of any number of enemies coming at him. As the two separate pieces of his existence, past and present, clashed like iron double gates slamming closed, he cursed himself as a fool for ever getting so close to her in the first place. Surely, he was headed for a fall, because this kind of happiness couldn’t be trusted.
Too late now. He was unmasked; the moment of truth had come. He quite expected to discover that, like she had once worried, what they had found together was too good to be true. Now that she saw the awful proof of his abilities, she would turn her back on him, abandon him, just like Laura had. Another major loss, and this one, damn, he’d never seen it coming.
Maybe some men were simply meant to be alone.
He clenched his jaw and looked away from her with a pang of odd, angry shame, telling himself all that mattered was that she was safe. She and her father, and George, too, and even the dog. As for himself, he could not afford to falter, could not let doubt creep in. That was how men in his profession got themselves killed.
His work tonight wasn’t finished yet. The leader had escaped. With a low curse under his breath, he squeezed the horse’s sides and raced off into the darkness to catch the last would-be intruder.
Grace was still standing there in shock, her hand covering her mouth.
Wide-eyed and slightly queasy, she couldn’t stop staring at the three corpses outside her front door.
I think I’m going to be sick.
Her father rushed from man to man to see if any of the fallen were still alive, but two had the gore of crimson bullet holes gaping open on their chests, and the third had apparently suffocated from a crushed windpipe.
God, it was too horrible.
To be sure, he had protected them and himself. But was all this really necessary?
“Nothing more to be done for these three,” her father grimly announced.
“I’m going after him.” George ran to get his phaeton. “Lynch threatened my life, and besides, that blackguard needs to answer for all he’s done to Marianne.”
“I’m coming with you!” Grace called in a taut voice. If anything went wrong—if anything happened to Trevor—she had to be there to help him.
Her father tried in vain to dissuade her, but she refused to listen and stepped up into George’s carriage. In the next moment, Papa decided to come with them, but his goal was to try to prevent any further violence.
“Let’s go!” George slapped the reins over the horses’ rumps and sent them barreling down the drive.
“There he is!” the lad exclaimed a few minutes later as soon as they turned onto the country road.
Grace no sooner looked ahead than she spotted Trevor galloping through the moonlight. Then he disappeared from view around the bend. “They’re heading toward the village!”
“Lynch will have to cross the bridge to get back onto the main road to London,” George remarked.
“Don’t get too close. I don’t want us getting anywhere near the line of fire,” her father warned, though as fast as Trevor was riding, it seemed unlikely they’d be able to catch up until the two enemies had stopped.
His borrowed horse slowed its jolting gait a little when they went from the packed earth of the road to the cobblestone street at the edge of the village.
Lynch wasn’t far ahead.
Trevor cursed to himself for not having caught the bastard before they reached the town: The presence of civilians was always a complicating factor. But he bade himself be patient. Once they were through the village and over the bridge, then he’d close in and put an end to this.
Riding for his life, Lynch turned the corner ahead, thundering into the village square. Trevor was only seconds behind him, but as he swept around the corner and charged into the square, he suddenly swore.
Ahead of him, Lynch roared at the rest of his gang, waiting for him at the tavern.
Son of a bitch. The blackguard had brought an army with him. Trevor pulled the horse to a skidding halt, but in seconds, he was surrounded, a dozen guns pointed at him. One of the gang members grabbed the bridle of Trevor’s borrowed horse and pulled it to a halt.
He had no choice but to lift his hands in surrender.
But he immediately noticed he wasn’t the only one who had run afoul of the visiting gang. Lynch’s minions had also cornered the Windleshams, apparently on their way through the village to leave for their Brighton holiday.
Several gang members had taken hold of the Windleshams’ carriage horses. Others had pushed the coachman and grooms to the ground and wouldn’t let them get up. Amid the gang’s mocking laughter and shouted abuses, Trevor could hear Callie screeching in fright, Lord Windlesham bellowing in futile indignation, and Lady Windlesham protesting shrilly from inside the fine coach as the gang harassed them.
Presently, the gang members paused in their sport, turning to see what was happening in front of the pub.
“Get off that horse,” Lynch ordered Trevor, breathing hard. When he did not move fast enough for them, Lynch’s nearest henchmen pulled him down from the saddle.
“Put your hands were we can see them!”
“On your knees.” The gun Lynch thrust against his temple persuaded Trevor to obey. He lowered himself slowly to his knees, his hands in the air, but he was already scanning for an opportunity to turn the tables on them.
“Where are the others?” somebody asked the gang leader.
“This bastard killed them,” Lynch ground out, then he punched Trevor in the face.
He absorbed the blow, shaking his head to clear it. Lynch poked him in the cheek with the pistol. “Who are you?” he snarled.
“Nobody in particular,” Trevor replied with a mild wince.
“Answer me! Where’d you learn to fight like that? He killed them right in front of me like it was nothing,” Lynch told his men.
Trevor just stared at him.
Lynch sneered. “Very well, it’s all the same to me. You can die as easily as they did.” He cocked his pistol, and Trevor shut his eyes.
“Jimmy! Don’t you dare!”
Trevor flicked his eyes open in surprise and glanced in the direction of the woman’s voice.
Marianne.
“Let him go.”
To his surprise, Marianne was holding a shotgun. He recalled her saying something once about the fowling piece that Old Abe, the innkeeper, kept behind the bar for protection.
She aimed it at her former flash man, but as she stepped closer to the lantern on the wall, Trevor saw that her face was covered in bruises. Still, the tenacious ex-harlot showed no sign of backing down. “He’s got nothing to do with this. Leave him alone.”
“You know him?” Lynch barked at her.
She nodded. “Trust me, he’s got connections. You don’t need that kind of trouble. Just let him go.”
“The hell I will! He killed three of my mates.”
“You’ll get a lot worse if you don’t leave him alone. I’m trying to protect you, you idiot! He’s the constable!”
“Oh, really?” Lynch let out a harsh laugh. “I see. Are you goin’ to try to arrest me?” he taunted.
“It’s just an honorary post,” Trevor said modestly, but his eyes glinted as he waited for an opening to launch his counterattack.
“You have the look of a soldier to me. You seen some action in the war?”
“I’m just a farmer,” he replied.
“Let him go!” a voice called from some distance behind him. “It’s me you want!”
Lynch looked past him. “Well, well, if it isn’t our young lordling. You come to give yourself up, Lord Brentford?
”
Trevor glanced over his shoulder, appalled to see that George had just arrived in his phaeton. Worse, Grace and her father were with him, and all three of them looked as horrified to find him in this situation as he was to see them arriving. George stepped down from his carriage.
“Bring him,” Lynch ordered his men.
Just then, Callie poked her head out of the carriage. “George? George! What do they want with him? Leave him alone!”
She began screaming when George was also shoved down onto his knees beside Trevor.
Trevor scowled at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled under his breath.
“This wasn’t your fight, Montgomery,” he answered. “You saved my life. I’m not going to let them murder you.”
“George!” Callie kept screaming his name in a panic, until Jimmy’s nearest henchman gave her a rough shove.
“Shut up, you barmy hen!”
Her parents erupted in fury inside the coach.
Trevor felt the situation spinning out of control as the Reverend Kenwood next attempted to insert himself into this debacle. “Please, people! Listen to me, I beg of you! Everyone needs to calm down!”
The old man walked cautiously toward the ruffians surrounding the front of the tavern. “There is no need for all of this. Please!”
“Who are you?” Lynch demanded.
“I’m the pastor here. Surely whatever has happened here, we can sit down and talk about this like civilized men—”
“Don’t make me laugh! Stay out of this, priest. You get in my way, don’t think I won’t shoot you. Now, back off!”
The Reverend Kenwood faltered, but Trevor’s stomach clenched when he saw Grace come forward cautiously.
Get out of here, he begged her mentally, to no avail.
“Marianne? Please, Mr. Lynch, may I speak to Marianne for a moment?” she asked in a tone of unquestioning respect. It was wise of her to let Lynch feel that he was in charge, Trevor thought, though he suspected she must be seething, knowing who and what this brute was. Nevertheless, he’d wring her neck for putting herself in danger.
“Grace, get back!” her father started, but she ignored him, too.
“What do you want with the wench?” Lynch demanded.
“I’m her friend. I only want to know if she’s all right.” As Grace pushed her way to the front of the crowd, Trevor watched in mingled horror and admiration.
How calm she looked! He was ridiculously proud of her in that moment. Apparently, she had enough experience in dealing with the downtrodden and sorry souls like Tom Moody not to be intimidated by the likes of Jimmy Lynch and his gang.
Trevor also noted she did not even glance over at him. He realized that she couldn’t, not when he had a gun to his head, or she’d lose control of her emotions. It sank in that she was trying to help him, perhaps buy him time by redirecting the flash man’s attention to his former mistress.
“I’m over here, Miss Grace,” Marianne called in a shaken voice from the stoop outside the tavern, still clutching her shotgun.
The iron lantern above the pub’s door made Marianne’s shadow loom large over them all. Grace stepped closer, turning away from Trevor. “Marianne, what’s happened?” she asked wonderingly. Then she went very still when she saw the bruises on her face. “My God,” she breathed, “what’s he done to you?”
“Grace,” Trevor warned, but she ignored him or maybe did not hear.
“Hoy! Missy! Get the hell away from her,” Lynch ordered, clapping his hand down on Grace’s shoulder to spin her to face him. “I bet I know who you are. You’re the preacher’s daughter that caused all this trouble in the first place!”
Grace’s eyes widened and filled with righteous fury.
Oh, no, thought Trevor. He knew that look firsthand.
“Bloody do-gooder!” Lynch spat, looking her over. “You’re the one that brought her here to try to hide her from me, eh? Thought you’d steal my property?”
Lynch was surprised, but Trevor was not when Grace suddenly went on the attack. “You monster! Get out of our village! Leave her alone! Who do you think you are? Some kind of a tough man, beating up a woman? You’re lower than a dog!” she flung in his face.
“Well, every dog gets his day, don’t he?” he taunted. “Maybe you should come along with us. Try a little whorin’ yourself. You might like it. I can arrange that, you know.”
As he grabbed Grace by the arm, her father yelled, but Trevor leaped to his feet and lunged at the gang leader. He tackled Lynch, slamming him down onto the cobblestones.
In the next instant, although he had his hand around Lynch’s throat, he was surrounded by a bristling phalanx of weapons. “You keep her out of this,” he snarled at Lynch in rage.
“Oh, she means somethin’ to you, does she?” he mocked him, panting. “Well, that settles it, then. She’s comin’ with us.”
Trevor squeezed harder and would have killed Lynch on the spot if not for the fact that one of the gang members suddenly put a gun to Reverend Kenwood’s head. “Do it, and I kill the old man, eh?”
“Papa!” Grace yelled in terror.
Trevor considered his options and knew he could not take the chance.
He let go of Lynch and raised his hands and ignored Grace’s cries of distress as they spent the next several minutes punishing him for his attack on their leader.
Fortunately, the Order taught their agents how to endure this sort of brutal gauntlet. Not that he had ever really expected to have to use his training in quaint, sleepy Thistleton. But at last, when Lynch was satisfied that the gang had beaten out of him any thought of trying that again, Trevor was thrown into the Windleshams’ carriage, the baron’s family having been tossed out into the street.
Trevor was a little woozy from having his head slammed on the ground. And with six or eight men thrashing him, he realized he must have lost consciousness briefly, for he could not quite remember the moment they had manacled his wrists. He tested the handcuffs in groggy confusion, but winced as Callie’s piercing shrieks filled the square.
“George! George! No!”
Her voice made his head throb worse.
“It’s all right!” the young lord called back bravely, though he looked terrified as the ruffians shoved him into the coach beside Trevor. He, too, was handcuffed. “I’ll be fine!”
“No, you won’t, you piece of shit. I’m goin’ put a bullet in your head,” Lynch informed him. “Just like I promised.” Then he laughed.
Grace whispered something to her father just as Lynch grabbed her by the arm. “Come along, poppet! We wouldn’t dream of leavin’ without you!”
“Grace!” her father shouted.
“Jimmy!” Marianne protested.
“Shut up, bitch. Get up on the driver’s box,” he ordered Marianne as he made his followers handcuff Grace. She was not fighting them nearly hard enough for Trevor’s liking, almost as if she wanted to be taken captive with him. Then Lynch pushed her into the coach and slammed the door. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Where are they taking us?” George whispered as the Windleshams’ carriage lurched into motion seconds later.
“Trevor?” Grace asked softly. “Are you all right?”
“Never better. I’m going to wring your neck,” he grumbled at her. “You had no business butting in. Why didn’t you run when you had the chance?”
“They didn’t give me much of a choice,” she retorted. “Besides, when you quit fighting back, I knew I couldn’t leave you. Even an Order agent can’t defend himself when he’s unconscious.”
Trevor scowled that she had seen him that way. “How long was I out?”
“Maybe thirty seconds. I couldn’t tell how badly you were hurt. Is anything broken, sweeting?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Poor
thing.” She leaned closer, lifting her bound hands to touch his swollen face tenderly with her fingertips. He flinched a bit at the contact, but even now, her touch felt heavenly.
What a baffling creature she was. One minute he thought he’d lost her love; the next, her actions proved she’d rather risk dying with him than be left behind to live without him.
Then she leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek, pausing to whisper in his ear: “I told Papa to fetch Sergeant Parker and his men.”
Trevor received this news with a wave of relief. He gave her a canny half smile and nodded. “Clever girl.”
“I’m so sorry,” George uttered, sounding near tears. “Now all three of us are going to die, and it’s all my fault.”
“The hell we are,” Trevor answered, willing himself back fully into the land of the living.
“We’re not?” George asked, wide-eyed with fear as he sat across from Trevor and Grace in the darkened coach.
“Of course not,” Trevor promised in a hard tone. “Don’t worry. I’ve been in much worse situations than this. Just do as I tell you and give me a moment to figure out our next move.”
“You see?” Grace whispered to George. “I told you he can handle whatever comes. We just have to work together, and Trevor will get us out of this.”
Her blind faith in him made him ache. Blazes, hadn’t she learned by now that he was trained to lie?
Think, he told himself, as the coach clattered on at top speed through the night.
Chapter 24
About an hour later, they pulled off the road and turned in at a wooded drive. Through the trees, Grace saw a dim, orange light shining like a baleful eye.
“Where are they taking us?” George asked anxiously.
“I don’t know, but we’ll soon find out,” she murmured, staring out the carriage window as she sat beside Trevor.
When the woods cleared about a hundred yards up the drive, she saw that the light was actually a window in a small, gloomy, stone house surrounded by several acres of fields.
Gaelen Foley - [Inferno Club 06] Page 31