“Michael, you’re to leave this to me.”
He sat on one of the benches, his face sullen. His voice carried over the hubbub of the classroom. “When Tommy returns, he’s gonna want his silver piece back.”
Garret glanced up from his perusal of a little boy’s pet rat. “When Tommy comes back, I’ll give him the coin with a chain to match.” He met Michael’s glare. “And he will be coming back. Soon. You have my word on it.”
“I take it you didn’t have any luck.” Garret leaned back against the cold, damp stone building, attempting to mimic Morgan’s nonchalance. No wonder the man seemed to be in a foul mood. The recessed entrance of the church was the best spot to watch the school, but it was deuced uncomfortable.
Morgan stretched his neck and shoulders, tilting his head from side-to-side. “I’ve not seen anyone suspicious all day. I thought sure Farley’d try to send a note to one of the students.” The big Irishman shoved away from the wall and stood. He rubbed a hand over his unshaven face. “Unless you’ve come up with something, we’ll have to put watches on all the male students until morning.”
Garret straightened. “Nothing, but I did take the liberty of procuring a list of the boys with their residences.” Cara had directed him to the office, but she’d said barely a word. He’d be glad when this was all over and he could stop hiding things from her. She didn’t deserve his deceit.
He extracted a folded piece of vellum from his pocket. “I’ve excluded the names of the very young children, but even then, it’s a substantial roster. Will Bradford be able to have all of them watched?”
Morgan smiled. “He’ll manage.”
“Good.” Bradford’s network in London must be broader than he’d suspected. He unfolded the sheet, then handed it to Morgan. “I’ve added the name of a young girl to the bottom of the list, and included her background. I’d like to see if Bradford can find her aunt.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and studied the names.
When his companion had finished with the list, he smirked at him. Garret wanted to wipe the expression off the Irishman’s face. “Is there a problem?”
“Not at all.” The Irishman rolled the paper and stuck the tube in his pocket. “But I thought you didn’t want any involvement with the children.”
“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean Emily should be left without a family. She needs someone to care for her.”
Morgan’s gaze softened. “They all do.” He shook his head. “Who would be believing it, the Marble Duke has a heart.”
“I do not wish to be called by that name.” But perhaps it fit, at least in the past, before Cara. He’d been afraid the last fourteen years, terrified he’d destroy the Kendal name. In spite of the promise he’d made, his reputation seemed trivial compared to the life-and-death struggles around him. “Regardless, the girl needs a home.”
Morgan studied him for a long moment. “I’ll see to it. I’m assuming you’ll be wanting to watch over one of the students.”
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
“Michael, the boy who followed us the other day. Trouble seems to find him, and I thought it best if I were the one to keep him out of mischief.” Garret nodded toward the paper, still visible in Morgan’s pocket. “He’s not on the list.”
“Then that’s settled. If Farley’s man makes a move, send me word at The Two Swans.” Morgan headed out into the afternoon’s lengthening shadows, but turned back before he reached the walk. “If we don’t find a note, you may still have to attend your appointment.”
Garret winced. The life of Mr. Stone was becoming exceedingly complicated. Had there really been a time when he’d longed for excitement?
Cara rearranged her sheet of paper so it wouldn’t lay over the deep gouges in the wooden table, yet still fell within the pool of light from the oil lamp. The table, which served as her desk, stood at one end of the classroom. She tapped the wispy feather of the quill against her cheek, then wrinkled her nose at the tickling sensation.
In her fairy tales, the characters always knew exactly what to say, but they didn’t have to convince a church council of seven quarrelsome men to give them more time. She brushed back a stray tendril of hair from her face, hoping her ink-stained hand hadn’t marked her cheek as well. There were still four days left, plenty of time to prove the students hadn’t left because of lack of interest.
If only Garret had gone to see the council this morning the way she’d hoped. He cared about the children; she could see it in his eyes. Why wouldn’t he reveal Farley as a kidnapper?
Granted, they didn’t have much proof, but Michael’s word that Farley abducted Tommy should count for something. The longer it took to bring the scoundrel to justice, the less likely it would be for her to find the missing children.
Gentle Tommy, he’d always been so eager to help, now he was being subjected to God knew what horrors. Panic forced its way to the surface at the thought. She shouldn’t be sitting here this evening writing letters; she needed to do something.
The door burst open. Emily rushed in, and nearly toppled a bench in her haste. It teetered, then fell back to the plank floor with a thud, but she ignored it and scurried over to her normal spot by the window.
“Slow down. A lady never runs.”
At the sound of Cara’s voice, the little girl started. “Sorry. I come after Peg.” She grabbed a cloth doll that lay near the coal brazier and crossed to Cara, holding her prize out for inspection. “See, I made her a new dress so’s she’d be nice for Mr. Stone.”
Cara laid her quill aside and took the shabby doll from Emily. It had a frayed arm, a missing button eye, and was now more gray than white, but the girl’s mother had made it for her and she’d refused to part with it. She adjusted the new outfit, which consisted of a piece of faded muslin from a sack. “It’s lovely. I’m sure Mr. Stone approved.”
“He said we were both beautiful.” The little girl watched her with luminous eyes.
After all this time, Emily appeared happy. Cara bit her lip and brushed back a lock of her baby-soft hair, then returned the doll to the girl’s expectant arms. It seemed odd that the change had come about because of a man who several weeks ago had no idea what to do with a child. “Emily, aren’t you afraid of Mr. Stone? He can be very stern.”
She shook her head, causing her curls to bounce on her shoulders. “He just seems mean cause his brother went to heaven.” Her solemn face seemed older than her tender years. “He’s really sad. Can you make him better?”
“Why me?”
“Cause he likes you.”
If only it were that simple. “I can try. But you and Peg have to help him, too.”
“We will.” She tucked the doll into the crook of her arm. “Now we have to go say goodbye to Michael. He’ll be mad if I missed him, but I couldn’t find Peg.”
“Where’s Michael going?”
“To visit Tommy.”
Cara stilled, her breathing shallow. It took all her control not to take the girl by the arms and demand to know what she was talking about. “How would he know where to visit?”
Emily smiled. “The man wat took all the others is going to show him, silly.”
“Do you know where he’s going to meet this man?”
“At the stable. The one with the big white horse on the sign.”
She must mean Horace’s. It was several blocks away. “I know the place. Did he say when he had to be there?”
“Sundown.”
She smiled, trying not to alarm the child. “Emily, can you do something for me? It’s very important.”
The girl nodded, an earnest expression on her face.
“I want you to go tell Papa what you told me. Tell him I’ve gone to Horace’s. Can you remember that?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now hurry.”
She watched the child slip from the room, then snuffed out the light and grabbed her shawl. Please, Lord, let me be in time.
For th
e longest time the Prince stood gazing at her face. Her serenity and purity brought the love to his heart that he had been searching for, but never found.
Sleeping Beauty
Chapter 12
The musty smell of damp hay and horses hung in the air. Garret held his breath, warding off the sneeze that threatened to reveal him to Farley and Michael.
He’d chosen his hiding place with care, avoiding the light cast by the oil lamps mounted on the walls. Still, if either of them happened to search the deep shadows in the corner of the stable, they’d discover him.
“I thought perhaps you wouldn’t come.” Farley pursed his lips, eyeing the boy as if he were a fat capon to be devoured.
“Well, you was wrong.” Michael turned his head toward the tac room. “What ‘appened to John? He always sees to the horses ‘ere.”
“I paid him to take a message to Black Watch Pub.” Farley’s voice became persuasive and he edged toward the boy. “I thought it best if we had our discussion in private.”
Michael took a step back, and Garret could see the boy’s fists clenched behind his back. “Where’s Tommy? I know you done somethin’ with ‘im.”
Was the boy a half-wit? Someone needed to teach him when to hold his tongue. If he angered the bastard, they may never learn where he’d taken the children. Garret fought the impulse to interfere.
Farley tensed and inched his hand downward until it rested on his thigh, too close to the knife barely concealed in his boot. “Ah, yes, your friend. What makes you think I’ve done anything with him?”
A warning bell went off in Garret’s head. The blackguard’s wheedling voice and his continued movement toward the boy meant trouble. He stepped from the shadows into the pool of light.
Farley’s eyes narrowed as their gazes met. “Ah, Mr. Hendricks, or do you prefer ‘The Duke?’” His thin lips turned up in the parody of a smile. “Couldn’t you wait for me to bring the lad to you?”
Michael spun around. “Mr. Stone. What are you doin’ here? I don’t need yer help.”
“Stone?” Farley’s eyebrows raised and the false smile turned to a sneer. “So, you’re the infamous—”
“Dear Lord.” Cara stood in the doorway, her hand braced against the doorframe. “Michael, come away from him this instant.” Her wide eyes filled with fear and even from where Garret stood, he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she clutched her shawl.
“Let me handle this.” His command didn’t have any effect. Rather than wait for the boy to do as she instructed, she rushed in, throwing herself between Farley and Michael.
Garret shot forward, but Farley jerked his knife from his boot, seized Cara, and held the blade to her throat. The boy lunged at them, but Garret managed to grab hold of his shirt, yank him back, and step in front of him.
“That’s right, I’ll carve up the pretty little teacher if you don’t stay put.” Farley peered at Garret, his maniacal expression reminding him that the man had nothing to lose. “You know I will, don’t you?” He pressed the edge of the blade into Cara’s flesh until a tiny rivulet of blood marred her ivory throat.
Fury threatened to choke Garret. Bloody hell. He’d never felt so powerless. He was a duke. This shouldn’t be happening.
“Why couldn’t you leave it alone?” Farley whined. “Madam Averrel don’t hurt the brats none. Just makes them earn their keep.”
Garret saw the anger in Cara’s eyes and tensed. She brought her heel back, connecting solidly with Farley’s shin. Her captor leaned forward from the impact, breaking the knife’s connection with Cara’s throat. Garret leapt forward. He knocked the blade from his adversary’s hand as he tore Cara from the man’s side, then sent her sprawling.
A sickening thud filled the air as she hit a nearby stall. He winced, but didn’t have time to see what damage he might have inflicted. Farley had already raised his fists and Garret read murderous intent in the man’s eyes. “Michael, see to Cara.”
“You’ll wish you’d never tangled with me.” Farley began to circle. Garret watched his wiry opponent. At least the man’s ridiculously embellished coat should slow him down. The temptation to lay into the bastard vied with his instructor’s voice urging him to take his time, study his antagonist.
The first blow, when it came, surprised him with its force. He’d underestimated the advantage of Farley’s rings. The metal dug into his flesh, trying to find bone. He moved his lower jaw to make sure it still worked while blocking the next punch.
The smaller man appeared to be everywhere at once. He darted in, landed a blow, and danced away again. So much for the coat theory. Garret bided his time. His ribs hurt from the abuse and blood oozed from his lip. He fought the urge to wipe the warm liquid from his chin, rather than allow it to drip on his shirt.
At last his opponent began to sway and Garret pressed his advantage. Thank God he had a longer reach, and Farley was forced to move faster to avoid being struck.
The increased pace wore the small man down until his jabs became sloppy. At the edge of the light, Farley backed up and kicked a bucket behind him. Water sloshed over his heeled shoes and spread into the straw at his feet. He glanced down, surprise on his face. The distraction was enough.
Garret lunged forward, pressing his forearm across the man’s neck as he crushed him against a stall beam. Suspended by Garret’s hold, Farley’s feet dangled, banging against the wood for purchase. The horses snorted, pawing the floor in a strange counter rhythm to his opponent’s struggles.
The man clawed at Garret’s arm. The urge to keep up the pressure until all life drained out of the bastard almost overwhelmed him.
This man had dared to hurt Cara. He deserved to die.
But not yet, not until he’d told them everything. He eased up on Farley’s throat and the man strove to take a deep breath. “Now, I want you to tell me exactly what you did with the children.”
Farley opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Garret eased the pressure on his neck just a bit and his opponent’s ragged voice and foul breath spewed forth.
“I’m not sayin’ anything. My friend will take care of the likes of you.” He drew his lips together as though he wanted to spit at Garret, but only accomplished a thin trail of moisture that oozed from one corner of his mouth. Rage turned his face even redder and added strength to his voice. “You wait until he gets done with you, Your Grace. Some duke.” Farley, sneered. “You don’t even know who—”
A shot rang out. Red blossomed on Farley’s forehead, then his body went limp. What the hell? Garret spun around. No one was visible. In two strides he reached Cara. “Michael, take her arm.” They dragged her limp form into an empty stall. “Keep out of sight and stay with her.”
He edged toward the opening and studied the back of the stable. The shot had come from that direction. Perhaps the loft, as he couldn’t discern any movement below.
Keeping to the shadows, he crossed the room, scaled the ladder, then eased onto the platform. He stooped in order to keep from banging his head on the ceiling. Mounds of hay and storage boxes met his probing gaze. A slight creak brought his attention to an exit at the rear of the loft.
The door stood ajar. He crept forward, kicked it open, then stared out onto a sea of London’s rooftops. Moonlight played on chimneys of all shapes and sizes, creating long shadows that cut swaths across the silvery expanses. No movement alerted him.
For someone who knew the dregs of London, it wouldn’t be a hardship to hide among the warren of crowded structures. He’d need an army to drive the fox from its hole. He slammed the door shut. With the attacker gone, Cara had to be his first priority.
Fear raged within him as he hurried back down the ladder. What if she were truly injured? He would be responsible. First his brother, now Cara.
Even the horses stood quiet as Garret approached the stall. A coach lantern glowed from a crate, its illumination encompassing the desperate scene in front of him.
Cara lay, unmoving, on a pile of straw. The
play of light and shadow turned her features to the purest white marble. He couldn’t breathe.
Michael chafed her hand, as if trying to start the flow of blood through her limbs. The boy turned a tear-streaked face toward him. His voice quavered. “She won’t wake up. I tried everythin’.” Garret had to strain to hear what he said. “I think she’s dead.”
“She’s not dead.” He wouldn’t let her be dead. “Michael, I want you to get Doctor Field. He’s at 12 Sutton Street. Can you remember that? Tell him the Duke of Kendal needs his services.”
“But what do I tell the doctor when ‘e finds out I lied to ‘em? He’ll never ‘elp Cara.”
Garret gripped the boy’s shoulder then drew him to a standing position. “You let me worry about him.” He gave Michael a slight shove toward the entrance. “Just go.”
The young man’s forlorn gaze rested on Cara until he turned and scurried from the stable.
Garret knelt. On closer inspection, he could see the swelling on her forehead. He’d been afraid she’d hit her head. The thud of wood impacting with a human skull was an unmistakable sound, especially for him.
With great care, he gathered her into his arms, then rose to his feet. He hugged her body against his chest and started for the vicar’s cottage. She felt so fragile. Her arm hung at her side, banging his thigh with every step. He couldn’t lose her now.
He loved her.
She’d become the only thing he cared about. Through her, he’d learned the difference between being alive and living.
It took forever before the cottage came into view. As he approached, the front door swung open. Light knifed into the darkness. He crossed the threshold and headed for Cara’s room.
“What happened?” For the first time the vicar sounded old as he followed him up the stairs. “How badly is she hurt?”
Garret laid her on the feather mattress and arranged a pillow under her head. “She’s struck her forehead. I’ve sent Michael for the doctor.”
The Perfect Duke Page 14