Celeste Bradley - [The Liar's Club 03]

by The Charmer

  Knowing Louis, he would have hidden his captives somewhere that amused him. A bell tower or an animal’s cage…she looked up at the castlelike facade of the building…or a dungeon.

  It didn’t take long, for there was only one stair that went down. The massive door might have posed a problem, but the slack guards had left the key in the lock for their own convenience. God bless lazy men!

  When she and Ethan eased into the great storeroom, Rose gasped at the sight of Collis and the Prince, hung from their wrists like prisoners of the Bastille. Collis rolled his head at the noise, blinking into the shadows.

  “Who’s there?”

  Ethan whistled low. “Good Lord, Col! Whose wife did you kiss this time?”

  Collis’s eyes widened. “Damont! What are you doing here?”

  “Your fiancée brought me.”

  “She’s not my fiancée.”

  “I’m not his fiancée.”

  Their simultaneous denials had even the Prince chuckling. Ethan tilted his head and pursed his lips. “Good. I’ll marry her then,” he said lightly.

  Rose pushed past him. “Not bloody likely, you sot.” As much as she longed to go to Collis first, she knew her duty. She examined the Prince’s manacles. There was no chain. The iron bindings were bolted directly into the stone.

  The Prince was eyeing Ethan over her shoulder. “I’ve seen you before. Damont?” George narrowed his eyes. “You’re not a Liar!”

  Ethan blinked. “Oh, it comes and goes.”

  Collis spoke up. “Don’t worry, Your H—ah, self. Ethan can be trusted.”

  George gazed at Collis for a long moment. “You trust him with your life?”

  Collis smiled slightly. “More. I trust him with yours.”

  Ethan cleared his throat. “I really think we ought to get out of here.” He placed the iron between the stone and George’s manacles. “Watch your wrist there,” he warned. Then, with Rose’s help, he put his weight on the bar, trying to pry the bolt from the stone.

  Rose thought they had it for a moment, but the bolt only bent a bit, making the pry bar slip and sending her and Ethan toppling to the floor.

  “Ouch,” the Prince said in a mild voice, but Rose heard Collis gasp. “You’re bleeding, sir!”

  In horror, Rose looked up to see a dark stream running down the Prince’s bared arm. The iron had cut the flesh of his wrist. “Oh, no!”

  Ethan stood, brushed himself off, and lifted the lantern to peer at the wound. Then he shrugged. “It’ll scar a bit. But it missed the vein. You’ll live.” He turned to catch Rose’s and Collis’s glares. He blinked in surprise. “What?”

  Rose pushed him aside to press a clean handkerchief against the Prince’s wrist. “Are you all right, sir?”

  The Prince nodded, a bemused expression on his face. “You know, I think I like him.”

  Ethan snorted. “Goodness me, I should hope so. I’m only about to get your pudgy arse out of this hole.”

  The Prince blinked. “Then again, perhaps I don’t.”

  Ethan shrugged. “As though I cared a whit.” He turned to Collis’s manacles. “Let’s see if these are any easier than your uncle’s bindings.”

  “No,” Collis ordered. “His chains first.”

  Ethan dropped his hands. “Who’s doing this, you or I?”

  Rose reached to take the pry bar from Ethan. “Really, Mr. Damont, we must do His H—his uncle’s first.”

  “Yes,” agreed the Prince mildly. “My pudgy arse first, if you please.” He contemplated Ethan for a moment. “Simply out of curiosity, why do you assume I am uncle to Collis?”

  “Same chin, under those bruises. I’ve seen Collie after a brawl or two, you know. Can’t recognize a thing but that damn stubborn chin of his.” Ethan grunted with effort, but the iron scarcely bent. He stopped to wipe the sweat from his eyes, then grinned at the Prince. “Besides, you look like the sort to enjoy his wine, women, and song, just like old Collis there.”

  Collis snorted. “According to Rose, the aristocracy is all but inbred anyway.”

  “Got it in one.” Ethan tried leaning back instead, grunting. “Methinks you all look alike.”

  “Hmm.” The Prince turned his head to gaze at Collis.

  Ethan put all his weight behind the bar, Rose as well. “Although Col is a good sight better looking.” The bolt sprang free at last. He straightened and clapped the Prince on the back. “Off you get, old codge. You’re free.”

  Rose was staring at George, brows drawn together. Ethan snapped his fingers before her eyes. “Might I disturb your brown study? I’d rather like to get free of this pit.”

  “Quite.” Collis strained at his own manacles. His veins bulged, but there was no progress. Then Ethan stepped up with the pry bar. It was only the work of a moment to get the first manacle free. The second was more resistant. Even when Ethan and George put their full strength behind the pry bar, there was no releasing him.

  The pit of Collis’s stomach began to chill uneasily. “This isn’t going to work. You lot go on. Get the—my uncle to safety, Rose.”

  “Shut it.” She wouldn’t look at him as she strained against the bar once more. “We cannot leave you.”

  “Rose,” Collis said softly. “You must and you know it.”

  Her shoulders sank. She stepped back and let the bar hang limply from her hands. “You wouldn’t leave me here.”

  Her faith in him warmed him inside. Despite the very real danger, he tossed her one of his old devil-may-care grins. “What’s a bit of damp cellar, m’lady? I’ll have a lovely kip while you call down the troops, all right?”

  She raised her chin. “No.” She jerked her head at the other two men. “Get over here,” she barked. They obeyed, surprisingly enough. With the three of them leaning on the pry bar, they tried from every angle and every lever point.

  “Damn it, pull, you bastards,” Rose hissed. She swung all her weight from the bar. Ethan and George were red-faced and puffing.

  With a sound like a rifle shot, the bolt popped out of the wall and flew across the storeroom. Rose, Ethan, and George collapsed in a pile. Collis dropped to his knees, freed.

  Collis slumped a bit when they finally got him on his feet. His vision tended to fog a bit around the edges. He blinked rapidly, trying to restore his equilibrium. He couldn’t slow everyone down now.

  George was standing watch by the door. He looked up when Ethan and Rose helped Collis to his side. “This is Wadsworth’s factory, isn’t it?”

  Rose nodded. “Yes, sir. If we can get to the courtyard, there’s a drain there. We can take the sewer under the wall.”

  George squinted at the shadowy factory beyond. “In a moment. First, we need to find one of the carbines for Forsythe to test.”

  Collis blinked. “But why? Wadsworth is now guilty of attacking and kidnapping you! That’s enough to send him up forever.”

  George shook his head. “No. He attacked and kidnapped two men who broke into his house and stole from him. He yet has no idea who I am.”

  Rose nodded. “You do look really terrible, sir.”

  George tried to grin, then winced and put a hand to his split lip. “Precisely. I don’t want any misunderstandings this time. I want a clear-cut case of treason. I want this man down and my name cleared.”

  Ethan cleared his throat. “I don’t know about this treason and I don’t much care at this moment. Whatever you must do, let’s do it quickly.”

  George nodded sharply. “To it then.” As the only one who’d ever seen the interior of the factory in the light of day, he led them to where the craftsmen put the final touches on the finished guns. “Louis gave me one yest—” He blinked. “Ah, two days ago. He said it was the first one off the line.”

  They looked all around. There were a great many rifles and muskets lying about in various states of assembly, but there were no damascened George IV Commemorative Carbines to be seen.

  Ethan scratched his head. “I know I’m only a flunky in this pla
y, but I do know a bit about factories. When something is finished, it’s crated up and shipped. There isn’t room to hang on to large lots, particularly if they’ve already been sold.”

  Collis nodded. “Yes, that’s true.”

  George worked his jaw. “Louis included the shipping of the weapons in his bid. He said he would be proud to put his finest work into the hands of our finest men.”

  Rose nodded sympathetically. Louis would enjoy the irony of that statement.

  Collis turned to the Prince. “Did you see a shipping office on your tour? Belonging to a foreman, or an overseer of some kind?”

  George showed them the cramped and dusty office of Wadsworth’s foreman. Rose and Collis quickly bent to search the files and records for a manifest of some kind. Rose pulled it out finally. “Here! It isn’t labeled correctly, but just yesterday the foreman paid five carters to deliver a large shipment to the docks!”

  George took the receipt from her. “Good God, do you know what this means?”

  Rose and Collis nodded. “They’re already on their way,” she said softly. “The ship probably sailed at dawn.”

  Defeat. There was no way to send word faster than the guns themselves. Men would suffer, be maimed. Even die. Collis rubbed his head, then cast a thoughtful look at his dead hand. “No.”

  “Collis?” Rose was there, her eyes calculating in the dimness. He knew what she was thinking, for he was thinking the same.

  He straightened, his pain washed aside by new urgency. “Let’s go. It’s time to rally the Liars.”

  It would have been impossible to help both Collis and George back under the wall through the narrow tunnel. Rose decided to try to pass the guards.

  With her hair tucked under her cap, she walked with Collis, bracing him as if he were drunk. Ethan did the same with George. The four of them approached the gate as if they were workers who had lost track of both time and quantity.

  “Here now!” One of the guards stepped forward. “You lot ain’t supposed to be hangin’ about this late.”

  The four continued their exaggerated staggering toward the gate, although Rose suspected that Collis was not exaggerating very much. He had one arm draped around Rose and was using a broomstick—sans broom head—to brace himself on the other.

  Rose worried that the guards weren’t taking the bait. Sure enough, they raised their clubs aggressively as the foursome neared. “Oy, ain’t them the blokes what was in the hole?”

  “Looks like you’re on,” Collis whispered into her ear. “Are you sure you can take them?”

  “Could you take them?” she murmured back. “Because I can take you.”

  He grunted a painful laugh and handed her the broomstick. “Do Kurt proud.” Then he stepped back to join Ethan and George. “Ethan, get ready to jump in. She might need you.”

  Ethan blinked at him. “You’re letting that dainty snip take on those ruffians? Are you mad?” He shook off George onto Collis and strode forward.

  Only to stop cold when the first swish of the quarterstaff split the air.

  It didn’t take long. Collis tilted his head, watching Rose dance through the burly guards as if they were archway gargoyles. Block. Strike. Strike. Block.

  Beside him, George grunted in approval. “Nice form.”

  “The best,” sighed Collis in admiration. “She’s the best.”

  Swish. Thud. Thud.

  The guards were down. George and Collis moved forward to join Ethan where he stood open-mouthed and completely untouched by the action.

  “How’d you like that?” Collis still had plans for Ethan.

  “Marvelous,” Ethan breathed. “Where do I get one of those?”

  Ha. Ethan was hooked all right. “A quarterstaff?”

  “No. A girl like her.”

  Hmph. Perhaps Ethan would be better off elsewhere. Somewhere far from the Liar’s Club. Like the West Indies. Or the moon.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The foursome got back to Etheridge House by the simple expedient of hiring a hack. There was certainly no danger of the cabbie recognizing George, for the Prince Regent was filthy, bruised, and gray with fatigue. Not the fastidiously elegant image of him that was usually portrayed. Therefore, they drove up to the house in style and stumbled from the carriage in all their damaged glory, manacles and all.

  It turned out they were expected. Not only was Dalton there, but Lord Liverpool was as well. The Sergeant was speechless as he held open the door for them, nearly forgetting to bow to George. Then he caught himself, bobbed a quick dip of respect, and scurried to pay the hack.

  Ethan Damont was directed to a front parlor with a wide-eyed Stubbs, who walked away with his head turned nearly reversed on his neck, gawking at the Prince Regent. Dalton greeted Collis with a brief nod, but his cool demeanor could not hide his immense relief.

  Liverpool was not nearly so impressed. The door of Dalton’s study had scarcely shut on the three of them and Dalton when the Prime Minister’s temper burst. “George, you flaming idiot!”

  George, who had gratefully sunk into Dalton’s best chair, had only enough stamina to shrug helplessly. “It seemed like a fine idea at the time.”

  “Do you have any idea of the uproar you’ve caused?” Liverpool went on in this vein for a while. Rose sat pale and horrified as the Prime Minister carried on. Collis did think it was rather too bad of him to berate His Highness before others that way. Then again, the Liars were as safe as priests, weren’t they? There would certainly be no gossip coming from this room.

  Speaking of which—he cleared his throat loudly enough to distract even Liverpool’s rage. “My lords, a more pressing issue is…how did the Voice of Society know His Highness was…ah…out and about?”

  Even Liverpool had to admit that the entire affair would have been much less public without the gossip columnist. The leak had troubled them before, yet no progress had ever been made in the search for the informant. Someone knew too bloody much and wasn’t shy about telling it.

  “Well, you’ve done it now, George,” Liverpool said with slightly more restrained ire. “That outrageous challenge to these…these amateurs!…to accompany you on your misadventure? Madness! Are you trying to have yourself committed?”

  Dalton folded his arms. “That’s a bit much, my lord.” He looked very uncomfortable with Liverpool’s assertions. “It isn’t for you to make that decision anymore.”

  No, Collis thought. Liverpool had left his seat on the Royal Four to take the appointment to Prime Minister—and only the Royal Four had the combined muscle to remove a king from a throne, a power they did not take lightly. Even then, King George III had had to exhibit undeniable madness before steps were taken.

  Come to think of it, Liverpool had been a part of that decision at the time….

  Collis’s drifting attention was caught by George rising. They all scrambled to their feet as well.

  Rose hopped up quickly. It was odd, how comfortable she had become in the company of a prince. But their adventure was over. George was again “Your Highness,” and she was again simply Rose Lacey. She must watch herself to behave properly now.

  Before he left the room, George turned wearily to clap one hand on Collis’s shoulder. “It was an honor and a pleasure to spend time with…with such lively young adventurers. I won’t forget how you kept that maniac distracted from me, son.”

  Collis bowed his head in silent acknowledgment. From Rose’s view, for just a moment, both Collis and the Prince Regent were in perfect mirror profile.

  Perfect. Every turn of lip and dip of nose was identical, despite the bruising. Etheridge coloring aside, Collis could have been George’s brother.

  Son. The icy wash of realization kept her frozen for a long heartbeat. George turned to cup her cheek briefly, then moved off with Lord Liverpool, his shoulders sagging in exhaustion.

  “He called you son,” Rose breathed.

  Collis turned to cast her a questioning glance. “What’s that?”


  Dalton stepped between them. “Collis, Simon will debrief you. Miss Lacey, you’re with me, if you please.”

  Rose turned automatically to follow Lord Etheridge to a small morning room. The cozy chamber and the roaring fire should have been welcome treats. She stood there blindly, scarcely aware of her surroundings. Son.

  Like the stamping mill in Louis’s factory, the clues came down upon her mind with numbing force.

  The lengths that had been gone to in order to make Collis Tremayne a lord’s heir and not a simple lieutenant colonel’s heir.

  “Gretchen—who became more a nanny to me than a companion to my mother—”

  Lady Gretchen, from the King’s court. What highborn lady would consent to be an ordinary nanny? A royal nanny, now…that was something else altogether.

  “They treated him more like a royal heir than simply Etheridge’s heir.”

  “Rose.”

  She was snatched from her stunning realization by Lord Etheridge’s voice. Yes, the debriefing. She stammered a bit, her mind still spinning, then began to tell his lordship precisely how she’d come to be at Wadsworth’s house.

  She stood before him like a schoolchild repeating the lesson. Which, in a way, she was. She spared herself nothing. From her first foolish mistake to her final error in not reporting in, she told the spymaster everything. He watched her with cool appraisal, occasionally nodding encouragement.

  When she finally wound down, he gestured for her to sit, then took the chair opposite. “Miss Lacey, you have been exceptionally lucky, but perhaps there is less luck involved than you realize. You have demonstrated a knack for information analysis again and again. Putting clues together is one thing. Putting clues together while on the run is something else altogether. The ability to think on one’s feet is a rare and fine thing. Yet perhaps not surprising, considering your experiences in Edward Wadsworth’s service.”