The Heiress and the Spy (The Friendship Series Book 2)

by Julia Donner

  Unhappy, Harry said, “This is Bainbridge.”

  Crimm came close to whisper, “Bainbridge, earl of. Nasty temper in a fight. Peaceable enough otherwise. Known to run with the Eligibles. Good choice. He’ll not betray us.”

  Elizabeth stuck out her hand. “Thank you for being here, my lord.”

  When Bainbridge accepted her hand and bowed over it, his palm felt oddly rough. His knuckles were scarred and calloused but his grip gentle. “An honor to meet you, my lady. Asterly has come to my aide in the past. I’m happy to repay his friendship.”

  When he straightened up, she looked into pale blue-green eyes that reminded her of Asterly’s, but Bainbridge stood taller and bulkier. His straight hair was an unusual color of dark auburn. From across the dimly lit room, he’d looked as peaceable as Crimm said, but this close, she encountered an intimidating tension. The earl eagerly anticipated the fight to come or suppressed a great deal of anger. She didn’t care which and planned to make use of his attitude.

  The men had dressed in rough clothing with the exception of Harry, who looked like a proper tar in striped shirt and white trousers. He’d darkened his hair and not shaved.

  When Freddy unbuttoned his jacket, she saw he wore leather braces across his chest that held four pistols. Rave had a long knife tucked in his belt. Bainbridge carried no weapons but his intimidating personality was enough of a threat.

  Before Elizabeth could speak, Harry said, “Please reconsider being a part of this, Lizzie. If anything happens to you, Perry will never forgive us.”

  “Let me be clear, Harry. No one harms you or my husband in any way.”

  Harry came swiftly toward her, his intention obvious. The tense cast to his features spoke clearly of his intention to dissuade her, but Bainbridge grabbed his arm. Harry pulled free and Crimm moved closer to Elizabeth when Harry said, “Lizzie, you’re not thinking this through. It’s too dangerous. What’s on that ship is going to be more than just unpleasant.”

  Bainbridge stepped in front of Harry. “She has a right. She has every right.”

  Harry angrily shot back, “She’s my sister, not yours. She could get killed! Stay out of my way or I’ll knock you one in that dense head of yours.”

  Freddy’s wry laugh quieted the room. “Lud, Harry, he’ll smash you to a pulp like he does everyone else.”

  Elizabeth thought it wise to soften her tone. “Gentlemen, it’s understandable that we’re all in a state of heightened emotions. Set them aside and allow me to present the tactics. I’ve decided that simplicity is best.”

  She accepted a ragged-hemmed cloak from Crimm and whirled it around her shoulders. “Harry, you and Crimm will row a dory to the starboard side of the Calcutta Lady. She’s easy to spot. The foremast is broken and prow damaged. Freddy, you will cover our exit from the ship. One of my grooms is holding a closed carriage near the boarding ramp and will bring it forward when he sees us coming out with Asterly. Rave will come with me. He will lure the guards away from starboard and elsewhere, which will allow Harry and Crimm to board.”

  Still surly, Harry asked, “I fear to ask, what’s the lure?”

  “Me, of course. I assumed you’d enlist Rave’s help. He speaks any number of languages and we have no idea what sort of crew Despard has hired. After you and Crimm subdue the guards, Rave, Bainbridge and I will board and go below decks to find Asterly. Rave will accompany me back to Cavendish and carry Asterly inside from the mews.”

  She looked around the room. “Do you have suggestions?” When no one spoke up, she said, “Crimm, check to see if it’s dark enough.” He nodded and she pointed. “The back door is there, then a walk four blocks south. Harry, Crimm will show you where the dory is tied. Freddy, the coach is out front. Jem is the driver. He’s wearing a red scarf and knows where to wait for us. Rave and Bainbridge, you’re with me. See you on board, gentlemen.”

  Chapter 39

  The muggy night made wearing a cloak hot to the point of suffocation, but she needed it to cover Asterly when they left. Rave and Bainbridge carried pewter pints with them, staggering along the wharf with her in tow, pretending a drunken spree.

  At the base of the boarding plank, Elizabeth jerked at Rave’s hold. She pretended to fuss with her skirts, showing even more leg than before. The effort paid off when a guard at the top of the plank hooted his pleasure. Two others soon joined, calling down suggestions in French that made Elizabeth’s stomach lurch.

  Rave wasted no time in offering her services and a sample of the flask of rum he carried. Excellent idea. She hadn’t thought of that, never having tasted rum. She made a swipe for the flask, which Rave, pretending to tease, held up out of her reach. Then the guards on the ship turned, their attention drawn to a noisy scuffle on deck.

  She almost stumbled when Rave released her. He and Bainbridge lunged up the gangplank. Gathering her bulky skirts, she raced up the boarding plank. Three men sprawled on deck. Harry looked at her while shaking his right hand and bloodied knuckles. “That’s it for above-deck.”

  She whispered, “Harry, Crimm, watch from here. Make sure those men don’t wake up. Gag them and throw them in the hold.”

  Rave headed for the dim light showing the gangway to below. He went down the shallow steps first, a tight fit for his broad shoulders. Bainbridge grabbed a belaying pin and followed her awkward descent. The railing felt sticky and steps slippery. She gave up on modesty and draped her skirts over an elbow. Rave’s hand helped her down the rest of the way. Bells from a distant ship sounded an hour before midnight. They needed to move faster, get Asterly and leave.

  She gripped the back of Rave’s belt as they crept down the passageway. Only one cabin had a light in the aft, captain’s quarters. Before reaching the end, Rave turned and nodded at Bainbridge, who squeezed by them and entered the cabin. A shout and a brief fight ensued. Elizabeth pressed her face against Rave’s hard arm and prayed.

  She shuddered with relief when Bainbridge called. “He’s alive.”

  Shoving by Rave, she burst into the cabin. Bainbridge was bent over, slicing through restraining ropes. Asterly sprawled, face down, over a table secured to the floor. His hands had been tied to the table legs. She almost collapsed when Bainbridge carefully lifted his shoulders and head, revealing the damage done. Blood dripped everywhere, his clothes soaked. His eyes were swollen shut, nose broken and lips split.

  Elizabeth’s vision blurred. The room swirled. Rave’s deep voice brought her back. “Be strong, lass. It’s time to get him out of here.”

  She swallowed and jerked a nod. The men held Asterly while she wrapped him in the cloak. Rave bent and Bainbridge helped load Asterly onto Rave’s back. A filthy insult came from the floor, where a man spat out a tooth. There was no mistaking that he directed the vulgarity at her. His glare didn’t waver, unblinking, murderous.

  Bainbridge pointed the belaying pin at the man. “Is this Despard?”

  Elizabeth resisted the urge to claw the fiend. “Black hair, swarthy complexion, overbite. I believe so. If not, he’s most certainly a part of it.”

  Bainbridge renewed his grip on the belaying pin. “You’d best leave now, my lady.”

  “Thank you, sir. Shall we wait for you?”

  “No. It’ll take time to sort out this mess and be sure we’ve covered ourselves.”

  She didn’t hesitate and made her way along the dark passage by touching her hands to the walls on each side. Rave and Harry were maneuvering Asterly up the steps to the deck. Crimm kept watch at the gangway as Harry hustled her up the steps and hurried her off the ship.

  Freddy waited, holding the coach door open with one hand and a pistol in the other. She quietly said, “If you would, Freddy, Bainbridge may need some help before you return to the tavern.”

  After Freddy nodded, Harry handed her inside and helped to lift Asterly across her lap. The carriage tilted when Rave’s weight stepped inside.

  Elizabeth lowered her cheek to Asterly’s brow, sticky with dried blood. She let the te
ars fall as they rolled away from the dockyards and headed east to Cavendish. Exhaustion and relief weighed her down, sapping her reserves.

  Harry reached across and squeezed her shoulder. “He’s alive, Lizzie. He’ll mend. He’s hard to kill. I promise you that.”

  Now shivering in the aftermath, she forced a smile. “Thank you, Harry, and you, too, Rave, for helping and trusting that I could do this.”

  Rave’s worried attention stayed on Asterly. “Is there a physician who will keep quiet?”

  Harry answered, “Crimm said he’d seen to that. Merrick has a room ready and the staff have been told it was a carriage accident.”

  They quieted when Asterly muttered something. Elizabeth asked, “Did you understand that?”

  Both men shook their heads. Nothing else was said until they reached Cavendish. Crimm had leaped off the back of the coach and held the door open for Rave and his burden. Merrick had another cloak ready to cover the blood-smeared prostitute costume. They hurried up the steps to a second floor bedchamber Merrick had prepared. The physician shooed them all out of the room, except for Harry and Elizabeth.

  She stood grasping the bedpost, while Harry wiped blood from his brother’s face and the physician cut away clothes and searched for injuries. Harry placed his brother’s left hand in a bowl and gently poured warm water over swollen fingers and ragged wounds.

  Knowing and yet unable to stop herself from asking, she said, “What happened there?”

  In a constricted voice, Harry muttered, “Must have started breaking this before he passed out. How thoughtful of them to avoid injuring his right hand so he could legibly sign away your fortune.”

  “Oh, Harry—”

  “I know, Lizzie.” He lifted a sleeve to wipe the wet from his face then stilled when his brother moaned a garbled word.

  The urge to go to him was strong, but Elizabeth’s legs refused to work. She watched Harry dampen his brother’s blood-encrusted, split lips. “Perry, what did you say?”

  Asterly reached up with his right hand and clutched of handful of Harry’s shirt. “Vernon. Get a message to her. Please, Harry. Got to tell her I’m all right.”

  Harry jerked his stare from his brother’s battered face to Elizabeth. The horror of what his brother had just said and done matched the shock she felt. A terrible pain cracked open inside.

  She remembered his words. Do you trust me, Eliza?

  Shame, chagrin, embarrassment, all of it rolled through her. What a fool she’d been. So entranced with him, the idea of a true love, a soul mate. Such a silly dream. Was she so pathetically deprived? Then came the memories of what she allowed in bed. He wouldn’t have expected a woman of his class to behave that way. She’d certainly dressed for the role when she risked everything to save him.

  She pushed away from the bedpost and headed for the door, congratulating herself that she didn’t slam it on the way out. She desperately needed to go someplace quiet to deal with the ugly turmoil writhing inside. A grip on her arm stopped her determined stride away from the unbearable hurt and humiliation.

  “Lizzie, it’s got to be a mistake of some kind! He’s delirious.”

  A cold rage clogged her throat. He stepped back when she looked up. “There’s no mistake, Harry. Everybody knows about his association with Mrs. Vernon. It’s the sort of thing expected of a gentleman after all. I’m not surprised you would wince at that.”

  “Please, you’re exhausted and out of sorts from all that’s happened.”

  “Harry, I may be tired but I’m not deaf.”

  “I’m asking you to think about this after you’ve had some rest.”

  “Think about what, Harry? I beg your pardon but must differ. Thinking that I could be married to a class of people who see nothing wrong with ignoring vows is where I made my mistake. I know exactly what I must do now.”

  “Please, Lizzie, nothing rash.”

  “Certainly not. Good night, Harry. I’m glad your brother is safe.”

  “Don’t go, Sis.”

  She couldn’t resist his pleading expression and touched the hand he held out in supplication. “I promise to write when I find someplace to settle. I’ll let you know. I promise, but I never want to see Asterly, ever again.”

  Chapter 40

  Peregrine entered his brother’s house without knocking, taking the stair steps two at time. He swiftly moved down the carpeted hallway, ignoring the sputtering protest of the butler who followed him and the shock of the housekeeper and a maid standing in a guest bedchamber doorway.

  He threw open the door to Harry’s rooms and strode across the bedchamber with its unmade bed, entering the dressing room so suddenly that the valet let out a girlish scream.

  Unimpressed, Harry glanced up from the nail he was paring. “How kind of you to visit me, Perry.” He glanced at his manservant, who clutched the open door of the wardrobe in one hand and pressed the other to his chest.

  Harry set the small knife on a silver tray. He stood, wrapping the sash of a navy, silk dressing robe around his waist. “Now look at what you’ve wrought. My newly pressed shirts are on the floor.”

  Peregrine glared at the valet. “Leave.”

  When Harry nodded, the valet snatched up the shirts and fled. “Lud, Perry, but you’re a nuisance. Bursting in like a bedlamite, disturbing my servants and disrupting my morning schedule. Say what you must and go away.”

  Peregrine started to speak and stopped when he saw the painting. It had been hung where the sun would never touch it and yet where it received sufficient illumination. The painter’s exquisite understanding of light, perspective and simplicity glowed within the subtle hues.

  Sending his twin an accusatory glare, Peregrine unclenched his teeth to say, “She gave you the Vermeer. Her favorite. She said she’d never part with it.”

  Harry lowered his gaze but not before revealing a dangerous glint. Peregrine knew that look. He’d stood up against his twin too many times, with every conceivable weapon, not to recognize the warning to back off. But this wasn’t a brotherly squabble or a game of doing one better. He almost conquered his temper, then Harry fanned the flame.

  “She gave it to me for services rendered, brother dearest. After all, I am her favorite.”

  His smirk made Peregrine’s fists clench. “Can’t you be satisfied shagging half the women in London without enticing my wife?”

  The chair flipped onto its back when Harry lunged to his feet and stalked across the room. Nose to nose, eyes cold as ice, Harry snarled, “That’s enough, Peregrine. Insult me all you like, but not Lizzie.”

  Peregrine studied his brother’s reaction with a narrowed gaze. “Why did she give it to you?”

  Harry backed down, relaxed his shoulders and lifted his chin. A terrible hurt sliced through Peregrine’s chest when Harry sneered, “For helping her save your ungrateful hide and keeping a secret.”

  “What secret?”

  “What’s that old saying—if I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret? And I did as you asked and went to Mrs. Vernon’s house. She wasn’t at home. Gone to the country, I was told.”

  He’d left his pride behind so long ago he didn’t think to hide his feelings. “You’ve got to tell me where Elizabeth has gone. It’s been nearly a month.”

  Harry strolled back to the chair and set it upright. “Twenty-seven days and I have no idea. Wouldn’t tell you if I knew. But she shouldn’t be alone.”

  “She isn’t. She took Merrick with her. Crimm acted as if I was speaking a foreign language when I asked him. And what makes you say she shouldn’t be alone?” Harry’s sudden, closed expression made him pause. He was hiding something. “Dammit, Harry! Is she going to someone else?”

  The last came out as an order, not a question. Peregrine watched his brother think carefully before answering. His heart lugged down to a near halt when Harry softly replied, “Ah. I see. She hasn’t told you her little secret.”

  Harry slipped off the robe and dropped the slithery material on the
seat. Underneath he wore a white shirt and too tight pantaloons. The shine on his Hessians sparkled as he crossed the room to a bureau spread with a selection of snuff boxes, a habit Harry had never acquired. He peered into a velvet-lined box of jewelry.

  Peregrine couldn’t wait, had to know. “Is it divorce?”

  Harry glanced up. A frown pulled his blond eyebrows together. “Divorce? She never mentioned that. Did she say so to you?”

  “Damn it, Harry, tell me. Stop playing games and talk to me!”

  An odd expression arrested his brother’s perfect features. A struggle of some sort darkened his stare. How bad could it be? Had something happened to Elizabeth?

  Harry dropped the sapphire pin he’d been considering and turned to confront the demand as if facing a firing squad.

  “Perry, why can’t you learn to forgive me for Althea?”

  Peregrine’s mind went blank. The question was the most unexpected and undecipherable non sequitur ever uttered. “What? Althea? Althea, who?”

  Fury darkened Harry’s pale complexion. “How dare you turn this around when you’re the one who asked for honesty!”

  “I don’t give a soddin’ damn about some female named Althea when Elizabeth’s left me! I want the truth!”

  For a tense moment, Harry glared, then shouted as if he’d had to wrench the words from the depths of his soul, “Why did you stop loving us? You left Mother and me and ran off to play war. You broke her heart when you never wrote and broke mine when you started treating me like a leper! And I never meant to take Althea from you. I didn’t know you were in love with her or that you’d gotten her pregnant—”

  “Stop!” Peregrine lowered the hand he’d flung up. He stared down at the floor and clutched his brow. “Let me think. We’ve gone so far away from the trail, it’s going to take me a moment to come back.” He inhaled a deep breath and looked up. “Are you talking about the headmaster’s daughter?”

  “Who else? You got her pregnant and ran off to war, then she wrote to tell you that she’d fallen in love with me.” Harry paused from a thought that froze an arrested expression on his face. He carefully said, “Or at least…she said she loved me.”