“Don’t move a hair,” Colin reminded them politely. “Now, if you would gather up the muskets, Mad?”
Madeleine strode forward, deftly, swiftly, gracefully—the way she did everything—locked each musket—so she did know how to handle a musket—then gathered them up and carried the cord of weapons back to where she’d been standing, as though Colin, Horace, and Snap constituted a fortress of safety.
He even enjoyed watching her do that. He wondered if he would ever tire of watching her do anything at all.
“Now, if you would be so kind as to lie facedown on the ground?” Colin made it sound like a suggestion, but the tone implied no choice was involved. “All of you. Then fold your hands on the backs of your heads where we can see them. And again, do all of this very, very slowly, and make certain we can see your gestures, because I might shoot if I’m startled.”
Colin glanced up then, some impulse, perhaps, for approval from his brother. The line of Marcus’s musket aim never wavered. He was watching Colin with a peculiar, indecipherable expression. Pride? Amusement? Uncertainty? Perhaps wondering when he’d next have to pull his brother, metaphorically speaking, out of a raging stream? Perhaps surprised to find how well Colin had managed to pull himself out of the stream this time, despite the fact that redcoats had finally tracked him down?
How in God’s name had Marcus found him?
And as following orders was what soldiers did best, they followed Colin’s orders. Soon three soldiers had their chins planted in the grass, their boot heels in the air, their hands folded behind their tricorns.
“Now, Sergeant…your name, sir?”
“Sergeant Sutton, Mr. Eversea.”
“Sergeant Sutton. You can answer my questions. Why are you here?”
“We were alerted to the fact that you would be here, and we had orders to bring you in.”
Colin sighed. “Oh, Sergeant. I don’t want to hear any more answers like that. You are not a politician.”
“Yes, Mr. Eversea.”
“All right, then. Alerted when and by whom?”
“Yesterday, by a very credible gentleman. He’s a member of the Mercury Club, and he’s employed by—”
“Isaiah Redmond,” Marcus interrupted tersely.
For some reason, it was stunning to hear it said aloud. For a moment Colin couldn’t speak. He stared back at Marcus.
Whose eyes, and silence, spoke worlds.
“That is what I was going to say,” the soldier groused from the ground. “And who the devil are you back there? Why do you know this, too?”
“I do apologize,” Colin interjected, “but perhaps I should have told you that the fact that you’re weaponless and on the ground means you haven’t the right to ask questions.”
“I beg your pardon,” Sergeant Sutton said hurriedly.
Colin met his brother’s eyes. “Do you have this man’s name?”
Marcus gave a short nod. “And more.”
Colin paused. Something about Marcus’s response made him believe he should question his brother rather than the soldiers, and that it might be a conversation he didn’t want anyone to overhear.
“Are there any other redcoats on the road, Sergeant? Or were just the three of you sent?”
The sergeant was stubbornly silent.
Colin sighed. “I was a soldier, too, Sergeant. I do know you’re doing your job. But I didn’t kill Roland Tarbell. And I’m not going to allow you or anyone else to take me until I can prove it. You may as well answer my question.”
“Our orders were to take you, Mr. Eversea. But I wasn’t ordered to believe in your guilt. I don’t think I ever did believe in your guilt.”
“I appreciate that, Sergeant Sutton, and I’m quite touched, truly. But I still won’t let you up off the ground until you answer my questions.”
“Worth a try,” the sergeant muttered.
“I saw no other soldiers, Col,” Marcus volunteered. “I rode in from London, and I followed these three here. I wonder if they’re here because they’re interested in the reward.”
“If that’s the case, I’ll feel less chagrin about what I’m about to do,” Colin said. “Horace…have you any rope in the house? I used the rope I had to tie up Mr. Hunt.”
“You did what?” This came from Marcus.
“We’ll have a talk,” Colin promised him.
So Horace fetched twine, and Colin and Madeleine bound the wrists of each soldier behind their backs, but not too tightly.
“It’s a bit of a long walk to the inn, but I warrant they’ll untie you there,” Colin told them reassuringly. “It’s that way.” He pointed vaguely down the road.
This next bit was going to be fun. He helped each one to his feet in turn.
“Now turn around, gentlemen.”
They slowly turned around and saw Marcus, who was whistling through his teeth as he locked his musket. He looked up as if just noticing them and gave them a little wave.
The soldiers pivoted their heads wildly about looking for other men. Then swiveled to glare at Colin.
The youngest had his mouth dropped.
“There’s a reason, gentlemen, that Everseas have gotten away with everything over the centuries,” Colin told them mildly.
The sergeant swore so colorfully that Colin winced.
“There’s a lady present, soldier. But you’ve been very helpful, Sergeant Sutton. When this story is repeated, feel free to make yourself and your men sound as heroic as you wish. People will believe just about anything about me now. And when my innocence is proven, I shall make you into a hero, too. You’ll even be in the broadsheets.”
Sergeant Sutton actually brightened a bit at this.
“You aren’t free to go yet, however. Horace, get your things, and bring the soldiers a drink of water, if you would.”
Chapter 21
And that left Colin and Marcus and Madeleine to have a little conversation in the road, after Marcus brought his horse around from where he’d tethered it toward the back of the house.
A moment of staring passed.
“You look like bloody hell, Col,” Marcus said finally, easily.
Brothers.
“You don’t like my beard?” Colin rubbed at his chin.
“Oh. Is that a beard? I thought you just needed a good scrubbing.”
“That, too. Don’t get any closer. I can scarcely tolerate the smell of myself.”
More silence.
“It’s awfully good to see you, Col.”
“You, too.”
No hugging would take place. Marcus didn’t typically do things like that. Emotion might spill over into a shoulder punch in a moment, however, or a hearty back slap, if they weren’t careful.
“How the devil did you find me?” Colin asked.
“Well, I wasn’t precisely looking for you, Colin. But I discovered Horace was here, and I do know that generally all I have do to find you is look for the trouble. If I found Horace, I thought I’d bring him back before anyone else could find him or harm him. And hope that somehow word got to you that Horace had been found.”
Marcus told Colin how he’d come to be there: the Mercury Club books, the deductions he’d made, the confrontation with Mr. Bell.
It boggled Colin. “You didn’t encounter doctors, countesses, or body snatchers?”
Marcus frowned at him, but only mildly, because he was used to Colin. “What on earth are you running on about? No, as I said, I looked at the books at the Mercury Club, and from there deduced things.”
“Looking at the books” would of course be how Marcus deduced things.
“All I can say, Marcus, is that you didn’t have nearly as much fun as we did.”
“It must be exhausting to be you, Colin.” He glanced at Madeleine. And the glance became a curious stare.
“Particularly lately,” Colin agreed fervently, then noticed the direction of his brother’s gaze. “Marcus, I’ve been remiss. This is…Mrs. Green.”
Madeleine curtsied,
and Marcus bowed, and then he took a very good long look at Madeleine, and his face transformed into an appreciative question mark.
He looked from Madeleine to Colin to Madeleine again, and lifted a brow.
Colin recognized the question inherent in the lifted brow and pointedly left it unanswered.
“Do you think Redmond is behind it, Marcus? That perhaps Baxter was just the person who carried out orders?”
“I didn’t linger to question anyone, Colin, once I learned where Horace was. Getting here seemed rather urgent. I thought I’d leave the satisfaction of confronting Redmond to you. I can say that Baxter’s salary rose by a few hundred pounds after your arrest, and that a driver was paid to take the Mercury Club carriage here to Marble Mile. I still don’t know who rescued you from the gallows.”
“I do. I just don’t know who paid, er, this person to rescue me.”
This caused a silence from his brother. Which stretched.
“For God’s sake, Colin, are you going to tell me who rescued you? Bloody impressive, is what it was. Father might want to make their acquaintance. For future reference, of course.”
“In good time. What kind of Eversea would I be if I didn’t have a few secrets of my own?
Marcus hesitated, then decided to shrug this off. “Do you want to hear something odd, Colin?”
“Of course.”
“Robert Bell, the driver, took Mrs. Fanchette Redmond to St. Giles the day you were supposed to be hung.”
Colin was speechless. “Mrs. Redmond? Isaiah Redmond’s wife?”
“The very same. Did you spend any time in St. Giles the day of your hanging, Colin?”
“Let’s refer to it as Saturday, rather than the day of my hanging, shall we? I’ll answer your questions later. We—Horace and Mrs. Green and I—can take the soldiers’ horses, but what will we do about Snap?”
They stared down at the cheerful, toothless, leg deficient dog.
“He can run like the wind on those three legs,” Madeleine said, with some authority. “I wonder if he tires quickly, however.”
“If you can ride as far as the inn, you should be able to get a hackney into London. Difficult to be discreet with a three-legged dog, and the fact that you’re Colin Eversea, but…” He shook his head. “I imagine you’ve…business…you’d like to see to in London. As for me, I’m returning to Pennyroyal Green. I’m getting married in two days.”
The silence that fell was so sudden and total it was like a dome had dropped from the sky.
A pair of dark eyes meeting a pair of green ones with the intensity that Everseas cultivated nearly from birth.
“Perhaps,” Colin said finally, evenly.
The stare continued. And as Colin said…no one was more determined than Marcus. And he’d learned the unblinking stare from his older brothers, after all.
The corner of Marcus’s mouth finally lifted, and he looked off over Colin’s shoulder.
Giving way, just this once.
“Louisa would never forgive me if anything became of you, Collie. I decided it was only cricket to come see to you first. It’s a habit of mine, pulling you out of messes.”
“Of course. Only cricket.”
But Colin did know that he’d managed to get himself into this mess in the first place: by entering a pub containing Roland Tarbell. By dramatically galloping to London. And etcetera.
He wouldn’t be behaving that way again.
Cricket, indeed.
“How is Louisa?” he said quietly.
“Happy you didn’t hang.”
Colin supposed he couldn’t in all fairness ask for a detailed report about Louisa from his brother. “Very good.”
“The rest is up to you, Colin.” Marcus’s voice was harder now.
“And Louisa,” Colin couldn’t resist adding. And his voice almost light.
Marcus hesitated. “And Louisa,” he agreed tonelessly.
“See you in Pennyroyal Green, Marcus. In a day’s time.”
“Perhaps.” Marcus said that with an upraised brow, and swung up to his horse.
And when he was up there he stared down at Colin and Madeleine, and finally smiled crookedly. “God, I’m glad you’re alive, Col.”
His voice was a bit rusty. And this was tantamount to gushing emotion for Marcus.
Colin couldn’t help but smile back at his brother.
And then Marcus saluted Colin and Madeleine with a touch to his hat, pulled hard on the reins to turn his horse into the road, and tore off at a gallop in the direction of Pennyroyal Green, Sussex.
Madeleine watched Colin watching his brother disappear down the road in puffs of dust.
Colin’s jaw was set, his eyes inscrutable. It was an expression she’d never before seen on his face. Inscrutability was her bailiwick, or had been, until he happened along.
His mind, she would guess, was on the Sussex Downs, and Pennyroyal Green, and a beautiful girl named Louisa, and the peaceful life that, despite everything he’d done so far in life, he really wanted—he’d risked his own life for days on a quest that could just have easily been futile in order to win that life back.
Madeleine could only guess at the rest of his thoughts. She did know she wasn’t part of them at the moment.
It had been fascinating to watch Marcus and Colin. Everything was in the rhythm with which they spoke to each other: their shared history, the humor, the money, their connection to an ancient place in Sussex. The love for each other, of course, and their family, and Louisa. Marcus was both different and somehow precisely as Madeleine had pictured him.
Somehow she doubted there were any truly homely Everseas.
Colin finally turned back toward her slowly. And stood still and looked at her, in that way he had of making her feel like he’d just discovered her and was a little puzzled and delighted by her very existence.
“Why didn’t you put your pistol down, Mad, when the soldiers first asked you to? They could have killed you, you know.”
Ah, and that was Colin Eversea. Good at noticing things. And at startling her with questions.
“They were interested in you, Colin. They would have killed you before they shot at me. And I intended to shoot if any of them fired at you.
He frowned faintly. “But—they would have killed you, Mad. You would have been dead.”
“But I would have at least got off a shot.” For you, she didn’t add.
But she was only realizing it now herself.
Colin gave a short stunned laugh. For he knew what she meant, too. And likely why she’d done it.
He turned away swiftly then, as if he couldn’t quite look at her, and thrust his hands in his pockets, as though he didn’t want them doing something untoward of their own accord, like touching her.
He stood like that, frowning into the middle distance, for a good long time. Madeleine didn’t know how to speak into that silence.
“Let’s go tell the soldiers to start walking,” he said finally, and strode back to the three grumpy redcoats without looking at her.
Marcus told his family that he’d seen Colin, that they’d found Horace Peele, that Colin would try very hard to return for the wedding. And then, with the gleeful shouting and questions still ringing in his ears, he rode out to Louisa Porter’s house.
He found her in the front garden, wearing a basket over one arm and a bonnet fastened firmly beneath her chin with thick blue ribbons. Louisa had learned her lessons about leaving bonnets untied, apparently, when she was eleven years old. She was cutting a pink flower of some sort.
She straightened then, noticing him watching her from the gate. “Marcus!”
She smiled and blushed beautifully, and he smiled slowly at her. His heart gave a lurch. He wondered if it would be inconvenient to have a wife who always made his heart lurch, and decided, really, there was no way he could rationalize himself out of wanting to be with her forever. A lurching heart was a small price to pay.
Still, he needed to do what he’d come here
to do.
“Good morning, Louisa.”
He kissed her hand, as he was her fiancé and it was his right to do that for now, and couldn’t help but linger just a little over it, thinking it might be the last time.
She took it away from him slowly; he hoped there was reluctance to end his kiss in the gesture. Her eyes were warm, and her cheeks remained pink, and Marcus thought he could have kissed her mouth then and she would have welcomed it. But he needed to say what he’d come to say.
“Louisa, I’ve seen Colin.”
The blood drained out of her face. “Oh.”
It was a sound almost of…pain? And then scarlet flooded in to replace the white, and Marcus thought for a moment she might faint. His hand began to go out to catch her, but she took a deep breath instead.
“He’s well?” Her voice was quite steady. Almost amused. She knew Colin, after all.
“He’s very well. And everything’s going to be fine. He’s found Horace Peele. And he’s going to try to be home…tomorrow.”
She stared at him. “Tomorrow?” she repeated, the word threadbare. “He’ll be home tomorrow?”
The wedding was tomorrow.
“Tomorrow,” Marcus confirmed gently. It took all of his courage.
Louisa was silent. She was looking at him, but not really seeing him now, Marcus knew. He took a deep breath. “Louisa, I’ve come today to ask if you’d prefer not—”
“I hope he does make it home,” she said quickly. And the life was back in her eyes, and they were warm on his face, and she’d deliberately stopped him from saying anything further.
Marcus understood then. She was asking him not to make her decide anything just yet. Not to make a declaration.
Not until she saw Colin.
It would have to do. But he was glad he’d given her the choice, because he couldn’t have lived with himself if he hadn’t told her.
And he knew he wouldn’t sleep at all tonight.
“I shall see you tomorrow then, Louisa,” he said gently.
He wanted to kiss her. He almost did. Her eyes never left his face.
But he bowed low to her instead, then turned to ride back to Eversea House, leaving her standing staring after him, a bright yellow pink dangling in one hand.
The Perils of Pleasure Page 28