Barons, Brides, and Spies: Regency Series Starter Collection Volume Two

by Mary Lancaster

  She jumped to her feet. “Then go. I have nothing more to say to you.”

  Kit obeyed, with unseemly relief, barely remembering to take his leave of Aunt Margaret in his rush to get out of the door.

  “Why are men such idiots?” Gillie demanded.

  “I suppose they are born that way,” Aunt Margaret said comfortably.

  “Why would a man do battle for his country, even come home to seek medical attention for his wound and then throw all that away on a—” She broke off, biting her lip before the rest of her frustration could spill out in words she’d regret.

  Still, she would not give up. Sitting down once more at the escritoire, she penned yet another note, this time to Major Randolph, who was one of the most sensible men she’d ever met.

  She rang for Charles and bade him take the missive round to the barracks. She watched out of the window as he and Danny loped up the street together. Against the tree opposite, a familiar, scruffy young man leaned against a tree, nibbling at the remains of an apple.

  “You again,” she murmured, frowning. The watcher followed Charles and Danny with his eyes, even eased himself off the tree to see which way they turned at the end of the road. But he didn’t leave his post.

  A carriage turned into the crescent from the other end of the street and slowed to a stop directly below Gillie. Colonel Fredericks was helped down the steps and wheezed up to the front door, closely followed by his manservant. Only then did Gillie remember Lord Wickenden’s remarks about the colonel coming to remove her “other problem”.

  “I believe Colonel Fredericks is on his way up,” she told her aunt, who brightened perceptibly and put away her work.

  “Ring for tea, Gillie.”

  “I shall. And I’ll just go and take his arm up the stairs,” In truth, of course, Gillie wished to catch him before he came upstairs. It wouldn’t otherwise be so easy to speak confidentially to him – he, too was a little deaf and wherever she sat in the parlor, Gillie would be obliged to speak so loudly that her aunt would hear every word about spies and abductions and smugglers, and worry herself to an early grave.

  Gillie ran down in time to meet him waddling across the hall toward the stairs. Hastily, she took his arm and turned him into the salon, currently cleared of card tables and other signs of festivities.

  Closing the door, she bade him sit in the first arm chair.

  “So,” he said, sighing as he sank into the cushions. “I hadn’t realized you have Jack Sugden and his entire family in hiding here!”

  “Actually, it’s a pleasure to have his family. Eliza is particularly useful, besides. But I don’t believe he’s safe. Someone told the Watch he was here and I can’t help thinking that must be one of the spies so desperate to get at either him or our cellars! Or both.”

  “So Lord Wickenden explained to me. I’ll have the Watch called off, but you’re right, he can’t stay here. We’re just about ready to arrest the spies, just waiting for the last to turn up, and then I’ll need to smuggle Jack to Carlisle to make his statement to the magistrate. After that, he should be safe to return to Blackhaven. But I can certainly take him off your hands just now. He can hide with me until our plan moves forward.”

  “That’s the thing, I’m not sure he can,” Gillie said anxiously. “Someone is watching the house and following me, presumably also other members of the household. He’s across the street right now and he’d see you take Jack, however you disguised him.”

  The colonel frowned. “Hmmm.”

  “Danny could bring him out the back way when it’s dark,” Gillie suggested. “And then smuggle him to your house?”

  The colonel’s eyes sparkled. “Via your secret tunnel?” he inquired.

  “Sadly, it’s no longer so secret,” Gillie confessed. “It was discovered from the other side and we’ve had to block off the cellars.” All but the one secret room where the smuggled brandy currently resided. The Watch hadn’t found it last night, even while searching for Jack’s hiding place. “But Danny is quite skilled in dodging observation.”

  “I imagine he and Jack both are!” Colonel Fredericks said dryly. “Providing Jack’s fit, of course?”

  “He’s still pretty weak, and the doctor says his wound could open again if he puts any strain on it, but he’s definitely on the mend. A gentle stroll in the dark should do him no harm. Providing they don’t have to run for their lives!”

  “Let’s hope not.” The colonel heaved himself to his feet. “Now, my dear, take me to your esteemed aunt. I would love to take a cup of tea with her.”

  *

  By the time Major Randolph called, they were just about to sit down to dinner and Gillie was beginning to feel her sleepless night had caught up with her. She had just been sitting with Isabella, holding the fractious baby while his mother had a chance to eat.

  “Then it will be your turn, impatient, greedy little boy,” Gillie told him, rocking him against her shoulder.

  Mattie appeared with the news of Major Randolph’s arrival and Gillie delivered the child up to her.

  “I’m supposed to be serving dinner,” Mattie said nervously.

  “Dinner will have to wait ten minutes. Just rock him and he won’t cry. Much.”

  Leaving Isabella watching sardonically over her fork, Gillie hurried off to the parlor.

  “Major!” Gillie greeted her latest caller, who stood before her aunt enunciating carefully loud and labored conversation. “I’m so glad you found the time to call today. There is something I particularly wish to say to you.” Taking his arm in familiar fashion, she led him to the same window seat she’d earlier occupied with Kit. The end of his tète à tète with Aunt Margaret seemed to be a relief to both of them. “She really isn’t quite that deaf,” Gillie murmured.

  Randolph didn’t smother his grin, which told her, surprisingly, that he was well aware of it. Amusing himself at an elderly lady’s expense was not a trait she’d ever expected of him. But there, no doubt she was mistaken.

  “Major, I know you will deny any knowledge of such a thing, but it has come to my attention that Kit and Lord Wickenden are going to fight a duel.”

  He gazed at her unblinkingly for a moment before he shrugged. “Then there is no point in keeping it from you.”

  Thank God for a sensible man. “Good. When is it supposed to take place?”

  “The morning after tomorrow, but for your own good, I shall not tell you where.”

  “It is silly, reasonless and will achieve nothing!”

  “I entirely agree,” Major Randolph said, surprisingly. “It is a great waste of time and probably life, and say what they will, I cannot see any way for your name not to be dragged into it.”

  Gillie brushed the last aside as of no consequence. “It is the waste of life that concerns me. The duel must not be allowed to happen. And yet I cannot persuade either Bernard or Kit himself to stop it.”

  “He couldn’t in honor back away from Wickenden,” Randolph explained. “Everyone would say he was afraid.”

  If he had any sense he would be afraid! “Then is there no hope of turning Lord Wickenden from this course?”

  “I cannot see how. Kit tried to throw a glass of brandy in his face.”

  “Tried?” Gillie pounced. “Only tried?”

  “Well, yes, Wickenden stopped him before the whole room saw the scandal – to say nothing of the Watch.”

  “Then he does not really wish to fight?” Gillie said eagerly.

  “I don’t believe he does,” Randolph said with another shrug. “But the challenge was made. He can’t back out unless Kit apologizes. Which he won’t.”

  “Couldn’t Wickenden apologize?”

  “And admit that he was in the wrong–that he behaved ill with you? I don’t believe he would ever do that. He knows as well as I do that the motives behind the duel will always out. People love a scandal too much. I don’t like the man, but I allow that in his favor. Though I am his second, I acknowledge Kit is in the wrong here.” />
  “This is ridiculous,” Gillie fumed. “Can’t we make Kit apologize?”

  “Bernard and I – and Lord Braithwaite himself – have spent hours trying to do just that. But nothing will make him budge, not even the damage to your reputation which he imagines won’t matter when you’re married.”

  Gillie opened her mouth to deny that they would ever be married, and then closed it again to think. “He really does want to marry me, doesn’t he?”

  “He always has. Even before he went to Spain.”

  “He never told me,” Gillie said curiously.

  “He told everyone else who’d listen. Including your father which is, no doubt, why he was hauled off to Spain.”

  Gillie let that one pass. “I could agree to marry him if he apologizes and calls off the duel.”

  “You’ve already agreed to marry him,” Randolph said dryly.

  Gillie sighed. “I suppose I have…”

  Her breath caught. Elope. She almost laughed, then shook her head. “No. No, that would not answer at all,”

  “What wouldn’t?” Randolph asked curiously–and just a little uneasily. “Tell me!”

  “No, for I have already discarded it. But there may be a useful idea in there.” Marriage as bait, to persuade Kit to apologize… “I’m glad I know now that you’re all against this duel, too, and will support him if I can bring him to cry off.”

  “I wish you all joy with that,” Randolph said seriously.

  Elope. The idea presented itself again, only more intensely, And truly, it wasn’t such a terrible notion if she clipped its wings. She only needed to offer to elope, perhaps tomorrow night – the night before the duel. Otherwise, she’d call off the engagement all together.

  Of course, Kit was too straight-laced to elope in normal circumstances, but she could force his hand somehow. The important thing was to get him away from Blackhaven the morning of the duel.

  She had no intention of going through with the marriage, of course, so she had to think of a way, for her family’s sake, to save her reputation… First things first.

  “What would happen,” she asked, “if Kit simply didn’t turn up on the morning of the duel?”

  Randolph shrugged. “Bernard and I would apologize on his behalf and Wickenden would be satisfied. His absence would be taken as an admission of guilt. Which would be best for you if the matter ever leaked out.”

  Her sudden absence from Blackhaven might cause a whisper of scandal, of course, but surely no more than a duel being fought over her. She could pretend some sick relative or something…

  Gradually, she became aware that Major Randolph was watching her a little too closely.

  “What are you up to, Gillie? You’re not planning on kidnapping poor Kit are you? Having Danny lock him in the cellar?”

  “It crossed my mind,” she confessed. “But I was forced to discard the notion. He would make such a racket and sound does carry from there into the house. Someone would be sure to let him out. And besides, I have to think of the baby now, too.” Gillie smiled brightly. “But you have given me much food for thought! I knew I liked you for a reason, Major! I am sure I’ll come up with a solution and make sure this stupid duel never happens.”

  *

  Lord Wickenden strolled into Carlisle’s most favored posting inn and made his way to the busy taproom, where he sat down and ordered ale. He received a few curious looks, since Quality tended to favor private parlors, but lone gentlemen were hardly so rare there as to cause comment.

  Wickenden stretched his long legs out in front of him and sipped his ale.

  Eventually, an unsavory individual took the other seat at his table. “Evening.”

  Wickenden nodded amiably.

  “He’s been around most of the ports, looking for passage,” the man said, raising his tankard. “Took fright, so far as I can tell, when they all wanted papers.”

  “He needs someone above suspicion to travel with,” Wickenden observed. “It’s how he got in to the country. I suppose he’ll come to the conclusion it’s his only way out and return. Where is he now?”

  “Supposedly here in Carlisle, but I’ve seen no sign of him. Or his smuggling friends. They’re lying low.”

  “Oh, we know where they are. Well, send me word if you come across our friend, but I suspect he’s more likely now to come to me.” He took a hearty swallow of ale. “I’ll send for you, George. Well done.”

  “Thank you, sir,” George said without moving as Wickenden stood up and strolled away. He really was an excellent servant, always grasped exactly what was required of him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gillie’s first business of Thursday morning was to summon Captain Grantham via an urgent note. Smuggler Jack had duly been smuggled himself out of the house the night before, via the kitchen door, and through the vegetable garden to the lane at the back, from where, with Danny’s help, he’d easily got to Colonel Fredericks’s house.

  Gillie had watched anxiously from the parlor window. There had been no sign of “the watcher” and she couldn’t help fearing he was now haunting the back of the house, ready to capture Jack. However, the removal had apparently been accomplished without more incident. Gillie now felt free to concentrate on preventing the duel between Kit and Lord Wickenden.

  Not for the first time, she railed against stupid conventions that prevented her from simply going to the barracks and asking for him. Instead, she had yet another agonizing wait, knowing full well that Kit would prefer to avoid her until the duel was done. Except, when he did finally arrive, she could see at once that he didn’t have a great deal of confidence that he’d actually be alive this time tomorrow.

  Aunt Margaret was with Isabella and the baby when he called, and Gillie did not stand on ceremony but simply hauled him into the parlor with her.

  “Kit, I have come to a decision.”

  “About what?” he asked, harassed.

  “About marriage. I wish to elope. With you.”

  He stared at her. “We have no need to elope!”

  “It’s romantic,” she insisted.

  “It’s ramshackle.”

  “But only think, Kit, we are almost on the Scottish border here and if we leave tonight, we can be married tomorrow morning.”

  His white face flushed. “I can’t be married tomorrow morning,” he said awkwardly. “I have an appointment I cannot break.”

  “That is a pity, because if I have to wait longer, I might go off the idea of marriage again. All together. At least with you.”

  He tugged at his hair, pacing toward the window before swinging back to face her. “Gillie, this is ridiculous!”

  “Is it? Don’t you want to marry me?”

  He scowled. “You know I do.”

  “But your honor is more important.”

  “You would not like,” he muttered, “to be married to a dishonorable—or a dishonored—man.”

  “I wouldn’t be. Kit, your quarrel with Lord Wickenden was over me. What better way to win it than to marry me under his very nose?”

  His brow furrowed more deeply than ever, then cleared into a rueful smile. “You wish to spite him.”

  “Don’t you?” she countered.

  He sat down, burying his head in his hands. After several moments, he looked up and met her gaze. “Gillie. I don’t want you to marry me to spite another man.”

  “No,” she agreed. “I can see that.” Which was also when she saw that she would indeed need to go through with this. Anything else would be unforgivably unkind to Kit. And truly, it wouldn’t be so bad. She and Kit rubbed along pretty well. They were old friends after all, and it wasn’t as if she would ever love anyone else.

  Before the pain of loss could grip her once more, she went to him and knelt at his feet to take his hand.

  “It wouldn’t be for spite, Kit. I won’t pretend I love you the way you might wish, but I like you very well and I would like–I need to begin a new life with you. I couldn’t marry a dead man in a
n English church after the palaver of banns or anything else, could I? I would far rather marry you alive, tomorrow, in a Scottish one.”

  Kit stared into her eyes, then dropped his gaze to their joined hands. Slowly, he twisted his hand and grasped her fingers before kissing them once.

  “Very well,” he said, breathlessly. “Let us elope.”

  *

  Kit left in high good humor to arrange a post chaise and other necessary matters. Gillie, by contrast, felt suddenly low. Aunt Margaret would be so disappointed in her. Bernard…she wasn’t quite sure how Bernard would take it, but he would probably take it out on poor Kit. The straight-laced Isabella would never understand, would probably deny her permission even to visit and see her tiny brother Arthur. She’d miss the fortnightly subscription ball at the new Assembly Rooms. She would never dance again with Lord Wickenden.

  Brushing that determinedly aside, she concentrated on the positive. She’d never actually been in Scotland before, although they lived so close to the border, Perhaps Kit would take her to Edinburgh for a brief visit before they returned to Blackhaven. And in a few weeks, she’d go with him to Spain and the new life of adventure she’d always wanted.

  Everything she wished to take with her—her mother’s locket, a spare day gown, a change of underclothes, toothbrush, and powder—was easily packed into one small carpet bag. She then wrote letters to her aunt, to Bernard and to Isabella, and for safe keeping, put them in the bag too before she hid it at the bottom of her wardrobe. Then she went about her daily duties as normal.

  She wanted it to be dark now, so that she could get this over with. She’d feel better once she’d done it, once she was married and had Kit to look after. Truly, she’d feel much better.

  *

  “Haven’t you got anything better to do?” Colonel Fredericks greeted Wickenden when he rode up to him in the gathering dusk.

  Wickenden, in his always beautifully tailored civilian dress, had, at the last moment, buckled on his old army sword. He always travelled with it, perhaps to remind himself he hadn’t always been a mere dilettante. Just occasionally, he met with a little adventure where it proved useful. Like now.