by Stella Riley
‘If there is logic in that, I can’t see it.’
‘Then perhaps,’ suggested Venetia with a crooked smile, ‘you’re just not looking in the right place.’
Gabriel’s breath caught and he made a small, involuntary movement. He rather thought he was beginning to know where the right place was … and, in due course, he was going to have to explore it. Three times, she’d said. Not I slept with Ellis a few times … but, specifically, I lay with Ellis exactly three times. More and more, it appeared that his suspicions about her previous experience were going to prove accurate – which meant that he had almost certainly been doing her an injustice. She was intelligent and practical and strong – all the things one could wish for in a wife. She was also achingly beautiful and potentially sexually responsive. He’d like the chance to discover just how responsive by doing all the things with her that he’d withheld during that one, severely-curtailed encounter. The thought took hold for a second before he curbed it. Then, placing every nerve and muscle under rigid control, he said, ‘I accept that we must talk. But, for now, I think this has gone far enough.’
‘I disagree. I was rather hoping that we … that we could at least go back to being civil to one another.’
‘You mean you’d like me to be civil.’ He eyed her sardonically for a moment and then shrugged. ‘Very well. If you’ll move away from the door, I promise I’ll do my best.’
Very slowly, Venetia did as he asked. Not bothering to hide her disappointment, she said, ‘You’re going out?’
‘No. I’m going to introduce you to our guests. It’s about time, after all. And though you may be ready for a cosy evening à deux, I’m afraid I’m not.’
Since it was necessary to preserve appearances, this was the first time Gabriel had removed both his prisoners from their makeshift dungeon simultaneously – and he knew it wasn’t an especially good idea. Nor was he really sure why he had decided to do it. He merely watched the cautious greeting which Venetia exchanged with Captain Langley, presented her to the man he was continuing to call Colonel Ambrose – and turned away to pour wine for them all.
Justin bowed over Venetia’s hand and concealed his inevitable reflections as well as she was concealing hers. Francis, still rather gaunt but otherwise largely restored, said lightly, ‘Venetia, my loved one … after so long there are doubtless a thousand questions to be asked. But just at this moment I can only think of one. Is there the remotest chance that you can find me something to read?’
Venetia recognised that, in his own inimitable manner, he was telling her that he’d said nothing to Gabriel of their more recent meetings. Smiling to show that she had understood, she said, ‘There are some books upstairs belonging to Luciano del Santi – though they may not be much use unless you read Italian. And anything in English will probably be something you’ve already read.’
‘He won’t mind,’ grinned Justin Ambrose. ‘He’ll just be grateful for any alternative to my conversation.’
‘True,’ nodded Francis. ‘Very true. I’m tired of re-fighting Preston and trying to score points in the matter of whether you had a worse time at Banbury than I did at Colchester.’
‘Then I’d better see if I can find you a new source of entertainment,’ said Venetia moving to the door. ‘God forbid that you should find our hospitality lacking.’
‘And God forbid that we should find any cause for complaint,’ remarked Justin dryly as she left the room. And, to Gabriel, ‘It’s probably a silly question … but are you ready to name your terms?’
‘I’m sure we’ll have a more pleasant evening if I don’t.’ Gabriel handed both men a glass of wine and then leaned negligently against the fireplace, smiling faintly. ‘And you never know. These talks at Newport may finally result in the kind of agreement which will radically alter your position –though I’d have to say that I wouldn’t like to rely on it.’
‘Neither would I,’ said Francis, abandoning his languid tone. ‘Have they made any progress worth mentioning?’
‘Not yet. The Parliament is once more offering the so-called Hampton Court Propositions –which, as we all know, are merely the old Newcastle Propositions, thinly disguised. The King naturally began by objecting to the preamble’s assertion that both Houses were “necessitated to undertake a war in their just and lawful defence” – but has since withdrawn his opposition on condition that his acceptance of that or any other point shall be considered invalid if an over-all agreement isn’t reached.’
Colonel Ambrose lifted one openly satiric brow.
‘Which is basically as good as admitting that he has no intention of putting his hand to anything.’
‘That is certainly the general feeling within the Army,’ agreed Gabriel. ‘For the rest, Holles appears to have begged on his knees for His Majesty to conclude a treaty before Ireton gets the Army to purge Parliament of the Presbyterians; and Harry Vane has been doing his best to promote the Heads of the Proposals. Neither, so far as I am aware, have had much success.’
‘And they won’t,’ said Francis. ‘The King won’t compromise on religion. He’ll go on refusing to turn England Presbyterian even if it costs him his crown.’
‘It could cost him more than that,’ murmured Justin Ambrose flatly. And then stopped as the door opened and Venetia returned with an armful of books.
A little later, when Francis and Venetia were debating the rival merits of Marlowe and Spenser and poring over a much-read copy of Boccaccio’s Decamerone of which Francis could read a little but Venetia none at all, Gabriel drew Justin to one side and said quietly, ‘What, precisely, were you suggesting just now?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ The light grey eyes were bleak. ‘If the King goes on pitting the factions against each other and refusing to stick to his word … eventually they’ll kill him.’
There was a long, eviscerating silence.
‘They can’t,’ said Gabriel.
‘I think you’ll find they can. They’ll see it as the only choice. He won’t give up, he’s a focus for rebellion – and he’s brought about a second war. They won’t forgive him for that. So his only security lies in making terms – and fast.’
‘Security from what? Assassination?’
‘Only if all else fails,’ replied Justin cynically. ‘Or perhaps I’m mistaken in thinking that Ireton isn’t the only one who wants the King put on trial?’
‘No,’ said Gabriel slowly. ‘You’re not mistaken. But there is no provision within the law for such a trial – and even Lilburne has set his face against it. Also, I hope and believe that there are still enough moderate men in the Army to prevent it happening at all – let alone imposing a death sentence.’
‘And what if there aren’t?’
‘If there aren’t, I am going to have to seriously consider my position. I want no part in regicide. And though I hold no brief for Charles Stuart, the possible alternatives horrify me.’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ agreed Justin. Raised voices outside the room assailed his ear and he grinned faintly. ‘It sounds as though your guards have fallen out over the dice-box again. Are they really the best you could find?’
He did not receive an answer. The door opened and Gabriel swore furiously under his breath. It was Eden Maxwell, closely followed by Samuel Radford.
Silence filled the room. Then Justin came abruptly to his feet and said, ‘Finally! What took you so long?’
‘What do you think?’ retorted Sam. And stepped aside to reveal a dainty, dark-haired girl in a shabby blue cloak.
Shock drove the blood from Justin’s skin and he seemed to stop breathing. Then, in a voice which cracked, he said, ‘Abby?’ And moved uncertainly towards her.
Sam’s sister did not wait. Half-laughing, half-crying, she met him half-way and when his arms closed around her, she reached up to touch his face as if convincing herself of his reality. For a long, timeless moment, they remained absolutely motionless, drowning in each other’s eyes. Then, his grip tightening until she was cr
ushed against his chest, Justin slid a hand into the curling, night-dark hair and devoured her mouth with something approaching a groan.
For the others in the room, the spell which had bound them gradually dissolved. Francis turned away to the fire, Sam pushed the door shut in the face of the grinning troopers and Venetia, her throat full of ridiculous tears, looked across at her husband. His eyes were locked with those of Eden Maxwell and he looked positively thunderous.
Justin and Abigail remained frozen in the centre of the floor. Ignoring them and turning his attention to Mr Radford, Gabriel said softly, ‘This isn’t clever, Sam.’
‘I know that, damn it! But —’
‘You know nothing!’ Realising that Eden had noticed that the door was still partly ajar and was about to close it, Gabriel gave a curt shake of his head. Then with crisp, deliberate clarity, he said, ‘I sincerely trust that this unlooked-for arrival means we may soon expect Colonel Ambrose’s ransom payment?’
Reluctantly and without releasing his wife, Justin raised his head; but before he could speak, Samuel said, ‘Ransom? Major Maxwell said something of that – but I didn’t believe him.’
‘Then you should have done,’ snapped Gabriel. ‘After all, you surely can’t have imagined that I’ve put myself to the trouble of bringing the Colonel here purely for the good of his health?’
Venetia’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, Francis looked somewhat startled and a small snigger, swiftly checked, made its way round the door.
Staring fixedly at Gabriel, Samuel said, ‘I did think that, yes. I had the idea, you see, that you weren’t the sort to prey on the misfortunes of others. My mistake, obviously.’
Abigail looked up at her husband.
‘What’s happening?’
His arm tightened about her and he gave her a clear, untroubled smile.
‘Don’t ask me, sweetheart. Colonel Brandon is the man with all the answers.’
She turned, shyly, to Gabriel.
‘Are you really holding Justin for ransom?’
‘Yes. What else would I want with him? Neither I nor my regiment has been paid for some considerable time – and we all have to live. Also, I should have thought sparing Colonel Ambrose the inconvenience of a trial would be worth some small remuneration.’
‘How small?’ muttered Samuel bitterly. ‘He sold his family home and a fair amount of land to meet his composition fines after the first war – and he’s barely got two sovereigns to rub together.’
‘Not according to my information,’ shrugged Gabriel. Then, clinically appraising Abby’s waistline, ‘And since he appears to need his freedom fairly urgently, I’m sure he’ll contrive something.’
Sam swore, Eden frowned uncomfortably at his feet and Francis said frigidly, ‘In my opinion, that remark was neither courteous nor necessary.’
‘Your views are a matter of the supremest indifference to me,’ returned Gabriel blightingly. ‘In fact, I think we can dispense with your presence altogether. Major Maxwell?’
Aware that Venetia had silenced Francis with a jab of her elbow, Eden came smartly to attention. ‘Sir?’
‘Take the prisoners back where they belong. And if Troopers Baxter and Willis are anything less than sober, put their heads under the pump.’
There were shuffling sounds from the other side of the door and Eden grinned.
‘My pleasure, Colonel.’
Still clinging to her husband, Abigail turned a disbelieving gaze on Gabriel.
‘You can’t send him away yet!’
‘Watch me,’ came the laconic reply.
‘Then lock me up with him,’ she begged. ‘At least give us a little time together!’
‘Out of the question.’ Gabriel strolled across the floor towards them. ‘You and I, Mistress, are going to have a little chat about the Colonel’s future – or lack of it.’
Abigail stared despairingly up at Justin. He still looked relatively unconcerned and was even smiling a little. She said, ‘How can you be so —?’
He stopped the words with a tantalisingly slow kiss.
‘Do you know how much – how very much – I love you?’ he murmured. And then, in his usual distinct tone, ‘We have to do as Colonel Brandon says, my heart … or the consequences could be very unfortunate. For all of us.’
No more than two paces away, Gabriel met the light, gleaming gaze with one of almost imperceptible amusement.
‘Thank God someone is following the plot,’ he breathed. And, aloud, ‘Major Maxwell – do I have to wait all night?’
It was some moments before the door clicked shut behind Eden, Francis and Justin … and even then Gabriel held up a warning hand to prevent anyone speaking until he was sure they could not be overheard. Then he said gently, ‘You’d better sit down, Lady Templeton. You look exhausted.’
Abigail sank gratefully into the nearest chair.
‘I’m confused,’ she said, sounding it.
‘So am I,’ murmured Venetia. ‘Did you say Templeton?’
‘I did. Justin is Lord Templeton of Trent,’ replied Gabriel. ‘But since it will do him no good at all to have anyone outside this room discover it, we had all better go on calling him Colonel Ambrose.’ His gaze returned to Abigail. ‘I’m sorry I had to speak to you the way I did and also part you from your husband so abruptly – but it was the only way to get rid of Willis and Baxter. They may have less than half a brain between them but they’re still capable of repeating what they hear.’
His words were greeted by silence. Then Sam said blankly, ‘Are you saying that all this has been part of some sort of act?’
‘Yes. And a fairly convincing one, I hope.’ Gabriel moved to pour wine for his unexpected visitors. ‘Neither Eden nor I are particularly anxious to ruin our careers over this business – and I’d have preferred to conclude it without anyone else being the wiser. But your sister’s arrival has made that rather difficult … mainly because it’s not going to be easy maintaining Justin’s incognito if it becomes clear that his wife and brother-in-law are known to me.’
Absently accepting the glass he offered her, Abigail said quietly, ‘I shouldn’t have come, should I? I’m sorry.’
‘Why?’ asked Sam. ‘You didn’t know about this ransom scheme any more than I did and you were half out of your mind with worry. Also, we still don’t know how it’s supposed to work.’
Feeling as though the last piece of the puzzle had finally dropped into place, Venetia met Gabriel’s eyes and smiled a little.
‘You’re going to have to explain it to them.’
‘But not to you, I gather?’
‘No.’ She returned to her seat. ‘I always knew you didn’t want the money – and of course you can’t just let Francis and the Colonel go. So the only possible solution was for … someone … to help them escape. And that’s what you hoped would happen.’
‘Is that true?’ asked Samuel sharply.
‘Perfectly.’ Gabriel continued to look at Venetia. ‘It seems, however, that I miscalculated.’
She nodded gravely. ‘Yes. And I hope you know why.’
Samuel drew an irritable breath. He said, ‘I can’t pretend to understand what’s going on here. But if Justin’s supposed to escape, it seems to me that we need a plan.’
‘I already have a plan,’ sighed Colonel Brandon. ‘I was just hoping I could avoid using it.’ Then, as the door opened and Major Maxwell rejoined them, ‘But since time – as well as discretion – is now of the essence, I suppose I’d better take you all into my confidence.’
‘That,’ remarked Eden, helping himself to wine, ‘would be a relief. After tonight’s debacle, I for one am sick of playing blindfold.’
‘Then you’d better sit down and listen.’ Gabriel perched himself on the edge of the table and surveyed his troops. ‘We’re going to do this as simply as possible – hopefully the night after tomorrow. Wat will have horses ready at the Blue Boar in Holborn – and Sam will wait with Mistress Abigail at some convenient inn roughly
five miles north of London. Venetia will help me to drug Willis and Baxter … and, in due course, I shall unlock the door and allow myself to be overpowered.’
‘And what,’ asked Eden, ‘will I be doing?’
‘Since there’s no point in us both putting our necks in the noose, you will be conspicuously on duty at the Tower.’
‘While you’re inviting Colonel Ambrose to hit you?’
‘Exactly. You’ve some objection?’
‘Only a dozen or so.’ Eden grimaced wryly. ‘But at least he’ll probably make a better job of it than Francis.’
‘Justin,’ offered Abigail, on an unexpected quiver of laughter, ‘is nothing if not thorough.’
‘God, yes,’ grinned Samuel. ‘He once laid our brother Jonas out cold with a single blow. It was one of the most enjoyable moments of my life.’
‘I wonder,’ remarked Gabriel aridly, ‘why I don’t find that information particularly comforting?’
‘You’re worried you’ll lose some teeth,’ replied Eden. ‘I, on the other hand, am more concerned about how you’re going to come out of all this looking innocent.’
‘Since you and Wat won’t be here to render your assistance at the crucial time, that shouldn’t be a problem.’
‘And I can make sure that the guards are well-fuddled with drink before I take them the jug containing the opiate,’ volunteered Venetia
‘Yes. That would help,’ agreed Gabriel. ‘Also, Justin and Francis can leave me locked in the workroom – from which I shall presently raise the alarm and be released by the servants. Then I take Baxter and Willis limb from limb for being drunk on duty and visit Commissary-General Ireton to show him my cuts and bruises. Simple.’
‘Is it?’ asked Eden dubiously.
‘I think so. Henry has weightier matters on his mind these days than the loss of a couple of prisoners.’ Gabriel came to his feet and raised an enquiring brow at Samuel. ‘Have you somewhere for your sister to sleep tonight?’
‘Yes. There’s room at my lodging in Tower Street.’
‘Then I suggest you take her there. Do not, under any circumstances, come back here. Just find the inn I spoke of earlier and meet me in Shoreditch the day after tomorrow to let me have the necessary details. Also, if you’re thinking of introducing Mistress Abigail to Bryony – be careful what you say. Clear?’