“Evelyn, there you are. Mama is having an apoplexy about you disappearing and bringing hellfire raining down on the house of Spencer or something to that effect. I think she’s been at the punch.”
Anna’s dramatic declaration interrupted him, which was probably just as well. It would have been madness to ask for Evelyn’s hand in the midst of all this chaos.
There would be plenty of time to do so after things had been resolved.
“I’d better go in.” Eve smiled at him ruefully.
He smiled back and couldn’t resist smoothing a golden curl back from her brow.
Anna’s cough was about as subtle as a carriage barrelling through St. James’s.
Eve turned to go, but Andrew gripped her elbow and bent to whisper discreetly in her ear.
“Sweetheart, with your permission, I want to take the papers to my — I mean, to an organisation in Town. One much better equipped to deal with such matters than a country magistrate. If I leave immediately, I shall be back by tomorrow with all the help we need.”
Evelyn frowned, looking terribly anxious, and Andrew’s heart sank at the thought that perhaps she didn’t trust him.
But her next words sent it soaring into the boughs. “Andrew, no. I do not want you travelling alone so late at night. And if my uncle discovers the papers are gone, and that you have left at the same time…”
She hesitated then reached out and clasped his hand in her significantly smaller one.
“I do not want anything to happen to you, especially on my account.”
Anna began to sound as though she were coughing up a lung.
“I’m coming, Anna,” Eve snapped impatiently.
In response, Anna huffed, muffled something about obstinate little cousins, then turned on her heel and stomped back inside.
Andrew barely paid any heed. “Don’t worry about me, my love. I have been in much trickier situations than this.”
She looked about to question him, but time was of the essence, and he was far too tempted to blurt out the truth of his job as it was.
So, without giving her further opportunity to argue, he kissed her soundly once again then turned to leave.
He stopped at the door to the ballroom and turned to offer her a reassuring wink.
“I will return tomorrow, sweetheart. And then we can put all this behind us and start planning a future free from your wicked uncle.”
Her smile was enough to lighten even the darkest of days, and Andrew carried that image with him as he made his excuses and raced back to the Park to get ready for his immediate departure.
It was folly, indeed, to travel at this time of night, and Andrew knew it.
As he waited for Beast to be rubbed down and re-saddled after his ride back from the Assembly Rooms, he thought only of the positives: the sooner this was over and done with and Spencer handed over to the authorities, the sooner he could marry Eve and start a life with her.
Really, he probably could have gone straight on to London, but Andrew wanted to make sure his horse was well rested before a ride through the darkness.
He felt a sharp pang of guilt for what would befall Jonathan and Anna when they found out about their father’s duplicity, but he vowed to do everything in his not insignificant power to ensure that they suffered but little for their father’s actions.
The quick note he’d penned to Jonathan included an explanation of events, along with a heartfelt apology that he hadn’t waited to tell his partner all of this in person. But there would be plenty of time to sit down and discuss the ins and outs when he returned.
Besides which, it wasn’t really his story to tell, and he hoped that once Jon read the note, he would go to Eve, who would fill in the blanks.
Andrew had no doubt that as shocking as it would be for Jonathan, his best friend would do right by Evelyn and wouldn’t allow anything bad to befall her while he was away.
It was a colossal relief to be so close to bringing the matter to a conclusion, and Andrew was riding high on a wave of euphoria at the thought of the future that now lay before him.
Which was probably why he was distracted enough not to notice that he had company in the stable yard until it was too late.
The distinctive click of a pistol being cocked froze Andrew to the spot.
“Good evening, my lord.”
The sound of Peter Grant’s cold, nasally voice raised Andrew’s hackles. He’d always hated the man, always known that he would have uncovered something sinister had he been given more time to dig deeper.
And, of course, he’d known Grant was in this up to his neck from the conversations he’d heard and the behaviour he’d seen. He just didn’t know how or why.
“Will you please turn around? I’d hate to shoot a man in the back. ‘Tis cowardly, you know.”
Andrew gritted his teeth.
He could easily disarm the man; in fact, he would take great pleasure in doing so. But for now he wanted to play along and see if he could make sense of this.
Andrew turned slowly and faced Grant, who was holding the pistol steadily aimed directly at Andrew’s heart.
“Is there a particular reason you want to shoot me this evening?” he enquired politely.
“Oh, several,” sneered Grant, “but as long as you comply with my wishes, I shall be lenient. I might even let you live.”
Andrew’s ego was itching to plant the man a facer. Let him live, indeed. But he’d learned long ago that these sorts of games were won with patience and keeping one’s cool.
“And what wishes might they be?” he asked, his tone still casual, his mind working frantically.
The stable boy was bound to appear with Midnight soon. Surely Grant wasn’t stupid enough to continue this in front of possible witnesses.
“Why don’t we continue this somewhere less open?” Grant smiled, as though he were suggesting a drink at White’s.
So, he wasn’t stupid after all. But then, Andrew had known that.
Grant indicated with a wave of his pistol that Andrew should precede him toward the house.
Andrew began to walk, starting to regret his insistence that Jonathan stay behind at the ball while he slipped back to the house.
He had been over-anxious to get the matter brought to a close and had felt too guilty at keeping Jonathan in the dark to want to spend any more time with him. He wished now he’d just thought “sod it” and let Jon come along.
“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Andrew pressed now, making his way toward the house as slowly as he could.
“Of course. This is about you interfering where you really shouldn’t, my lord. I should have thought you’d learned that from previous examples.”
Andrew momentarily wondered what he meant, but, rather than allow himself to be distracted, he kept focused on the matter at hand.
“What have I interfered in?”
“Really, my lord? Are we going to play this game?”
Andrew had had enough of pandering to him.
They’d reached the house now and had stepped into the conservatory at the back.
The house was silent and still; no doubt the staff were taking advantage of the family being gone for the night and had made themselves scarce.
Of course, someone would come if Andrew called, but he wasn’t yet sure what this was about and had no intention of alerting anybody to the situation until he got the information he wanted.
He stopped moving and turned once again to face the other man.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Grant, but I’m growing tired of this,” he warned, his voice like steel.
“All right then, let us be frank,” the other man said, his gun still trained on Andrew’s chest. “The papers that you stole from Spencer’s study, I want them back.”
Grant’s demand proved to Andrew that what he thought about the other man was true: Grant was a small fish who swam in ponds he wasn’t equipped for. Andrew never would have owned so soon. Now he knew e
xactly what Grant wanted, before the other man had even ascertained whether Andrew had them or not! He had no cards left to play with. He’d shown his hand.
“Papers?” Andrew asked with feigned innocence. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Mr. Grant narrowed his eyes then smiled an icy smile.
“I had hoped you would be cooperative, my lord.”
“And why should I be?”
“Well, it’s very simple. You hand over the papers, or I instruct my men to carry out the plan to gain us some leverage.”
Andrew frowned. What the hell was he talking about?
“I can see by your expression that you’ve been underestimating me.” Grant flicked a piece of lint from his jacket before continuing to speak. “I really wish people wouldn’t do that. It annoys me so.”
Andrew’s instincts told him that something was wrong, very wrong.
“Why don’t you speak plainly, Grant? What exactly do you want? And what exactly are you talking about?”
Grant released a dramatic sigh.
“What I want exactly are those papers.”
There was no longer any point in feigning ignorance, not if he wanted to know what Grant had planned.
“You seem inordinately protective of your father-in-law’s affairs. How touching.” Andrew’s tone dripped with sarcasm.
“I don’t give a damn about the old blighter’s affairs.” Grant laughed. “I have Anna, which is all I’ve ever wanted from him.”
“Why so keen to help him then?”
“I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out, Ashdon. Aren’t you supposed to be impressively intelligent?”
Andrew’s mind was working at a rapid pace, piecing together hundreds of little pieces of information and, suddenly, he knew.
His heart sank as he realised just what type of person he was dealing with here, and he’d left Eve alone. Granted, she was with her family, and Jonathan would never let any harm come to her but then, he didn’t know she might be in danger.
Think, Andrew, he instructed himself, all the while ensuring that his mask of indifference didn’t change.
“You know…” He kept his tone casual as they remained standing in the cold conservatory, facing each other, though his heart was hammering with the speed of a runaway carriage. “…I never did quite understand how you came from such —ah — humble beginnings to a lofty place in society and more money than Croesus.”
As Andrew had hoped, his subtle reference to Grant’s dubious beginnings angered the man if the sudden ticking at his temple and clenching of his jaw was anything to go by.
“I mean,” he continued, pressing his advantage, “your parents were nobodies really, weren’t they? Me, being the son of a Peer, I knew that I would be welcomed by the ton. But you? No, you somehow clawed your way in, didn’t you?”
Grant’s dull blue eyes were snapping. Andrew was definitely taking a risk. If the man was as bad as Andrew suspected he was, he was either completely unhinged or evil, neither of which was a good option for a man holding a gun.
“How right you are, Ashdon. Not all of us were born to privilege. Some of us had to earn our place.”
“And you did that by helping influential gentlemen to conceal their dirty work? I almost expected more from you, Grant. For a while there, I had thought you a noteworthy adversary.”
Grant’s hand flexed on the gun, but Andrew wasn’t afraid. He’d never feared death before. But then, he’d never had someone he wanted so much to live for before Eve. But old habits died hard, and Andrew would not be cowed by the idea of death.
“Again you underestimate me,” Grant spat, and that madness Andrew feared began to rear its head. The man’s eyes were crazed, and his breathing became laboured as he appeared to struggle to hold on to his control. “Do you really think I made what I did of myself by helping the fat cats of the ton to conceal a few bad debts or blackmail attempts?”
Andrew had started inching ever so slowly toward the door. He needed to get away from Grant and get to Evelyn.
He’d known Grant was involved. He’d just had no idea how much.
“I made my money by getting my hands dirty, my lord,” he spat the title like an insult. “Who do you think that damned fool Spencer got to kill his brother in the first place?”
Andrew’s fists clenched as he imagined the pain and suffering his beautiful Eve had experienced because of this man and his crazed need to be someone important.
“Are you saying you killed Evelyn’s father?” he asked quietly, working harder than ever before to keep his tone neutral.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” The other man grinned. “And that’s not all, Ashdon. You have no idea how far my reach goes, how much I’m capable of now that I have a little power.”
It appeared that this was to be a confession of all of Grant’s crimes.
“I was right. All those years ago, when I suspected you of selling information to the French? When I suspected you of betraying your own country. Wasn’t I?”
Grant shrugged nonchalantly.
Andrew could have throttled him.
His mind suddenly flew to Jonathan, to his friend’s face as the mysterious gunman had taken aim and fired at Gabrielle. His scream as her body slumped to the cold, wet ground. They’d never quite been able to figure out who it could have been. Was it possible? Had it been Jonathan’s own brother-in-law?
“Good God, man. What is the matter with you?” he bit out.
“Nothing that clearing up loose ends won’t fix,” Grant answered laughingly. That laugh was one of the most chilling Andrew had ever heard. “But I grow tired of all of this. You’ll give me those letters, and I’ll get rid of you, and everything will go back to normal.”
It was Andrew’s turn to laugh.
“You really think I’ll just hand them over and let you kill me? You’re more insane than I thought.”
“Not insane, Ashdon. Just an excellent planner. The way I see it, you have two choices. Give me the letters and accept your fate, or watch while the men I have hired to follow your precious Evelyn squeeze the life from her. All it will take, Ashdon, is one word from me.”
Andrew had never felt anything like the cold snake of fear that coiled around his lungs, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
“So, what’s it to be?”
Think, Andrew, he told himself frantically again.
“Fine. You win,” he said, after forming a hasty and probably not-very-well-thought-out plan in his head. “I have the papers but not here. I can take you to them, but she is not to be touched. You are to send no messages for her to be harmed.”
Peter scoffed at Andrew’s demand.
“You’re a fool, Ashdon. To throw away your life for the sake of an insignificant chit.”
“Do we have a deal or not?” Andrew snapped.
“We do.” Grant smiled, but it was as evil a smile as Andrew had ever seen. “Frankly, I have no desire to hurt Miss Spencer. The fallout will be so frightfully dull, Anna wailing and Jonathan hell bent on revenge.” He yawned. “So tiresome, you understand. Plus, I’ve never been a fan of mourning periods, and I would detest having to keep up appearances for such a little nobody.”
The fiery rage that swept over Andrew nearly had him reaching for Grant and throttling him. But he wanted the man away from Spencer Park, away from wherever Eve was. If he could manage to convince the madman that he’d gotten the papers to London, then he might just be able to convince him to travel all the way there.
It wouldn’t take long for word to spread to headquarters that Andrew had returned to Town, and they’d seek him out immediately. Grant would be captured before he’d ever be able to send a message for Eve to be harmed.
And once Andrew knew the danger of her being captured had passed, he’d be able to take his time showing Grant just what happened to people who threatened the woman he loved.
So, with a smile of his own, he turned and led the way to Grant�
�s carriage to begin the journey.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Evelyn was growing more agitated by the second, but Anna and her aunt weren’t showing any signs of slowing down.
She wanted to get back to the house so she could fret about Andrew in peace.
Jonathan had offered to dance with her, but she’d refused. Just like she’d refused refreshments, offers of walks, and all attempts at conversation.
Truth be told, she was rather glad that her aunt and Anna were so distracted. She wasn’t in the mood to act as though everything were all right.
Right now Andrew was probably on his way to London, and this whole thing would be over.
Her guilt reared its head once more as she thought of the fallout for her beloved cousins. No doubt, they would be shocked and upset. But would they also feel utterly betrayed by Evelyn’s silence?
Evelyn scanned the ballroom and was momentarily distracted by the arrival of the incredibly tall, incredibly handsome Captain Townsend. He’d arrived after all. Anna would, no doubt, be pleased.
She scanned the room again, trying to pick out Anna so she could inform her cousin that he’d arrived. But it wasn’t necessary, she soon discovered, as she watched Anna, who had always been on the tall side and, therefore, stood out from the crowd, spy Captain Townsend across the room at the same time as the captain spotted her.
Evelyn’s breath caught at the look that passed between the two. It almost made her blush, as though she were watching something intimate between them that nobody else should be privy to.
They moved toward each other, and Evelyn knew, without a doubt, that Anna would be occupied for the rest of the evening and would not be bothering with Evelyn for some time.
Jonathan had disappeared into the card room, following Uncle Geoffrey’s example, and Aunt Millicent could barely be seen past the feathers and turbans of her cronies, who had all settled in to pick at the passing crowd like vultures over a carcass.
She was quite alone.
Evelyn stood a little straighter. She was alone!
Highway Revenge Page 22