“Be that as it may,” Weymouth said. “It’s the ruse we’re going to use.”
“To do what?” Griffin asked.
“To trap a treasonous, murderous rat.”
“What do you have in mind?” Alex asked.
Weymouth laid out the details of the plan he and the other Free Fellows had cobbled together. “We must catch him in the act.”
“If we put that notice in the papers, Rothermere is bound to come after us,” Alex said. “It’s too dangerous. I won’t use Liana as bait. I won’t risk her life.”
“You won’t be risking her life. We’ll be there to protect her,” Weymouth said. “She’ll be perfectly safe.”
“Rothermere will never fall for it,” Griffin warned. “He’s too smart.”
“He’ll fall for it,” his father said. “He’s desperate. And he has no choice.”
Chapter Thirty
“Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more:
Or close the wall up with our English dead.”
—William Shakespeare, 1564-1616, Henry V
“The last time we did this someone nearly got shot,” Alex reminded his companion.
“The last time we did this, I’d already been shot,” Daniel reminded him. “And I’d prefer it to be the only time.”
“Would you rather be scaling walls and housebreaking in London?” Alex asked.
“Not particularly.”
“Then stop whining and drive.”
They were on their way to trap a rat in Edinburgh. Not for king and country, but because Alex could never be sure Liana and the people he loved would be safe unless he did. He glanced back at the coach. If anything happened to her…
“She’ll be fine,” Daniel promised. “We won’t let anything happen to her.”
“I can’t help it, Daniel,” Alex said, gritting his teeth against a frisson of raw fear. “How would you feel if she were your—”
“Exactly the way you feel,” Daniel said.
Alex had argued against Weymouth’s plan, but in the end he’d relented because he had no choice. None of them would ever be safe again if they didn’t seize this opportunity to be rid of Rothermere.
“Please!” The occupant of the coach bearing the Marquess of Courtland’s coat of arms rapped on the vehicle’s ceiling with Alex’s cane. “Mind your roles! We’re almost there.”
The Duke of Sussex, dressed in Courtland livery, was driving. The Marquess of Courtland, also wearing Courtland livery, was riding guard. Dressed as a Courtland footman, Stallings was riding boot. And the Earl of Weymouth, in his official capacity as a representative of His Majesty’s government, was riding in the coach, accompanying their precious charge.
Other men were also engaged in the mission. Men the Free Fellows had never met, but who were there to support and defend them as they took on another enemy.
The Ton Tidbits column of the London and Edinburgh editions of the Morning Chronicle had obligingly printed the news that the Marquess of Courtland and his new marchioness, having concluded their honeymoon, were on their way to visit His Lordship’s new holdings in Edinburgh with a view to renovating and rebuilding.
The stage was set. The players had taken their places and the play was about to begin.
The Courtland coach rolled to a stop at the address Colin had given Lord Weymouth. Just as they’d anticipated, brigands immediately surrounded the coach.
“Drop your weapons and get down from the coach!”
Recognizing the voice ordering them down, Alex and Sussex exchanged a glance, then slowly complied.
Felix Rothermere emerged from the house, strode through the men surrounding the coach, and yanked open the door of the vehicle. Reaching in, he grabbed the veiled woman sitting on the forward-facing seat by the wrist and snatched her out of the coach.
She stumbled and fell to her knees on the ground. The men dressed in Courtland livery all surged forward.
“Stay where you are!” Rothermere reached inside his jacket, pulled out a revolver, and waved it at the men. “Or I’ll kill her.” Grabbing the woman’s arm, Rothermere yanked her to her feet and spun her around. “Say no to me, will you, you little bitch? I’ll rape you in front of Courtland and when I’m done, I’ll carve him into a thousand pieces right before your eyes and give what’s left of you to these men for their pleasure.” He leaned toward the coach and called to the man inside, “Come out, Courtland, this is something you don’t want to miss.”
“I don’t intend to miss it, Rothermere,” Alex said from his place near the coach’s front wheel.
Rothermere turned a disbelieving glare on him. “Courtland?”
“That’s right.”
Rothermere gestured toward the interior of the coach with the gun. “Then who the devil is that?”
The Earl of Weymouth climbed out of the coach.
“Weymouth.”
“Correct,” Weymouth said. “And you, Lord Rothermere, are under arrest for treason, murder, and attempted murder by order of His Majesty King George and his heir, the Prince Regent of Great Britain.”
“Treason?” Rothermere sneered. “I am a peer of the realm. I cannot be charged with treason.”
“You are in possession of smuggled Gilpin A-1 rifles belonging to His Majesty’s army.”
“And you are grossly outnumbered.” Rothermere waved his weapon to indicate the brigands surrounding the coach. The brigands in his employ. “You should have brought an army.”
“I did,” Weymouth told him.
Everything seemed to happen at once. Turning on his heel, Rothermere jerked Lady Courtland to him. “Now, you little whore, I told you I will have what’s mine! But first, we make you a widow.” He leveled the gun at Alex and fired just as the far horse of the team pulling the Courtland coach surged forward.
As the heavy ball grazed his left shoulder, Alex fell back against the coach.
A scream split the air. “Alexander!”
Another shot rang out.
Rothermere released his grip on the lady, gazing down at her in stunned disbelief. “You shot me, you whore.”
“The name is Bitch,” she replied, flipping back her veil so Felix Rothermere could see her face. “And you shot my son.”
“Eleanor.” Rothermere’s eyes widened as he recognized his arch nemesis and realized her triumphant face would be the last sight he would see. He slowly crumpled to the ground.
“Lady Bitch to you, you thrice damned Bag of Pus. That’s for Felicity and her babies. And for Michael.” She stood over him, watching him through the pistol smoke as the unholy light dimmed in his eyes.
“Alex is all right,” Daniel called out to Lady Courtland as he helped Alex to his feet, then eased his friend into the coach so he could recline on the carriage seat. “It’s only a flesh wound.”
Weymouth stepped forward, took Lady Courtland by the hand, and gently pried the small revolver from her shaky grip.
Lady Courtland blinked up at him, the enormity of what had just happened beginning to sink in. “Trevor, I do believe I shot him.”
“No, Eleanor, you didn’t.” Weymouth took the weapon and pocketed it. It was still loaded. “You didn’t fire. I did.”
Lady Courtland exhaled a tremulous breath. “I don’t know if that makes me happy or sad.”
“Let me help you into the coach, Eleanor,” Weymouth suggested, recognizing the signs of belated shock from his own years on the battlefields. “Alex is in there.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Trevor. I know your intention was simply for me to impersonate Liana and draw that bastard into your trap, but I do believe this was even better.”
“You’re welcome, dear lady.” He walked Lady Courtland back to the coach. “Nobody deserved to see him brought to justice more than you did.”
She paused at the door. “May I suggest you pound a stake through his heart before you bury him at the crossroads?” With that, she turned, climbed back into the coach, and began to cry.
“Mo
ther?” Alex leaned toward her and patted her on the arm. “Don’t cry. I’m fine. It’s just a scratch. See?”
Daniel had already sacrificed his neck cloth to bind the wound and stop the bleeding.
“Alex, let her be,” Daniel said. “She’s not crying because of you, she’s crying for her sister and your father. Let her grieve. She’ll be the better for it. Come on. We’ve work to do.”
Alex brushed his lips against his mother’s hair and slid out of the coach. “Stay here and rest. I’ll be back soon. And it’s good to see you again, Jonathan,” Alex said, turning to grin at one of his dearest friends.
Jonathan glanced down at the grimy workman’s clothes he had used to disguise himself as one of Rothermere’s brigands. “I was afraid you would shoot before you recognized me.”
“As they say, Cousin,” Daniel drawled. “Clothes maketh the man.”
“That’s Manners,” Jonathan laughed. “And you know it.”
Daniel squinted at another of the men. “Is that you, Billy Beekins?”
“Aye, Danny Boy, it’s me.” Billy Beekins doffed his hat. “And here’s Micah and Jonah and Pepper and Shavers.” Each brigand stepped forward to doff his cap and reveal themselves as the men Daniel, Alex, Jonathan, and Colin had hired to row the Free Fellows back and forth across the Channel for the past few years and had, at one time or another, entrusted with their lives. “You sent word you needed good men you could trust and we’d never been to Scotland afore. Who better than smugglers to see to some unsmuggling?”
Daniel laughed. “Who better indeed?”
“We’ve secured the rifles, sir.” Colin strode out from inside the house and up to Lord Weymouth. “They’re ready for loading onto the dray for the trip to the harbor. We’ll be sailing on the Lady Clyde with the tide.”
“Thank you, Grantham,” Lord Weymouth replied.
Colin disappeared back into the house to see to their loading, but before Weymouth could join him, another vehicle came barreling down the road toward them at breakneck speed.
“What the devil?” Alex exclaimed as the team halted before Rothermere’s body, coming to a hard stop and spraying gravel.
“Here, Courtland.” Jonathan bent down, retrieved the rifle Alex had dropped, and tossed it to him. “You may need this.”
“Thanks.” Alex caught the rifle and pointed it at the newly arrived coach.
The door of the vehicle burst open and the passenger scrambled out in a flurry of skirts and a good bit of sprightly ankle. “Alex!”
Alex braced himself as Liana threw herself at him.
He caught her against his chest and hugged her tightly with his unwounded arm, too happy to see her to be angry with her. “Liana, what on earth are you doing here?”
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Liana began covering his face with kisses. “I woke up in the middle of the night and you were gone. Then I heard Keswick telling the footmen that you were on your way to Scotland. I knew you and the rest of the League were plotting to try to catch Rothermere, so I followed you.”
“The League?” Alex bit back a smile as his bride revealed her secret that she had known his secret all along. He thought he’d smelled the scent of her orange and vanilla soap outside Griffin’s study the morning he, Griffin, and Weymouth had met to discuss the problem of dealing with Rothermere. He glanced over her head at the coach in which she had arrived. It bore the crest of the Duke of Avon. “You followed me from Abernathy Manor all the way to Scotland?”
“Yes,” she gasped, still breathless.
“Great Zeus’s Garters, Liana!” he exclaimed, wondering if Liana had abused Griffin’s prized livestock all the way from there to here. “Who drove?”
“I did, sir.” Jimmy Ralston walked around the horses and came to stand in front of Alex, where he doffed his hat. “Her Ladyship was determined to come and I couldn’t let her come by herself.”
“You did the right thing, Ralston.” Alex extended his hand. “Thank you for looking out for Lady Courtland.”
Ralston shook it. “Thank you, sir. And if it’s all right with you, I’ll see to the stock now.”
“You’ll find a public trough up the street a piece,” one of the men offered.
“Thank you, sir,” Ralston said as he led the tired horses away.
“Is he dead?”
Alex looked down to find Liana staring at Rothermere’s body. “He is. He can never hurt you—or anyone else I love—again.” Cupping his wife’s head in his broad palm, Alex gently guided her face back to his shoulder. “Now, my lady, tell me how you came to be listening at keyholes.”
“First, tell me what you’re going to do with me now that you know I know your secret,” she said, squaring her shoulders as she swept a defiant gaze over Alex and the other men gathered around them. “Will I be banished to the country only to be let out at Christmas and Easter? Or will you have our marriage annulled?”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, my sweet,” Alex said softly, his gaze drinking in the sight of her. She was wearing a light green morning gown that brought out the color of her eyes. She was every bit as beautiful this morning as she had been the last time she’d been wrapped in his embrace.
“At least I don’t have to worry about you sending me back to Rothermere,” she quipped. “But I suppose you can still have me shot for listening at keyholes and spying on England’s greatest spies. After all, ‘you shall give your first loyalty and undying friendship to England and your brothers and fellow members of the Free Fellows League’.”
Alex narrowed his eyes at her, struggling to look disapproving. “Someone has been doing some spying of her own. How long have you known?”
“I stumbled upon Colin’s copy of the original charter when he returned home after university. He had it hidden in a dusty tome of Shakespeare I borrowed without his knowledge.”
Jonathan laughed. “Your brother never cared overmuch for Shakespeare and couldn’t conceive of anyone else ever wanting to read it. To Colin, it was a perfectly safe hiding place.”
Liana gazed up at her husband, clearly bewildered. “But your name wasn’t on it.”
“I joined later.” He held up his right palm. “Two years ago. As you can see, my scar is more recent.”
“As is mine.” Jonathan Manners held up his right hand. “Jonathan Manners at your service, Lady Courtland. Your husband and I joined the League at the same time.”
Liana frowned. “But you were at Knightsguild with Colin and the others.”
“I was,” Jonathan confirmed. “But I was younger and the older boys wouldn’t let me play with them until they determined I could be trusted to keep their secrets.”
Weymouth turned to Liana and said in his most intimidating voice, “Which brings us to you, Lady Courtland. Have you ever told anyone about the League? Your mother? Your father? Anyone?”
“No, of course not! Do you think I wanted to get my brother killed?”
“I could take her into custody,” Weymouth said, “but as she’s your wife, I shall leave her fate—and her punishment—up to you.” He gave Alex a broad wink.
“And what do you intend to do with me, my lord?” Liana demanded of her husband. “Now that I know all your secrets.”
“I intend to trust you with every one of them,” Alex said. “As well as my heart.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“If I didn’t believe I could trust you, I would never have married you. I love you, Liana McElreath. I intend to love you from now through all eternity and I’m never going to let you go.”
Liana moved to throw her arms around him again, saw him wince, and realized he’d been hurt. “You’re hurt!”
“I’m fine,” Alex assured her.
“What happened?”
“Rothermere shot him,” Daniel offered, giving Liana a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “But it’s just a scratch. Nothing to worry about.”
“Alex, he might have killed you!” Liana exclaimed.
“Not bloody likely,” Alex informed her. “I have too much to live for.”
“Now that you’ve decided not to let me go,” she teased.
“I was trying to give you a choice,” he said softly. “Your father didn’t and neither did I when I barged into the church to save you.”
“You big oaf! I made my choice years ago. I could have said no to you in the church, too, you know.”
Alex stepped back in mock horror. “In front the Archbishop of Canterbury and my mother?”
“In front of King George himself if necessary! I love you so. Ever since you danced with me at Lady Harralson’s ball. And when I realized you were a Free Fellow, I was so afraid you were going to let me go.”
He kissed her tenderly in front of the smiling group of men. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now. And with the other former Free Fellows. You see, there’s a revised charter more favorable to wives. And I was the only bachelor to sign it.”
Colin reappeared in that moment and came marching over to Alex and Liana. “Hello, Little Sister.” Leaning down, he pulled Liana out of Alex’s grasp and gave her a hug. “I missed you.”
“Oh, Colin!” Liana returned his fierce hug with one of her own. “I’ve missed you, too!”
“You’ve been busy while I’ve been away.” He brushed her hair with a kiss, then stepped back so he could get a good look at her.
She nodded. “Very.”
“So has he.”
Something in his clipped tones warned her, but Liana couldn’t react fast enough to stop him. “Colin! No!”
Drawing back his fist, Colin knocked his blood brother and his new brother-in-law on his arse. “I thanked you once for saving my wife. Now I’m thanking you for saving my sister from that— What did Her Ladyship call him?”
“Bag of Pus,” the band of smugglers answered in unison, before turning as one to spit on Rothermere’s corpse.
“Bag of Pus.” Colin leaned forward and offered Alex a hand.
A Bachelor Still Page 30