by Candace Camp
“I didn’t think anyone scared her,” Nicola said as she smoothed her hair back into place, repinning the strands that had come loose beneath her hat.
“There. All done.” Marianne stood back and inspected Nicola.
“Do I look all right?”
“Lovely, as always. No one would guess that you hadn’t spent the evening in your parlor.”
“How is Lambeth?”
A shadow crossed Marianne’s face. “He looks perfectly all right, quite elegant and cool. But I think his arm hurts him. He favors it a bit—I’ve noticed that he keeps it resting on the chair arm. But at least the bandage was not bulky. It doesn’t show.”
“It was only a graze,” Nicola reassured her. “I am sure he will be fine, and I will put something on it after this is all over.”
Marianne nodded. “Yes, just so long as Richard doesn’t notice that he is weak in his arm.”
“We’ll just have to keep him distracted from it.” Nicola said firmly. “Well, shall we go down and face the dragon?”
“Aunt Ursula?”
“Who else?”
They linked arms and went downstairs, where they found the rest of the group in the formal drawing room. Sebastian stood next to the chair on which Alexandra sat, one elbow casually propped up on the mantel, and at the other end of the mantel, like a bookend, stood Lord Buckminster, gazing at his future mother-in-law with a hunted expression. That good woman, a middle-aged family tyrant dressed all in blue, with a bosom like the prow of a ship, was sitting several feet away, frowning at her daughter, who was on the other side of an elderly, regal-looking woman. The aged woman was the Countess of Exmoor, Lady Ursula’s mother and the grandmother of Marianne, Alexandra and Penelope. The Dowager Countess, who had obviously been quite a beauty in her day, was tall and slender and sat ramrod straight in her chair. There was the faintest line of worry etched into her forehead. Penelope sat with her hands clenching her fan, obviously waiting in dread. Slightly behind the others were Nicola’s sister, Deborah, and their aunt, Lady Buckminster, who looked faintly puzzled, which greatly increased her resemblance to her son. Beside them was an empty chair, and next to it, Lord Lambeth lounged, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
He sprang up when Marianne and Nicola entered, saying, “My dear. And Nicola. The wait was well worth it. You look lovely.” He swept them a bow.
“Always a handy one with a compliment, Justin,” Nicola retorted, smiling.
“There you are, Nicola,” Lady Ursula said. “You know, I cannot fathom why you went with Lambeth and Thorpe to look for the girls.”
“You know me, Lady Ursula,” Nicola said easily. “I never was one to sit at home and wait. How are you this evening? You are looking quite well.”
“Just what I was telling her,” Lambeth said easily. “If you get any younger-looking, Lady Castlereigh, you shall have people asking if Penelope is your sister, not your daughter.”
Lady Ursula could not help but smile at his remark, though she remarked with as much sternness as she could muster, “You are a flatterer, Lambeth. I shouldn’t wonder if you lead my niece quite a dance.”
“I am afraid it is the other way around, my lady.”
Nicola crossed the room to where her sister sat and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “I am glad you came, Deborah. I did not expect to see you.”
“I was a trifle surprised myself,” Deborah admitted, smiling a little wanly. “But when the Countess and Aunt Adelaide suggested it, I thought, well, why not? A game of cards or some conversation would be nice.”
Nicola smiled and made a pleasant reply, her mind elsewhere. Should they tell the Countess and the others everything, she wondered, and hope that family loyalty would keep them silent when Richard came to question them, as she was sure he and his Bow Street Runner would? The Countess, she knew, would never do or say anything that would aid Richard, and her family loyalty was well-known. And if she remained in ignorance of the night’s events, there was always the possibility of her saying something wrong inadvertently, especially because she did not know what was at stake. If it were only the Countess involved, Nicola thought that she would have told her everything without a second thought.
But Lady Ursula was another matter. One never knew what she might do or say. Anyone who badgered as sweet a person as her daughter Penelope had to be perverse, and everyone knew how much she had fought against believing that Alexandra was her long-dead brother’s child. On the other hand, she had no liking for Richard, either, and she had grudgingly admitted at last that Alexandra and, later, Marianne were her true nieces. Surely family loyalty and the fear of scandal should ensure that she not reveal that her nieces’ husband and fiancé; had been involved in a gaol break, but Nicola was a little afraid to rely on that.
Worst of all, she knew that she did not trust her own sister not to reveal their secret if she told her. Even though Deborah had left Richard’s house in bitter tears, vowing never to see him again, she was, after all, his wife. She had loved him and, for all Nicola knew, still loved him despite her pain and anger. He was also the father of her unborn child, a fact that weighed heavily with a woman. Nicola was not sure what Deborah would say if Richard wheedled her with sweet words to tell him what Nicola had done.
Nicola looked at Marianne. She wished she could talk to her and the others privately.
“It seems odd to me—” Lady Ursula began.
Alexandra cut into her words as if she had not heard her. “A game of cards does sound nice, Deborah,” she said, retrieving the thread of conversation Deborah had started. “Why don’t we repair to the card room? Sebastian? Marianne?”
“Yes, why don’t we?” Nicola agreed, thinking that perhaps they could snatch a bit of conversation together as they changed rooms. She stood up.
At that moment, the sound of loud voices came from the hallway beyond. Nicola tensed, and Lambeth rose to his feet, turning toward the door and starting forward, as did Sebastian, then Bucky.
The doors to the hallway were flung open, and the Earl of Exmoor barged in, followed by his Runner, Stone, then by the constable and the magistrate, Squire Halsey, wringing his hands and protesting in a useless way. After them came the butler, saying, “My lord! You cannot—”
“Don’t tell me what I cannot do,” Exmoor snarled at the man. He turned to face the occupants of the room. Behind them, Nicola could now see several other men, all carrying muskets. She recognized none of their faces, and she supposed that they must be the men Richard had hired to help him capture Jack.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Sebastian snapped as he, Lambeth and Buckminster moved to stand between Richard and the women in the room.
“Oh!” Squire Halsey groaned. “Lord Thorpe. Buckminster. Lord Lambeth…so sorry to intrude. Really, Exmoor, we cannot just accost innocent people.”
“Especially not when they will be dukes one day?” Richard asked bitingly. “Buck up, man, grow a spine. You have a legal right to be here.”
“I dispute that, Exmoor,” Lambeth said coldly. “I know of no right that you or the Squire has to burst into the Countess’s home and frighten her guests. I would suggest that you leave at once.”
“We want only to talk to her.” Richard turned, fixing his gaze on Nicola. “The rest of you I have no quarrel with.”
“Oh, but I am afraid you do,” Thorpe said in a silky tone. “If you think that I am going to allow you to drag a lady from this house and browbeat her, then you are more of a fool than I took you for.”
“Richard.” The Countess’s voice cut across the room, as icy as a winter’s day. All eyes turned toward her. She had stood up, a tall, regal figure, her elegant white hair crowning her head, and she looked at Richard with a cool imperiousness that was guaranteed to make any man feel like an errant schoolboy. “You dare to come into my home with armed men?”
Even Richard had the grace to flush at her words. “It is nothing to do with you, my lady. We seek—”
“Countess…my lady…”
“Yes?”
“We mean no disrespect to you, my lady,” the Squire said feebly, mopping his forehead with his handkerchief.
“Perhaps you do not mean any,” the Countess allowed graciously. “But that is what you have demonstrated, nevertheless. Did you think you could troop in here and treat my guests and me as if we were common criminals and not give offense? Send your men out, and perhaps we can discuss this matter like civilized people. Otherwise, I am afraid that you will hear nothing from anyone in this house. Even if you drag us out and haul us down to gaol.”
“My lady!” The Squire looked striken. “Oh, no, goodness gracious. This is awful. Awful.” He turned toward Richard. “Lord Exmoor, send your men out. You have no authority here. This is trespass, and I told you that it was not proper—”
“Stop blubbering, Halsey,” Richard said with contempt.
“I will send my men outside. They can stop anyone leaving well enough from there. But I am not leaving here until I get some answers.”
He turned and barked an order at Stone, who turned and left the room, gesturing to the men in the hall to follow him. The Countess looked at Richard with contempt.
“You shame the name of Exmoor,” she said bluntly, and for the first time emotion tinged her elegant voice with a tremor.
“Oh, Grandmama…” Penelope cried out in sympathy, rushing to her side and taking her arm.
“Have you not harmed her enough already?” Alexandra asked, her lip curling. “Must you come in here and—”
“No, no!” the Squire said, wringing his hands in distress. “We mean no harm to the Countess. Not at all. It’s the escaped prisoner we are chasing. That is all we want.”
“And precisely why would you come to the Countess’s house looking for a prisoner?” Lady Ursula asked bitingly. “Eh? Speak up, man, and tell me that.”
“It is Nicola,” Richard said once again, looking at Nicola.
“Nicola Falcourt?” Lady Ursula repeated in tones of amazement. “The girl has always been a trifle odd, I will admit, but I can assure you that she is not a prisoner. Do you have bats in the belfry, man? Halsey, how can you be such a fool as to listen to this?”
“No, no, Miss Falcourt is not a prisoner, my lady,” the Squire hastened to assure her.
“At least not yet,” Richard said.
“Then what in heaven’s name are you talking about?” Lady Buckminster asked, speaking up for the first time. “You do realize, Squire, that you are talking about my niece?”
“That’s right,” Bucky agreed, adding, “I would watch my step if I were you, sir, before I went slandering my cousin.”
“Oh, no. My lord—my lady—I would never—I did not mean—”
“Do shut up, Halsey,” Richard interposed. “They are trying to distract you. Everyone knows that Nicola was not a prisoner. It is the highwayman we are after.”
“The highwayman?” Penelope asked, looking puzzled and supremely innocent.
“The one who accosted Lady Thorpe and Miss Montford this evening?” Sebastian asked. “Frightened them half to death. I say, Squire Halsey, crime seems to run rampant here. I meant to come see you tomorrow about it.”
“Not the one who ‘accosted’ the ladies,” Richard said, with a thin smile that made clear his disbelief. “’The Gentleman,’ he is called, and he was in gaol, but his accomplices let him out tonight while the gaoler was distracted…coincidentally…by Lady Thorpe and Miss Montford.”
“Exactly what are you trying to say, Exmoor?” Sebastian asked in a voice as hard as glass. “I warn you, you are treading on thin ice.”
“It seems an odd time for two young ladies to be out driving alone.”
“My wife is quite competent with the reins,” Sebastian said, “and when they left, it was still afternoon. Obviously they did not plan to stay out so late. In any case, what my wife does is my business, not yours.”
The two men glared at each other, the tension in the air rising palpably.
“Gentlemen, please,” the Countess interrupted crisply. “Could we return to the matter at hand? My granddaughters told us about the incident. It sounded quite harrowing, but I scarcely see how any of it has anything to do with this house. I am sure you can wait to question the young ladies until tomorrow, can you not, Squire? Surely they can tell you little to help you track down this escapee.”
“Perhaps not,” Richard replied, casting a long glance at Marianne and Alexandra, who gazed back at him blandly. “But I feel sure that Miss Falcourt can help us.”
“I fail to see how I can help you,” Nicola replied calmly. “I was not even with Marianne and Alexandra.”
“I am sure not. More likely you were at the gaol itself.”
“Are you saying that the escape of the prisoners was effected by a young gentlewoman?” Lord Lambeth asked, amusement tinging his elegant drawl. “Really, Exmoor…don’t you think that is a little far-fetched?”
“Not if you know Nicola.”
“Ah, but I do. I have known her for years,” Lambeth replied. “And I think I can say without doubt that Miss Falcourt was not in that gaol tonight.”
“Of course not,” Penelope spoke up. “She was here, with us, all evening. We were having a dinner party.”
Nicola waited, her entire body stretched with tension. What if Lady Ursula spoke up and pointed out that Nicola had not been here most of the time she had been in the house? Or even her own sister? Nicola wanted desperately to turn and look at Deborah, to send her a pleading, warning glance, but she dared not. Richard would see the look and know where to attack.
“I think we can all attest to that,” the Countess put in. “We had a small gathering of family and friends. Unfortunately, two of my granddaughters were delayed, but they did arrive, safe and unharmed, thank heavens. Is that what you wanted? A statement of our whereabouts this evening?” She turned an acid look upon the hapless Squire Halsey. “Perhaps you think that I was at the gaol this evening, unlocking prisoners, instead of here in my own home.”
Nicola relaxed. She did not think Lady Ursula or the others would say anything contrary to whatever the Countess said.
The Squire’s face reddened, and he looked as if he wished the earth would open up and swallow him. “My lady, please, no, you must not think that. I—I have only the deepest regard for you. And your family,” he added, glancing apologetically at Lady Ursula and the Countess’s granddaughters.
“Do you?” the Countess asked quizzically. “If that is true, why are you invading my home and asking my family and guests questions about an escape from gaol that we obviously had nothing to do with?”
“Quite right, Mama.” Lady Ursula said, rising from her seat and walking forward to face the Squire and the Earl. Tall, like everyone in the Montford family, and large, with that jutting bosom, Ursula was an imposing figure, and when she strode through a room, people tended to step back, especially when, as now, she was fairly quivering with indignation. “It’s damned impudence, I say, Squire Halsey, and I wonder that you have the nerve to come in here and insult my mother like that.”
“Insult!” The Squire looked as if he might faint right there. “No, no, my lady, I meant no insult.”
“It is bad enough,” Ursula continued, building up a fine head of steam, “that she should have to bear the insults of certain family members—” She shot a look at the Earl of Exmoor that would have felled many men. “But to have you add your presence to this—this inquisition—well, that’s the outside of enough. Do you think this highwayman is here w
ith us? Perhaps you would like to search the house—paw through all our possessions. Or perhaps you intend to search us all, right here, just in case we have the fellow hidden about our persons.”
“My lady, please,” Halsey groaned. “No, of course not. We have no intention of searching the house.”
“That’s good, since you have no right to—and since you would have to go through us in order to do so.” Sebastian turned toward Exmoor. “If your purpose in coming here was to alarm and upset the ladies, then you have done an admirable job,” he said, ignoring the obvious fact that most of the women in the room, other than Deborah, looked more ready to engage in battle than give way to feminine hysterics. “What the devil do you have to do with any of this, anyway? I would think it is a job for the constable or the magistrate.”
“It is my goods upon which the thief has primarily preyed,” Richard snapped back. “So I hired a Runner to track him down.”
“The same one you hired to follow my fiancé a few months ago?” Lambeth asked with deceptive mildness.
“I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about.”
“I think we both know that you do. You know, I believe that I would very much look forward to talking to this Runner in person.”
“No doubt you will get your chance.”
“I think it is time for you to go, Exmoor,” Sebastian said, laying a restraining hand on Lambeth’s arm. “And take your mercenaries with you.”
Richard turned toward Nicola. “Congratulations, Nicola, you have managed to involve a great many illustrious names in your sordid scandal.” He looked at the Countess. “Given your dislike of me, my lady, I am sure that you were quite eager to help her play out this charade. However, I wonder how you will feel when you and our family name are dragged through the courts because you chose to join in Miss Falcourt’s scheme to save her highwayman lover.”