Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace

by Regina Jeffers

  For what likely was more than an hour, Grace had dutifully massaged Lía’s cramped legs. Godown’s aunt suffered from the long confinement. Yet, throughout the ordeal, Grace had worked hard to maintain her composure. She held no doubt whoever had arranged their abductions had done so under the mysterious Lord Spectre’s orders. That fact meant His Lordship would become the target, and she and Lord Godown’s aunts would be the bait. Somehow, Grace must keep her husband safe, and she must devise a rescue of the Three Roses.

  “Where are we?” Bel whispered close to Grace’s ear.

  Grace nodded toward a nearby warehouse. “Liverpool,” she said softly. She would need Bel’s cooperation if she were to find a means to set Godown’s aunts free. “Keep your sisters close until we discover what these men intend.”

  Bel nodded her understanding. “We are not so timid as other of the haut ton. The men shall know regret for kidnapping a woman of French ancestry.”

  Despite the craziness, Grace smiled. God! She would miss these women! They had opened their arms to her. Had offered her their complete loyalty. “I pray you are correct, Duchess.”

  “That is enough, Ladies,” the group’s leader warned.

  “What happens next?” Grace asked boldly.

  The man smiled sinisterly. “We will make another short journey.”

  Grace glanced around. The men had released the horses and the carriage. They stood on a deserted section of the docks. If they had to travel by foot Aunt Lía would never make it. “What might be our destination?”

  “Out there.” The man gestured to a waiting ship.

  Grace’s legs nearly buckled. How could they escape if they were taken aboard ship? How could she protect the Three Roses on a floating prison?

  *

  It was mid-day on the day after the message had arrived when Gabriel and Swenton rode into the circle before The Golden Apple. The Realm regularly used the inn as a meeting point in this part of England. As a busy port on England’s western coastline, Liverpool brought the world’s riches to English shores. It also brought the world’s evils. Unsurprisingly, Carter Lowery met them as they brought their mounts to a halt.

  “Did not expect you to join us,” Lowery said as he shook Gabriel’s hand. “I thought you would be enjoying your marriage bed.”

  Despite his best efforts, Gabriel frowned. “My marriage bed is one of convenience. I am not in Lady Godown’s pocket.”

  Swenton added, “It is for the best. Godown and I were the first two on this investigation. We are familiar with the players.”

  Lowery nodded his understanding. “That is true. You and the marquis chased Jamot’s opium connections while the rest of us assisted Thornhill in the rescue of his duchess and his daughter.” They entered the darkened establishment together. “Let us make ourselves comfortable. We have intricate plans to set in motion.”

  *

  Their abductors had forced her and the Roses into a small boat, and they were rowed out to the great ship. Grace made a point of assisting Lyn with her twin’s care. Poor Lía had suffered greatly from the long carriage ride and the rough manhandling of their transfer from land to sea. Only the dowager duchess displayed no break in her countenance. Throughout their torment, Lord Godown’s Aunt Bel maintained her aristocratic bearing. Only a few smudges on her gown indicated their group had known foul language and unnecessary brusqueness.

  Finally, their small craft was hoisted along side the ship, and they climbed the rope ladder to stand on the vessel’s deck. “Please tell me you have not suffered further,” Grace pleaded as one of the crew sat Lía on her feet beside where her sisters stood. The man had carried the petite urchin-like viscountess over his shoulder after Lía could not manage the rope ladder on her own.

  “I will prevail,” the viscountess assured her sisters.

  Engrossed in the care of Lord Godown’s aunts, Grace, at first, had not realized several others had joined their abductors on the ship’s deck. But when a shadow blocked the faint lantern light, she looked up to discover a man she had hoped never to encounter again.

  “Well, well,” he said with some satisfaction. “When your brother confided you had married Lord Godown, I had thought our dear Geoffrey had imbibed too heavily, but, for once, Nelson spoke the truth.” He stepped closer to Grace, and without thinking, she took a half step backward. “I had planned to know you in the Biblical sense when we were in Lancashire, but I am thankful I waited. It will kill Godown to discover I have violated his wife. Later, I will permit the others to have you, but I will know my satisfaction first.”

  Grace worked at keeping her voice even. “Am I to know what offense my husband has committed? After all, if I am to pay for Lord Godown’s sins, it seems only fair.”

  The man she knew as Lord Spectre barked a laugh. “Nothing dims your spirit. I like that about you, Grace.”

  “My name, Lord Spectre, is Lady Godown,” she declared defiantly.

  Spectre caught her chin roughly and shoved it upward. She thought he might strike her. “Do not expect me to care for your airs, Grace,” he said with a warning. Purposely, he shoved her toward where Godown’s aunts waited. “Place them below,” he ordered. “And place a guard on them.”

  “Wait!” she said in desperation. “What of my aunts? They can offer you no harm. Permit them their freedom, and I will willingly stay.”

  Spectre snarled, “You think I do not recognize Lord Godown’s family?” He gestured grandly. “Your kin will know your fate, my Dear.” Grace’s composure slipped, but she refused to permit Lord Spectre to see her fear.

  *

  Several men herded the women toward the lower levels before the Baloch stepped from the shadows. “I still say this is a foolish move,” he said as he stepped beside the irascible English lord. “I have studied Lord Godown and his associates for a year. You must never believe you have the upper hand.”

  The English lord snarled his nose at the suggestion. “Gabriel Crowden stole my inheritance. I cannot seize his title, but I can eliminate his future.”

  The Baloch said, “If you have no objection, my Lord. I will claim my portion of the shipment. I have anxious contacts waiting for the powder.”

  Specter flicked his wrist in dismissal. “If you have no resolve for what is to follow with Lord Godown, then be gone. I should have known better than to align myself with the likes of you.”

  It was Jamot’s turn to know contempt. Of all the men aboard this ship only he had dared to confront the Realm, but he swallowed the angry words that had sprung to his lips. Instead, Jamot watched the man carefully. All he truly cared about was the shipment for which he had contracted. He did not care for Lord Spectre’s attitude or the man’s methods. First, their mission should have superseded Spectre’s need for revenge. The Englishman had placed his own desires above the men who served him, which made Spectre a weak leader. They had suppliers waiting for the black powder, and Jamot would not be pleased if the foolish lord’s pride interfered with Jamot’s profits. In addition, he would not tolerate the Englishman’s plans to violate Lord Godown’s wife and family. Jamot held no appetite for such maneuverings. Ashmita’s cries still haunted him. Even after some seven years, he could not be rid of the guilt he felt for not protecting the woman he loved against Shaheed Mir’s edict. The Baloch leader had turned Ashmita into the tribal whore. Jamot would not permit Lord Godown’s wife to know the same fate. “Perhaps, I will exercise my own revenge. What would happen if someone foils the Ghost Lord’s plans?” he thought as he made his way below deck.

  *

  “Then it is agreed,” Lowery said. “We will not move until the night’s middle. Hopefully, many of innocents aboard the brig will be asleep. After midnight, Captain Wainwright will move our yacht into place to prevent the Sea Spray’s escape from the harbor.”

  Gabriel would have preferred to move immediately. He desperately required a means of lessening his recent frustrations, and a confrontation, no matter how dangerous, would be welcomed. The
wait would only enflame his disturbance. He watched the darkening shadows spread across the inn yard. Somewhere out beyond the woods and the fields–somewhere on the road to Devon–his wife had taken refuge. He hated how dependent upon Grace’s memory he had become. How in his most private moments, his wife’s image invaded his thoughts. “Be safe,” he whispered to the approaching night. “And be happy, my Love.” Less than a week prior, his future held such astounding hopes, but now only the infernal loneliness remained. He had driven from him the one person who could make him whole. “My Love,” he rolled the words about his tongue to taste them. Did he love Grace” How could a man love someone he did not trust? Yet, he did. He loved Grace. Why had he not realized it before he had made a cake of himself?

  *

  The room in which the men placed them was obviously one of the officer’s quarters. Lyn assisted her twin to the small cot and settled Lía to a comfortable position. “This is not necessary,” Lía protested, but she sighed with relief when her sister lifted her legs to the rickety bed.

  “What do we do now?” Grace asked as she surveyed their “prison.” She noted how Lord Godown’s Aunt Bel sank heavily into one of the three chairs lining the wall. Her sister followed, only Lyn placed her chair close to where Lía rested.

  Bel spoke, at last. “We should go over the facts we have at hand, and then determine how best to proceed.” She motioned Grace to the remaining chair. “Perhaps, you might tell us what you know of the man who makes the threats against my nephew.”

  For the next several minutes, Grace explained in some detail all her interactions with the mysterious Lord Spectre: from his attempt on Lord Godown’s life in London to the man’s invasion of Grace’s quarters at Foresthill Hall.

  “I thought he looked familiar,” Bel observed. “It was he I encountered in Godown’s room in Scotland.”

  Lyn said matter-of-factly. “I am surprised you did not recognize the gentleman. Admittedly, he has changed over the years…”

  Bel turned on her sister. “What do you mean?”

  “The man our Grace calls Lord Spectre is actually Benjamin Talbot,” Lyn said with assurance.

  Bel frowned deeply. “That is impossible. Benjamin Talbot drowned during a Channel crossing some seven years prior.”

  Lía propped herself on one arm. She said, “I believe Lyn correct. The man on the deck is older, but his looks have not changed dramatically. If I recall Talbot’s father was a squire from Nottingham.”

  Bel added, “But more importantly, Benjamin Talbot was Lord Templeton’s heir.”

  Grace looked from one sister to another. “I am afraid I do not understand.”

  Bel summarized, “It is more than odd that a man everyone thought long dead has a vendetta against Godown. Even more unusual is that said man’s connection to the Templeton family: the very people who created the scandal, which drove our Gabriel from English shores.”

  Grace thought to finally know the truth of Lord Godown’s involvement with the Realm. While at Linton Park, Lady Worthing had described how James Kerrington had sought salvation with the Realm after his first wife’s untimely death. Lady Worthing had gone on to clarify how her brother, Brantley Fowler, had run away from the autocratic rule of the former Duke of Thornhill and how Lord Yardley had thought to punish himself for his inability to save his twin sister. Evidently, each man fought his personal demons. Grace had wondered what had driven Lord Godown’s fear of attachment. Yet, before she could ask her husband’s aunts to share Lord Godown’s story, the cabin’s door opened, and a dark-skinned man slipped into the room.

  Immediately on her feet, Grace placed herself in the stranger’s way. “What do you want?” she rasped. Her fear strangled her words.

  “Shush,” the man cautioned. “Someone will hear.” Amazingly, he remained by the door, but that did not lessen Grace’s wariness. “I have not come to follow Lord Spectre’s orders,” he said in hushed tones.

  “Then why have you come?” Bel demanded.

  The man smiled wry. “I will have no business with debauching Lord Godown’s womenfolk.”

  Lía, who had risen quickly upon the man’s entrance, cautioned, “Beware, Grace. Likely he is the man Godown and his associates have opposed for the past six years.”

  The man’s smile widened. “You are smart, Little One. In fact, I am Murhad Jamot, and I am Lord Godown’s enemy, but I am not yours. When I face your husband, Lady Godown, I will do so with honor.”

  Grace charged, “The kind of honor that kidnaps women and children? Or the kind that fights with a woman who is heavy with child? Or one who leaves a woman on a ledge to die” Lady Worthing had shared with Grace how a Baloch warrior sought a fist-sized emerald, and the man would not stop until he returned the emerald to his leader, Shaheed Mir.

  The Baloch conceded, “It is true I have studied your husband and his associates, and I will use any means possible to expose their weaknesses. The Duke’s weakness was his need to rescue a damsel in peril. I provided him an opportunity to prove himself a hero. With Lady Yardley, the Earl required a means to showcase his physical strength.”

  “And what of Lady Worthing?” Grace charged.

  “In truth, I simply wished to frighten Lord Worthing. To make the viscount worry over his wife’s safety. And in my defense, when I fought with Lady Worthing in Baron Ashton’s manor, it was I who left with a bullet in my arm,” he said honestly, and Grace thought it amusing how the Baloch could justify each of his dastardly deeds.

  She glanced to where the Roses huddled together. “And what weakness do you hope to expose with Lord Godown?”

  “Your husband, my Lady, is the least trusting of his associates. In order to solve this mystery your husband must learn to trust you.”

  “I require an explanation,” Grace said.

  The man pushed away from the door. He advanced several steps into the room. “I am going to assist in your escape. That is assuming you can swim, Lady Godown…”

  “You expect our niece to swim to shore,” Bel said incredulously.

  The man shrugged his answer. “It is not likely Spectre will permit you to leave this ship. You can identify him and his forces.” He paused, and Grace watched his words wash over Lord Godown’s family. “I can assist your slipping overboard. You must understand a boat would be too noisy. You must swim. If Spectre discovers you are missing, Lord Godown’s aunts will pay for your bravery.”

  “Then I shall not consider it,” Grace announced.

  “Of course, you will,” Lía countered. “If there is any chance this man speaks the truth, you must save yourself and Godown’s child.”

  Grace looked carefully at each woman. “I cannot leave you. You are the only family I possess.”

  “Then be brave enough to save us,” Lyn stated flatly.

  Grace protested, “How do we know this man speaks the truth?” She gestured wildly to where the Baloch waited for her decision.

  “We do not,” Bel summarized. “But I believe Mr. Jamot speaks with as much honestly as any man.”

  The Baloch chuckled. “You are the sardonic one, Duchess.”

  Grace swallowed hard. A bitter fear choked her breathing. She turned to the Baloch. “Tell me your plan.” She prayed he would not betray her.

  “First,” he thrust a small package into her hands. “You must change your clothing. You cannot swim in that gown.” Grace accepted the bundle and began to unwrap it. “While you turn yourself into a boy, I will disarm your guard. When we move, Lady Godown, it must be swiftly. If you pause to reconsider, we will both be caught, and neither of us will want to pay Spectre’s price.”

  “I understand.”

  “The water is frigid, but it less than a half mile to shore. Have you ever swum such a distance, my Lady?”

  A shudder ran up Grace’s spine. “Many times when I was a child, but never during the winter months and never in an ocean.”

  The Baloch paused dramatically. “If you wish to reassess your options, my Lady, I wi
ll understand. This is a godlike task I place before you.”

  Grace shook her head in the negative. “I would rather drown than to face Lord Spectre.” She glanced at her husband’s family. “How will I find Lord Godown once I am ashore?”

  The Baloch grinned. “I have a contact at the docks. He has sent word three aristocrats have arrived at The Golden Apple. I am certain they are your husband’s associates. I am so certain after I assist in your escape, I will make my own departure. I am willing to leave Lord Spectre to fight his own battles.”

  Grace bit her bottom lip in uncertainty. “It appears I have few choices.”

  Lyn said, “What may we do to assist our niece?”

  The Baloch challenged, “Think of a means to keep Spectre’s men from wanting to enter this cabin. The more time you provide Lady Godown the better.” He glanced at Grace. “I will see to the guard. Change quickly, my Lady.”

  *

  Gabriel, Swenton, and Lowery arrived at the docks as the night overtook the day. They had set up a temporary command post in an abandoned warehouse. Despite his anxious state regarding their upcoming boarding of the foreign ship, it was his wife’s fate that clung to his most intimate thoughts. For the life of him, he could not shake the feeling Grace required his assistance. Distractedly, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Are our men in place?” he asked involuntarily.

  “They have their assignments,” Lowery responded as he loaded his weapon. “I plan to take a rowboat out to do some reconnaissance. Bradwick and Monroe with accompany me. The mist may permit me to move in close enough to determine how many we fight.”

  Swenton said, “Beware, Lowery. Reportedly, the ship flies a Chinese banner.” The baronet nodded his understanding, and then he slipped from the warehouse and into the night.

  Gabriel grumbled, “I despise the wait.”

  Swenton reached for a deck of well-worn cards. “We may as well make ourselves comfortable. For a few moments of glory, there are too many hours of boredom.”