‘Still, I’ll have my footmen vet the guests when they arrive,’ Worth offered. ‘I’ll have guards posted at the garden gates. He can get in, but we won’t let him get out.’
‘Absolutely. We have to be sure of it,’ Liam said sternly. When the man attempted to leave, he’d have May with him. This was the only part of the plan Liam was uncomfortable with. He didn’t like the thought of May in any amount of danger. How far would Roan go?
‘Even inside your home, your daughter could be at risk,’ Liam began. Perhaps Worth simply didn’t see it. ‘Cornered, Roan will fight. He might not hesitate to harm her in exchange for his own freedom. The man is deadly with a knife.’ He was, too, but he was held to government scruples—bring the man in alive. Roan had no such ethic.
‘We’ll have men everywhere.’ Worth nodded his assurance.
‘Very well. Do I have your permission to organise the men? A day is not much time.’ He didn’t like asking Worth for anything, but this was what detachment required of him, that he follow the rules. He had to treat May’s father like he’d treat any other person he was assigned to work with, to protect.
‘Yes. Report to me when everything is planned so that I am fully apprised of the arrangements.’ Of course. Worth wouldn’t tolerate not being in charge in some way.
Liam gave a short nod of his head. ‘As you wish.’
He set to work immediately, immersing himself in what he did best: protecting others. There were perimeters to check, entrances and exits to calculate. How many ways were there into the house? What rooms would be open to guests tomorrow night? Had Lady Worth hired outside help for the evening? Who would be the strangers among them? If Roan didn’t come himself, perhaps the kidnapper would be someone sent ostensibly from an agency to help with the service, someone to work in the kitchen, or someone to circulate with trays of drinks. That someone wouldn’t need to pass themselves off as a gentleman. ‘I want names and I want lists,’ Liam barked the orders, ‘and I want them now.’
Work was immersive. He could almost forget the quarrel with May, almost forget he was losing her for good. He managed to sleep a little, managed to eat a little, managed to keep going. It was nine days since Preston had left. If he could make it through the masque, this would all be over. Then it would be day ten and he could expect the arrival of some directive from London. Preston would be back or someone from Edinburgh could be in charge. He could be done.
* * *
The next afternoon, while florists and decorators ran through the house with vases of winter greens and roses, he laid out his plans to Worth, showing him maps marked with security. ‘The footmen are ready, sir. Everyone knows to be on alert. Might I ask? How is your daughter faring?’ He didn’t dare use her name. Her father would find it too familiar and his heart would find it too hard to bear. Worth hesitated and Liam saw a shade of red so crimson it surpassed his hard-won detachment. ‘You have not told her.’ His voice was a deadly growl.
‘If she worries, she might panic, might give away the game. It’s best if she acts as natural as possible,’ Worth answered. To argue would be to engage Worth’s ire. He was a man who didn’t like to be contradicted. Worse, if he argued, he might tip his hand and then be banned from taking any action. Worth didn’t want May to know, that much was implied, but Liam had no trouble disobeying the implication. May needed to know.
* * *
He sought out May the first moment he could. She needed to know and that was not arguable in his opinion, although part of him acknowledged this might just be an excuse on his part to see her again. Alone.
He finally found her, lying down in her bedroom, a cool cloth over her eyes and blessedly alone. ‘May,’ he said softly, not wanting to startle her. ‘It’s me, don’t panic.’ His eyes ran over the room as he stepped into the dressing room, searching for signs of a maid.
May sat up, her face instantly angry. He shouldn’t have expected anything else. Once she’d got over the shock, she would reach for her anger. ‘What are you doing in here? Aren’t you worried you might be compromised? You seemed very worried about that the last time we were together.’ And her sarcasm, too. She looked—not herself. The usual signs of fiery life were not there despite her hot words. Without the cloth, he could see the purplish circles of sleeplessness beneath her eyes. Her face was pale.
‘I don’t want to talk about the other night. We’ve both made our decisions, it seems,’ May said stoically. It hurt him to see her like this. He wasn’t giving her up because he wanted to, he was giving her up because he loved her, because he was not selfish enough to break her.
He shook his head. ‘I’m not here to talk about that. May, listen. Roan is coming. He means to be at the party tonight. I believe he will be here in disguise as a guest with a mask. But he may send someone else. We are prepared on both accounts.’
May gave a slight nod. ‘I suspected as much. There was more than Mother’s usual activity today getting ready.’
‘You needn’t worry. We are prepared. He won’t leave here with you. You have my word.’
She got off the bed and went to the window, drawing back the lace curtain. He tensed. ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that, May. Step away from the window. We don’t need to give him any more help than he already has.’ It was easier to scold her than it was to talk about the unspoken part of the plan, that she had to be compelling bait. It was harder still not to want to make amends, to take her in his arms and assure her that everything would be all right, not just tonight, but always, no matter what he’d said last night. They would find a way. But that would be a lie. There simply was no way.
‘May—’ he began, tempted to try. She cut him off with a sharp look and sharper words.
‘You said you didn’t come here to talk about that. So don’t.’ She nodded towards the wardrobe where a festive red-velvet dress with an enormous old-fashioned belled skirt hung, sumptuous and rich. A matching red mask, trimmed with brilliants, hung with it, a stunning ensemble. ‘I am going as the spirit of Christmas.’ She fluttered a hand. ‘It’s something esoteric my mother made up.’
‘You’ll be stunning.’ He swallowed. She’d be more than that. She’d be ravishing. ‘You’ll be the most beautiful woman in the room.’ She always was. ‘Everyone will notice you.’
‘That’s the point, isn’t it?’ she said drily. ‘We don’t want Roan to have to guess too hard which one is me.’
‘May, I won’t let anything happen to you tonight. You will be safe.’
She looked down at her hands. ‘Always the professional, aren’t you, Liam? You and your damned objective, rational detachment.’ She drew a breath and looked up. ‘Well, it’s good to know we have nothing to worry about between us. You know I’ll do my job and I know you’ll do yours.’
What had he expected? He stiffened his resolve. After tonight, he would find a way to move on. But until then, the evening was going to be hell.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The evening was a special hell, one full of juxtapositions and trepidation. Behind every elegantly adorned mask could be Roan. May saw the potential for danger everywhere, knowing full well every other guest at the party saw only the festivity of the occasion, the excitement of mystery—who was their partner now? Thank goodness, this torture would be over at midnight when the masks came off. If Roan was going to make a move, he had a small, specific window in which to do it.
Dear heavens, she’d finally caught Liam’s paranoia; seeing peril in everything, in everyone, and she still had to find a way to be charming. Her current partner, a dullard of a dancer in a pine-green mask who’d stepped all over her feet, was asking if she’d like a cup of punch. ‘Punch would be delightful. Perhaps I could find a place to sit?’ To be alone for just a moment would be heaven. Surely, a few minutes in a crowded ballroom would be safe enough. She deserved a short reprieve. She’d danced all night, s
miled all night and it was only ten o’clock. Had it really only been two hours? It seemed like days since Liam had come to her room and informed her Roan would be here. That was something else she had to pretend—that she didn’t know. She was furious with her father for not wanting to tell her, but if she looked too stiff, too nervous, everyone would know she knew, even Roan. Roan would quietly drift away, unseen, if he thought she was aware of his intentions and all this would be for nought.
May scanned the room. Where was Liam at this moment? Was he masked and moving among the guests? Was he unobtrusively prowling the sidelines of the dance floor, scrutinising each man present? Maybe he was walking the outside perimeter in the cold, making sure everyone was in place if Roan made his move. No, not if. When. A little chill ran down her spine. She tamped down on the panic once more and tried to think about next steps. It was easier to think about the evening in a series of logical, unemotional events. Roan would grab her. Liam would grab Roan. It would be over before Roan even got her out of the house. She closed her hand over the rich full folds of her gown, feeling the weight of the little gun hidden in a secret pocket. Even if Roan managed to escape the house, she’d be prepared. That gave her assurance. Unnecessary assurance. How would Roan ever get her out of the house? She had bodyguards, her own gun, her own temerity and two hundred guests who would surely prohibit his leaving with a screaming, kicking banshee and she had Liam Casek with his perfect protection record. It seemed preposterous Roan would even try such an audacious trick tonight.
The dullard came back with punch. May thanked him and took a sip, smiling while he made small talk that matched his personality. She made the requisite answers: yes, she read Walter Scott—who didn’t?—yes, she found the weather dreadfully cold; and, yes, she was looking forward to Christmas—how could she have answered otherwise without evoking even more conversation? No, she didn’t find the room too hot. She was tempted to start giving him outrageous answers. She had just begun to contemplate telling him the room was indeed too hot and could he help her get out of this dress, when a footman approached with a small silver tray.
‘A note for you, miss. From Mr Casek.’ He bowed respectfully and May took the folded sheet. She flashed an apologetic smile at her partner for reading in front of him and opened the paper.
There’s been a change of plans. Come to the rose sitting room so we can talk. Come quickly. Roan is on the move. L.
May rose. It wasn’t hard to look flustered. ‘I have to go. Something has come up that I must take care of immediately.’ She walked as quickly as she could out of the ballroom without drawing undue attention. The further she got from the party noise, the faster she walked. The rose sitting room was at the back of the house. Of course Liam would want to meet there. No one would notice them, it wouldn’t disrupt the party atmosphere, neither would anyone overhear them. There was no chance of tipping their hand to Roan or whomever he’d brought with him.
‘Liam?’ she whispered, stepping inside the room. She rubbed her arms, it was cold away from the heat of so many bodies. Only a few days ago, Liam would have wrapped her in his coat, in his arms. Never again would she feel the heat of his hard body. The room was dark, but she made out the form at the window, tall and broad. ‘I got the message. What’s happened? Where’s Roan?’
The man turned, something silver glinting in his hand. ‘He’s right here. Allow me to introduce myself, Miss Worth. I’m Cabot Roan and you’ve led me a merry chase. But that’s all over now.’
May stepped backwards towards the door, her hand searching behind her for the handle, her mind a kaleidoscope of thoughts, each one getting a mere fraction of her attention; this was Cabot Roan, this tall, commanding man whose face she couldn’t see, but whose pistol she could. She understood the silver glint now—the barrel of a gun; Liam hadn’t sent the note. She knew now how Roan planned to get her out of the house—she’d simply walk out unnoticed at gunpoint from a quiet, unpopulated portion of the house, the two hundred guests she’d counted on suddenly all for nought. This room exited out into the gardens—gardens that were dark and cold and unused tonight. There would be no kicking or screaming, or ploughing through a phalanx of guests. She’d made it too easy.
‘I wouldn’t try the door, Miss Worth.’ He gestured with the pistol and forms materialised on the edges of the room. In the dark, she’d not seen them, so still were they. ‘My men have been instructed not to let you leave the room without me.’ She heard a match being struck. A lamp flared to life and Roan held it up, illuminating the room for her. ‘As you can see, I have you surrounded. I prefer to keep this simple. You come with me, I send a ransom note to your family that suggests a trade—you in exchange for those ledger papers your brother has absconded with—and accounts will be settled.’ He sounded almost bored, but his body was alert. She saw the tension in the lamplight.
‘Do you do this often?’ May met his eyes evenly. This was the man who’d attempted to kill her brother and Liam. He was dangerous indeed despite his superficial display of ennui. He did not take kidnapping casually. His eyes flicked past her shoulder towards the door. He was waiting for something, for someone.
‘Often enough, Miss Worth. Occupational requirement in my line of business. Now, if you’ll step towards me, we’ll be going.’
‘No.’ Would Liam notice she was gone? Would someone have told him about the note? Was he, even now, darting through the house searching for her? He would be thorough, regardless of his feelings for her, his professional honour would demand it. She just had to give him enough time.
‘No?’ Roan’s eyebrows went up. ‘I’d heard you were something of a spitfire, Miss Worth. Unfortunately, that won’t work here. If we can’t do it the easy way, we’ll do it the hard way.’ He gave another imperious wave of his pistol. ‘Gentlemen, if you please...’
* * *
Where the hell was May? Liam quartered the crowded ballroom, forcing himself to do it right, to slowly take in each group and search it carefully when what he really wanted to do was race his gaze over it. But that would risk unjustified panic, and in that panic he might sound the alarm and alert Roan when May had simply gone to the retiring room. How many times already had she thwarted his authority, refusing to stay where she was told? It had been her first line of resistance back in the village. Lord knew she’d been mad as hell when he’d left her this afternoon, not exactly the best of moods to cajole compliance out of her. The only time May was remotely compliant was in bed and, even then, she had her own ideas about how they should proceed. Not that they’d be proceeding in that direction any time soon, or ever again. Damn it! Where was she? How hard could it be to find a ravishing beauty in a gorgeous red dress, even with masks abounding?
There! He had her. She was by the window with a tall chap. He started towards her and then realised his mistake. Closer, the woman’s hair wasn’t nearly dark enough. The lights had played tricks on him. Liam retraced his steps, spotting one of Worth’s footmen. ‘Have you seen Miss Worth?’ he asked calmly, casually.
‘No, sir. She was dancing the last time I saw her.’ All the footmen had been instructed to keep an eye on her.
‘When was that?’
‘Half an hour ago before I had to return to the kitchen.’ The man nodded towards another footman circulating with a tray of cold drinks. ‘Check with James, he came out with fresh drinks when I went in.’
James knew and the knowledge brought a tightening to Liam’s gut. ‘I delivered your note, sir. Didn’t she show up?’
‘I didn’t send a note,’ Liam growled. ‘You didn’t happen to read it, did you?’ But it was a futile question. Worth would never hire servants who read his mail. He knew before a frightened James shook his head in shocked denial that the note had gone unread by everyone except May. Perhaps nosy servants weren’t such a bad thing after all. ‘Come with me.’
Liam was already moving, pushing his way through the
crowd to the hallway. He looked up and down its length. To the right were the stairs and the front door. Masked guests milled about. There was always the option of hiding in plain sight among them, but the chances of getting May away quietly were slim. Liam turned left, running through the layout of the house in his head. He signalled for the footman behind him to check the rooms they passed for form’s sake. He didn’t think Roan would be in one of them. They were too close to the ball and they didn’t have egress besides the hallway. Roan would want a room that opened out on to the grounds.
The rose sitting room at the end of the hall! Liam broke into a sprint. He hoped he wasn’t too late, that Roan had not already lured May outside or forced her. If it were just him, he’d shoot first and ask questions later, but the Home Office needed Roan alive. If he shot, he had to shoot carefully. A dead Roan couldn’t stand trial. A dead Roan didn’t stop the arms cartel. Sometimes it was a damnable curse to have to put one’s country first.
A crash like a vase shattering sounded. Good news and bad. May was still here. He wasn’t too late. The bad news? She was in trouble and she’d chosen to fight a man who would show no mercy. Had he ever been this nervous facing down the enemy before? There was a scream and his heart was in his throat.
Claiming His Defiant Miss Page 20