“’Tis a fine blackened eye you’ve got, Kirkham,” Lofton said.
Nicholas winced and dabbed at his eye with his sleeve. It was only slightly bloody, but the swelling was increasing by the minute. At least it gave him something to think of other than Maria and his futile visit to her chamber.
“I’d say the lot of ye owe me a good bit o’ coin fer all this mess.” The tavern’s burly wine keeper leaned over their table and placed two beefy fists on the surface next to Nicholas.
Naturally, Nick intended to pay for any damage, but the man’s belligerent attitude irritated him. He’d just as soon go a round or two with him.
“Here’s my part,” Lofton said, throwing a few coins onto the table. The rest of Nicholas’s companions anted up, as did Nick, after weighing the prudence of resuming the brawl.
He’d gotten only a temporary respite from his dour thoughts, but he now knew that another fight was not going to satisfy what ailed him.
Rudney. She was going to wed Rudney.
He took a huge swallow of the ale in his mug. Why had he left her chamber without telling her that he cared for her? That he loved her?
What a fool he’d been. It should have been so simple. He should have told her that his work for Bedford could not continue because a French informer knew of it. And that meant Nick was free to act as he chose, no longer having to play the wastrel for the benefit of any man who would underestimate him.
It meant he was free to marry.
He jabbed his fingers through his hair and grimaced in discomfort when he scraped a tender spot. What in Hades was he doing here? Why had he not hastened back to Bridewell Lane and gotten down on his knees to beg Maria to have him?
What a fool he was. She must care for him, else there would not have been tears in her eyes when he’d entered her chamber. He would tell her he was finished with all deception and intrigue.
He would return to her now and demand that she give credit to his suit. He would not allow her to wed Rudney—nay, he would forbid her even to speak to the man again!
Determined to take his leave, Nicholas was about to bid farewell to his companions when a man with a vaguely familiar face entered the wineshop. Nick paused for a moment, trying to recall where he’d seen him before, and then realized he was the same one who’d been hanging about Westminster these last weeks.
There was a good possibility he was involved in the deception involving the letters!
As the fellow raised his cup to drink, he saw Nicholas eyeing him. He bolted.
Nicholas did not think twice. He grabbed his whip and ran after the man.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Maria’s anger propelled her.
Just thinking of Nicholas’s nerve, showing up in her room, telling her about his brother and his work for the duke of Bedford—while his secretary burglarized her father’s study—was enough to make her fume.
For once, Maria felt fortunate that she had not had the typical upbringing of a gentle maid. She had always been free to run and scrap with the servants’ children, and in later years, she had run from Geoffrey and his friends more times than she could count.
’Twas late, and dark in the streets. Stealthily, Maria pursued Tournay as he walked down the cobbled lane. She kept him in sight as he turned down the Strand and headed east, toward the main part of London.
She assumed he was headed toward Nicholas’s house. Where else would he be going with his ill-gotten booty from her father’s study? Not Westminster, for that was in the opposite direction. It had to be Nicholas’s.
Tournay continued on, a bit more casually now, confident that he’d not been caught. Maria followed him as he progressed along the Strand, past Temple Church and St. Paul’s. She made certain he never caught sight of her, maintaining a safe distance behind him and keeping to the shadows near buildings. He had no idea he was being followed.
The odor of the river became quite strong, and Maria began to wonder if her guess as to Tournay’s destination had been correct. Surely Nicholas did not live in so rank a neighborhood as this. The buildings were small and mean, some with fowl roosting in the front yards. Another yard had pigs snoring together. The pavement was rough and she had to walk carefully to avoid the offal in the road.
Tournay turned down a narrow lane, heading toward the river itself. Maria nearly gagged with the foul odors. Buildings seemed to grow straight up from the broken cobbles, and she paused a moment, pressing her back up against a wall.
This was the forbidden waterfront, the district Alisia had warned her about.
There were voices in the distance, and the hollow, creaking sounds of ships rocking in their moorings in the harbor. Maria pressed her hand to her mouth and fought the wave of nausea. She would master it. She was not about to let Tournay get away from her now, not when she was so close to discovering what was going on, who was behind the suspicions cast upon her father.
Tournay continued to move toward the water, and Maria pushed away from the wall and got back on his trail. There were men out and about even at this late hour, and she made a determined effort to remain in the shadows and out of sight. She was glad her kirtle was so dark in color, else she’d be seen too easily.
As it was, no one accosted her.
Two men stepped out of a shop, talking loudly together. Tournay stopped and pushed his way through the door. Maria crouched beside a nearby barrel to wait for him to reappear, hoping he would not leave by a back door.
She knew she really should follow him in, but could not imagine how she would get away with it. ’Twould be impossible to keep her presence secret once she stepped inside, and she did not want Tournay to know she’d followed him.
But how to discover what transpired within? The side of the building that faced Maria held two dingy windows. She decided to creep over to one and see if she could rub away a bit of the grime, mayhap see what Tournay was up to…or at least who he met inside.
She slipped away from the barrel and, keeping her crouch, moved to the wineshop. With the corner of one sleeve, she began to rub at a window, but it did not help much. She could hardly see anything, other than men in dark tunics hunched over cups of ale.
Tournay was not in sight, until half a moment later, when he stepped outside again. Maria held perfectly still as he moved away from the wineshop, then she began to follow him cautiously once more.
They walked on along the waterfront, and Maria was certain they’d reach the Tower itself if they continued much farther. They passed Dowgate, and were nearly to Ebbgate when Tournay stopped at another wineshop.
Maria concealed herself again as he went within. This time she was able to peek inside.
The place was a wreck, even for the low standards of this downtrodden locale. Tables were turned on their sides, and broken chairs littered the floor. Most of the men inside stood to drink their mugs, but a few sat at righted tables.
Maria watched as Tournay went in and searched the place with his eyes, then swiftly turned and left.
Still she followed, though she was weary of the chase.
No longer did she believe Nicholas was the man who would be at the end of Tournay’s quest. For all his faults, Nicholas had never directly lied to her, and she could not imagine him coming to her chamber in order to perpetuate falsehoods. He admitted to being dishonest with her. Yet he’d come to her chamber to…
Why had he come? Certainly not to seduce her, for he’d have managed that without difficulty.
Maria covered her belly with one hand. Nicholas’s child rested beneath her heart, and it suddenly seemed too unfair, too dishonest, to keep it secret from him. He’d been as honest as he could be when he’d visited tonight, and Maria had to credit him for that. He’d even told her that he did not suspect her father of treason, but rather, someone else. If only she could believe—
Tournay!
Maria’s eyes grew wide. The secretary was a traitor! He was the one who had arranged for Nicholas to suspect her father! The French must
have learned of Nick’s clandestine role, then somehow managed to place Tournay in Nicholas’s service. The secretary had then used his proximity to confound matters, and keep Nicholas off his own scent.
Giddy with the truth of her realization, Maria watched as Tournay once again surveyed the interior of the wineshop before leaving. As far as Maria could tell, no one inside the tavern took note of his entrance, or his exit.
She gave him a head start, then took up position behind him, determined to follow him and discover as much as she could for Nicholas.
There was no doubt that Nicholas had seen the fellow before. The man had been hanging around Westminster for the past couple of weeks, but his presence had not registered in Nick’s mind as being particularly strange.
Yet now, everything and everyone was suspect. Someone was sending him signals that implicated the Duke of Sterlyng. The same person was intentionally muddling the situation in order to distract Nicholas from the real traitor.
Nick was not about to give Maria up to Rudney, but he knew that in order to win her, he would have to find the true culprit and prove to her that he had not maliciously “created” evidence against her father. Nick had to show her that he was an honorable man.
Or at least that he could become an honorable man.
He had no doubt that the man who’d left the tavern was involved, else why would he have run the moment he’d met Nicholas’s eyes?
He stepped away from the wineshop and looked both east and west, his vision only slightly hampered by the swelling of one eye. But he could not see the fellow. The man had disappeared into the darkness.
It did not matter. There was only one way to go if one wanted to get lost—deeper into the docks, where ropes and nets, barrels and boxes of cargo would provide adequate cover for a man who wished to hide.
Nicholas began walking toward the wharf, keeping his eyes sharply tuned for any stealthy movement.
The ships were rocking quietly in their berths, the sailors either asleep or absent. Nicholas spied a man and woman in a small alcove, performing an act that, in this case, was best left to the imagination. An orange-striped cat wandered by, but as Nicholas stood still, surveying all about him, he noticed no other movement, heard no other sounds but the quiet slapping of water against the wood of the piers.
There was a sudden crash and a burst of activity on the quay. Nicholas turned and saw his prey jump out from behind a crate, then sprint eastward down the wooden dock.
Nick pursued him, his bruised and aching muscles protesting every move.
The main wharf was a wide boardwalk, with long wooden piers jutting out like fingers between the ships. Some of these had buildings on the end, hovering above the water.
The purpose of these structures was unclear, though Maria supposed ’twas possible that cargo might be stored there until it could be taken to its inland destination, or loaded on board for export. Mayhap the buildings were used by port officials for some purpose.
It did not matter now, as Maria watched Tournay heading toward one particular ship. She kept well behind him and took note of where he seemed to be headed. She tried to decipher the ship’s markings, but there was little light—only a faint glimmer that emanated from a few lamps on board.
She was unafraid. Mayhap foolishly so, but to this point, Tournay had shown no inkling that he suspected that anyone was following him. And if he turned and gave chase, she was certain she could outrun him. She was no fool. She’d taken note of several hiding places along the way, and could easily slip into one of them if he happened to notice her.
Her plan, however, was to avoid all that. She wanted to see where Tournay went, then hasten back and find Nicholas as quickly as possible, and tell him that she’d discovered Tournay was the French informer. Nicholas would know what to do about it.
Aware now of Tournay’s game, Maria regretted that she had not seen more clearly that Nicholas had been manipulated into believing the worst of her father. Tournay had been in the perfect position to fabricate whatever tale was necessary to keep Nicholas interested in the Duke of Sterlyng, and off his own track.
Reluctantly, Maria credited the secretary for his cleverness.
She wished she could speak to Nicholas now, to apologize for her harsh words. She would tell him she understood his dilemma and no longer condemned him for suspecting her father.
She would not blame him if he refused her apology. She had not trusted him, had not given enough credit to his words when he’d explained his reasons for working for Bedford. Maria should have known his motives could not be dishonorable, and that he would do the right thing.
Foolishly, she had not trusted him. She had believed the worst of him, only because of the reputation he’d cultivated among the noble classes.
Tournay stopped abruptly and flattened himself against a building. Maria dropped down beside a pile of refuse and waited. ’Twas then that she heard footsteps pounding hollowly on the wooden walk. Someone—perhaps more than one person—was running toward them.
Maria looked to her right, in the direction from which the footsteps came. A man suddenly appeared, and kept on running, turning toward the ship. Tournay stooped down for a moment. Maria could not quite see what he was doing, but doubted that his action boded well.
Another man came into view, chasing after the first. He was tall, dark haired and sturdily built, his white linen shirt uncovered by a doublet, making his form visible in the murky light. Yet Maria could not discern his features.
He turned toward the ship where Tournay seemed to have been headed before this interruption, and ran down the boardwalk, coming close to catching the first man. The pursuer turned slightly, and Maria recognized him.
’Twas Nicholas!
In no more than the blink of an eye, action erupted on the dock. Tournay swiftly crept up behind Nicholas and raised his arm. Maria started forward in order to intervene, but without hesitation the secretary struck Nick a blow on the back of the head, and Nicholas went down.
Maria bit on her fist to keep from screaming. She knew she would be of no assistance to Nicholas if Tournay discovered her presence. She hoped he and his cohorts would board the ship and sail away; then she would be free and safe to attend to Nicholas.
That was not to happen.
There were shouts, and several men came down the gangplank. Nicholas lay motionless on the wharf, and Tournay stood near him, talking in low tones with the men from the ship. Finally, they seemed to reach a decision, and two men took hold of Nick’s arms. They dragged him into the building at the end of the quay.
For the first time since beginning her pursuit of Tournay, Maria knew true fear. What were the men planning to do with Nicholas?
She gathered her wits and all of her courage, and moved out of her hiding place. She was not going to allow these men to harm Nicholas in the isolation of that building. She had no idea how she would stop them, but was certain there must be something she could do.
The approach to the building would be difficult because there were still men on board the ship, watching for their comrades to reappear. If Maria ran openly to the building, they would be alerted to her presence, and she wanted to avoid that.
She looked around and plotted a safe route to the place where Nicholas was being held, praying all the while that the men had not seriously harmed him.
A light fog started to roll in off the water, and that, along with the darkness, played in Maria’s favor. Wishing she had thought to bring her dark shawl in order to cover her bright hair, she stepped quietly to a stand of barrels and crouched behind them for a moment.
Her next step would be to grab the whip Nicholas had dropped, then make it to the cover of a large crate that stood partway between her and the storage building. Glad that there were no lanterns on the quay to expose her, she crept forward, picked up the whip, then scurried over to the crate to wait. She slowed her breathing and calmed herself. Only a few more feet until she reached the building.
Without w
arning, the men who’d taken Nicholas came crashing out, shouting at the men on the ship. They all seemed to speak at once, and Maria could not make out what was being said.
Then she smelled smoke.
They’d torched the building!
Chapter Twenty-Six
Nick was choking.
And his throat was on fire.
He knew he had to stand up and move, but his muscles would not work. His bones felt soft. His brain ached and he could see out of only one eye. He could not remember where he was, or what had happened.
Smoke enveloped him, and he realized he was going to burn to death if he did not rouse himself. He slid his hands under his chest and pushed himself up, closing his eyes against the explosion of pain in his head and the dizziness that assailed him. He had to move!
“Nicholas!”
He must be hearing things. It could not be Maria’s voice, no matter how desperately he wanted to see her before he died. He tried to get to his knees, but fell back to the ground, coughing.
“Nicholas!”
He forced himself up again. He could hear the hiss and crackle of the blaze nearby, and knew he had to move quickly. He had to find his way out of the inferno before it consumed him.
Unsteadily, he came to his feet and looked around. Fire was all around him, no longer a few small flames, but a conflagration. He could see no doors or windows beyond the smoke and flames, so did not know which way to go.
But he knew that if he made a mistake, it would be fatal.
“Nicholas!”
There it was again. Only this time, Nick did not think the voice came from his imagination. It truly was Maria, and she was inside. She had to be inside, else he would not be able to hear her.
Damnation! Where was she?
The fire roared around him. He looked for something to use to break through one of the flimsy-looking walls, but there was nothing.
Something tall and dark loomed ahead of him, and he realized it was a winch. The pulley ropes went both below and above him, through holes in the floor and ceiling. If he could just drop down to the floor below, the fire might not be as bad, and ’twas possible that he could find a way out.
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