by Kit Donner
He hoped this transaction would be brief, already determined to hand the diamonds over to Taglioni at his town house afterward and head to the Continent. His trespasses were too great to be forgiven by his sister, and especially by Westcott. He wanted to be through with this entire affair.
Based on the time, Westcott should appear at any moment. He kept watch at the entryway from the wooden seats across the room, every time and again returning his gaze to the contents of his tankard. His shoulders slumped, he wondered how he had fallen so far. But soon it would be all over.
Madelene would understand; she always had before. And he had warned her. Told her if she didn’t give him the diamonds, the count might see Matthew didn’t have heirs.
She’d been a good little sister. Always told him she loved him, and proven her loyalty on more than one occasion.
Except when it came to the diamonds. She had stood by her husband. What choice did she leave him but to take George as barter? Although it had been his only solution, the babe had been much trouble. He had been quite surprised Alec offered to travel with them and care for George, but she had started complaining about the babe almost from the moment they had left Westcott Close.
Alec’s motives smelled suspicious to Matthew, who knew he couldn’t trust her. Which begged the question, why had Westcott trusted her and permitted her to live in his home? Didn’t he know she was the one who stole the diamonds from her uncle originally? Both he and Alec had reason to fear the count.
Matthew shook his head and downed his beer. His fob watch indicated almost eleven o’clock. He glanced over at the door yet again to see a few more men straggle in and wander over to a table, looking for libation.
Later, he planned to sell the town house and move to France. The situation between France and England appeared to be easing. Now Madelene was cared for, nothing here in London prevented his departure and starting a new life on the Continent.
So intent was he on his appointment with Westcott, he forgot the note Millie had given him earlier in the day. He had sneaked into the back of the house to obtain a change of clothing, aware that without a doubt the count or Westcott had someone watching the house.
In a hurry to leave, he had thrust the note into his coat pocket and promptly forgotten it, his thoughts on keeping an eye open for anyone looking for him, so that he would not be followed.
Matthew fumbled in his pocket and produced the note. He had to squint in the squalid candlelight to read it, and drew back in surprise. Then he crouched over it again.
It was Madelene’s handwriting. “Meet me at our house in Bloomsbury. I have the diamonds. Bring George. Half-past eleven, tonight.”
Flabbergasted, he read the note another time and another. If Madelene had the diamonds, why had Westcott agreed to meet him here? Who had the gems? He scratched his chin, then decided he’d best meet his sister. Perhaps there had been a change of plans, and the notes were ill timed.
He started to rise when he saw the door open and Westcott strolled in. Nothing to do but wait to see what his brother-in-law had to say. Matthew could only trust the outcome of this meeting would prove to be more advantageous than previously.
Madelene instructed Patience to give the note explaining her sudden return home to Mr. Westcott when Madelene’s carriage had departed and it would prove too late for him to stop her.
On the way to her old home, she settled back into the squabs and felt for the smooth leather of the bag in her reticule, comforted to know she would soon have George back and her brother could do whatever he wanted with the diamonds. Madelene hoped her husband would not be angry with her for replacing the diamonds with the little round soaps, but he must understand. She did it for them. For George. Tomorrow morning would start their new life.
The night grew late as the carriage drove closer to Bloomsbury Square, a place she knew as well as her own features. Her mouth dry and heart pounding, she anticipated finding Matthew at their home. And once again holding George in her arms.
Concerned the count or one of Gabriel’s men might see her and guess her mission, she told the driver to round the corner and stop two blocks from the house. She assumed the driver must have heard these strange requests before from a well-dressed woman seeking discretion, for he did not look in her direction, but did as instructed.
A hurried few minutes later, Madelene knocked on the servants’ entrance. When Millie opened the kitchen door, Madelene walked in and threw back the hood of her cloak.
“Oh, miss, it is glad I am to see you. I saw the master earlier today and gave him your note. He does not look well.” She stopped for a moment as Madelene removed her cloak. “You don’t look so well yourself. You’re awfully pale, miss.” Millie continued jibbering at Madelene while the maid shooed her into the parlor. “What you need is a bit of sponge cake, the kind you like so well? I’ll just put the kettle on.”
“I won’t be here—” Madelene began, then realized Millie had hastened back to the kitchen. She looked over to the mantel clock. Ten minutes after eleven. Not too much longer and Matthew would be here, probably entering in the same inconspicuous manner.
As she waited for the kettle and Matthew, Madelene walked around the little back parlor, touching favorite pieces, lost in yesterday’s memories. She anticipated the sharp pain she had known before whenever she looked at her father’s portrait over the fireplace, but, strangely, the hurt did not seem as sorrow-bearing.
Millie interrupted her memory tracking and served tea in the candlelit parlor. Madelene took a measure of the room and found the drapes faded yellow, the Oriental carpet worn, and the mahogany wood needed bright polish. It seemed as if she hadn’t been at her home in years, rather than a month. So much had changed in such a short amount of time. Looking about, Madelene appreciated she had outgrown this place, once a home she could never bear to think of leaving.
Eleven thirty and still no Matthew. The more minutes ticked by, the more anxious Madelene became. Millie had assured her that she had delivered the note into her brother’s hands. Then where could he be?
Mrs. Lavishtock waited outside the door after she knocked. She wasn’t familiar with this area of Covent Garden and didn’t want to linger on the porch step in the dark.
Little Arnold Duckins. Although not little any longer and still a bachelor, and still beyond redemption. She always knew he’d end up in prison, always skirting the law. When she heard he fell in with Matthew Colgate, well, Colgate had a reputation, which was quite tarnished.
But the young girl, Madelene. She needed protection from her brother’s machinations. And all had been well, until Sir Colgate had stolen the baby.
She would fix it. Mrs. Lavishtock planned to rescue George and uncover why her nephew gave lodgings to Matthew Colgate and that little Italian girl, Alec. The news Arnie was involved with a kidnapping and stolen jewels had surprised her little.
While waiting, she glanced back at the dark street where the hackney remained. The jarvey had promised he’d stay to drive her back to Bloomsbury Square, where Fanny had told her she would find Mrs. Westcott. If her nephew Arnie had allowed any harm to fall to the babe, she would make him regret they were related. The child had always got himself caught up in mischief in his earlier years. But her sister, Martha, would want her to keep her son out of gaol.
Duckins finally opened the narrow wooden door and gazed at her, his mouth dropped open. Gathering his composure, he stuttered, “Aunt, Aunt Mabel, what, what a surprise! Why, why are you here? It’s rather late for a visit.” He scarcely had spoken the words before she pushed past him and squeezed into the doorway.
“Where is he?” She drew herself up to five feet one and looked up at her nephew. “I want the babe,” Mrs. Lavishtock told her nephew firmly.
“What, what—what babe?”
“This one,” Alec said, walking down the stairs, holding George in her arms. “Take him, I can’t handle him. I want no more part in all of this.” She thrust the swaddled babe into Mrs. Lavishto
ck’s very relieved and welcoming arms.
Mrs. Lavishtock unwrapped the blankets to see for herself the child was as right as rain.
She heard Alec intone, “The bambino is fine. Maybe a little hungry, we have no more goat’s milk.” With arms crossed over her chest, the young girl raised an eyebrow. “Where are the diamonds? I assume you brought them with you?”
Duckins stared at Mrs. Lavishtock and Alec and shook his head, as if he didn’t know what to make of this exchange.
But Mrs. Lavishtock understood the young woman. The housekeeper rooted in her large skirt pocket and her fingers touched on the leather pouch. She pulled it out and threw it to Alec. “I want you and you,” she pointed to Alec and Duckins, “to stay far away from the Westcotts, whether they be here in Town or in the country. You have put them through too much, especially with taking the babe. Near broke their hearts.”
Before she finished speaking, Alec had opened the bag and dumped the gems into her hand. Her lips curved into a smile as she looked at the glittering stones. Totally absorbed in her newfound wealth, she paid no notice to Mrs. Lavishtock or her nephew, and ran up the stairs.
Mrs. Lavishtock waddled to the door with her precious bundle, who slept with a contented smile on his ruddy face.
Her nephew hurried after her to open the door. “Aunt Mabel, I wanted no part of this. They came to my door, seeking my help. I couldn’t turn them away, with the babe and all.”
But Mrs. Lavishtock paid him no heed, determined to return George to his parents without any further delay.
When Gabriel had learned from Lady Londringham that Madelene had fallen ill, he immediately planned to return home, until the countess assured him it was of a slight nature. Relieved, he thought about tonight and what he had to do.
Soon after, he took his leave of the ball and the Londringhams for the London docks. In the carriage, he shrugged on an older greatcoat and hat, the better to blend in than his evening wear.
Gabriel swung open the door to the Sleeping Mermaid tavern and strolled in, catching sight of Madelene’s brother. He gave his brother-in-law almost an imperceptible nod, then walked around the mismatched tables as if he was in no hurry, had no particular place to be, no one particular to meet.
With a casual glance around the large room, he calculated how many men filled the bar and the nearest exit from the tavern. He liked to plan for all contingencies, aware he could not underestimate Matthew Colgate. When Gabriel could assure himself no accomplices lingered near Matthew, he approached the back table and slid onto the bench.
He wanted this business to be dealt with swiftly, but how could he trust Colgate to produce George after he handed over the jewels? And what had Colgate been thinking—to bring a babe here?
Gabriel studied the man before him. His old adversary. For Madelene’s sake, he wished—It would not matter. This leopard would not change his spots. Matthew still held his left side with his right hand, and in the dull light, his face appeared very pale, quite sickly. It was obvious he hadn’t washed in a few days, and he had a desperate look about him. Gabriel was glad Madelene would not see her brother like this.
The constable would soon be on Colgate’s coattails for the kidnapping. As for the outcome of the diamond theft, Gabriel couldn’t determine because it remained to be seen what part the count might play in this act. Indeed, the count was the master puppeteer, and Gabriel was determined to cut his strings. All of them.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Millie began snoring. Madelene sighed and wrapped her arms around her chest while pacing the small room. Matthew was an hour late. She couldn’t think, could hardly breathe. The fire kept the room quite warm, but Madelene could only feel the coldness in her heart.
Something felt terribly wrong. Every time she looked at the mantel clock, the hands seemed to stand still. The whole house slept silent, except for Millie’s snoring. Madelene was on the verge of waking the maid and telling her to go to her room, when she heard a knock at the servants’ entrance.
Scarcely knowing what to expect, she rushed from the back parlor to the kitchen. Gulping, she suddenly thought of the danger she might be in if it wasn’t her brother or Gabriel. Before she could grab an iron from the fire, the door opened.
Mrs. Lavishtock appeared on the other side, holding a bundle in her arms. In stunned amazement, Madelene went to her side and closed the door.
“Mrs. Lavishtock, how—” she began before the housekeeper stopped her.
“I have George,” she announced softly.
A huge burden seemed to lift itself from Madelene’s shoulders. She could breathe easier. George is safe. He is with me. In no time, the sleeping baby was in her arms, and Madelene could not look at his small round face enough, tears brimming in her eyes. She noted all the little features she had fallen in love with while kissing his little hands, unconcerned he might wake.
And he did. His big green eyes stared up at her; he blinked a few times, then fell back to sleep on her shoulder. Holding him close to her heart, knowing they would never be separated again, Madelene walked into the back parlor where Millie had begun to stir. Mrs. Lavishtock followed Madelene and found the nearest chair she could fall into.
Comfortable in her old favorite rocking chair, George clutched tight, Madelene looked over at her housekeeper. “Mrs. Lavishtock, I must admit you were the last person I would have expected through the door. However did you find George?” The last she whispered.
“Ooh, I could use a cup of tea. Would—” she replied, fanning herself with her hand.
“Certainly. Millie, would you please heat up the kettle?” she asked the sleepy-eyed maid, who nodded and made her way back to the kitchen, too sluggish to even notice the sleeping babe.
“I won’t keep you waiting to hear of how I retrieved George. I finally remembered hearing about a Mr. Arnold Duckins making a wager on Miss Westcott marrying within three days. I thought if your brother needed a place to hide with the baby, maybe he would stay with my nephew, Arnold.”
The housekeeper stopped to clear her throat. “Yes, so I went to see my nephew tonight and sure enough, there was George with the Italian girl, Alec.”
At the name of her nemesis, Madelene’s eyes narrowed. After all Gabriel had done for the young woman. Mrs. Lavishtock continued on, breaking through her deliberation.
“I had no difficulties retrieving the babe. And when she gave me George, I looked at him to make sure no harm had come to him.”
“Did they ask about the diamonds? I cannot believe they simply handed George to you.” Madelene frowned, knowing Mrs. Lavishtock did not have the diamonds in her possession.
Mrs. Lavishtock bowed her head. “It only mattered to me to somehow rescue our baby, George.” The housekeeper couldn’t quite meet Madelene’s eyes.
“Yes, certainly, but what did you give her? You could not have given her the diamonds.” Her tone was more harsh than she realized.
“Yes, Mrs. Westcott. I had Rascal steal the bag of diamonds from Mr. Westcott’s chamber. I didn’t know what else to do.” The housekeeper implored her, “Please say you forgive me. I thought George was worth more than the diamonds.”
Madelene couldn’t think and wearily rubbed her brow. How could Mrs. Lavishtock have the gems when she had them in her pocket, ready to give her brother? Mystery to be solved later. It only mattered George was safe and back where he belonged.
Her lower lip quivering, she told Mrs. Lavishtock, “Do not think more on it. I do not know how I’ll ever be able to repay you for finding George. I am terribly grateful, and I know Mr. Westcott will be as well.”
At that moment, Millie entered the parlor with a steaming cup of tea.
“A great relief, to be sure. This will do nicely. Thank you, miss.” Mrs. Lavishtock eagerly reached for her refreshment.
A banging on the kitchen door startled them.
Matthew. Madelene sighed in relief. He was finally here, and they could make amends. She could persuade him—
Madelene, the housekeeper, and the maid all rushed from the parlor into the kitchen to see what had caused the commotion.
It was indeed Matthew. He lay facedown on the floor, looking as if he had fallen into the house. Madelene handed George to Mrs. Lavishtock before rushing to her brother, who muttered intangible words and moaned.
Kneeling beside him, she turned him over and saw the blood. It trickled from a cut on his forehead, but the worst flow came from his stomach, which he clutched with his hands, apparently to stop the bleeding.
She had to think quickly. “Millie, please go for the surgeon, Dr. Riley, on Millhouse Street. It’s only a few blocks from here.” The housemaid caught up her cape and flew out the door. The sight of all that blood might have unnerved her and winged her heels.
Madelene reached for several kitchen linens to place over her brother’s hands and pressed down with her own. They had to somehow stop the blood flow. How could this have happened yet again? Mrs. Lavishtock, holding George, hovered nearby, intoning she had been concerned something like this might happen.
“Mrs. Lavishtock, please. What should we do? Should we move him? I don’t think I can lift him by myself.” Her tears began to slide down her cheeks. Matthew kept coming in and out of lucidity. The pain must have been unbearable. After all he had been through, Madelene knew he couldn’t beat death a third time.
She kept shaking her head, sure her own heart had stopped. When Madelene checked for his pulse, she could feel it, but it was faint and slow. There had to be something she could do. She couldn’t fail him now, not when he really needed her.
Gabriel! He would know what to do, but how to get word to him at their home in Mayfair?
Despondent, Madelene cradled her brother’s head in her lap and continued pressing the linens to his wound while talking to him. “Matthew, everything will be fine. George has been returned to us. Please, don’t.” She didn’t know what words to use to comfort him, to make him try to stay alive. After dashing her tears on her shoulders, she leaned down to kiss his cheek. “You must try, Matthew.”