Duke Du Jour

by Petie McCarty

  “You were the one watching Haverly for my return,” he guessed.

  She scowled at him. “That’s right. I owed Jean-Claude since I suggested he recruit you in the first place. You disappointed me.”

  “I’m told you just shot me in a field and left me for dead,” Jared accused Roulet, recounting Thorpe’s tale of that night.

  He needed to keep Roulet and his boys occupied to give Dexter time to figure out Jared had jumped the gun.

  “You do not remember, do you?” Lucilla pressed, then turned to Roulet. “I told you his memory was gone.”

  Roulet studied him for a long moment. Jared had no trouble giving him a blank stare since he had never been in that misbegotten French field that night.

  “You were going to help us,” Roulet said. “I truly believed you would een the beginning, but you had changed your mind when we met you that night.”

  “Wait a minute. I did meet you?”

  “Of course,” Roulet said, frowning.

  “To help you kidnap Wellington?”

  All four of them burst into laughter. “Kidnap? Mon dieu! Non,” Roulet said, still smiling. “We were going to assassinate the great field marshal. We told you kidnapping was our plan because Lucilla was afraid you would balk at killing Wellington. She was right.”

  “Me?” Jared cried. “You were going to have me do it?”

  “But of course,” Roulet grinned. “Giving us hees location and the time was as good as pulling the trigger.”

  Jared felt a cold chill in his gut. Wellington was never assassinated, but then Jared was not supposed to be in this century either. What if something he did caused these murderers to be successful and to change the course of history?

  “I do not like that look een your eyes,” Roulet said grimly.

  “What happens to Wellington now that I have spoiled your plans?”

  “We will still assassinate your great general,” Roulet announced confidently. “We have new help over here een your own country.”

  “But why are you still after Wellington? The war is over. Bonaparte is back at St. Helena in exile.” Thank God, he had been a history buff.

  “We freed Bonaparte once; we shall do it again. And thees time, we will make sure there ees no Wellington to go back after heem.”

  The front door to the cottage swung open, and Thorpe strode in. “You couldn’t stay out of it. Could you, Jared?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Eyes wide, Collins jerked back from the door.

  “What is it?” Ari whispered.

  The highwayman looked stunned. “Yer duke’s soldier friend is one of ’em,” he hissed back.

  “What soldier friend?”

  “From the war.” He frowned. “Never mind. We gots to get ye out of ’ere, even if Jardin is still guardin’ out there. Yer duke’s just been double-crossed. When I crashes through that door, ye go out the window and run like the devil fer the manor house across the park.”

  “But what about Jared?” Ari asked, frantic. “I have to help him.”

  “No, ye’ll just make it worse with him worryin’ about ye. I’ll help him best I can, but ye needs to go,” Collins ordered. “Now get ready to run.”

  ****

  “You bastard! I can’t believe it!” Jared gaped at Thorpe. “I fell for that one, did I not?”

  He was two for two in having his conspirators betray him.

  “About time you showed up,” Roulet told the traitor, then turned to Jared. “Your comrade Thorpe here showed up after we shot you that night. He ees the reason you are still alive, for now. If we had just shot you both, we would have had time to be sure you were dead, but we made Thorpe the same offer we had made you, and he agreed. By the time we finished negotiating, the soldiers had come, and we were forced to take cover.”

  Jared clenched and unclenched his fists, wanting badly to plant either of them in Thorpe’s nose. He had been a fool to trust Thorpe. Why would Seven be any better at picking friends than he had been at anything else he did?

  A loud, spine-tingling howl ripped through the night outside.

  Harry! Where the hell was he?

  “What the bloody ’ell was that?” Dawson cried.

  “A wolf,” Thorpe said quickly. “They are common enough in the woods around London.”

  Jared’s head snapped up, but the major kept his gaze on Roulet.

  Why would Thorpe say that? He had to know it was Harry. He had seen the wolfhound with Jared at the tavern.

  “I ain’t heard of no wolves around these parts fer years,” Dawson argued.

  “Forget the wolf,” Roulet barked. “Did you get the information we need?” he asked Thorpe. “Do you know where we can get to Wellington?”

  Thorpe nodded.

  “No!” Jared yelled, and Henri swung at him.

  Jared ducked and felt the wind on his cheek as the meaty paw missed by a mere inch. He would have taken a swing back, but the cocking of a pistol stopped him. Dawson had a flintlock aimed at his chest.

  “Where?” Roulet demanded of Thorpe.

  “The house where he keeps his new mistress, an opera singer named Suzette Lancome. He will be there tomorrow evening after he has dinner at White’s.”

  Jared gaped as Thorpe gave Roulet an address in the west end. What the devil was going on? Thorpe had asked Dexter about Wellington’s whereabouts, knew the general was staying under guard at Carlton House. Why would he give Roulet false information, unless…?

  “What’sa matter, Yer Grace?” Dawson taunted. “Don’t like someone else finishin’ yer mess?”

  Another eerie howl echoed in the darkness outside, this time much closer.

  Dawson and Henri both jerked at the sound, and their gazes shot to Roulet who now looked wary.

  Jared straightened, and Dawson poked the flintlock at him. “Don’t ye move nigh an inch.”

  “Take a look around outside,” Roulet ordered Henri.

  The big man looked like he would rather run for the hills, but he did as he was told. The howl resounded again when his hand gripped the latch. The front door and back chamber door exploded in tandem, and the front window shattered.

  Jared spun toward Dawson and faced the barrel of his flintlock. Behind the pistol, Dawson’s black eyes stared sightlessly at Jared for the two longest seconds of Jared’s life before the highwayman sank to his knees with Bullen’s blue-handled hunting knife buried to the hilt in his neck.

  Dexter and Herford were tackling Henri to the floor, and Collins had Roulet down with a forearm to his throat.

  Jared’s gaze shot to the shattered window, and his would-be brother stood there panting, a grin from ear to ear and his hunting rifle aimed squarely at Thorpe who calmly raised his hands in the air.

  “Just in the nick,” Bullen said.

  “I thought you excelled at distances with a rifle,” Jared said, grinning back.

  “Yes, but I am rather substantial up close with a knife as well.”

  Bullen pressed forward to cover Collins, while he subdued Roulet, and Jared bolted for the back chamber. His gaze flew to the cot first. No Ari. Panicked, he searched all around the room, then raced back out front.

  Collins busily tied Roulet’s hands behind his back with—what else—his belt.

  “She’s gone!” he shouted at Collins over the sound of Roulet’s hollered epithets.

  “I sent her out the window when I burst through the chamber door.” Collins punched Roulet in the temple to shut him up, so he didn’t have to shout at Jared.

  Bullen glanced all around. “Where’s Lucilla?”

  Jared grabbed the pistol from Dawson’s lifeless hand and rushed for the door.

  ****

  Collins yelled, “Go!” one heartbeat before he burst through the back chamber door, and Ari jackrabbited through the window.

  Not waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, she stumbled forward, feeling her way along the rough wooden boards of the cottage. At the corner, she took off for the small
stable she could now see behind the cottage. She would have the cover of the tiny outbuilding for a few steps before she made her wild sprint for the woods and the old manor house beyond. She visually searched for extra guards before she broke out into the open.

  Reaching the tiny two-stall shed, she exhaled a sigh of relief at having made it that far. She caught a scuffling sound like footfalls in the darkness, and she froze, tried to flatten herself against the sidewall of the small shed. The thuds and crashing coming from the cottage froze her in place for a moment. Had Collins saved Jared, or were they both captive now? Had one or more of her captors come out to chase her down?

  God, please don’t let Dawson be the one to search for me.

  She held her breath and tried to listen for any movement in the night, but all she could hear was the tha-thump of each panicked heartbeat.

  Something rustled nearby, and Ari inched along the wall toward the rear of the stable. Goose bumps popped out on her arms and legs. The night air had turned icy, and she had no wrap. Her senses felt compromised. She could barely see in the light from the cloud-covered moon, and the hard hammering of her heart was all she could hear. Who was out there?

  She had no weapon. Her only option was to run. She took one step away from the stable to do just that when a big hand clamped down on her wrist. Ari’s breath whooshed out of her. Too panicked to reason, her instincts took hold. She kicked out with her slippered foot and pummeled with all her might at the body holding her.

  Big arms pinned hers to her side to cease her struggle. “Ari, stop! Dammit!” a voice hissed.

  Jared.

  She melted into him with one big sob.

  His arms tightened around her. A hand stroked her hair. “Shhh. You’re all right.” He backed her toward the entrance of the stable. “I have you now. You have to be quiet, Ari,” he soothed. “I don’t know how many more henchmen may be about. I promise I will not let anything happen to you.”

  Ari made a supreme effort to stifle the sob already halfway up her throat. “I am not crying for me. I am just so glad you’re alive, that Roulet didn’t shoot you.”

  He let her go enough to lean back so he could see her face. “You were worried about me?”

  “Well, of course, you silly man.”

  He frowned down at her. “I admit I was in a bit of a tight spot—”

  “Those blackguards intended to kill you!” she whispered harshly.

  “And they still do,” came a voice from the darkened stable interior.

  Ari felt a hard poke at the back of her skull.

  “Step back from her, Reston, and drop that pistol you have tucked into your trousers.” Lucilla Tartley stepped forward into a shaft of moonlight at the doorway. She held her pistol against Ari’s head.

  Jared’s arms loosened. He tugged Dawson’s flintlock from the waist of his trousers and slowly lowered the weapon to the ground.

  “Move back,” Lucilla ordered.

  Ari did not move—did not breathe—fearful the pistol would discharge accidentally, let alone Lady Wilder’s intentions.

  Jared did as Lucilla instructed. “I will do as you ask; just don’t hurt her.”

  Lucilla gave him a dazzling smile. “You will do as I ask?”

  He nodded.

  “Then run away with me. Right now. We can release the little hoyden in the woods. She will be fine. She can get away on her own from there.”

  “I thought you were Roulet’s woman now.”

  She grimaced. “He is not the man I thought he was. I don’t think he has been completely honest with me.”

  “What do you mean?

  She hesitated as though considering her answer. “I didn’t know he intended to assassinate Wellington.

  Ari gasped. “Assassinate England’s greatest general?”

  The two ignored her.

  “I thought Roulet only wanted his battle plans,” Lucilla protested. “I was sick of the war and the French blockade—no dresses, no perfumes, no fine wines. I just wanted the horrible war to be over and things to go back to the way they were.”

  “And that justified your treason?”

  Lucilla glared at him. “I thought ending the war sooner was a good thing.”

  At Jared’s hard stare, she added, “Fewer men killed, right?”

  Jared just shook his head in disgust.

  “Well, it matters not. Roulet lied to me.”

  “It will matter to the magistrate if you are caught. You’re right about Roulet’s lack of honesty. He is not a French comte who fled his homeland. He is a French corporal pretending to be a comte and spying for money.”

  Lucilla gasped. “You lie!”

  The look on Jared’s face must have convinced her.

  As Jared kept her talking, Ari watched him ease to his right, inch by slow inch. He had a clean line to Lucilla on the right. But would he risk it? The witch had a pistol. What if she shot him?

  “How can you be so sure?” Lucilla was asking.

  “Herford’s Bow Street Runners sniffed out a few of Roulet’s snitches.”

  “I knew it! I knew he would double-cross me.”

  “If you knew, why did you stay with him?”

  Lucilla’s nose lifted in hauteur, rather silly considering the circumstances. “I was to be his comtesse.”

  “It all comes down to money and power,” he sneered.

  She raised the pistol level with his chest. “How did you escape?”

  “Dexter, my brother, and the Bow Street Runners stormed Roulet’s guard and the cottage. It’s over, Lady Wilder. Give yourself up.”

  Lucilla’s eyes showed a shred of panic before she shuttered her expression. If Ari had not had her gaze glued to Lucilla’s face, she would have missed it.

  “Come away with me, Reston,” she tried again. “I have always been your woman! Roulet was just a dalliance for me while you were away.”

  Ari gasped. Had the hussy always been Jared’s? Ever since the Barwoods’ ball?

  Jared glowered at Lucilla but did not deny her claim. Ari’s heart sank.

  “This will all blow over in a few months,” Lucilla nattered on, “and then the ton will be gossiping about something else, and we can return. Besides, no one will believe Roulet when he tells them the Duke of Reston was part of their conspiracy.”

  Jared slowly shook his head. “They know you played a part in the conspiracy, Lady Wilder. You will not be able to run from them forever.”

  “No! They don’t know anything.” Her eyes glittered wildly.

  A little madness?

  “You should never have come here tonight or dragged Lady Ariana with you. That is kidnapping. Dexter and the Bow Street Runners all saw you with Roulet.”

  “We have to leave now.”

  “Too late. They shall be out here looking for us any minute.”

  Ari could see Jared inch further to his right as he kept Lucilla nervous. He could get a clean grab at the hussy from the right. Ari could cheer that plan if Lucilla didn’t have a pistol pressed against her own skull. She feared the pistol would accidentally go off as so many did.

  “No, Reston,” Lucilla squeaked, “just saddle the horses quickly. We could be away in moments.” The barmy woman actually smiled.

  Jared—God love him!—looked at her as though her brains had leaked out as well.

  Lucilla didn’t seem to notice. She kept going like a runaway curricle. “You always said I could satisfy you like no other woman.”

  Now that was a portrait Ari did not need to have painted for her. Jared slanted a glance her direction and grimaced.

  “All night long,” Lucilla purred and licked her lips.

  An eerie howl suddenly echoed through the night.

  “What was that?” Lucilla squealed.

  “A wolf,” Jared said flatly.

  No, that was Harry.

  “Hell of a time for him to start minding me,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What did you say?” Lucilla demanded.


  The pistol barrel bobbled near Ari’s left eye, and she held her breath.

  “I said, ‘Well, now is the time to start minding me and let Ariana go.’ She is of no use to us.”

  “She is my insurance. If what you say is true and the Bow Street Runners come after me, I will need her.”

  “No,” Jared said calmly, “you will still have me. There is only one shot in that pistol. So, you ought to abscond with the most valuable hostage, and that would be me.”

  Lucilla considered that and slowly lowered the pistol. Her face curled into a reptilian smile.

  “Don’t do it, Jared!” Ari cried. “Do not trust her!”

  “Shut up, you little bitch,” Lucilla snarled and swung the pistol butt at Ari’s head.

  She ducked too late and the jeweled handle grazed her forehead. With a wild roar, Jared leaped at Lucilla, and the two knocked Ari sideways and down, as they fought for control of the pistol.

  Another snarl sounded, but not Lucilla.

  Ari could not scramble out of their way fast enough, and Jared stumbled over her legs. Seeing his balance compromised, a surprisingly strong Lucilla managed to shove him back three steps.

  “No!” Ari screamed and lunged for her legs, as Lucilla took aim at Jared’s chest.

  A dark blur swept past and slammed Lucilla hard as the pistol discharged. Jared spun wildly to his left and went down.

  Ari screamed again and crawled toward Jared’s prostrate form, oblivious to the shouts and growls and pounding feet.

  His eyes were closed, and she grabbed his lapels. “Jared, don’t you dare leave me!”

  Blood soaked his shirt right above his heart.

  She jerked hard on the lapels. “You stay with me, damn you! I love you. Lucilla can have you—just don’t die.” Tears choked her throat.

  Jared’s eyes opened, and he stared up at her. “I was enjoying all that, until you reached the part about letting Lucilla have me.”

  “You’re alive!” Ari shrieked and pulled him to her in a hug. His arms folded around her with a groan, and she tried to pull free. “I am hurting you.”

  “You are worth it,” he growled and kissed her like it was his last on earth.

  Approaching footfalls forced the two apart.