A Lady's Past

by A. S. Fenichel

  Raising her brow, Honoria looked ready to elbow Victor in the gut. “I’m sure I can make the walk for your sake, nephew.”

  “We need witnesses, sir. I assure you it is quite standard, and her ladyship seems quite spry, as she always has been.”

  Honoria walked out, followed by Percy.

  Taking Diana’s arm, Victor squeezed hard enough to leave a bruise. “Come, my dear.”

  C. Hoare & Company was filled with armed men. The blond man Diana had seen with Michael on the street grabbed Honoria and pushed her behind him.

  Michael Rollins put a gun to Percy’s head. “Kindly hand me that pistol.”

  With no other option, Percy complied. His face turned bright red as two men grabbed him.

  Still holding tight to Diana, Victor dragged her in front of him with the office door at his back. “I suggest you all let me pass or I promise you this woman will die. I have one of her handy explosives in my pocket, and I will blow myself and her to pieces before I allow you to take me.”

  “I never made him any explosives.”

  Something hard bashed against Diana’s head. “She is mine. I own this one.”

  The room spun for several seconds before throbbing pain replaced the vertigo. She touched her skull and winced.

  Preston Knowles stepped forward. Rage highlighted the angles of his cheeks and bright eyes. “Let her go and you might have a chance to live.”

  Grabbing her around the waist, Victor took a step back.

  Preston’s eyes shifted to the right.

  Jacques barreled into them, knocking Diana to the floor. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled away.

  The door of Mr. Hoare’s office exploded with smoke and the bitter odor of gunpowder. Bits of stone, wood and plaster rained down around her, but Jacques used his body to shield her from any harm.

  Men screamed orders and ran toward the office.

  Jacques rolled them over, leaned against the wall, cradled her in his lap and peppered kisses along her cheek. “Are you hurt?”

  Alive. Jacques was alive and well and holding her in his arms as if he would never let her go. Holding her tightly because she too had survived? Across the room, Honoria danced with glee as she congratulated Mr. Hoare on being so clever.

  Diana hugged Jacques tight and let his warmth and scent surround her. The knot of terror for nearly getting him killed eased a smidgen, but she knew what she had to do. “I’m not hurt, Jacques. You may release me.”

  Those strong arms she adored tightened around her. Jacques’s breath tickled her neck, confirming their good fortune. “I do not know if I can. I have never been so terrified in my life. Please tell me you forgive me?”

  Pushing away, she looked him in the eye. “Forgive you for what? None of this was your fault. I’m the one who put everyone’s lives in danger.”

  The way he touched the side of her head, searching for her injury, was the sweetest thing she’d ever experienced. When he found the lump, he winced as if he had been the one bashed on the head. He kissed her where she’d been hit. “I should have protected you better. I was foolish to think I could keep you safe without rooting out the people after you. I am so very sorry.”

  “I did not make that explosive. I have never helped Caron or any French agents.” It was important he know, even if the English government thought she was a traitor.

  Staring at her like she was the moon, he ran his fingers along her jaw. “Of course not.”

  Honoria stomped over with her hands on her hips. “He got away. After all that, Victor escaped out the office window. They did manage to capture Percy, and that handsome Alex Lynds said they would take him for questioning before we head north.”

  Accepting Preston’s assistance, Diana stood up. Her body ached from the fall. “Are we going north?”

  When he stood, Jacques let his fingers lightly brush against hers. “The Buckrose Horsemen have a safe place where they will take you and Lady Chervil until they capture Victor. It is for your safety and her ladyship’s.”

  “I see.” What she saw was that she was to be a prisoner again. Only this time, her jailer would be English and have a name given to bearers of the apocalypse. A kinder dungeon, but a dungeon none the less.

  Chapter 11

  Jacques kept a close eye on Diana throughout the afternoon. She coolly answered all Alex’s questions about Victor Caron. They had returned to Everton House, where everyone had been instructed to gather.

  Diana spoke quietly with Lord and Lady Everton for twenty minutes. Jacques wanted to hear what they spoke about, but he gave them their privacy and only watched from across the room. The only time he saw any spark of emotion from Diana was when Bertram arrived.

  Happiness and relief flooded out of her, and she rushed to her footman and protector. “Oh, thank goodness you’re all right. I was so worried about you, Bertram.”

  It was the first time Jacques had seen Bertram smile. His broad grin revealed a gap between his front teeth. “I’m happy to see you, miss. I cannot tell you how bad I feel about letting them take you.”

  “Not your fault. When I saw you in the street, I thought you had been killed. I couldn’t forgive myself.”

  “It will take more than a beating to kill me, miss.”

  Alex interrupted the reunion. “Bertram, did you find the boat?”

  Straightening, Bertram focused on Alex. “Yes, sir. It was a skiff with a Flemish captain, name of Martius Verbeke.”

  Thomas Wheel and a pudgy official named James Hardwig had arrived with Bertram. James worked in some official capacity for the government, but Jacques didn’t know exactly who he was or what he did. He had met Mr. Wheel through Preston, and if Preston trusted his school friend, it was good enough for Jacques.

  Running his hand through his hair, Thomas gave a laugh. “That poor captain didn’t know what was happening. One minute he was quietly waiting for his large wage and illegal cargo bound for France, and the next he was in shackles and dragged off his boat. The first mate was also arrested, but the crew were just poor sailors signed on for one trip. We let them go. It was a fine skiff, and it’s now the property of His Majesty.”

  James rubbed his paunch and chuckled, and slapped Preston on the back. “I always find some excitement when you gentlemen are involved.”

  Smiling, Preston shook James’s hand. “We hope to someday stop all this nonsense, but so far there has been little success.”

  There was obviously some history Jacques was unaware of. Diana watched all the men intently but stayed close to Bertram.

  With a nod, Alex put his fists on his hips and surveyed the group. “Well done. Thank you for your help. It does little good to save these ladies if the men involved are still at large, though. Did you find any leads as to where Caron may have headed?”

  “The only things that have left this city were farmers with empty carts. Unless he took a lesser path. I just don’t know.” Thomas shrugged.

  Preston said, “Jacques and I will find him. He didn’t get out of London without help. We’ll ask around and check the roads. It may take a day or so, but we will pick up his trail. Once we do, we’ll send word to Yorkshire.”

  With Alex’s approval, Preston looked to Jacques to get moving.

  Though she was only a few steps away, Diana might as well have been across the ocean. She’d melted in his arms when he’d held her at Hoare’s, but ever since she’d been distant and cold. “May I have a word, Miss MacLeod?”

  Silent and keeping a few feet between them, she followed him into the hallway.

  The Everton servants were abuzz with excitement, and rushed this way and that. Several Everton ladies stood in the foyer chatting excitedly.

  Wanting her close, Jacques threaded his fingers through hers and led her through a door. It entered on an extremely small and heavily furnished parlor. Scandals be damned,
he closed the door. “I have to leave you for a while.”

  “Of course.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leveled her gaze on him.

  “I hope you understand that your safety is very important to me. I would not rush off at this time if it wasn’t important.” He wished he’d kept hold of her hand so he could drag her into his arms, but her current stance didn’t bode well for a warm hug or more before he left.

  “I appreciate your consideration. If anything had happened to Lady Chervil, I could not have lived with it.” Sincere but still distant, she stood as far away as the small parlor would allow.

  “You are angry with me?” He closed the distance between them physically, if not otherwise.

  Dropping her hands to her sides, she backed up to the wall. “You saved my life, why on earth would I be angry? You have been very kind to me, Mr. Laurent. I will always appreciate what you have done.”

  So many emotions coursed through Jacques, he didn’t know what to say. Her formality was the most hurtful. “I was Jacques to you not long ago. Would you care to tell me what has changed?”

  She’d managed to make her body as flat against the wall as her curves would allow. “Nothing has changed. We should never have become so familiar. I blame it on the danger. Now the danger seems to have passed, and I’ll be carted away to the north. You are safe and will go on with your life. Everything is as it should be.”

  Nothing was as it should be. If it were, Diana would fling herself into his arms rather than making such an effort to keep him from touching her. He stepped back, frustrated. He needed her to be the warm, loving woman he’d come to adore, but she had changed over the last few hours, and it was his fault. Victor Caron should never have been allowed to get his hands on her even for a moment, let alone for a day. Jacques would make this right if it took a lifetime. “I have to go after Caron.”

  “Yes, I know. He is a French spy and enemy of England. You and your friend will find him. I’m sure the English will appreciate your effort.”

  The knock on the door forced Jacques to step even farther away.

  Preston stuck his head in. “We have to go.”

  Jacques wanted to tell her so much, but she had closed herself off from all emotion. He needed time to find the woman inside, but time was the one thing he didn’t have. “I will contact you as soon as we find Caron and bring him to justice.”

  Crossing her arms pushed her breasts up in the evening gown she still wore from the night before. “Thank you. That will be a great relief.”

  He’d loved seeing her in that gown, but now he cursed himself for not demanding she be allowed to change and rest. He couldn’t take her in his arms or kiss her. Denied even the slightest warmth, he was at a loss. He bowed. “Good day.”

  “Goodbye. Please be careful.” She cleared her throat and left the parlor.

  Preston raised an eyebrow. “Is everything all right?”

  “No, but we have no time to fix it, so we had better go.”

  * * * *

  They had been to every pub between Cheapside and the high road. If Victor was going to get out of town, he would need help and he would have to find it in a less-than-reputable place.

  Sick of the stench of stale beer and sweat, Jacques didn’t think he could stand going into yet another of these establishments. This was for Diana, he told himself as he held his breath and entered the Bull and Maid.

  It seemed as though the same people were at every bar telling the same lies to each other.

  Preston went to the owner and leaned over the swill-stained bar. “We’re looking for a friend who’s gotten into some trouble. His name is Victor and he has a French accent.”

  The barman laughed. “What kind of fix has Caron gotten himself into? I just saw him a few hours ago. Now that you mention it, he did look a bit out of sorts.”

  “I’m afraid it’s about a young lady. We were hoping to find him before her husband does. If you take my meaning?” Preston gave a wicked grin.

  “Oh, that one always has a story about some little nugget he’s soiled.” The barman slapped his hand on the wood, making the splattered beer splash. “He should be safe, though. Said he was leaving town and took a ride with William Farmer.”

  “That’s grand news. Do you know where they were heading?”

  Two seats over, a man yelled a profanity at another. The evening had brought out the masses for their indulgence. Another man called back with an equally vicious curse. Fists started flying, pulling the barman away to break up the fight.

  Preston rolled his eyes and Jacques shared the sentiment. They were so close.

  It took a few minutes, and in the meantime, Jacques and Preston stayed out of the fray. When the barman returned, he stank almost as bad as the pub. “Sorry, you wanted to know where Caron and Farmer were headed?”

  “That’s right. We want to put the husband off the path.” Preston was more adept at lying that Jacques would have thought.

  He poured several ales and handed them across the bar to a lush-figured serving girl. “I heard Caron say he needed to use a less traveled road out of London. Must be avoiding that husband. They were going east before they took Farmer’s cart to his place. Strange thing, though, I was sure Farmer lived north of London. I guess they really want to steer clear of that tart’s husband.”

  Preston left a shilling on the bar and they traversed the throng of revelers out of the Bull and Maid.

  As soon as they were in the alley, Jacques asked, “So, do we go east or north?”

  “East, I think. We have to find his path. It’s getting late. The Horsemen will start their journey with the ladies tomorrow at first light. We need to know where Victor is and keep him as far away from them as possible.” Preston waved and tossed a shilling at the boy who held their horses.

  “If we go north, we might head him off.” Jacques mounted his horse.

  “I still say we follow directly. We’ll never track him down if we don’t start in the same direction.”

  They trotted out of London to the east. The man Alex had watching the road had seen Farmer’s cart, but there had been only one man, and he hauled only empty bushel baskets.

  Jacques was sure Victor had been in that cart. Somehow, he had hidden from sight, but he had been there and was now outside London. Since Diana was still in London, it gave Jacques some comfort.

  They were fifteen miles outside of London when the rain started, and they hadn’t seen any sign of Victor or his conspirator. The chill in the air meant that the rain might very well turn to snow or ice. Jacques searched the edges of the woods for where two men in a cart might have left the road for shelter, but found nothing.

  “Jacques, there’s an inn up ahead. We’ll not find them in this, not tonight. We can start out at first light and continue our search.” Preston tugged his hat down, shielding his eyes from the driving rain.

  “We’ll lose the scent,” Jacques protested.

  “My friend, you know as well as I that we have seen nor heard any hint of him. Perhaps a new day will bring us better luck.”

  Unable to argue the point, Jacques nodded.

  Preston urged his horse forward and they took a fast trot to the Wastrel Inn. A boy took their horses. Jacques gave him an extra shilling to see they were well fed and rubbed down.

  Inside, the common room was full of men and women enjoying ale and food. A rotund man in a soiled apron and grinning from ear to ear waddled across the room. He made his way around tables and chairs as if he’d navigated the path a thousand times. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, welcome. Will you be needing rooms for the night? I’m afraid I only have one left, but it has two sturdy beds. I can offer you a warm fire, good food and fine brandy.”

  It was easy to like this innkeeper. Jacques shook his hand. “The room would be much appreciated, as would all the rest. I am Jacques Laurent, and this is my f
riend Preston Knowles.”

  Eyes wide as saucers, the innkeeper stared at Preston. “The Duke of Middleton, in my establishment. I’m honored, Your Grace. I am John Innis, and the Wastrel has been in my family for three generations. If you need anything at all, just say so, and I will do all in my power to grant it.”

  Jacques exchanged a look with Preston. It was possible Mr. Innis might be of help. Preston smiled. “We are searching for a Mr. Caron. Would you happen to have seen him today?”

  Mr. Innis shook his head. “Never heard of him, but we’ve had a busy day, and now that the weather has turned bad, everyone is coming in for a pint.”

  “Of course. Some soup and that brandy you spoke of would be most welcome.” Preston shook out his overcoat and hung it on the peg near the door before walking to a table near a large fireplace.

  Jacques followed, but his mind was on where they would search in the morning. Had Victor gone east to escape England, or had he gone north with some other plan in mind? Once they were seated on a bench near the fire, Jacques said, “Perhaps we are looking for the wrong man, Pres.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You have been asking travelers and Mr. Innis if they’ve seen Caron, but perhaps this Mr. Farmer would be better known in such circles. If he carries his wares into London regularly, he might run into the same people each week or month. We have to assume Caron is still with Farmer.”

  Accepting his brandy from the server, Preston sighed. “It is our only clue. You make a good point. Let’s eat and rest a few hours, then I’ll ask after Mr. Farmer and his cart. I don’t know how you look so wide awake. It’s been a long day.”

  Jacques didn’t bother to savor the mediocre brandy, drinking it down in one gulp. He endured the burn, then called for the bottle. “I am as tired as you, but I will not rest until Diana is safe. I cannot.”

  “I can see that you are smitten with her, but does the lady share your feelings? I would hate to see you brokenhearted again.” Preston downed his brandy and poured them each another.