Tempting Taffy (House of Devon Book 8)

by Meara Platt

  “May I see?”

  “Very well,” she said, once the three men had gathered around the body and little could be seen of it but the dead man’s legs. “There, you’ve had your peek. Do you see your papa?”

  The boy nodded.

  “He is unharmed, Master Rafe. He will tell us what happened when he returns. But for now, let’s continue with our story.”

  “Is the man sleeping? Is he not cold to be sleeping in the snow?”

  “I think he fell down and is hurt. We will learn more when your father returns.”

  The boy accepted her explanation, and after a bit of coaxing, they returned to their pirate adventure. Taffy tried to keep her mind off the scene outdoors and concentrate on attending to Rafe. She hoped the boy had not seen the pool of blood.

  “We’re in for a squall, the pirate captain told Rafe, and had him run below to help the cook secure the pots and pans in the galley.” She read on, but it was very hard to will herself to remain calm and ignore what had happened outside. After about twenty minutes, there was a sharp rap at the door. “Taffy, it’s me. Lord Falkirk. Mr. Barrow is with me. Let us in.”

  She heard Mr. Barrow’s voice as well assuring her they were unharmed.

  “Thank goodness!” She threw the bolt, never more happy to see the pair. “Is it over?”

  “We believe so,” Mr. Barrow said, and Taffy immediately knew it wasn’t quite done with yet. Mr. Barrow was a precise man and would not declare an end to an assignment until all the loose ends were neatly tied up in a bow.

  “I saw a man…” She dared not say too much within Rafe’s hearing.

  “Papa?”

  The marquis went to Rafe and picked him up to hug him. He kept the boy in his arms, for the lad was clearly in need of reassurance and sought his father’s comfort. “I am well, Rafe. Were you a good boy while I was gone?”

  He curled his arms around his father’s neck. “Taffy read me the pirate story. And Rafe saw seaweed and silver eels. Then he went on the island because the treasure was there.”

  “That sounds like quite an adventure. I’m sorry I missed it.”

  “Taffy will read it to you at bedtime, if you like. I don’t mind. I like the story. But the boy is Rafe. You can be the pirate captain. His name is Red Jack, but she can call him Red Gavin. Would you like that Papa?”

  The boy had his pudgy hand on the marquis’s cheek and was patting it lightly as he spoke, as though his obviously doting father needed the reminder to pay attention to him. “I’d like that verra much, lad.”

  “Master Rafe, why don’t you tell your father everything else we did while he was out. I must take a moment with Mr. Barrow, but will be right back.”

  He nodded, rather happy to nestle his head upon his father’s broad shoulder. Indeed, who wouldn’t be happy in such a position?

  She walked down the hall with her employer and they ducked into one of the smaller rooms. She began asking questions as soon as they were out of earshot of the boy. “What happened, Mr. Barrow? Was he Bruce Gordon? Why are you frowning. Do you not believe you’ve got your man?”

  “He was shot in the face, so we cannot make out his features clearly. Half his brains are lying in the snow.”

  Taffy grimaced.

  “More curious, none of our men and no one on the duke’s staff will own up to firing the first shot. I believe it was this first shot that killed him. Someone meant to take him down like a hunted deer. Moreover, whoever fired was an excellent marksman.”

  She frowned. “So, we cannot see this dead man’s face. We do not know who got off that first round and it troubles you that no one will own up to it. Now you are thinking the villain might have had an accomplice all the while, and the villain shot his own accomplice?”

  Mr. Barrow nodded, his expression grim. “Someone of a similar height, build, and hair color. Someone he used to assist him, but also with the intention of doing away with him if it proved necessary to throw us off the scent.”

  “And if he looked remarkably like the villain, wearing his clothes and walking about town as though he were Bruce Gordon…”

  “He thought to dupe us into believing he was dead and the marquis and his son were no longer in danger.”

  Taffy pursed her lips in thought. “But this is all happening so quickly. I did not think his scheme had been long planned.”

  “Malice has been simmering in this laird’s heart for years. He’s had time to think up a dozen plans in his sick mind. His actions may have only come about because of a chance encounter with the marquis either at Coldstream Castle or somewhere along the road to York. But it does not mean he wasn’t prepared to act.”

  She considered it a moment. “I wonder why he hasn’t done so before this.”

  Mr. Barrow shrugged. “Perhaps he had not learned of Lady Vera’s death until that very moment. A casual question to the coachman or to his lordship’s valet. Their response might have caused him to snap.”

  “And his accomplice? This second man. What of him, Mr. Barrow?”

  “Likely, Lord Gordon picked him up along the way. It could have been at Coldstream or any of the coaching inns along the road. Mick is with the Duke of Devon’s housekeeper and head butler now. They will take attendance of their staff to make certain the accomplice was not one of their own. I would not put it past this wily villain to lure a footman of questionable loyalty and in need of quick funds to help him in his evil deed.”

  Taffy shuddered. “I would hate to think one of the duke’s staff would ever agree to such a dastardly thing.”

  “I think it is unlikely. But you know how I like to tie up all the loose ends.”

  She smiled at him. “I’ve heard other runners complain of your dogged determination.”

  He chuckled a moment before turning serious once more. “If no one on the staff is missing, then we can be sure this Gordon fellow had an outside accomplice and both men were in the house. They may have seen me and Mick, perhaps Watkins and the others, and realized the marquis was under the duke’s protection. Fortunately, you played your role extremely well. It is to our advantage. He may still believe you are merely the maid assigned to clean their guest bedchamber and attend to the boy since he has no governess.”

  “Rest assured, I shall remain ever vigilant with the boy. I’ll do my best with the marquis, but you were right. He is a caged jungle cat and will not sit still while we track down this villain. He means to go after the man himself. I tried my best to contain him, but I failed.”

  “Do not be hard on yourself, Miss Ralston. No one could have done a better job than you. But now that we are on to this villain’s false trail, we have the advantage. We shall make him believe we have been duped and are letting down our guard. This will lure him out of hiding. He will be emboldened and prone to making mistakes.”

  Mr. Barrow patted her hand. “I’ve never had you on such a difficult assignment before. You’ve shown exceptional poise and cleverness. Continue to keep your wits about you. Use this villain’s haughtiness to your advantage.”

  She cast him a grim smile. “I would not call it haughtiness but madness. To so coldly take on an accomplice for their resemblance, all the while knowing he would kill this poor man. To so coldly go after a little boy just to destroy the father. To ever think Lady Vera’s heart belonged to him and hold on to that belief for years when…”

  She’d almost let slip that Vera had loved someone other than the marquis. “Um, when it obviously belonged to another,” she finished, hoping Mr. Barrow had not noticed her stumble. “But Lord Gordon does not realize who he is up against now.”

  “Aye, Miss Ralston. The marquis is no man to be trifled with.”

  She shook her head. “No, Mr. Barrow. I was referring to you, the best Bow Street man in England.”

  Her employer actually blushed. “I do my job, Miss Ralston. That is all.”

  She did not wish to quibble about his impressive talent and integrity, for he was a modest man and would want her mind b
ack on her important duty. “What is our next step, sir?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  GAVIN WAS STILL holding his son in his arms when Taffy walked back in. He rolled his eyes toward the boy, silently warning her not to discuss what had happened outdoors. She gave a quick nod to assure him she understood.

  Of course, he knew that she would. This girl was quick to catch on to everything. Who was she? Would they ever find out who her parents were? Not that it mattered to him other than for idle curiosity.

  He was going to marry her no matter her lineage. It was obvious she came from extraordinary parents. A beautiful housemaid and a married lord, perhaps?

  It truly did not matter to him.

  She had his heart.

  She would protest, believing he’d come to the conclusion too quickly and not given it proper consideration. But he knew his own mind. More important, he was not going to deny his heart and what it was telling him.

  “Rafe, why don’t ye let Taffy continue reading the pirate story while I find Mr. Barrow? I need to finish off a little more work with him.”

  Rafe nodded, unwrapping his arms from Gavin’s neck and reaching out to be taken in Taffy’s arms. “Och, lad. She canno’ carry ye. Ye’re too big. Hold her hand, if ye must.”

  He noticed how readily Taffy and his boy took to each other, how naturally his little hand curled in Taffy’s and comfortably rested there. Her response to Rafe was the same, completely natural and affectionate. Indeed, she exuded affection for his little boy.

  He ran a hand through his hair, feeling dismayed. It hurt his heart to know that a lass with so much love to give had not been given it unconditionally at any point in her life. But he set aside his concern and found himself grinning when she pursed her lips and began to tap her foot impatiently. “My lord, Mr. Barrow is more than able to attend to his work without your assistance.”

  “Och, dinna box my ears, lass. Ye know I canno’ sit by and do nothing.”

  “I do wish you–” She immediately broke off when they heard shouts in the hall. Her manner no longer impatient but protective of his son. Immediately, she drew Rafe behind her.

  She wanted to protect him, as well. But he was not about to hide behind her petticoats. “My lord! Stay here and hide with us. Please.”

  He frowned. “No, lass. Bolt the door and dinna let anyone in but me or Mr. Barrow.”

  “I’ll do no such thing!” She scuttled around him and put her body between him and the door to block his escape.

  “Och, ye’re a little thing.” He picked her up with ease and set her aside gently.

  She weighed little more than his son, but the feel of her was all woman. Heat coursed through his veins the moment he’d touched her exquisite body.

  Aye, he would have to marry this lass who had brought magic to his soul. “I’ll bring back some ginger cake for ye and Rafe. Lock up behind me.”

  He listened for the sound of the bolt falling into place before he carefully proceeded down the hall. Of course, he also got an earful of her thoughts of him as she reluctantly complied. Pigheaded. Stubborn. Exasperating,” she called him through the thick oak door.

  He soon found Mr. Barrow. “What is happening? We heard shouts.”

  “We spotted him, my lord. But he is a weasel and slipped out of our grasp. He–” They both turned upon hearing more shouts and ran toward the sound.

  Mr. Barrow’s confederate, Mick, had been chasing someone but seemed to have lost him again in the dark, twisting halls in the lower part of the house that held the kitchen and footmen’s quarters.

  “Blast,” Mick muttered. “I vow that villain is a ghost.”

  Then they all heard cries coming from the kitchen. The scullery maids were screaming. Gavin tore through the kitchen and out the open door, but spotted no one running away. However, there were footprints in the snow. “He’s heading for the stables, Mr. Barrow.”

  Gavin followed the obvious trail which led to the well kept building that housed the duke’s prime racers and stud stock. But as he was about to enter, he heard the neighs of an agitated horse and the thuds of its hooves kicking against the stalls.

  “He’s in there, m’lord,” Mick said. “Let me go in after him.”

  “Och, I want that bastard. Let me.”

  But he had no sooner uttered the words, than horse and rider burst through the stable doors. Gavin leaped aside to avoid being trampled, and could only watch in frustration as the horse galloped across the stark, snowy expanse with Gordon on its back.

  “Bollocks!” Gavin fell hard atop an icy patch of ground, cracking through the ice to land in the mud beneath it. Much of the mud was frozen, but not all, and his clothes were now caked with a dark ooze. Not that he cared. He rolled to his feet shouting for the grooms to saddle horses for them all.

  “We’ll get after him, m’lord,” Mr. Barrow said. “Not you. Please. Go back to your quarters and wait for us to return.”

  “I’m going with ye.”

  “No. You’ll only be a distraction. We’ll have to worry about his shooting you as we close in on him. What will your little boy think if we bring you back dead or injured?”

  “Damn it.” He and Rafe were a team, father and son. To see him hurt would devastate the child. For Rafe to lose him…the boy would lose all the light and joy in his bright eyes.

  Mr. Barrow must have sensed he’d won the argument. “We’ve flushed him out of the reeds now, m’lord. It won’t be long before we have him cornered. No one in town is going to give him safe harbor. Not when it is made known he tried to kill guests of the Duke of Devon.”

  He then turned to Mick and two of his runners who had now caught up to them. “Mick. Watkins. Stay with his lordship and help him secure the house. Collins, come with me.”

  Another three men joined them in the stable. By their manner, he realized these were also Bow Street men. He watched them ride off with Mr. Barrow, and then he, Mick, and Watkins made their way back to the house.

  Gavin knew securing the imposing manor was no make-work chore. It was important. If Gordon was not caught, he’d double back and try to steal inside again. For this reason, he did not contest Mr. Barrow’s orders.

  He needed to be at Hartland to protect his son and Taffy. However, convincing the lass to obey him when she considered herself in charge and he was to heed her commands was going to be a problem.

  He turned to Mick and Watkins. “Secure every door and window in this house. I’m going to change clothes. I’ll meet ye in the library when ye’re done.”

  Perhaps he’d bring Rafe and Taffy down there with him. He liked the idea. They could have tea and cakes brought in. Rafe needed calming down. He was a good lad, but as their ordeal wore on, it was taking a toll on the boy. He was now clinging to him or Taffy. He did not want his son to be afraid. It was his duty as a father to protect him with all his heart and soul.

  In this regard, Taffy was heaven sent. She played games with the boy, made him feel stronger and more confident. To let him out of confinement and allow him to roam about the house with Taffy would be the perfect restorative to his spirits. Not immediately, of course. But this would be done as soon as the danger had passed.

  “We shall get on it at once, my lord,” Mick assured him.

  The other runner, Watkins, was a more dour fellow and had a bit of an attitude. It was not something obvious, or anything Gavin could say specifically was wrong with the man. He simply did not trust this runner as he did Taffy, Mick, or Homer Barrow.

  He went straight upstairs to his guest quarters. “Taffy, it’s me. Open the door.”

  Her eyes rounded when she let him in and noticed the mud trickling down his jacket and clumped on his trousers. “What happened? You look like you fell into a bog.”

  “The bounder took off on horseback. I had to leap out of the way to avoid being trampled.”

  Rafe gasped.

  Blast. He’d scared the boy, for they’d just been through a similar incident in York with that cart c
areening toward them. “I’m unharmed, lad. Just landed in a big puddle of mud,” he said with a grin and playful tapped a little mud on the boy’s nose and chin with his finger.

  The boy giggled.

  Taffy poured some water from the ewer into a basin and dampened one of the drying cloths. She made a game out of cleaning the boy’s face, then rinsed off the cloth and handed it to Gavin.

  He wiped his hands on it and continued to relate what had happened. “Mr. Barrow and several of his runners rode off after him. Mick and Watkins stayed behind with me. They’re busy securing the house as we speak.”

  He turned back to his son. “All is well, Rafe. How about the three of us go to the library once I’ve washed the mud off me and changed clothes? Would ye like that?”

  The boy nodded enthusiastically.

  “And,” he said, bending down and balancing on his haunches so that he was at eye level to his son, “I’ll order tea and ginger cakes to be brought there for us.”

  Rafe turned to Taffy, his big eyes shining. “Did you hear that, Taffy? We’re to have ginger cakes. Your favorite.” He turned back to his father. “They’re Taffy’s favorite,” he repeated as though Gavin hadn’t heard him say this very thing only a moment ago.

  “I know, lad.”

  He removed his jacket and was about to drop it onto the floor when Taffy’s eyes widened. She caught the garment and hastened to retrieve a larger drying cloth. “Here, drop your clothes on the cloth. You don’t want to dirty the elegant carpet, do you?”

  “It seems not. Heavens, what was I thinking?” He grinned and drew up the stool. “Step out, lass. I dinna want to offend yer delicate sensibilities when I drop my trousers.”

  She blushed and hurried to stand just outside the door.