Elizabeth Thornton - [Special Branch 02] (31 page)

As they clasped hands, he said, “We decided to wait when your man told us you were back in town. They’ve found us, Richard, so there’s no point in us going to Half Moon Street or anywhere we’re known. I couldn’t leave Gwyn by herself, so I brought her with me.” He stepped to the side. “You remember my cousin, Mrs. Barrie?”

Gwyn was seated in front of the fire drinking tea and eating a piece of shortbread.

She’d known Richard was Scottish and hadn’t really formed an impression in her mind, but the gentleman who bent over her hand looked so typically English that she was mildly surprised. He was in his mid-thirties, of medium height and build; had fair
hair, regular features, and eyes as blue and startling as a field of cornflowers.

“Mrs. Barrie,” he said. “I remember you very well. I’ll always be in your debt.”

Gwyn decided she liked his smile, and she liked his style, and she particularly liked the trace, a very faint trace, of Scotland in his accent. “I’m glad,” she said, “because, Mr. Maitland, we need your help.”

“I told you in Lisbon that I would always be yours to command.”

“And promptly rejoined your regiment.” She shook her head. “Not that I remember. But that’s what they all said, and that’s what they all did.”

They both laughed.

Jason shifted restlessly. “It was good of you to come as soon as you got my note.”

Richard dropped Gwyn’s hand. “You said it was urgent, and you don’t exaggerate. Besides, I wanted to see you, too. Can I get you something? Madeira? Coffee?”

“Your man has been most attentive,” said Gwyn.

“Good.” Richard waved Jason to a chair. “Now tell me what’s happened.”

“There’s been another attack on Gwyn,” said Jason.

Richard listened attentively as first Jason, then Gwyn, described the attack on her. He asked them a few questions on points that were unclear, but for the most part, he stared at his clasped hands and nodded encouragingly.

There was a silence, then Jason said, “Could it have been Harry?”

“I don’t think there’s any doubt about that.”

“But he looked so different,” protested Gwyn. “Older, broader.”

Richard replied, “I doubt that our man looks like Harry or the man on horseback. You’d be surprised how little it takes to change one’s appearance—different
clothes, hair brushed back or forward; spectacles; a little powder and paint; a new personality.”

“Then it’s hopeless,” said Gwyn. “We’ll never find him.”

“I wouldn’t say that. But there’s one thing that puzzles me. Harry seems singularly inept. Two attempts on your life, Mrs. Barrie, and both attempts failed. I would have thought that our man would be the best that money can buy.”

Gwyn’s breath quickened. “He’s not inept. He’s cold and calculating and as bold as brass. Yes, he failed, but I don’t make the mistake of underrating him. The first time, he couldn’t have known that Jason would be in my house. Jason fell asleep. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been there. As for the second attempt, it was the same thing. No one knew that Brandon and Judith would be riding on the beach. It was sheer chance that saved me.”

Richard smiled. “Then all I can say is that you are singularly lucky, or our man’s luck is running out.”

“I hope so,” she said, visibly shivering. “I sincerely hope so.”

Jason said, “What did you mean when you said that you would have thought our man would be the best money can buy?”

Richard spoke as he reached for a piece of shortbread and began nibbling on it. “Something that Rowland told a friend. He said that he was going to put the boot to Mr. High-and-Mighty. I’m a long way from figuring things out, but I think this Mr. High-and-Mighty may be directing things. I think he may be a man of rank and wealth. The miniature incriminates him in some way, or there is something valuable hidden in it. He’s willing to kill to get it back and eliminate anyone who knows about it; so he has hired the best.”

“But …” Gwyn looked at Jason, who crossed to her
and put a hand on her shoulder. “Why me?” she said. “I don’t know any man of rank and wealth.” A thought jolted her, and she went on, “Now if you had mentioned ladies of rank and wealth, that would be different. They’re volunteers at the library where I work, or they’re members. But I can’t say I know their husbands, except perhaps to nod to them.”

“I think,” said Richard, “we’re making progress. Perhaps you’d make a list for me?”

Then he went on to question her about friends, the library, her servants, her pupils and their parents, and a host of other topics that Gwyn did not think were relevant. By the time he was finished, she felt as though he’d removed her brain and examined it thoroughly before replacing it. Always, he came back to Harry, but she was of little help to him there.

Finally, he smiled and said, “Only one more question. Have you any knowledge of a maid or serving girl who lost her position from the home of one of these ladies of rank?”

“No.”

“Or any serving girl at all who lost her position or handed in her notice?”

“No. Who is she?”

“Just another piece of the puzzle. When we find her, I think our puzzle may be solved.” He looked at Jason. “I was hoping to meet your cousin Brandon.”

“He’s at Haddo,” said Jason. “Mark is there. We didn’t want to bring him to London, so Brandon is keeping an eye on him.”

These few words, thought Gwyn, told only a small part of the story. They’d hoped to send Mark to Norfolk with Trish and Gerry, but when he heard she was going to London with Jason, he wouldn’t hear of it. He’d clung to her hand and begged her not to send him away. She didn’t know who was more upset, Mark or herself. In the end, they’d reached a compromise.
He could stay at Haddo where he was already happily settled with people he liked and trusted.

All they’d told Grandmother and Sophie was that she had to see her solicitor about the lease on her house, run a few errands, and they’d be back in a few days. Her last sight of Mark was of him clutching Grandmother Radley’s hand and waving good-bye as their carriage pulled away.

Richard looked at Jason. “Where are you staying?”

“Brandon’s rooms on Bond Street. It’s not the most secluded place, but it will do for a day or two until I can find a more suitable hiding place.”

“Bond Street. That’s only a five-minute walk from here. It’s a good choice. It’s not always the secluded places that are the safest.”

“But for how long will it be safe? This maniac seems to be one step behind us. How did he know to come looking for us at Haddo? Where is he getting his information?”

Richard spread his hands. “Maybe Mr. High-and-Mighty is feeding him information. I really don’t know. But we can take steps to tip the scales in our favor.”

He got up and went to the door. “Harper!” he bellowed.

A moment later, Harper entered.

“This is Sergeant Harper,” said Richard. “Mrs. Barrie, meet your bodyguard.”

“He’s done this sort of thing before.” Gwyn opened her eyes and looked at Jason. “I must have dozed off while I was waiting for you.”

“Who has done this sort of thing before?” asked Jason.

He glanced at Gwyn in the mirror above the washstand. She was propped against the pillows in
Brandon’s indecently huge bed in his rooms in Bond Street, while he washed the day’s dust from his face and hands.

He’d spent the evening questioning servants at both his house in Half Moon Street and in Marylebone, trying to determine if they had noticed a stranger or a tradesman hanging around recently, but no one had. He’d then gone on to Sutton Row and questioned Gwyn’s neighbor, Mrs. Perkins. And at last, he’d struck lucky.

He’d arrived back at Brandon’s rooms a few minutes ago to find Harper bedded down in the parlor, and Gwyn asleep in Brandon’s bed. There were just the three of them, no servants who might inadvertently betray their hiding place. The fewer people who knew where they were the better.

“Harper,” Gwyn said. “He’s done this sort of thing before. There was a lady, Miss Abigail Vayle, who was pursued by an assassin and Harper was her bodyguard. It was almost a near miss, Harper said, because Miss Vayle wouldn’t do as she was told.” Her dimples flashed. “So naturally, I told him I wouldn’t put a foot wrong.”

He turned to face her. “Harper told you this?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know the man could talk.”

“Maybe that’s because you’ve never spoken to him.”

He ignored the note of censure in her voice. “There must be more to it than that. What did you do to win him over? Offer him a bribe?”

“Well …”

One brow arched.

“He wanted to see if I could handle a pistol. And when he saw that I could clean and load it as well as any man, he became friendly, that’s all.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“Sergeant Harper,” she said, “and men like him, are the salt of the earth. Or, at least, they’re the backbone of the army. Maybe they’re not brilliant conversationalists, maybe they don’t have pretty manners, but they’re the ones who get things done. Ask any officer.”

“And you discovered all this in the few hours I was away?”

“I discovered all this the moment I set eyes on him. I liked him on sight.”

“What?
Harper?”
He made a face.

“Yes, Harper.”

Jason shook his head, chuckled, and padded over to the bed.

She sat up straighter. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Coming to bed.”

“Keep your voice down. Harper will hear you.”

He kept his voice down. “He’s fast asleep, and I’m coming to bed.”

“Oh, no you’re not. Not this bed. Harper’s made up a bed for you in the parlor, right next to his, and that’s where you’re going to sleep. Jason, Harper would be shocked if you spent the night with me.”

“Harper,” he said, “can go to the devil.” When she glared at him, he went on in a more placating tone, “We’re going to be married just as soon as I get that special licence. Doesn’t that make a difference?”

“But we’re not married yet.”

He huffed, then tried a different tactic. “Don’t you want to know what I found out?”

“You found something out? Well, why didn’t you say so.” She patted the mattress beside her. “Sit down and tell me about it.”

When he climbed into bed, the bedropes squeaked
and Gwyn sucked in a breath. She stared at the door as though she expected Harper to come charging through it.

“What in hell’s name?” Jason lifted a pillow and stared at the pistol concealed beneath it.

Gwyn said, “Harper said I’m to keep my pistol nearby at all times. And when I think of Harry, I need no persuasion. So, what did you find out?”

Jason set the pistol on the table beside the bed, and propped himself against the pillows next to Gwyn’s. “Your neighbor, Mrs. Perkins, told me that the night you went to Sackville’s party and she was looking after Mark, a young man came to your door and asked to speak with you.”

“A young man? Oh yes. I assumed he was sent by the landlord to look over the repairs.” She inhaled a breath. “That’s what I assumed when Harry showed up on Saturday morning. Jason, do you think it was Harry then, too?”

“I’m more inclined to think it was Johnny Rowland.”

“Johnny Rowland!” She shook her head. “But why?”

Leaning back comfortably, Jason crossed his arms behind his neck. “When he asked if he could wait, Mrs. Perkins told him that you were at Sackville’s party and wouldn’t be home till very late. If it had been Harry, I think he would have come back that same night.” He turned his head and looked at her, then gathered her in his arms. “Don’t look so frightened,” he said. “This means we’re getting somewhere. Johnny Rowland must have been—” he discarded the word desperate, “—determined to speak to you. And that’s why he went to Sackville’s party. I think he wanted to talk to you about the portrait.”

She shivered. “But I don’t know anything about a portrait. Oh, why on earth did we come back to London? I thought Maitland would have found out a
lot more than he has. I thought, when he questioned me, he would find something that would lead him to Harry.” She looked up at Jason. “How long is this going to go on? How long before I can see my son again? You don’t seem to understand. Mark and I have never been separated. He’s not like other boys. He’s fearful, and … and he doesn’t like to be left with strangers.”

He cupped her chin in one hand. “What’s this about Mark? I don’t think he’s fearful.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“You don’t think he depends on me too much? That I’ve made him that way?”

“You have nothing to feel guilty about. You’ve raised a fine boy. So he cried when we left, but he’s only seven years old. Gwyn, that’s how seven-year-old boys behave. And considering who his father and uncle were, I think it’s a miracle Mark is as sane as he is. I bet he is as happy as a lark right now. He has his pony. He has Brandon. And there’s Brandon’s curricle. Gwyn, he’ll hardly spare us a thought.”

“Jason?”

“What?”

Emotion thickened her throat. She tried to speak but no words came. She shook her head.

“Gwyn, what is it?” he asked urgently. He felt her fear in every pore of his body.

She finally got the words out. “I … want … my life … back,” she said. “I want a future with you and Mark. And I swear to God, I shall never,
never
worry about little things again.”