Captive Hearts (13 page)

He studied her profile. “You said I didn’t give you an opportunity to confide in me last night. I won’t make that

mistake again. As we are man and wife, you may seek my council, if you will.” He paused to give her an opportunity to speak and frowned when she remained silent. ”Should you attempt to make a fool of me a second time, I won’t be so understanding.”

“One wing-like auburn brow arched to a haughty angle. “Why is it men always offer aid in such a way it insures them control of the situation? Should I want to jump into the Thames, why is it you could not say ‘let me hold your cloak,’ instead of, ‘jump in at this spot and be sure to remove your shoes and bonnet?’” He threw his head back and laughed. He tugged at a long waving curl that fell over her shoulder. “I suppose, as men, we are expected to take control, provide protection, and care for our ladies.”

“I am not one of your ladies.”

The resentful gleam in her deep violet eyes and the challenge it represented he found very tempting. “You are for now, Katherine. You are for now.”

Katherine slid deeper behind the boughs of the yew bush, the garden wall at her back. A sigh of relief escaped as she listened to the groom’s receding footsteps. The man took his duty seriously for he had passed that way thrice since she had been there waiting. Another ten minutes, and she would have to return to the house. At any moment, she expected to see several servants advance upon the garden in search of her. Anxiety raced through her and she fought the urge to rub her arms.

At the sound of horse’s hooves upon the cobbled street outside the gate, she leaned out of her hiding spot to look through the wrought-iron bars. The dark mahogany gleam of the coach looked familiar. Hoping the darkness of her morning garb would catch the driver’s attention, she stepped forward and raised a hand.

The man perched atop the conveyance pulled back on the reins to stop the vehicle. As he climbed down, his sand-toned hair and dark blue long coat brought a smile to Katherine’s lips, her anxiety receding.

His feet had barely touched ground when the coach door flew open and a group of roughly garbed boys climbed out. She was puzzled how so many could have fit in so small a space. And what was their purpose in riding about in her family’s coach?

“Clear the way lads,” the driver spoke from the street behind them.

She focused upon the man. “William—” The head groom of Summerhaven offered her a smile as he jerked his tricorn from his head. “I know they’re a ragged bunch, Miss Katherine, but they’ll work hard and quick and not cost you as much as men will. They’ll have the likenesses up before anyone knows what they’re about.” He lowered his voice, “They can use the money for food as well.”

Her attention returned to the children. Their

clothing, little more than rags, was filthy. Some had no shoes, others did not have coats. Some had neither.

Hungry eyes stared out of faces gray with grime.

Pity clenched inside her. She nodded. “A good meal before they start should give them strength to do the job well. And another afterward as a reward.” The man grinned his agreement. “Yes, my lady.” She raised the mechanism to unlatch the gate and held her breath as the portal swung open with the soft rasp of metal on metal. “The bills are here in three bundles. You purchased the tacks and hammers?”

“Yes, just as you instructed.”

She withdrew a small pouch of coins from her pocket.

”This should cover the cost of their food and leave enough for their pay as well.”

William tucked the pouch inside his coat. “I went by the Bow Street Agency as you wished. They’ve agreed to handle any reports that may arise from your posting the prints.”

“Good.” She laid a hand upon his arm. “God willing and with a little luck, justice might yet be served for your brother and my family.”

He covered her hand with his, his callused fingers rough upon her skin. “It’s a dangerous thing you’re doing.

Are you certain this is what you want to do?” His hazel eyes studied her face, his expression grave.

Had Edward been more interested in pursuing the men instead of enjoying her father’s title and money, had anyone else helped her, perhaps she would have a different choice to make. As it was, she had no other.

“Yes, I refuse to wait any longer.” He gave a brief nod. “You’ve only to send Hannah, and I’ll come for you. If there’s trouble, send for me.”

“I will.”

“Come lads, we’ve work to do.”

Two of the larger boys came forward, hefted the bundled bills, and carried them back to the coach.

He lifted the last batch then paused. “Thank you, Miss Katherine.”

Reading the suppressed emotion in his face, she fought the tears that rose close to the surface. “You do not owe me any thanks, William. Your brother died trying to

protect my family and myself that night. I will do whatever I can to see his killers caught.”

“They’ll do whatever they can to see that doesn’t happen, Lady Katherine. Have a care for yourself.”

****

“You did well, Mr. Ray.” Matthew closed the ledger and extended a hand to his purser, Carson Ray. “The English didn’t interfere with the sale of the cargo, Captain. In fact, Whitcomb, Lord Rudman’s clerk, was fussy about the books being kept just so.”

“It was no reflection upon your ability to keep the books, Mr. Ray.”

The younger man’s features settled into grave lines, his heavy brows drawing together into a frown giving his broad face the pugnacious look of a bulldog. “If the charges against you were any measure to judge him by, its no wonder Rudman must guard his back.” A smile just shy of a smirk curved his lips. “Every crewman aboard knew they were false, Captain. The English knew it as well and tried to intimidate us into testifying against you.

The crew stood their ground together.”

“For their loyalty and yours I’m grateful, Carson.” He retrieved a bottle from the bottom desk drawer. Pouring two fingers of bourbon into short glasses, he extended one to the purser. The two drank in silence for a moment.

“The return home shall be my last voyage as Captain of the Caroline. If you and Mr. Blevins are still interested, at the end of the passage you may purchase her.” Ray’s smile, though laced with restraint, fairly beamed. “Aye, Sir.”

“Finish your drink, and go tell Blevins.”

“Aye, Sir.” Ray tossed back the rest of his drink and hastily excused himself.

Matthew propped a booted foot upon the chair beside his. It had to be done and at least he would be assured the steady hands of command would pass to those he trusted.

Through the hardships they survived at sea together, Ray and Blevins had earned his trust as he had earned their loyalty. The Caroline deserved to be passed on to those who would treat her with care and respect.Frowning at the uncharacteristic sentimentality, Matthew set aside the empty tumbler and rose to don his long coat.

He paused on deck to enjoy the last of the late afternoon sunlight as it fell into the haze of gray-brown smoke hovering low over the London sky. The smells of dank water, pitch, and the stew Webster was cooking in the galley blended with cacophonous familiarity. Life at sea was a combination of beauty and ugliness, excitement and boredom, action and tedium, but it was always a challenge. He wondered if he would find life as a “county farmer” held such a diverse appeal.

Upon reaching the dock, he found Barlow, the Willingham’s driver, waiting atop the coach in the deepening shadows of the warehouses, two men perched beside him riding shotgun on either side, a footman standing ready by the open door.

Had there been a disturbance at the house? “Is all well at Willingham’s, Barlow?”

“Yes. All is well, Captain Hamilton. Lady Willingham thought to save you the trouble of hiring a hackney, sir.” Relief brought a smile to his lips. “Good, I have one more stop to make before going home, Barlow.” Matthew gave the driver directions. He swung himself aboard the coach and settled back against the leather seat.

Periodically throughout the day, he found his thoughts wandering to Katherine. Each time, a niggling unease accompanied the lapse in concentration. He hadn’t trusted her promise that morning to stay close to the house unless accompanied by Clarisse and his men. She had seemed too sincere. He had instructed Clarisse, Elton, the butler, and several maids to keep an eye on her movements throughout the day. He wondered how they had fared.

The coach came to a stop. He shook free of his cloak, took out the flintlock pistol he had tucked in the waist of his breeches then laid it on the seat. To enter an establishment armed so late in the day might be misconstrued.

By the time he had concluded his business, the afternoon light had waned, leaving the street purple with shadows. He tucked his purchase carefully inside his long coat and approached the coach only a short distance away.

A man stepped out from behind a rain barrel at the

mouth of an alley. Matthew stopped every nerve in his body instantly alert. All he could see in the dim light were the rough condition of the man’s clothes and the long stringy hair that hung over his face.

“Me master sent me to warn ye, gov’na. The girl ain’t worth the trouble she’ll be to ye.” Stunned at the blatancy of the warning, he strained to see the man more clearly and judge what kind of threat he might be. “Obviously your master thinks otherwise or you wouldn’t be here.”

The man’s voice sounded hoarse and raspy. “She’d be worth more to ye dead than alive. Ye could have all that comes to ‘er and a tidy sum besides. All ye ’ave ta do is turn ’er over to us.”

He shook his head. “That isn’t likely to happen, my friend. My wife is worth much more to me alive.” Willow thin, his chest rose dramatically as he heaved a great sigh. “I was afeared ye’d say that. It’ain’t worth dyin’ over a woman.” He lunged at Matthew, his approach swift and silent.

Matthew pivoted to one side avoiding the blade that passed within inches of his side. He settled into a defensive crouch as the two faced off circling one another.

“You need to take your own advice and walk away,” he warned.

Barlow shouted a warning.

Matthew turned at the streak of movement he caught out of the corner of his eye, another attacker approached from his left. He swiped at Matthew with a knife.

Matthew dodged to avoid the blade then grabbed the man’s arm just above the wrist and jerked him forward throwing him off balance and slamming him against the brick building face first. Turning, Matthew drove an elbow into the heavier man’s back hard enough to mash the air from the attacker’s lungs. The man dropped his knife and fell to the ground gasping for breath.

Matthew scooped up the knife as the wiry one closed in with a downward thrust that ripped through the fabric of his sleeve and grazed the skin beneath. Skill guided the upward thrust of his own blade catching the man between the ribs.

The assailant caught his breath and staggered back

in pain. Blood, black in the dim light, gushed from the wound, and he pressed a hand to it. He turned and staggered away, down the alley.

The two men riding shotgun atop the coach with Barlow dropped from the driver’s seat of the coach.

Flintlocks in hand, they ran past Matthew in pursuit of the heavier attacker who had gained his feet and fled down the street.

Barlow reached Matthew, and paused outside the alley to offer him a pistol. “I couldn’t get a clear shot, Captain Hamilton,” he said his tone apologetic.

“It’s all right Barlow. I was a little busy myself.”

“I could see that—bloody bastards.” Barlow held the lantern aloft and took one side of the alley and Matthew took the other. They followed the blood trail down the garbage and sewer strewn passage.

“He’ll need help once we find him, Barlow.” The trail came to an abrupt end one block over. The two guards came toward them from down the street, breathing heavily.

“He caught the back of a coach that was pullin’ away as we rounded the corner, Cap’in Hamilton. We couldn’t see nothin’ about it, only that it was black,” one of the men said when he had caught his breath.

“You did your best, men. We’d best report the incident to the magistrate, then go home. Barlow, would you happen to know who that may be?”

“Aye, Captain Hamilton. ‘Tis Mr. St. John, sir.” Until that moment, Matthew had refused to think about the repercussion he might face for defending himself if the man died and his body was found. St. John, being Rudman’s flunky, could once again twist the truth in order to imprison him. As badly as he wished to avoid it, he had to report the incident.

“We’d best get back to the coach then and get it done.”

“Yes, Sir.

****

Katherine felt constricted by the walls of the house, the servants, even the clothes on her body seemed to be squeezing the breath from her. Grabbing a shawl from the back of a chair, she stepped out onto the balcony to breath

in the chilly night air.

She had done it. There was no turning back. By tomorrow every man woman and child, or at least as many of them as she could reach, would know the face of one of the men responsible for her family’s death. She was certain that, by now, every print was tacked up for the world to see. Tomorrow, when the first papers she had had printed were sold upon the street, everyone, high and low, would be able to recognize him and know what he had done. And then? Someone would report to the watch patrols or perhaps one of the magistrates, and he would be brought to justice. He would lead them to the others.

He had to. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. He had to. She wiped them away with the hem of her shawl.

She had not allowed herself to think about how Matthew and the Willinghams would view what she had done. She had done what she felt was right, what she had felt had to be done. And for the first time all day she had time to reflect how it would affect Matthew and the Willingham’s. Gossip would abound. She would become an embarrassment to them and to Matthew. She wouldn’t be able to bear facing Matthew’s censor for having lied to him. Talbot and Clarisse’s disappointment in her would be just as bad. After they had embraced her as one of their family, she had stabbed them in the back with a letter not a knife. They would resent her for that, and she could not blame them.