Elizabeth Kidd (25 page)

“That’s him all right.” The young woman eyed him doubtfully. “And who might you be?”

“Lord Fenton,” Carey said promptly. “Did this Fairfax take Miss Melville away with him?”

“That he did.”

“Did she go willingly?”

“That I couldn’t say. She was willing enough to see him when he sent in word of who he was, but I didn’t see them leave. I did see her in his carriage when they passed down the lane—there.” She pointed toward the road running by the house.

“Is anyone else at home?” he asked.

“No, the lady’s maid had gone out for bread, and the coachman’s still out exercising the horses.”

Carey thought furiously. Fenton had an hour’s head start—but where would he have taken Elena? His house? Unlikely, for Carey knew where that was. His yacht! No, he knew where that was also—or approximately. Of course, Fenton could take Elena away in the boat and be out of range in little more than an hour.

“Is there some writing paper in the house?”

The girl shrugged and said she supposed there must be, then let him in by the garden door. He wrote a quick note, scanned it, then wrote another, identical to the first. He gave one and some banknotes to the girl.

“Half of this is for you. Give the rest to the coachman when he comes back and tell him to send the letter from the nearest inn. He and the maid should wait here in case Miss Melville comes back. If I find her first, I’ll send word what they’re to do. What’s your name?”

“Jenny, thank you, sir.”

Carey planted a kiss on Jenny’s cheek, and she jumped back with a startled but pleased “Oh!”

“Thank you too, Jenny.”

Carey set off again, stopping only in Glynde for a fresh horse. The weather was uncomfortably warm, but as he neared the water, a light breeze sprang up. At last, rounding a slight rise of land before it sloped down again to a secluded little bay just east of the red-brick town of Seaford, he saw the tall mast of a large, sea-going yacht bobbing on the slight swell. He was in time!

Carey left his horse and slipped down to the water’s edge on foot. Now that he was closer to the boat, which was still anchored not far from shore, he could see activity that looked like a crew making ready to sail. On the beach lay a dingy being loaded with supplies by a crewman. Carey looked around, but saw one else on shore.

Then, as luck would have it, the man started up the beach toward the trees where Carey was hiding. Grinning, he waited for the man to stop and begin unbuttoning his trousers. Then he stepped out and hit him over the head with the butt of his pistol. The man went down as silently as a stunned cow.

Carey rolled him over and pulled off the unbuttoned trousers, then the jacket and cap. Attired in this borrowed raiment, he made his way with a loping gait down to the dingy, climbed in, and rowed for the yacht.

He was undiscovered before he reached the yacht, anyone who might have seen him presumably believing him to be the crewman. His heart pounding on his chest, he climbed the ladder onto the boat and glanced quickly around. There was no one to be seen.

Walking lightly, he made a circuit of the boat, glancing into each window he passed. In the center cabin, he finally saw movement. He pressed his face against the glass and gasped.

“Elena!”

He pulled the door open, and Elena looked up from the cot she sat upon. Her face lit up when she saw him. “Carey!” she breathed. “I knew you would come.”

“You did? I mean”—he glanced around—“are you alone? Are you all right? They haven’t hurt you, have they?”

“No, no!” She rose and came to him, and he closed his arms around her. For a moment, there was only silence in the little cabin as they held each other tightly and silently reassured each other of their devotion.

Then Carey remembered their danger.

“Is there no one else about?” he said.

“Only two crewmen. One went ashore for supplies. The other is below, I think. He must be asleep, for I have not heard him move about for some time. Indeed, I was thinking of jumping overboard. I can swim, you know, although I pretended I was afraid of the water, and—what are you doing in those clothes, Carey?”

“Disguise. Where’s Fenton?”

“Is that who that man was? The men kept calling him ‘my lord,’ but he never said his name or what he wanted with me. He has gone to the village—I don’t know its name, either, I’m afraid.” She sighed and laid her head against his shoulder. “They wouldn’t tell me where we were….”

“We must get out of here at once!” Carey said. “Before someone comes back. It’s a stroke of luck that I got here while they were all out of the way, but our luck won’t hold for long.”

He stepped back, holding her by the shoulders, and looked at her searchingly. “Will you come with me, dear? Do you trust me? Do you—do you love me after all?”

“Oh, yes, Carey!” Elena’s eyes filled with tears, but they had no chance to spill over, for he kissed her swiftly, then took her hand and led her out the door.

Quickly, they rounded the deck to where Carey had left the dingy tied, still seeing no one. He helped Elena into the little craft, then climbed in after her and rowed swiftly to shore.

“My horse can carry us both,” he said, “at least as far as the next village.”

Elena gasped as they passed the unconscious crewman, still lying in the grove of trees where Carey had left him.

“He isn’t dead, is he?”

To reassure her, he kneeled down and felt for the man’s pulse. It was still there, faint but steady.

“He’ll be all right,” he said, rising. “Wait a minute—I want my own coat and pantaloons back. Turn around, Elena.”

She blushed, but obeyed, closing her eyes for good measure. She gave him a few minutes to dress, then opened her eyes again. And screamed.

Chapter 23

“I must say, Duncan,” Lady Kedrington declared, “this is the smoothest ride I have had in any of our carriages. It is difficult to believe we are moving so swiftly!”

Lord Kedrington, far from showing appreciation for his wife’s kind words about his new curricle—which he had done his valiant but futile best to prevent her from boarding that morning—said only that he was sure his horses were well aware of the pace they were setting.

“I wish you would put your bonnet back on, Antonia. You look a positive hoyden.”

“Oh, pooh. Who is going to see us? And why should I not let my hair down in the company of my own husband? It feels wonderful to let the wind blow through it!”

“Perhaps you have forgotten that we are not on a pleasure drive.”

Her face fell at that, and he instantly regretted having reminded her of their mission. He was not entirely sorry, after all, that she had come and told himself that when they found Elena, it would be better to have another woman along. That rationalization had also served to allay his own fear of the worst that could happen. He knew now that he had gained a reputation for being fearless in war because only his own life had been at stake; when it came to Antonia’s safety, he was far more cautious.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he said. “I should not have said that.”

“Yes, you should. I had forgotten. Oh, Duncan, do you think we will find Carey in time? And what if we cannot find Elena? Would Lord Fenton really harm her?”

Kedrington thought he would without a qualm, but did not say so. He had finally learned the identity of the man murdered in the East End—he had been an employee of Lord Fenton’s, who must have stumbled upon Fenton’s involvement in the plot to steal the marbles. They would never know now.

“We’ll find them,” he assured her. “What is more likely is that Fenton was unaware of her presence in his vicinity after all, and she will be found perfectly safe at the house where Dimitri left her.”

* * * *

Unhappily, this proved not to be the case. They paused at Glynde to change horses and to wait for Dimitri, who had gone by a shorter route on horseback to the cottage, promising to report to them at Glynde if he found Elena safe.

They saw him pacing the yard of the only inn in the village when they pulled into it. Dimitri saw them and ran to take the horses’ heads before the ostler could do so.

“She’s not there!” he said. “I talked to a snippet of a milkmaid who said that two men had come by this morning asking about her. The first, who said his name was Carey Fairfax, took her away with him.”

Antonia breathed a sigh of relief. “Then she must be on her way back with him to—”

The look on Dimitri’s face stopped her. He handed up a piece of paper, which Kedrington took from him.

“The second man left this,” Dimitri said.

Antonia read it over her husband’s shoulder.

Duncan—

Fenton has taken Elena, probably to his yacht at Seaford. I am following.

C.F.

“The milkmaid said he was there less than an hour ago, and the ostler here says he stopped at this inn shortly after that.”

“We must follow them!” Antonia declared. “We are not so far behind them now, Duncan.”

“Nevertheless,” the viscount said, handing the reins to the ostler who had belatedly come out to see to their needs, “we must change horses here. Mine are spent, and even a poor pair will make good enough time on these roads. Antonia, go inside and rest for a few minutes. Dimitri will procure some refreshment for you.”

Deciding that prompt obedience would get them on the road again faster than staying to argue the point, Antonia took Dimitri’s hand to descend from the curricle. But when she reached the door of the inn, she turned and said, “Don’t you leave without me!”

Kedrington grinned. “I would not dare!”

They were on their way again in twenty minutes. Dimitri rode alongside them now, Kedrington having absolutely forbidden him to ride ahead and confront Fenton on his own.

“You have not explained why Fenton should have taken Elena,” Antonia said. “I understand that he is the mastermind behind the plot to steal the marbles, but what has Elena to do with it?”

Kedrington feathered a turn nicely, the job horses displaying a gratifying willingness to be guided by an expert hand. “I only suspected that he was the mastermind, although this action seems to confirm the circumstantial evidence. He probably hired Arthur Melville to organize the thing in order to keep his distance from it. Melville would have demanded a good deal of money to finance his various ambitions, but I doubt he had any feelings about the marbles one way or the other. My guess with regard to Elena is that Fenton simply snatched an unexpected opportunity when he learned somehow of Elena’s presence in the neighborhood.”

“An opportunity to do what?”

“Bargain. Perhaps he plans to hold her until he can leave the country in this yacht of his. He may even plan to take her with him until he reaches France or wherever he is going.”

Antonia shuddered. The mere possibility of never seeing Elena again might precipitate Carey into some rash action, never mind the possibility of harm coming to her.

At last they reached the shore and saw a ship lying at anchor a short distance away. Kedrington pulled his horses to a stop.

“Why are you stopping here? Let us go on—hurry!”

He smiled at her. “Didn’t I say I would bring you to the seaside for a holiday? Let us make ourselves comfortable and consider the amusements available for our delight.”

She had to laugh at that. “You are ridiculous. But what
are
you going to do?”

“We don’t know what is happening down there. I’d best reconnoitre first. Dimitri will stay here with you.”

Dimitri looked as if he would object to this plan, but Kedrington had disappeared into the sparse trees below them, as if by magic, before he could utter a word. Antonia watched him go, thinking,
So that is how he does it!
before smiling at Dimitri and shrugging her shoulders.

Kedrington thought he had heard a scream just before they stopped on the road, but he had not pointed that out to Antonia. It was not repeated, which was a hopeful sign, and now he could hear only low voices. He crept carefully toward them, pulling a pistol from inside his coat. He had not told Antonia he was armed. Although she doubtless expected it, he had judged it wiser not to mention the pistol—or the knife he had hidden in a leather sheath strapped to his leg.

As he came closer to the copse from which the voices came, Kedrington recognized Carey’s, then saw him holding Elena close to him. Neither appeared harmed, although Carey was decidedly disheveled. On the ground near him lay a man’s body.

And opposite them, his back to Kedrington, was Fenton. He was speaking, and his habitual soft drawl had taken on a sinister overtone.

“Don’t trouble yourself with thoughts of escape, Fairfax. It won’t work, and in any case you wouldn’t want to see your young lady harmed, would you? I assure you, I won’t touch a hair on her head—if you cooperate.”

“What do you want with us, Fenton?” Carey said.

“Only your company on a little sea voyage. We’ll cross to the French coast, and there you’ll be set free. I only need you to ensure my safe passage from England, you see.”

“But you can just go now, alone. No one else has seen you, and by the time we can summon help, you will be long gone.”

“Not long enough, dear boy. I always like to—er, adjust the odds in my favor when I can. That’s why I’m such a successful gamester—one of the reasons. Being able to concentrate to the point of excluding even the noise of the dice being thrown is another.”

While Fenton was thus singing his own praises, Kedrington slipped around behind him, then rose slightly from the concealment of the shrubbery. As he hoped, Carey spotted him but did not move a muscle except to press Elena’s face to his chest so that she would not see him as well and inadvertently reveal his presence in some way.

“What was your purpose in all this, Fenton?” Carey asked, as Kedrington dropped out of sight again.

Fenton shrugged. “If you and your friends had only been so obliging as to report the stones missing, there might have been a delicious stink raised in the House.”

“You did it for
entertainment
?” Carey sneered.