How to Wed a Baron (24 page)

Justin's mind was whirling. “But someone at the English court, someone who had just been wed to one of his countrywomen, someone he would never question—that someone would be allowed close. Someone who believed he had good reason to want the
Inhaber
dead. Most importantly, preferably someone who wouldn't muck up the job the way you had, someone already known—modesty aside—as being very good at what he did. Befriend the man, dine with him, and then…eliminate him, probably with what some might term extreme malice. Instead, Alina very nearly died.”

“I didn't choose the time and place of the confrontation—he did. I
was
protecting her, you know. I would have suggested the caravan to you when I
told you about the
Inhaber,
after that first night at the inn in Portsmouth, as my uncle was already waiting for us on the road to London. That was always the plan, for she and I to disappear while you executed the
Inhaber
for us.”

“How terribly inconsiderate of me, I'm sure. Hearing all of this, I'm amazed you can contain your contempt for me.”

The flushed cheeks were back. “You made a confusion of everything. It was you who put all of us in danger with your mad decision to send her to Ashurst Hall. She could have been injured in the cross fire during the attack, which made it my duty to protect her. I owed her father that much. And may I remind you that, by doing so, I presented my unprotected back to the enemy.”

“And now I imagine you believe I should be searching about for a medal to pin on your front? Forgive me if I leave it to others to do you that honor. Your king, I would imagine. I wonder, Major, how much of what you're doing can be laid at the door of revenging your fellow Romany, and how much at the door of your own personal ambition. Does Loiza wonder, as well?”

“My uncle may have considered this, yes. I am not in favor at the moment.” The major shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wincing as the movement caused his shoulder to remind him of his wound—or he meant to remind Justin of his wound, assuming a
gentleman wouldn't strike an injured man. And how wrong he was. Justin hadn't been a gentleman for a long time.

He allowed the silence to grow, until the major apparently felt it necessary to fill it.

“I may have been promised…something, once the
Inhaber
was no longer a problem for the king. But that's of no matter. He needs to die.”

“Somebody should, yes, I agree. I could begin a list.”

“It was never meant to be so complicated. Your damn Prince Regent—”

“Please, leave the damning of our future king to those who will be His Royal Highness's subjects, if you don't mind. I should have known he didn't come up with such an intricate plot on his own. He did try to appear brilliant and conniving, I'll give him that, but he hasn't the brain for intrigue.”

“True enough. He was most concerned in deciding how much he might be able to profit if he assisted our king in a matter that had nothing to do with his own interests.”

Justin laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound, even to his own ears.

“Finally, something that makes sense in all of this. Prinny the plotter made no sense. Prinny the greedy buffoon and even dupe? Yes, that I can understand and even somewhat forgive. He can't help who he is. It was
you
who dangled the idea in front
of his face of having me buy my way back to England. No wonder he's taken to his bed. He had no idea what I was talking about when I accused him of plotting Alina's murder.”

“To be fair, King Francis didn't know, either. But I tell you again, Lady Alina was never in any danger.”

“She was very nearly shot!
I killed people,
damn you to hell. For what?” Justin took a calming breath. He wondered if the major knew that he was seeing him through a red veil of anger. Then the rest of what the major had said penetrated his brain. “What do you mean, your king didn't know?”

Luka sighed rather dramatically. “Kings know what they want to know. And then, like all royalty, they walk away. Minions do the rest. This doesn't surprise you, does it, Justin?”

“Lord Wilde, thank you. Only my friends address me as Justin,
Major.
”

“Yes, the inestimable Baron Wilde,” the major said, and now his tone took on somewhat of an edge. “We heard about the boy in Trebon. And what you did to the father. A killer without mercy, without conscience. You were perfect for our needs. Did you really think that fat flawn in London came up with your name on his own?”

Justin ignored the question. “Why not just come to me, hire me to assassinate the man for you?”

“Would you have done it? What could we have offered you?”

Justin didn't answer.

“We had our choice of many men, but Trebon made it clear that you were the one we wanted, especially after our failed attempts, because now the
Inhaber
was never alone or unprotected. We know everything about you. Tell me—the man who insulted your wife. We heard you shot him in the back at the count of two,” the major said almost gleefully. “Is that true?”

“Yes, of course, as I kill children and unarmed men, just as you said, without mercy or conscience. I'm a very bad man,” Justin said, not giving a damn what Luka thought of him. It was enough that the major had not stumbled on the fact that Robbie Farber had been Alina's uncle. God only knew what the major would have done with that information. Perhaps there was such a thing as Fate.

Luka nodded his head, as if a suspicion had been proved true. “I thought we had chosen the wrong man that day on the dock. You play the game well, my lord, but the savage lies not far beneath the so-civilized surface. It is not only what the king will do for me that is important. What is left of my family needs to see the
Inhaber
dead. We, all of us, need to know he suffered, as did the merchant in Trebon. I was glad you failed the day you went riding after him. A quick death is not what we wished for him.
Now I suppose we will have to satisfy ourselves if you merely tell me where we can find him. I need you to do that now, my lord.”

“I'm afraid you and your hoped-for fortune are doomed to disappointment, Major. I'll be damned if I'll give you his location so that you and your family can murder him and place the blame on me. He can cool his heels where he is, and then return to London. I don't—”

Justin remembered the letter. The one where he'd offered up Alina in exchange for ten thousand pounds. The letter he'd signed with his usual flourish. Even if the
Inhaber
had destroyed the letter, there was still the matter of the man's presence in London. There was no choice now; he had to meet with him. Explain. Grovel yet again, and this time to a real bastard of a man, not simply a well-born buffoon.

“Something has changed your mind, my lord, I can see it in your eyes. You will meet with
the Inhaber
tomorrow, won't you? Tell me, tell me the place of this meeting.”

“Major, you're still alive for only two reasons. The first is that I would not have Alina if not for your insane and, frankly, self-serving plotting. The second is that Loiza and the others I met in the camp have my sympathy for what
Inhaber
Novak did to their families. But if you want him dead, you'll have
to find a way to do that without me. I'm done, do you understand that?”

“A man like you? The madman of Trebon? A man like you does not find it so easy to be
done.
”

“Don't push me, Major, or I might prove you right. I'll proffer your thanks to the marquess and give your farewells to Alina. Brutus will meet you at the stables in one hour, to escort you back to your uncle's camp. It seems you are to be a disappointment to him once again.”

He turned away, but then, as if he'd just thought of something else, he turned back once more. It was a maneuver that had served him well before, had even saved his life. “That morning at the inn,” he said, “when you were so adamant I not leave Alina with you while you traveled to Ashurst Hall. It seems a lifetime ago. I truly believed you were concerned for her. For the sake of her affection for you, I'd like to continue to believe that.”

The major drew himself up straight. “I would of course have been upset had any real harm come to her. She is the daughter of my commander. Still, she is only a woman. They have their place in life. They were born to be useful to us, and sacrifices must sometimes be made. That is simply the way of the world.”

“Ten minutes,” Justin bit out between clenched teeth. “Brutus won't be happy if he's kept waiting.
No, that's not fair. You're injured. I'll give you the full hour, and then Brutus can carry you out.”

“Carry—?”

Justin knocked the major to the floor with a fist flush to the jaw, then swiftly stepped down hard on his injured shoulder until the man's eyes rolled up in his head. Then, to satisfy his curiosity, he rummaged inside the man's sling, to be rewarded when his hand closed around the small pistol hidden there.

He pocketed the weapon that probably would have been shoved into his back before he'd made it safely out of the room.

“You should have paid more attention to your own argument, Major,” he calmly told the unconscious man. “You were right—it's not that easy for someone like me to be done.”

But ten hours later, he very nearly was.

The
Inhaber
might not have been as grateful for the information Justin gave him as one would suppose, as he'd already decided that his king was very much looking forward to attending his funeral. But once the farce of the disputed land was cleared up—the man had thought Lord Wilde mad when he'd read his letter—he'd agreed to reconsider the charges of the murder of his guards, accusing instead one Major Luka Prochazka.

This seemed reasonable to the newly civilized Baron Wilde, and he instructed Brutus to please put the
Inhaber
down, as the man's already red face
was beginning to turn somewhat blue. He'd then tossed the
Inhaber
the keys to the cellars of the ruined church where the meeting had taken place, so that he could release his henchmen, who had surrendered with even more alacrity than Justin could have hoped.

A well-armed and growling Brutus did have that effect on some people, the last-moment addition of a crossbow an almost inspired touch.

With the letter that could have damned him (for the third or fourth time, he'd rather lost count of his recent indiscretions) now destroyed, all that was left was to ride back to Basingstoke, soundly kiss Alina, assure her he was fine and then gather up the inestimable Wigglesworth and hotfoot it to Carleton House, where he would grovel for, hopefully, the last time.

Except, when he rode up to the front doors of Basingstoke at noon, it was to be told that the master and mistress were not at home. Indeed, they had all, master, mistress, duke, duchess and the dear Lady Alina, departed for London within minutes of sunrise that very morning, a journey of nearly fifty miles that would require several changes of horses and the constitutions only the young possessed.

As Justin went tearing up the stairs, already ripping at his neckcloth and shouting for Wigglesworth, the butler called after him, “The Duke and Duchess of Ashurst will be meeting them there, my lord. I
overheard Lady Nicole say as much to her sister the duchess. I imagine it will be quite the merry party. You are to join them at Carleton House this evening at eleven, if you wish, although you will be cutting it rather fine, won't you, my lord?”

The butler quickly clapped his hands over the ears of the youngest footman standing in the entrance hall as Justin offered his sentiments concerning what he
wished….

 

“N
ICOLE, SIT STILL
,” Charlotte Daughtry begged, not for the first time since the twins had joined Alina and the duchess in the luxurious town carriage and headed off for Carleton House.

Alina had been taken to the duke's residence because her baggage had come to London with Charlotte and Rafe, leaving the twins to complete their toilettes in Tanner's Mayfair residence, so they had still to see Alina's gown for the evening. Charlotte thought that delicious, proving that though she might have been a practical sort, she could very much enjoy surprising the two young brides who had once been her charges.

“But it's so annoying. With all these coaches clogging the streets, it will take us forever to arrive. Justin can't get there ahead of us, or it won't matter when we get there, for he'll have already ruined everything.”

Alina's stomach performed a small flip as she
sat on the facing seat, and it wasn't because she was riding backward, especially not at the snail's pace they were traveling. “She's right, Charlotte. That could be disastrous. He'd strut into the Prince Regent's presence, perfect as Wigglesworth can make him, imperiously demanding to see me and be assured I'm fine.”

“Just before he tears a strip off your hide for having come to London without him,” Lydia pointed out reasonably. “Tanner and Rafe have wagered fifty pounds on how long it will take him to turn from terrified fiancé to infuriated lover.”

Nicole laughed. “Well, now that we're all such a
jolly
party, I must say I'm pleased that Lucas was clever enough to confine our party to just two coaches. What do you think they're discussing back there behind us? How to subdue Justin if he becomes violent?”

“Justin doesn't become violent,” Alina told her rather proudly. “He becomes efficient. And if he were to think that any harm might come to me, I believe he could become prodigiously efficient.”

“Oh, Lord, she's right,” Lydia breathed, shaking her head. “Sometimes I wonder not only why my mind manufactures ideas such as this, but why I ever think to voice them in front of my sister.”