Jo Beverley - [Malloren 03] (21 page)

Then he carried her through the doorway into a derelict wasteland edged by scorched buildings.

“Do you have a vehicle?” Fort asked.

“Aye, milord.”

“Who the devil are you?”

At his tone, Elf sneaked a look and winced. They’d brought her own one-horse chair that she used to tool herself around town, generally with a footman up behind. A glossy blue with white-and-gold trim, it was no commonplace vehicle. Nor was Bianca, her white carriage pony, a commonplace horse.

She tensed, ready for the truth to come out.

“Name’s Roberts, milord,” said her servant phlegmatically. “Hired to find the lady.”

Oh, bless you, bless you.

Fort didn’t pursue his question, except to ask, “And how the devil
did
you find her?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, milord, but can we chat somewhere else? If others were to return, we’re not that many to oppose them.”

Elf took time to count. Just Roberts and two other men, one holding the horse. She could understand why they’d not brought the two women, but there’d been two other men in her squad.

After a tense moment, Fort said, “Very well. But I will require a pair of shoes from one of you. The donor can hide around here until someone brings him a new pair. You, bring the chair here!”

The man led the open vehicle over and Fort lifted Elf into the seat. Then he turned to select from among the shoes being offered.

As she took the reins, Elf began to think she might get away with her deception after all. At the moment, the men stood between her and the only obvious road out of here, and she knew little of this part of London. But as soon as they entered a part of town she knew, she’d whip up Bianca and elude Fort once again.

Poor Lisette would have to disappear, but at least she might be able to continue to meet with him and tease him as Elf Malloren.

He chose the shoes of the man who’d been holding the horse and sent him to a nearby corner to make the exchange. He sent Roberts along to bring the shoes back.

And that was a kindness, she realized.

True, he had demanded the shoes as if by right, but he had not made the man limp into hiding barefoot over broken stone and glass.

Sighing, she admitted to herself that in her eyes Fort was close to perfect. Not that she
thought
him perfect, just that she had fallen under a spell that made him appear so.

A spell called love.

Hopeless love.

Amanda had been right. It was Romeo and Juliet, but it seemed they were at least going to escape with their lives.

Roberts came back with the shoes, and Fort put them on. “Now,” he said, “by all means let us guide the lady home, wherever that might be. And while we go, you can tell me what happened, and how you found us.”

He turned toward the chair as he spoke, and Roberts turned with the flaming torch. Before she could avoid it, Fort reached up to brush her tangled hair back off her face.

He was smiling quite tenderly.

She tried to turn, but he captured her chin, smile fading.

He blinked as if he couldn’t believe his eyes, then turned her face full into the light.
“Elf Malloren?”

“I’m sorry.” Elf made herself meet his shocked eyes, trying to send a message of love.

He let her go as if she burned him. “No wonder your voice seemed familiar! What a wonderful night you must have had, my lady. Not only do you get me to serve you as if I were a penny whore down on the docks, you have me blubbering my secrets like a maudlin boy!”

He lunged for her. Her two men fell on him, dragging him to the rough ground.

Legs and arms flailed in the flaring light of Roberts’s fallen torch.

Curses and grunts flew out of the writhing mass.

Elf winced at the horrible sound of fists on flesh.

“Stop it!”
she screamed at all of them, but they paid no heed.

She slashed at the raging heap with her whip but no one even seemed to notice. They were going to kill each other!

Then the barefoot man came running and in moments they had Fort overpowered, though still writhing like a madman. Singeing the air with curses, Roberts used belts and strips cut from the habit with his knife to truss Fort up.

He staggered to his feet, lip swollen and bleeding, and shirt town. “Now what, milady?” He sounded as if he’d like to throttle her himself.

Shaking, Elf sank her head in her hands. She had no idea.

She felt as exhausted and bruised as the men must be, and her mind floated, empty of all rational thought.

She could have him delivered to his house and leave
matters to fall as they would, but she remembered the look in his eyes. God knows what mischief he’d do.

Then there was the matter of treason. In all her probing, she’d forgotten to dig into that.

She took a deep breath and looked up. “What about the Scots?”

“It’s a long story, milady, and we’d best not tarry here.”

“True enough.” Elf badly needed time to think. “Put him up here and guide me to Lady Lessington’s.”

Though silent, Fort resisted any attempt to put him in the seat, so in the end they laid him across beneath her feet. Elf even had to put her feet on him. “And it serves you right,” she snapped, clicking Bianca into motion. “What a foolish demonstration.”

He said not a thing.

They lurched out of the derelict area into a mean and narrow street, Roberts walking ahead with the torch, the other men behind, drawn pistols in hand. Since Fort didn’t need the shoes anymore, they’d been reclaimed.

Doubtless woken by the fight, a few people peeped from behind tattered curtains or around slightly open doors, but no one interfered with them.

Elf looked down at the bundled body under her feet and fought tears. Yet again she’d created a problem, and must try to solve it.

“I never meant any harm,” she said softly to her captive audience. “It was a complete accident, that meeting at Vauxhall. But I did overhear something about your plans. I couldn’t let it go by.”

He might have been a corpse for all the response she got. She persevered.

“I only played this masquerade tonight because I wanted to find out what you have hidden in your cellars. And I hoped to flush out Murray and his men. I thought they’d try to attack me if they saw me or at least follow me. Perhaps they did, and that’s why they seized us. But I don’t know why they didn’t kill me . . .”

She was chattering again.

I love you,
she could have said, but what point in that now?

What point in any words? He was doubtless too angry to listen.

Perhaps later.

If there was a later.

Lud, but she ached with tiredness. Her eyes itched with it, and exhausted chills shook her. She could hardly organize her mind for thought, but she must.

“Roberts,” she said wearily. “Tell me what happened tonight.”

As the horse clopped along the muddy lane, Roberts told his story.

“Well, milady, we kept close eye as you left the ball and walked to the earl’s house. Nothing ’appened, though, and no one seemed to be much interested in you. Though Sally, God bless her, spotted some street urchins following close.

“So, we set about rounding some of ’em up. And it’s like trying to catch eels, it is, with those little blighters. But in the end one of ’em told us as they’d been hired by a clergyman at the Peahen over near Cow Cross Street to watch Lord Walgrave. Since nothing else was ’appening, like, I went over there to see what I could find. Now I admit, milady, we didn’t keep close watch on the earl’s house, since we reckoned—”

He broke off there and gave her an embarrassed look. Elf could only pray the misty light hid her flaming cheeks.

“Well anyway,” he continued, “we didn’t expect anyone in or out for ’ours, you see. So when I got back, I was fair shocked to find such mayhem.”

“Did you arrive as we were being taken away?”

“Oh no, milady. We’d surely ’ave stopped ’em! No, it was long over by the time I got back. You see, Sally and Ella ’ad ’overed near to the ’ouse. Woman’s instinct, Ella said it was. When they saw some goings-on down the back of the ’ouse, they knew something were up. So Sally, she stayed to keep an eye on things, and Ella ran
to get help. By the time Ella got back with Roger, the place was in uproar.”

“Oh no.” Perhaps matters were even worse. It was horrible that Fort knew her identity. It would be disaster if the whole world did.

“People thought it was just ’ousebreaking, milady. The earl’s servants had woken to find rascals in the ’ouse, and fought with them. Mostly in the cellars.”

He put no emphasis on the words, but Elf registered them. If the Scots had been in the cellars, it had been to steal whatever Fort had guarded there. She glanced down at him, seeing no sign of life, except perhaps an extra tension.

“Did they get it?” she asked.

“I reckon so, milady.”

Fort twitched and Elf thought he might at last break his silence, but he didn’t. What
was
this important item? And if the Scots had it, what were they doing with it?

“The man who’d been guarding it was bad ’urt,” Roberts continued. “ ’E’d put up a fight, though. There was a corpse, presumably of one of the villains. But in the end it seems they did make off with whatever was in those cellars, and you and the earl, too. The earl’s servants were running around like panicked chickens with their ’eads chopped off!”

Elf was absorbed in trying to make sense of the story when Roberts spoke again.

“We found Sally in the garden, milady. Knifed.”

Elf turned to him. “Dead?”

“Dead.”

All other thoughts vanished. One of those women she’d spoken to in the office that day was dead.

Because of her.

This must be how it feels to be an officer, she thought, and to find that the soldiers you sent into battle are dead. She wished Cyn were here to tell her how to handle such a sickening responsibility.

“I’m sorry,” she said, inadequately.

“We moved ’er,” Roberts said gruffly. “Didn’t seem wise to have ’er found there.”

“I suppose not.” Elf didn’t think she could bear the pain of her suppressed tears. They tore at her chest, and stabbed pain all around her face, but she couldn’t cry yet. If she started crying she’d fall apart, and there were things to do. Things to do if Sally’s death wasn’t to be in vain. “What happened next?”

Roberts cleared his throat. “Well, Roger and Lon ran to try to track the villains, leaving Ella behind to report to me. As soon as I ’eard her tale, I rousted out some more of our people and we spread out through the area looking for any ’int of you. I tell you true, milady, I were fair trembling at the thought of what might ’ave become of you.”

And of what my brothers would have to say about it, Elf knew.

“I’m sure you did the right thing, Roberts,” she said, because she had a commander’s duty to encourage the troops.

They turned onto a wider street and she prayed they were close to Warwick Street. The sky was brightening, and already some people were about. Sooner or later, someone might notice a trussed-up monk hanging off either end of the floor of her carriage. Not to mention the fact that she was bare-legged, and dressed in little more than a man’s coat.

“I tried, milady,” said Roberts. “We didn’t find anything particular, but then I thought of those urchins. I dug another one of ’em out of his ’ole, and a flash of gold shook lose some facts. They’d been curious, you see, about the clergyman who ’ired ’em. A Scots minister, a Reverend Archibald Campbell. Very prim and pious, but they ’ad their suspicions. So, when they didn’t ’ave anything better to do, they followed ’im around. Went to Westminster Abbey a lot, ’e did, which perhaps was suitable. Also went to a crone’s hovel, and she too old to be his woman. But ’e also went down to a burned-out area near the docks, and that struck ’em as fishy. So they kept an eye on ’im, ’oping to catch ’im whoring or
something so they could demand more money to keep quiet about it. Anyway, that’s ’ow we come to check the area out, you see.”

“But what
is
Murray up to?” Elf asked, mostly to herself. “And who is this Scots minister? Westminster Abbey? Could they be planning to kill the king in the Abbey?”

Roberts swiveled his head, staring. “Kill the king?”

She couldn’t bear to get into that now. “Oh, I don’t know. Thank heavens. Here’s Warwick Street! We must come in round the back.”

Still shaking his head, Roberts guided the chair to the lane behind Amanda’s house. All was quiet here, but as Elf drew up the rig in a quiet corner of the back lane, she saw the kitchen door open and a tousled, yawning scullion toss some slops outside.

She’d need Amanda’s help to smuggle Fort in and stow him somewhere safe. Wishing desperately for a skirt, Elf climbed down. “Don’t let him get away,” she told Roberts and ran down the garden to the house.

The scullion—a lad of about ten—gawked at her.

Elf said, “I’m Lady Elfled Malloren. I am going to my room.” The crisp words seemed to dumbfound him, for he made no move to stop her going through the kitchen and into the house.

She used the servants’ stairs to reach the upper floor, then ran along the carpeted corridor to Amanda’s room. She eased in, and arrived at the bedside before realizing there were two people there.

Amanda!

Then she realized that the man was Stephen, Amanda’s husband, and they must have had a merry homecoming.

Elf backed away, but then stopped. She still needed Amanda’s help, but if she woke Amanda looking in such disarray, she’d scream. And if Stephen saw her, there’d be hell to pay.

Silently bemoaning the passing time, she hurried to her own room and threw off her motley garments.

She wanted a wash. No. She wanted a long, hot bath.
She had time only to grab a new shift, a petticoat, and a plain gown. It didn’t lie right without a corset, but the simple gown didn’t need hoops.

Shoes! Where did Chantal keep her shoes?

She found them in a drawer, and started to put them on until she saw the rags that had once been her beautiful lace stockings.

Plague and damn and hell.

Angrily, she brushed away weak tears, tore off the dirty rags, and rummaged through more drawers until she found some plain cotton ones.

Hosed, shod, and dressed at last, she stuffed her ruined clothes in the bottom of a drawer, then spared a glance in the long mirror.

What a mistake. Her hair was a powdered rat’s nest, her face and hands grubby, and she looked . . . She just looked different.

She was, of course, but she didn’t want to look it.

Grimacing at yet more wasted time, she used the cold water on her washstand to clean her hands and face. Then she brushed her powdered hair into some sort of order and tied a frilly cap on top to hide it.

The mirror told her that the improvement was slight, but it would have to do. She hurried back to Amanda’s room and gingerly opened the door.

They were still asleep.

Elf tiptoed over to Amanda’s side of the bed and shook her. “Amanda,” she said softly. “Wake up.”

Amanda blinked, woke, then almost spoke. But Elf laid her fingers over Amanda’s lips, and her friend managed to keep the words inside. She slid out of bed, pulling on a wrap, and hurried with Elf out into the corridor.

“What happened?” Amanda whispered. “You look terrible! I was so—”

“It’s a long story,” Elf interrupted. “Look, I have Fort—Walgrave—tied up outside and I need somewhere to put him.”

“Tied up . . . ?” Amanda sagged back against the wall. “Elf, what have you done now?”

“Made a mess of things. You can scold me later. For now, you must have a cellar or attic—”

“Elf, this isn’t a mansion like Malloren House. Every inch is crammed with servants’ rooms! There’s a spare bedroom, but how could we keep it from Stephen?”

Elf was trying to think of a way, when Amanda added, “And anyway, I told him you were at Sappho’s.”

“Sappho’s?”
Elf stared at her. “Why tell him that?”

Amanda grimaced and pulled Elf farther down the corridor. “Stephen turned up at Lady Yardley’s looking for me! Of course, I was delighted to see him home so soon. It was only when he wanted to come home early”—she blushed—“that we realized you weren’t there. He was going to make a fuss, so I said you’d left with a friend. When he asked who, the only person I could think of who was sure not to be at the masquerade was Sappho!”

It was Elf’s turn to sag against the wall. “If I were to tear out my hair and giggle, do you think you could find me a cozy spot in Bedlam, please?”

“Well,” said Amanda, “you have no cause to blame me! I did the best I could at the time. It was you who disappeared, presumably with Walgrave. I assumed you were enjoying yourself, and now I find you have him tied up! You’re in the suds again, aren’t you?”

“Deeper than you can imagine,” said Elf with a sigh. She hugged her friend. “You’re right. You’ve done everything possible. And perhaps Sappho is the answer. If not, I’ll just take him to Malloren House and let the mess fall out as it will.”

Amanda hugged her back. “You look exhausted, and not as if you’ve been having fun. Is there anything else I can do?”

“No, love. And,” added Elf, turning toward the stairs, “some of it was fun. Lots of fun . . .”