Realm 06 - A Touch of Love (43 page)

Again, Carter would prefer not to disclose all the facts until he knew the truth. Reluctantly though, he said, “Swenton brought something suspicious to my attention: Mr. Monroe is in close proximity whenever there is a sighting of Murhad Jamot. The baron’s observation has led Pennington to take Monroe into custody. We believe Monroe is the letter’s author.”

Kerrington’s scowl lines deepened. “Why would Monroe involve Mrs. Warren if he is in Jamot’s pocket?”

Carter swallowed his pride. “Perhaps Monroe thought if Mrs. Warren and Simon were present, I would forsake my investigation in order to protect the lady.”

Law asked, “Was it not in Suffolk that Mrs. Warren received her death threat?”

Charleton demanded incredulously, “What threat of death?”

“The note of which my brother speaks was a barely literate attempt at intimidation,” Carter explained.

Lexford stretched his legs and poked a stick at a clump of grass, but Carter recognized the viscount’s disguise of nonchalance. Aidan Kimbolt had latched onto the incongruity in Carter’s story. “Was it Jamot who shot Monroe?”

“No. An elderly gentleman. Well dressed, but likely not of the aristocracy.” He spoke to Kerrington in hopes his former captain would realize the predicament in which Carter found himself. His position with the Realm required he keep his silence on certain matters. “The man who followed Mrs. Warren in London described his employer in a similar manner. I have attempted to disregard the possibility Mrs. Warren has become involved in some grand scheme, but…”

Kerrington finished Carter’s thought, “But we could be walking into some sort of trap.”

The earl sputtered, “You think my niece practices treason!”

“The lady spoke quite eloquently on the oppression of the Corn Laws and the government’s suppression of the poor,” Law stated defensively.

It did Carter well to have his older brother defend him; he had always admired Lawrence Lowery’s strength of conviction, but Carter could not permit any of the group to malign Lucinda Warren. The woman had quite thoroughly engaged his heart. “Mrs. Warren said no more than what half the country says daily. However, I do believe Mrs. Warren possesses information, which has placed her in danger.” His decision made, Carter added, “I know of no connection between Mr. Monroe and Mrs. Warren other than my former assistant taking note of my genuine concern for her and the boy.”

The marquis’s countenance held puzzlement. “What are you not telling us regarding the lady and Monroe?”

Carter glanced to his brother. What he would share would affect Law and Arabella, and it grieved him to remind his brother of a long, unspoken feud. “In truth, I hold no knowledge of import regarding Mrs. Warren beyond what I have previously shared. I have, however, discovered a troubling fact regarding Mr. Monroe. This particular point was what drove me to Derbyshire. I knew nothing of Mrs. Warren’s disappearance until I rode into Linton Park at dawn.”

“Just tell us,” Lexford said irritably. “We are losing precious time, as well as daylight.”

Carter nodded curtly. “Pennington disclosed Mr. Monroe’s family included the Dymonds in Cornwall and likely those in Staffordshire.” A shocked silence followed.

Law asked in disbelief, “As in Hugh Dymond?” His brother made an expressive shudder.

Carter spoke honestly to his brother. “It has come to my attention Pennington rejected Viscount Ransing’s bid to join our ranks, but when Pennington’s attention to the duchess drew him away from London, Lord Sidmouth and the Duke of Portland installed Monroe as my assistant.”

The implications were plain, and no one spoke the assumptions. However, Blakehell appeared unconvinced: His eyebrows sailed upward toward the baron’s receding hairline. “You are saying your brother’s university feud with Hugh Dymond has translated into some sort of traitorous plot? This is too bizarre, Carter. You have erred.”

An awkward silence ensued until Charleton cleared his throat. “Mayhap not so bizarre, Blakehell.”

“Would you kindly explain, Your Lordship?” Kerrington asked suspiciously.

Charleton glanced nervously about the group. “Last evening, Lucinda and I shared her father’s private papers. In those, my niece read something in her father’s military records, which brought on extreme sentimentality on Lucinda’s part.” Carter thought the earl’s description of Mrs. Warren in error, but he held his tongue. “After my dearest girl returned to her quarters, I broke my promise to her: I finished reading Roderick’s papers. I would not have Lucinda injured again unnecessarily. I mean to keep her from harm.”

The marquis suggested encouragingly, “And something in Colonel Rightnour’s papers refers to Hugh Dymond?”

“In fact, they do. “ Again, the earl paused before explaining, “It is of great importance my niece’s reputation is maintained. I would not wish what I share to become common knowledge.”

Kerrington assured, “We want only to save the lady and return Mrs. Warren to your care.”

The earl nodded curtly. Charleton’s clear, straight gaze met the others, daring each man to dispute his words. “In Roderick’s papers there are references to my brother discovering a deep secret regarding Captain Warren. Roderick wrote of Warren being part of a group bringing European artwork and pottery from the plundered war cities to England. Many of the pieces were quite rare. Roderick concealed his discovery to protect Lucinda’s reputation.”

Carter’s attention piqued with the mention of stolen European artwork. The thought of solving more than one investigation thrilled him. “And Hugh Dymond held connections to Captain Warren?”

“The viscount’s name is mentioned among several others. The only one on the list of which I had a previous acquaintance was Cyrus Woodstone, whose father is a well known Member of Parliament for Dorset.”

Kerrington looked at Carter sharply, and Carter suspected Lord Worthing knew more of Carter’s investigation than the viscount pretended. He said, “Now that we have a glimmer into what we are stumbling, I suggest we remount. Lexford is correct: We have lost our momentum.”

Without another word, seven men retrieved their horses. Mounting, they waited for Carter’s orders. Although he was the youngest, they had placed their combined faiths in his ability to lead. “Mr. Beauchamp, if you would take up the trail, we will follow; but as we become closer, I will assume the role. Whoever has Mrs. Warren has named me as his enemy, and I do not mean to disappoint the lady’s assailant.”

Kerrington guided his mount to come abreast of Carter’s horse. “Is there anything else you wish to share?” Their pace had slowed as they reached the first plateau. Their group followed the wagon’s trail, which meant whoever had taken Mrs. Warren would soon make a decision: A wagon could not traverse the
passes of Dark Peak. Mrs. Warren’s abductor would choose either to abandon the lady or to abandon his chosen transportation.

“I hold my own conclusions, but you know the gist of what has happened.” He glanced behind him to where the others studied the landscape for possible clues. “Have you a theory?”

Kerrington adjusted his seat as his horse began to climb once more. “I was just considering how easy this trail is to follow. I am not one who prefers ‘easy.’”

Carter bit back his reply: He did not enjoy the feeling of having no control over the lady’s rescue. “I am certain the marquis and Lexford have taken notice, but not the others.” He glanced to where Mr. Beauchamp leaned low upon his horse to search the ground. “So, we are likely riding into some sort of trap.”

“Yes,” Kerrington commiserated. “Yet, at the moment, we hold little choice. Mrs. Warren’s life is in danger.”

Carter’s self-chastisement and indignation had arrived. “The lady knows peril because I thought myself superior to Viscount Ransing, and I practiced petty foolishness upon the man,” he hissed.

Kerrington scowled, “This situation has roots deep in the past. If what the earl shared proves true, Ransing has been involved in nefarious dealings for many years; his using the feud between him and your brother is purely a ruse– an excuse to even the balance when the viscount has clearly lost his reason.”

Carter lowered his head. It appalled him to think his actions had cost Mrs. Warren her freedom. “I should not have taunted Ransing with my superiority. It was a shallow endeavor. I used my power with the Realm to make Ransing pay for his arrogance.” He sucked in a sharp breath of self-anger.

Kerrington shook off Carter’s self-censure. “You cannot permit the negative thoughts to ride with you, or you will know failure.” It bothered Carter that Kerrington paused for emphasis. Carter did not require more responsibility heaped upon his shoulders; he felt weighed down by his duties. “Do you recall day when Wellston and I pulled you from the battlefield watch to join the Realm?”

It struck him as supremely ironic Kerrington chose to remind him of his young, impetuous self. “How could I not?” Carter replied dejectedly. “I have not had a day’s peace since.”

Kerrington mustered a wan smile. “I cursed Pennington that day as much as you,” the viscount admitted. “I had argued vehemently we did not require a
seventh man, and even if we did, Kimbolt had brought us Lucifer Hill. Wellston argued you were too young–you had barely reached your majority, and you were so green.”

Carter gritted his teeth. He had been a damn fine junior officer; he had proved that particular fact at Waterloo. He hoped if he made some clever remark, perhaps Kerrington would abandon this line of conversation. “It is pleasant to discover in hindsight I was not a welcomed addition to such an elite group.” It was irreverent to encounter the truth now that they rode together into what was likely an ambush.

“Nonsense,” Lord Worthing declared. “It had nothing to do with you personally; it was just the tediousness of having to open our operations to yet another stranger; and at the time, your record had shown you a passionate soldier, but not a particularly adept military strategist.” Carter grudgingly recognized his sometimes angry, self-destructive self in Kerrington’s description. “I had already spent a lifetime tempering Fowler’s hastiness, and I could not imagine beginning anew with you.”

A frown of alarm and regret creased Carter’s brow. “Then why did you change your mind? You were never one blindly to follow nonsensical orders.”

Kerrington urged his horse forward. “It was Pennington. Our own ‘Shepherd of lost souls’ who convinced me you were the Realm’s future. He said you possessed the innate insight to lead England against those who could corrupt it to its core. In truth, I thought Pennington had lost his reason, but now I thoroughly agree. Without men of your caliber, Lowery, this country is doomed.”

T
heir progress had slowed to a crawl, and Lucinda wondered where her abductor meant to take her. Although it remained stiflingly hot, the temperature inside the box had cooled somewhat. She was miserably cramped and miserably stuffy and miserably regretful. Everything in her life had been turned upon its ear, and now that she knew for certain she loved Carter Lowery she would likely die.

The horses whined from the strain of pulling the wagon, and Lucinda braced herself against the obvious incline, which would follow. Her journey had been one of straining to stay in place against gravity’s pull upon her position, and Lucinda held no doubt they approached the Dark Peaks behind Blake’s Run. During her confinement, she had examined everything she knew of the baronet and of her late husband, but not one connection showed itself. It was extremely frustrating for if she could discover the “tie,” Lucinda might be able to use it to bargain for her release.

Suddenly, the wagon’s forward movement halted, and Lucinda’s heartbeat increased in anticipation. She waited, part in panic and part in relief, for her release from her wooden cell, but no sound came from the outside world. She strained to hear her abductor’s approach; yet, only silence reigned. Within seconds, realization arrived: She was alone and locked in a box with no means of escape.