Some Enchanted Waltz (48 page)

“Your Grace?” Tara asked with mock surprise. “Adrian was his friend at Trinity College. Since then, they scarcely chance to meet.”

The Duke of Leinster nodded, his dark features and deep brown eyes were very grave. “I realize that may be the case, dear lady. I’ve no choice but to grasp any hope presented. Regardless of my own loyalties to the rightful government of Ireland, I must see my younger brother safe. Should he contact you, please, tell him to flee Ireland. Lord Clare asked me himself to tell him that every port will be open to him. He must get out of the country to be well and truly safe. Much as I have attempted to stall my peers in pursuing him, I, Madame, even I, as a leader of parliament cannot prevent his execution should he be found on Ireland’s shores.”

“I will give him your message, Your Grace, should our paths meet.”

“And, give him this.” The Duke withdrew a packet from his coat. “A tidy purse, to settle him somewhere safe.”

Tara refused the envelope. “Sir, you presume too much. He is not in contact--“

“Yes, I am.” Edward stood up, tall and proud, unmindful of his feminine garb. “Brother, your sentiments wound me to the heart. I cannot become the coward, I must see this through.”

“Eddie?” The Duke stepped back, peering curiously at the tall woman speaking to him with a man’s voice. “By God, it is you.” The Duke embraced his younger brother with unreserved emotion. “Mother is frantic. We must get you out of Ireland. They’ll hang you for sure. The papers confiscated at Bond’s implicate you without question.”

Edward hung his head. “Pray, don’t tell mother you saw me thus. I’d sooner face a firing squad then give that woman cause to fear. T’was her idea.”  He waved a hand at Tara, as if to shift the blame. “She refused to harbor me otherwise.”

“A wise woman, to be sure. You put her household at great risk. Nay, ‘tis best you join your  wife in Hamburg, not trouble others with your concealment here.”

The brothers embraced once more. The Duke placed the heavy pouch of coins in Edward’s palm, squeezing his brother’s hand about it. “I wish I could do more, Eddie.”

Edward’s lips tightened. He nodded.

The Duke then turned to face Tara. “Thank you, gracious lady. Now, as to my second request. I should like to see your husband. I have news for him as well.”

“He’s very weak, Your Grace.”

“I must see him, Madame, ‘tis a matter of grave import.”

Against her better judgment Tara lead him up the stairs to Adrian’s room with Dan following behind. They were both anxious to see what the head of parliament wanted with Lord Dillon.

“Who is this?” Adrian’s weary voice croaked from the pillows.

“The Duke of Leinster.” Tara announced, hoping the man didn’t expect her husband to get up and bow to him.

“Adrian, by the heavens, is that you?” The Duke exclaimed.  

The pale, thin, bearded man on the pillows nodded, extending a hand. “Your Grace, an honor to see you, as always.”

The Duke made no small talk, after inquiring about Adrian’s condition, he went to the heart of the matter. Burke had brought his story to the authorities, claiming he might have information regarding the whereabouts of Quentin Hardwicke. The Duke gave Adrian the same caution he’d gave his own brother--flee while the ports were open.

“Why is everyone convinced my husband is associated with this Hardwicke character. There is not one shred of--“

“Woman, I can speak for myself.” Adrian’s calm, commanding tone surprised her. “Leave us.” Tara folded her arms across her chest, refusing to obey his rude order.

 Dan took her husband’s side, and she found herself outside the bedroom door within seconds.
Men
. She took one step toward the stairs, and then stopped short. Their voices were muffled, and yet, with a bit of persistence . . .

She crouched down, pressing her ear against the heavy oak. Still muffled. Holding her breath, she turned the knob, ever so slowly, hoping the sturdy door wouldn’t creak as she pushed it ajar.
Perfect.

“. . . provide physical evidence of what he claims or witnesses to support his claim that he knows the identity of Captain Midnight, I will not be able to protect you. Even the government is in chaos. Ambercromby is threatening to resign, there has been an attempt on Lord Carhampton’s life, with suspicions pointing to the rival lords--”

“Clare, Knox and Lake, I’ll wager.” Adrian’s voice finished the sentence.

“To name a few, there are others.”

“I don't envy you, Your Grace.”

“I’ve come to warn you. And to thank you, for sheltering Edward.”

“Edward here? Why wasn’t I told?” Adrian snapped.

“He’ll be leaving soon, tonight in fact.” Dan quickly added. “I tried to send him away and then she waxed sentimental on me, claimed you would do the same.”

Thanks Dan, blame me
.

“I’ll not tire you further, my good man.” The Duke was heard to say.  Tara was just about to pull the door shut when the Duke opened it unexpectedly, exposing her crouched on her knees for them all to see.

Adrian glowered at her from the bed as Dan escorted the Duke of Leinster downstairs.  “Come here.” He ordered. When the Duke and Dan were gone, he rounded on her.  “What have you been about, girl? Do you wish to bring us all to the gallows?”

“I thought I was doing as you would. Edward is your friend. I couldn’t turn him out.”

“I would have found him shelter elsewhere, not bring him here to endanger my family.” The grey orbs were harsh, cruel. “How did you presume to conceal such as he without discovery?”

Tara sat down on the bed beside him. “Its time for your medicine. You must be in a lot of pain.” She hoped that was what it was. He was looking at her with such fury.

As she poured the Laudanum into the cup, he jerked her wrist impatiently, spilling the liquid on the white coverlet. “I’ve had quite enough of lying about like a drunken sot.”  His hand held her wrist in a vise like grip as his eyes became feral. “For the moment, I’ll take the pain, Madame. And the truth.”

Tara knew exactly how the poor sheep felt, being cornered by a wolf, the hot, foul breath steaming in your face as the wolf waited, making ready to rip out your throat. She swallowed her terror as she gazed back at the savage beast that had once been her lover.

“Speak, you’ve a tongue in your head, woman, tell me what mischief you’ve been about.”

In halting tones, Tara explained her idea for disguising Edward, hoping he would be amused by it. It only deepened his anger.

“Foolish Woman--get out.” He growled, shoving her from the bed. “Send Edward to me, and that idiot you call father.”

Stunned by his harsh words, Tara could only stare back at him.

“I said leave me. Are you daft as well as pea-brained? There will be no more absurd capers in my household.”

Tara was speechless. She glared back at him, unable to believe the savagery in Adrian’s voice, the violence in his eyes as he looked back at her. She walked from the room with as much dignity as she could muster. She sent the men upstairs and made her retreat into Adrian’s small study across from the parlor. Alone, she turned the lock, and leaned against the door .

“Oh, God.” The choking in her throat rose up in one painful sob. It was beyond belief. She could only shake her head as the tears came, unable to fathom the abrupt change that had come over the man she loved.

“
I want you out of this house, immediately
!” Lord Dillon’s voice carried through the town house, a harsh shriek as he made his displeasure known to Dan and Edward.

There was a loud slamming of doors and heavy footsteps down the hallway to the back stairs. Edward, she gathered.

Her instincts were correct. Dan was the next in line for the firing squad. “And you. What kind of a father would stand idly by and allow his child to embrace danger?”

The shriek died down to a low snarl, the harsh tone of Lord Dillon’s voice carrying, yet not his words. Tara looked up at the ceiling, the room above her harboring that snarling wolf and wept.

Chapter Thirty Six

Edward left their house after midnight. He left behind his green suit and red whiskers, preferring the widow’s weeds as a disguise. Lady Fiona gave him an old fur lined cloak and he set out for another friend’s house with Tony, his manservant.

Tara and Dan cautioned him that Tony’s presence was too obvious, despite Edward’s feminine disguise. Tony was from the West Indies, and known to be Edward’s valet. His black face on the streets of Dublin, trailing after Edward wherever he went, was a sure sign of his inevitable capture.

Tara could only shake her head in dismay at his folly. Even with all the warnings to the contrary, it was apparent Lord Edward Fitzgerald would follow the same course reported in the history texts, the same as if he’d never met her. He would become a martyr to the cause rather than abandon it. Perhaps Dan was right; Edward was too sentimental to be sensible about his own safety.

In the days that followed, men came and went in the little townhouse at all hours. All come to see Lord Dillon by way of the back door. They spent hours cloistered together with him in his bedchamber with a guard posted outside, preventing Tara from entering or eavesdropping. Something was afoot. She had no way of discerning it or interfering with his schemes as she had done the day of the arrests.

Six days of hell with this ferocious Lord Dillon was killing Tara. Adrian had become cold, irrational, and foul tempered. Between visitors, he limped about his chamber with his cane, cursing vehemently from the pain it caused him while stubbornly refusing to stay off his wounded hip. Dan remarked that he was relying too heavily on the Laudanum to ease the pain of being up and about when he should be staying off his leg altogether to allow it to mend. Since the shooting, Adrian had gone through two bottles of Laudanum, and was well on his way to finishing a third. It seemed his body was demanding more of it to stop the pain of his wound and soothe his nerves.

“If it weren’t for me he wouldn’t even be alive.” Tara consoled herself and Lady Fiona as they sat in the parlor together.

“Thank the Lord you had that visit from the Banshee the night before the arrests.”

Tara frowned, giving Lady Fiona a perturbed look. Dan had a point; this superstitious nonsense did tend to wear thin. “It wasn’t the Banshee.” She started to explain and then stopped.
It was the Darkling Fey Prince
.

“There you are.” Dan peered into the parlor. “His Lordship is being quite exclusive of the company he keeps. He’s up to something with his buddies again. I’d like to know what it is before the constable comes around, this time with an arrest warrant for the lot of us. I could use your influence, kid.”

“He’s made it clear he will suffer no more interference from me, a mere woman.” Tara hissed. “My place is in the parlor, the stupid jerk and his caveman mentality. If it weren’t for me he’d be in Dublin Prison with his friends.”

“Yeah, He’s been a real prick lately.” Dan agreed.

Lady Fiona looked from one to the other with a pernicious frown, obviously confused by their modern speech.

“He’s suffering from walking on that hip, it’s aggravating the wound, and to even be able to stand and bear weight on it he has to be taking an awful lot of Laudanum. He’s playing king again, ignoring the voice of reason in his quest for the Holy Grail.”

“King.” Tara sniffled, “I never realized just how arrogant these nobles could be. I always romanticized it. Reality isn’t as kind as our fantasies. Reality Sucks.”

Dan sank down on the sofa beside her, placing an arm about her. “It will pass, my girl. He’ll wear himself out eventually. He can’t keep pushing himself like this. He’ll collapse in a day or so, and when he does we’ll wean him off the drug.”

“Lord Dillon requests your presence in his chamber immediately, my lady.” Mrs. Chatham gently intruded. “He says it is a matter of grave import.”

“Tell him to go to hell.” Tara snapped.

“My lady, please. He’s expecting a visitor and he needs your assistance.”

“Tell him I said no.”

“Tara, maybe you should go.” Dan plied. “Don’t give me that look. You can find out what he’s been up to in the past days. Come on, give him a chance.”

“Sure, I'll just walk in and he’ll tell me exactly what I want to know. Sure, Dan. Would that be before or after he ridicules me again and tears out my heart.”

Impatient pounding intruded from the front step. The occupants of the parlor froze, eyeing one another with worry. Could it be the Constable with new evidence? With all the covert comings and goings in the past days, Adrian could well have brought disaster upon them. Or Burke could have gone to the authorities, as he threatened.

Mrs. Chatham stepped out into the hall and was heard whispering to her husband, who was gazing through the lace curtains at the side window to see who was outside. 

Tara closed her eyes, squeezing the tears back as she tried to invoke an aura of calm with which to face this latest crisis.

Dan stepped out into the hall. She could hear Chatham whispering to him in a frantic tone as they gazed out the window together, discussing the visitor on the stoop. He returned to the parlor with somber eyes. “It will be all right, ladies. His lordship is expecting this one. Just keep silent and play along.”