Sweet Bea (27 page)

“Now.” Newt waved her over to his pallet of rags. He took up position on the floor near the entrance. “Tell me.”

Beatrice started with her arrival in London, skipped the bit about her and Garrett alone, and got to where her uncle had come to find her and hauled Garrett away.

Newt listened, nodding sagely every now and again like a small, dirty, wise man. “How did he find you?”

She stared at him. It hadn’t occurred to her to ask. “I have no idea.”

“Hmm.” Newt dipped his head, gnawing his bottom lip like a rat.

“What?”

“Either he had a spy in your camp—”

Beatrice opened her mouth to deny it.

Newt held up one grubby finger to stop her. “Or he was following you the entire time.”

“Those men you saw.” Missing bits of the puzzle dropped into place.

“Mayhap.” Newt shrugged.

“I must reach my father as soon as possible,” she said. “Do you know how to get out of the city? If he found me before, my uncle will be able to find me again.”

“My lady?” Newt’s chest puffed up. “Not only do I know how to get out of this city, I know a man who can take you right to Westminster.” His eyes shifted in his crafty face. “Nobody finds Newt when Newt does not want to be found.”

For the first time in what seemed like years, Beatrice smiled. “Shall we?” She made a jaunty motion toward the entrance.

“What of your man?” Newt squatted by the wall. “I would guess your uncle has him stashed somewhere.”

Beatrice flinched at his words. The pain throbbed like a raw ache, lurking beneath the urgency of the moment.

“He is not my man.” She clambered off the pallet to hide her reaction.

“Your uncle will kill him for sure.” Newt shrugged and turned to leave his burrow.

Fear rose up around Beatrice’s throat. Garrett would die. It wasn’t her concern. Garrett had lived his entire life by his wits and his devious brain. He could use those to save himself.

Newt shot out of the narrow gap.

Beatrice followed him. “Wait.” She grabbed for the rapidly disappearing tunic in front of her.

Newt stopped and turned his head as far as the narrow passage would allow.

“How did you find me?”

Newt gave a soft chuckle. “I was waiting for you, was I not? I saw you and the big man enter the gates and I followed you. It was quick thinking of him to find those warehouses.”

“You saw us and you did not approach?” What a strange boy.

“Not my way,” he grunted.

“So, were you there? When my uncle came.”

“Might have been.” Newt tried to scramble away again, but Beatrice held fast.

“So, you knew most of what I told you.”

“Lady,” Newt whined, “my knees are getting powerful sore on this ground. There is a rock right beneath me.”

The ground pressed against her knees, too. “And if you knew where I was, you might know where Godfrey’s men took him.” Beatrice could not get his name past the lump in her throat.

Newt clamped his lips together.

“Newt.”

“I might.” He hunched his shoulders.

“I freed you from the stocks, Newt.”

“And I helped you tonight.”

Not so fast, Beatrice tugged his tunic again. “I fed you.”

“I found food for us.”

“I helped you escape from those churchmen.”

Newt made a small huff of irritation. He screwed his face up in thought. “I know where he is.”

“Where?” Elation coursed through her.

“Not far from where you were.” Newt parceled out the information like a miser counting coins.

“We must rescue him.” Garrett deserved everything that was coming to him, but she wasn’t going anywhere and leaving Garrett in Godfrey’s hands.

“You see,” Newt glared at her, aggrieved, “this is why I did not tell you. I knew you were going to say something stupid. The girl was right about you.” He sniffed. “You have a soft heart. It makes trouble for you.”

“I cannot help that, Newt.” Beatrice damned herself for a thrice-cursed fool. “It is
my
way.”

“I will help you rescue him. Then you and I are even.”

“Even.” When Garrett was safe, Beatrice would never set eyes on him again. He’d brought her to London and taken care of her. It didn’t mitigate against what he’d done to her heart or the virginity he’d taken from her, but there was no time to agonize about that now.

She followed Newt through the noisome alley outside his hole. She stretched her cramped back. Her knees ached and her hip throbbed from where she’d fallen.

Newt led the way again. She kept her eyes locked on his back.

He stopped suddenly.

“What?”

He gave her a cunning grin.

Beatrice braced herself for what was coming.

“If we are doing a rescue,” Newt rubbed his palms together, “we might need some help.”

Beatrice crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want?”

“I know something else. This thing will be very useful.”

“Name your price.” She needed to get to her father. She already spent time she didn’t have to rescue Garrett. He’d read Newt aright. She watched the conniving face in front of her.

“I do not have a price, yet.” He tapped the side of his sharp, little nose. “But I know something of great use. I know how to get help and if I give you that, you will owe me.”

“I cannot pay you if you do not have a price.”

“You will be in my debt.” Newt nodded. “I may one day have need of a lady with powerful connections.”

Beatrice was quite sure he would, some day when he found his neck in a noose. “I only owe you if you help me free Garrett and if you get me to my father. Now.”

“Done.” Newt hawked and spat and was off again.

* * * *

Beatrice blinked through the smoke filling the small tavern. Her eyes must be lying to her. For there sat Tom, looking pale, tired, and dishevelled. Right beside him Ivy kept a sharp eye on the people around her. Tom’s arms scythed through the air as he held forth.

Ivy paid him no mind.

“See,” said Newt.

Newt had led her to a small, modest inn.

“Aye, Newt, this was worth knowing.”

It had been a truly horrible night. Starting from the moment she’d woken to find Godfrey holding a sword to Garrett’s neck. Now, new hope flared. Tom and Ivy were here, in London. She wasn’t alone anymore. Newt didn’t count. He would aid her only so far as is suited himself.

“Them two arrived earlier,” Newt said.

“But the gates were closed.”

He winked. “Beer carts have a way of getting through closed gates. Especially with a city full up on soldiers.”

“How did you know?” Beatrice would have offered Newt her entire chest of jewels for this.

“Newt has eyes everywhere.”

Tom noticed her and stopped talking.

Beatrice walked straight at Tom.

His welcoming smile wavered and he opened his arms.

Beatrice was never gladder to see anyone in her entire life. She pressed her face into his shoulder. Tom was her constant, her rock, her one patch of solid ground in her teetering life.

“Hey, there.” Tom patted her back awkwardly. “Come now, Bea. Are you crying?”

Beatrice shook her head. She clung to the dear familiarity of his solid form.

“I told you we had to get to London,” he said over her head.

“Aye, you did,” Ivy replied.

“I knew there was something not right.”

“Aye, you did.”

“Her uncle wants her dead,” Newt chirped.

Tom went still in her embrace. “I thought we had seen the last of you.”

“Not me.” Newt swaggered over to the table and grabbed a slice of meat off Tom’s trencher. “I found her falling over a wall not too long ago.” He stuffed it into his mouth, barely chewing before he swallowed.

“Beatrice?” Tom gripped her by the shoulders and put her far enough away from him to see her face. “Would you like to explain?”

“Not really.” Ivy handed her a handkerchief and Beatrice blew her nose. She didn’t know where to start.

“Where is Garrett?” Tom guided her onto the bench.

It was as good a place as any to start. They sat at the table Tom and Ivy had been sharing. Newt hovered about, snagging bits of food. The tavern around them was filled to the brim with farmer’s and their broods. Tom wouldn’t want to hear about her fall from grace, so she begun with Godfrey arriving in the warehouse and the conversation she’d overheard.

“I knew he was up to no good.” Tom snatched the bread out of Newt’s hand.

“Which one of them?” Beatrice laughed but there was no mirth behind it. Scoundrels were crawling out of the woodwork all about her.

“Garrett.” Tom slapped his hand on the table. A large, round-faced churl looked over at them curiously. Tom lowered his voice. “I could tell, just by looking at him, there was something not right there.”

Beatrice wished she could say the same. She’d remained in blissful ignorance right up until the end. Nay, that wasn’t quite right. There had been signs, hints along the way she’d chosen not to question further. She’d desperately wanted to believe his love for her was true.

Tom heaved a sigh. “But, Godfrey? Are you sure you heard right?”

“I could hardly mistake his meaning.”

“You have a strange family,” Ivy said.

And getting stranger. Beatrice choked back a laugh. “How is your wound?”

“Good.” Tom lifted his arm and rotated it at the shoulder. “It pulls a trifle but Ivy did a fine job with her needle. She talked our way into a barn and patched me right up. The wife took a shine to her and fed us, as well.”

“Newt said you arrived on the a beer cart.”

“That was Ivy’s doing as well.” Tom smiled at Ivy. “We had to leave old Badger at the farm, but we thought we could fetch him on the way home.”

Beatrice placed her hand over Ivy’s and gave it a light squeeze. She had taken good care of their Tom.

“Right.” Tom got to his feet and shoved the remains of their meal into his sack. “So, now we go to Westminster.”

Beatrice stood with him.

“I think not.” Ivy glanced at her from the corner of her eye.

Beatrice’s face heated.

“Of course we go to Westminster.” Tom tied the ends of his sack with a decisive twist. “Sir Arthur must be told all of this and before Godfrey can make more mischief.”

“Nay, Tom.” Ivy rose. “I think we first go to rescue Garrett.”

Beatrice was grateful to Ivy for saying it for her.

“What?” Tom’s eyes stood out on stalks. “We are not going to rescue the scoundrel. Let the bastard rot.” He looked first at Ivy, and then Beatrice.

Beatrice shook her head.

Tom threw his hands up. “You cannot tell me you are seriously thinking of rescuing him?” His face grew quite red. “He tried to seduce you, Beatrice.”

She barely kept the flinch from her face. Ivy’s knowing stare pressed like a weight.

“He was going to use you to get revenge on your father. He and Godfrey deserve each other.” Tom waved his arms as he spoke.

Ivy touched him on the arm and Tom snapped his lips together.

Beatrice looked at Ivy in amazement. She needed to learn that trick from the other woman.

“I cannot leave him there,” Beatrice said.

“Aye, you can.” Tom stood, legs akimbo. “He got exactly what he deserved.”

“Do you mean you will not help me?”

“Aye.” Tom folded his arms over his chest. “I am standing firm. I should have days ago and we would not be in this mess, but it is not too late to begin now. I will not help you rescue that villain.”

“It will never work,” Tom grumbled.

“Of course it will.” Beatrice peered around the corner at the shed where Newt said Garrett was being kept.

Two men guarded the door. Actually, the men appeared to be doing more drinking than guarding. The shorn one was the same man from the wool warehouse. The other was slimmer and younger, his hair a middle shade of brown, his features pinched. The shed nestled close to where Beatrice had been taken. It was agreed she should stay out of sight, in case one of the guards recognized her.

“It never fails.” Ivy calmly rearranged her clothing. She had already taken off the chainse and now undid the laces to her bliaut, so it gaped and revealed a large portion of her breasts.

Tom’s color was high. He studied the wall beside Ivy keenly. “I do not like it.”

Newt showed no such forbearance and studied Ivy’s neckline.

“You do not have to like it.” Ivy shook her hair free of her wimple. “All you have to do is club the second guard. I will lead one of them around this corner, and Beatrice will deal with him.”

“I still do not see why we are doing this.” Tom rubbed at his neck.

“I will explain it to you later.” Ivy patted his cheek. “Now, be ready. I do not want to deal with that man if you are not.”

* * * *

Garrett had been born fighting his way out of the womb, and he’d lived his life that way. Until now. The two louts at the door presented no challenge. He could have pried open one of the loose bars at the back of the shed, lured them inside, and brained them. An enterprising man could come up with any number of escapes.

Instead, he sat in the filthy shack and pined for Beatrice. Her face as her uncle gave her the truth haunted him. The knowledge he’d put that look there drove the dagger deeper. Godfrey’s plan for him would involve his demise. He simply knew too much now. Godfrey couldn’t afford to let him live.

Beatrice would be with her family. She would be safe with her father and brothers watching over her. Godfrey had played his game well. Her family were ignorant they harbored a snake in their midst.

What did Godfrey mean to do about Beatrice?

Garrett scraped his fingers through his hair. He got to his feet, but the hut was too small to pace and he shifted restlessly from side to side.

Outside, the guards talked to each other. They said nothing of Godfrey, so he gave up listening. These churls were hired muscle, nothing more. Not particularly costly muscle either, from what he could hear.

He wanted to go to Beatrice and explain, to assure her of his love for her. Garrett sat down and dropped his head in his hands. It would do no good anyway. She wasn’t for the likes of him. If he were any sort of man, he would have left her with her virtue intact. It only went to prove what a miserable, lowly sod he was.