This Rake of Mine (29 page)

Neither did she. "I fear this is out of our hands," she told her. Yet she couldn't escape the notion that she was missing something about all this.

"Perhaps there is a reasonable explanation," Felicity offered as they followed their host to the scene of the crime.

Brutus, for his part, trotted eagerly back into the room and went right to the shelf, but instead of growling and making a great fuss, he simply sniffed around once or twice, then with a resigned sigh, left the spot. He hopped up on Lord Harold's throne and made himself at home, curling up and going to sleep as if there were nothing of note to be found.

Miranda eyed Jack. He looked as unimpressed with this intrusion as Brutus.

"Now, Miss Porter, if you would do the honors and show us what you found," Sir Norris said, rubbing his hands together with glee.

She didn't even dare look at Jack but edged past him and went to the library shelves. "This bottom shelf is part of the latch. You just—" She went to move the hidden latch, but the piece held fast. She pushed it again, but nothing happened.

Sir Norris nudged her aside and came down to inspect the shelf himself. "And you say the secret passageway was right behind this wall?"

"Yes."

"Secret passageway?" Jack asked, sounding incredulous. "Finding a pianoforte is one thing, ladies, but you say I also have a secret passageway? Well, that's unbelievable."

"Harrumph!" Sir Norris snorted. "We'll see about this."

The man prodded and pulled and pushed at the shelf, shoving aside the volumes in annoyance to study the wall behind them more carefully.

The determined baronet even had Pippin explain exactly how she stumbled and fell, so as to try to recreate the exact accident that had led to the discovery of the body.

Meanwhile, Jack lounged against the wall, a curious expression pasted on his handsome features, as if all of this intrusion were nothing more than a bemusing entertainment for a dull day.

Finally, Sir Norris rose up and fixed a deadly stare on him. "Don't suppose you would open this wall up for us?"

"Sir Norris, since I have no idea what these ladies have seen, I can't even suppose to know how to open it." He smiled, the epitome of the congenial host, as if he would like nothing better than to help them all. "And what exactly do you think is behind this wall?" he asked, pushing off his post near the door and leaning over to retrieve some of the fallen volumes.

"A dead man, my lord," Felicity offered, speaking up for the first time. "We found him, quite by accident."

"A body?" he declared. "Heavens, you girls are quite determined to remain at Thistleton Park if you are willing to go to such lengths to see me matched to Miss Porter." He threw a companionable arm around Sir Norris's shoulder as if they were old comrades instead of feuding neighbors. "I fear you've been had, my good man. These girls are bent on matchmaking and have gone to great lengths to see that I take a fancy to their teacher—why, they've pulled the shoe off a horse, broken their harnesses, and now, apparently, conjured a dead man to delay their travels. I fear you've been led astray by some misguided schoolgirls."

Sir Norris's bushy brows furrowed. "But Miss Porter, she said—"

"Sir Norris," Jack told him, all conciliation and concern, "even a marriage to me would be better for the old gel… well, you know what I mean. Why, just last night she quite threw herself at me—"

"I did no such thing!" Miranda protested.

"No, of course not," he conceded, and then mouthed to Sir Norris, "
She most certainly did
."

"Oh, of all the outrageous lies," Miranda complained, but neither man was paying her much heed, for they'd fallen into that companionable, contrived friendship that men affected when they sensed a female conspiracy of entrapment.

"Goodness, just be thankful," Jack was saying, "the lot of them didn't end up on your doorstep, or you might have been part of their parson's trap."

The toady little baronet blustered and shuddered, muttering about the "inherent dangers of unsupervised females."

Miranda eyed them both incredulously. "Sir Norris, there is a passageway behind that wall and there is a body to be found." She went over to the wall and pounded on it, much as the baronet had, hoping it would resound with the hollow echo that would give credence to her statements. But the wall was as solid as if it had stone behind it, and the shelf that had slipped loose also felt just as solid.

"Now Miss Porter," Sir Norris said, patting her on the arm, "I know your lot is difficult, but really, you could do better than Lord John." His brows waggled in a suggestion that he wasn't opposed to her matrimonial plots.

Miranda ruffled and shook off the odious man's attentions. "Sir Norris, I know what I saw, and I saw a dead man behind that wall."

Sir Norris eyed her once again, and this time, he shook his head, as if there was no hope for her, then stormed out of the room in a great huff.

Jack shot her a triumphant wink.

Oh, the devil take him
, she thought. This wasn't over yet.

She strode out of the room, intent on seeing that wall opened if it was the last thing she did.

The girls followed in her wake, as well as a reluctant Brutus, looking quite vexed at having to leave such a comfortable spot. Even still, he trotted along at the hem of Tally's skirt.

"Why wouldn't the wall open?" Felicity whispered.

"I don't know," Miranda replied, as she followed Sir Norris down the front steps. "But I have no intention of letting this rest."

Desperate spinster indeed! Odious, hateful man. She'd see Jack Tremont hang if she had to tie the knot herself. Then she looked up and spied something that might prove her case, even to someone as obtuse as this so-called magistrate. "Sir Norris, I am going to prove that Lord John has concealed a body behind that wall."

Sir Norris snorted. "And how do you intend to prove that, Miss Porter? I haven't got the time for any more of your nonsense."

She walked over to the fallen oak and nodded to the workers, who had all stopped working to watch the spectacle. Taking advantage of their laxity, Miranda picked up one of the axes and, before anyone could protest, spun on one heel and stormed back toward the house looking once again like Boadicea on the warpath.

Even Sir Norris backed out of her stormy path. Then his slow wit finally caught up with her plan—one that was obvious to everyone else. He hurried to catch up with her, then moved to block her path. "Miss Porter, you cannot start breaking down the walls. It isn't done."

"I can and I will," she told him, striding around him.

"I declare, Lord John is correct, you are mad. Now, I demand that you stop this nonsense or I will have
you
arrested."

"Not before I prove my point." Miranda knew Sir Norris was probably right on two accounts—she had gone mad and he was going to have to arrest her to stop her.

She marched on toward the house, ax in hand, until suddenly Mr. Jones came down the steps and caught hold of her by the waist, holding her in front of him, her back to his chest. Jack tried to catch hold of the ax and get it out of her hands, but she swung it at him with impunity, not caring a whit about the sight she presented.

"Put me down," she yelled at Mr. Jones.

"Not so long as you've got that ax, I won't, miss," he said.

"Unhand me!" she protested.

Sir Norris joined the fray, and the four of them continued arguing and hurling accusations at each other, while Tally, Felicity, and Pippin watched in horrified silence.

Then into this fracas came the sound of Brutus barking wildly.

"Whatever is that dog into now?" Felicity said. "Tally, you need to keep him on a tether or something, for he's probably digging in the gardens."

"It's not like anyone will care," Tally protested. "I don't think anything out here has been tended or turned in years."

The barking turned more frantic and now was being joined by a chorus from Sir Norris's ever-present hounds. Their baying quite drowned out the argument on the front steps.

"Oh, bother," Felicity complained. "If you won't see to Brutus, I will." She turned and marched around the corner of the house, to the rose garden near the music room, where she came to an abrupt halt. "Miss Porter! Sir Norris!" she cried out. When they didn't come immediately, she put two fingers to her lips and laid out an impressive whistle.

Tally grinned. "Nanny Helga taught us how to do that. Quite earsplitting, don't you think?" she said proudly to Pippin.

Their cousin agreed, and obviously so did Miss Porter, Sir Norris, and Lord John. They froze from their antics and all looked over at the corner of the house where Felicity stood.

The girl's hands sat on her hips. "I do believe Brutus has found what we are looking for."

If Miranda felt any confusion it was instantly sated by the pale expression on Jack's face.

"Christ!" he muttered.

Sir Norris stilled for a second, then tipped his head as he listened to his dogs. "Sounds like they've got something."

"I wonder what it could be?" Miranda asked, looking directly at Jack. "Or rather
who
it could be?"

Sir Norris was off on a fast trot around the house, and Miranda followed suit, still clinging to her ax.

Pippin and Tally joined in the parade, and as they turned the corner, they discovered what had become of the mysterious missing body.

Brutus had dug into some newly turned soil in the rose garden and had a hold of what appeared to be a sleeve and a hand.

«
^
»

J
ack was nearly to the library before Sir Norris's hired hands caught him. No matter that he appeared the coward for bolting and running at the discovery of Malcolm's body in the garden: Truly, he could serve England better alive (and viewed as a coward) than heroically hanging from the gallows.

He had thought he stood a chance of making it to the passageway, what with Bruno standing between him and Norris's henchmen, but with four against one, the odds for his secretary had not been as good as Jack had hoped.

And they were just as bad for him.

"Caught you, Tremont! Caught you, I have!" Sir Norris crowed, as if he had captured Napoleon himself.

"To be exact, four women and a mutt caught me, Sir Norris," Jack replied, still struggling against the two thugs who had his arms. "You had very little to do with the matter."

The magistrate shrugged. "I'll get the credit of it, that's all that counts. And no one will really care how it came about, once you swing."

Jack felt the chill of the man's words down to the soles of his boots. "Do you really think my brother is going to allow you to hang me?" He shouldn't have asked, for he knew the answer to that. Parkerton might be outraged, if only because he thought he should appear so, but then he would privately raise a glass to Norris for ridding the duke of that "stain to the family line," as he liked to call Jack.

"No matter," Sir Norris declared. "As luck would have it, the assizes will be convened the day after next in Hastings, and I'll see you tried and convicted afore the week is out."

"Sir Norris," Miss Porter protested (at least it sounded like a protest to Jack), "surely you can't just hang a man in such a hasty fashion?"

The old codger just snorted. "Miss Porter, you should leave these matters to those who understand them." He patted her hand, then turned his back to her.

That was a mistake.

"Sir Norris!" she said, bustling around the baronet and planting herself in front of him. "You can't just hang Lord John based on the fact that there is a body in his yard."

As astute and observant and annoying as usual
, Jack mused. Whatever was she about? She was the reason he was in this fix, and now she'd had a change of heart and was defending him?

It would have better served him if she'd had this change of heart, say, about an hour ago.

"Why not?" Sir Norris was asking her, looking at the lady as if she were completely daft. "Why can't I hang him?"

"Because you have no proof he committed the crime. Why, anyone could have killed that man. Botheration, you don't even know who that poor soul is."

"He's dead, that's what he is," Sir Norris told her, his temper rising at her interference. "And
that
is enough for me."

"I didn't kill anyone," Jack sputtered. "That man… he's…"

"He's what?" Sir Norris spat.

Jack pursed his lips together in a hard line. What could he say? That Grey was an agent of the Crown, and that Norris and his militia should be the ones tried—not only for Grey's murder, but for treason for interfering with the Crown's business?

"So who did?" Sir Norris asked. "There was a skirmish with a band of smugglers last night on the beach. Do you know anything about that? Or perhaps you'd like to tell me who that fellow in your garden is?" The baronet's beady gaze bore into him.

Jack could only shake his head.

"I thought not," Sir Norris said. "No matter, murder is a better charge than smuggling. It will assure me that you'll swing."

Jack's chest tightened. And what would happen tonight when Dash returned, looking for his gold and holding the other agents until he was paid? Would they all meet the same fate as Malcolm?

And yet, what could he do? Tell the truth? Reveal the network of spies that used Thistleton Park as their gateway to the Continent and beyond? There were traitors enough trying to bring about the downfall of England, without Jack's revealing the situation to such an indiscriminate old fool as Sir Norris.

Jack's frustration, his anger, his grief over Malcolm's senseless death, the discovery of Miss Porter's identity, all boiled up inside him, and with every bit of strength he possessed, he lunged at Sir Norris.

He managed to get an arm free and immediately shot his balled-up fist directly into the baronet's beak of a nose, sending the man sprawling backwards into the mud of the yard.

"You stupid, dull-witted bastard," Jack seethed, even as the baronet's men caught him anew. "Can you not see that there is a greater good at stake than what your dull wit can comprehend?" If anything, the sight of Sir Norris laying on his arse in the mud was almost worth it all.