Veiled in Blue (12 page)

As soon as he had delivered his proposal, a sense of rightness had settled on Julius’s shoulders. He’d met a woman of grace and beauty, one with the kind of sensibilities that would make her an outstanding duchess in the fullness of time. He desired her desperately, but this development meant he was one step closer to confessing his love for her. The weeks he’d spent trying to calm himself were useless. He still felt exactly the same way about her.

Julius toasted his betrothed with the indifferent wine a stern-faced Sir Henry offered and wondered when they could take their leave. Mr. King had already departed. After several others also left, Julius asked Eve if she too was ready to go.

Alex offered to take them home. Consequently, his cousin handed an awestruck Mrs. Merton and then Eve herself into his carriage. Since they were wearing hooped skirts, they took some time to arrange themselves, even on the wide seats of the luxurious interior, but once they had overlapped their hoops to fit, and Eve had a lapful of Rosa’s pink silk, Alex swung in and settled himself on the seat opposite. It was a small fold-down affair, obviously not meant for the owner, but they could do nothing but allow him. By then Julius had mounted his horse, which was stamping impatiently, waiting for his exercise. While Alex showed a smiling face to the ladies, his impatient movements revealed his true emotions to everyone who knew him, and most certainly included Julius.

The coachman whipped up the two matched greys and the vehicle jolted into action, rolling slowly down the drive of the hall towards the village and then to Alex’s house. Julius was tempted to take Alex up on his offer and occupy a bedroom there. The service could hardly be worse than at the vile inn, which, after the initial novelty, he had come to dislike with an intensity the establishment hardly deserved. The situation must be as his mother had feared. He was atrociously spoiled. Although his parents had shown little interest in his childhood and upbringing, his nurse, and then his governess, and then his tutor most certainly had. Then society had treated him as a privileged member of its ranks. He grinned. It was a wonder he wasn’t completely ruined. Perhaps his self-imposed task had prevented his complete destruction.

He urged his horse into a trot and clamped his hat more firmly on his head. This was not the first time he had ridden in evening dress, and while distinctly awkward, he could accomplish the feat. He’d brought his riding boots and had pulled them on before they set out, shoving his evening shoes in a saddlebag but ensuring the pistols he always carried with him at night was still readily to hand.

The ride would give him time to settle in his head what he had just done. Infuriating his mother, for one thing. It was almost worth going through with the marriage to ensure that. He could take Eve to the infernal house party his mother had arranged, although he would be sorry to disappoint some of the young ladies who would be present. They did not deserve such treatment. But then, neither did he.

His lips curved in a wicked smile. His brother Augustus was returning for one of his infrequent visits home. He could go to the damned house party.

He rode ahead of the carriage, enjoying the spring freshness of the breeze coasting past his ears. He was still smiling when he caught a slight movement in a small clump of trees to his left. When he paid it more attention, he could make out a figure. One, or more than one? Would he have the sense to let them pass by?

When the rider moved into the path of the carriage, Julius sighed. Apparently not. He slid his pistol from its housing, holding it under the skirts of his coat, pulling back the hammer to make it ready. The click as it settled into place sounded loud, despite the wheels of the carriage and the clop of the horses.

The highwayman rode out from the trees, a pistol in each hand, the reins held in his teeth. The carriage came to a halt, and Julius cursed. It should have continued on its way, but Alex would have ordered it to stop because Julius was there, and vulnerable. Baring his teeth in a vicious grin, Julius prepared for action. His spirit exalted. Now he could act.

Julius slowed his horse to a walk and faced the man. Predictably, their attacker aimed one of his weapons at him. He had others stuck in his belt. At one shot each, he needed them, but they would weigh him down.

Julius did not have to exchange words with Alex to know he would be aware of the attack. The coachman would have a series of knocks by which he could convey danger. If he had not done so, he would not remain in Alex’s employ for much longer.

Keeping most of his attention fixed on the highwayman, Julius allowed himself a glance at the carriage. Darkness had fallen, but the lights that had glimmered inside the vehicle were extinguished. Julius could not see the shadowy heads of the female passengers any longer. They were probably lying on the floor.

Alex knew, all right.

Heartened by the knowledge, Julius narrowed his eyes and studied their attacker. He seemed
au fait
with his weapons, holding the pistols easily, his fingers barely touching the triggers. That in itself was a threat, since the weapons could go off by themselves if they were of the cheaper, more volatile variety. Julius’s sword hung by his side, but he made no move to unsheathe it—yet. Without making his movement obvious, he pushed his heavy coat back with his elbow to expose the hilt. That action would make grasping his spare pistol easier, should he need it.

“Stand and deliver!” the man called. Well at least he had a sense of humor, coming out with that old saw. “Git down from the coach! You!” He waggled the weapon aimed at Julius. “Dismount. Don’t let me see your ’and anywhere near that sword hilt!” Julius nudged the horse forward a few paces and made to dismount, shaking the stirrup free with one hand. At the same time, the door to the carriage opened, and Alex climbed down. Julius used the distraction to slip his pistol into his pocket.

“And the ladies,” the man said. “I saw ’em.”

He might be doing a good job mangling the English language, but he could at least be consistent. His accent was somewhat fugitive, as if he had to remember to use it, and it wasn’t West Country. It had the nasal twang of the London ne’er do well rather than the burr of the West Country man. A foreigner, then, and not a man accustomed to using a heavy accent.

The answer came to Julius immediately. King, the mysterious neighbor who had made a play for Eve. He was the only Londoner Julius knew hereabouts, and the only man he had failed to discover much about. He had suspected the man of being an agent of either the Stuarts or the Dankworths, and now that suspicion firmed. The devil was, Julius didn’t know which party. The Stuarts would kill her, the Dankworths would capture her.

A string of curses circled in his mind, but Julius clamped his lips together, refusing to give them voice. He did not want this man dead. He wanted him under his control.

Leaving his weapon in his pocket, Julius took his time dismounting. Before he released the reins, he glanced to Alex, who nodded. Julius’s cousin’s face was set, his attention fixed on their attacker. “The ladies are shaking with terror,” he said. “Do you really need them to get down?”

“Yes,” the robber said.

Alex lifted his shoulders in an exaggerated gesture of submission and fumbled with the door of the carriage.

A shot hammered out of the door, taking the man’s horse. The animal screamed, reared, and then collapsed, as if a giant fist had felled it. Whoever had fired the shot had excellent aim. With the sound of the retort ringing in his ears, Julius released his horse and slapped its rump. It bolted forward, wild from the unexpected noise, its eyes gleaming in the light of the moon. It galloped away, sending up a shower of loose stones and dust from the road, threatening to charge straight across where King was sitting on his horse.

King had no choice but to drop one of his pistols and grasp the reins to move his mount aside.

Julius rushed him from one side, and Alex came up on the other. Used to working in tandem, Alex grabbed the rein farther down, jerking it from King’s grip, and Julius went for the man. He leaped, grasped a handful of coarse fabric, and dragged the man off his horse.

Julius’s own horse was half way to the village, the faint sound of his alarmed neighs filtering back to them. Alex had King’s horse firmly in his grip, and Julius had King. The man struggled, but Julius overpowered him, twisting his arms behind his back, the sound of King’s shouts of pain manna to his soul.

“I’ll git yer,” King mumbled. “See if I don’t.”

“For God’s sake, man, enough of the false accent,” Julius said calmly. His chest rose and fell as he sucked in deep breaths of the cool night air, but he forced his voice to remain steady.

King issued a string of foul curses, but at least he’d heeded Julius’s admonition to drop the accent. “How did you know?” he said. “Were you lying in wait? And why didn’t you get away while you could?”

“And leave my cousin to protect my betrothed?”

Julius’s words had their effect. King went still.

“Your cousin?” King said.

“You know who I am. You recognized me almost as soon as you saw me, did you not?”

“As soon as I heard your name, I knew you were with them,” King admitted. “But I didn’t know for sure. I thought you were mocking me, trying to smoke me out by using his name. I don’t know Winterton by sight, only from the caricatures and the engravings.”

“Oh, I’m Winterton,” Julius said. He glanced at Alex. “I think we should proceed to your house, rather than taking the ladies back to the village.”

Barely out of breath, Alex jerked a nod. “Agreed. “I’ll take charge of the ruffian inside the carriage, you get up with the driver. There might be more of them in wait.”

Julius thought the eventuality unlikely. Surely King would not have attempted this alone if he had accomplices. He guessed that the man had been sent as an agent, to spy. Maybe the news of his betrothal had spurred him into action. “So who is your master?” He shook the man’s bound arms, tempted to inflict a little pain, but thinking better of it. He would have plenty of time to do that later, if he needed to.

“Who wants to know?”

“Me. I’m guessing it’s Dankworth rather than Stuart. Am I right?”

The man clamped his lips together.

Julius continued in a conversational tone. “You wanted to abduct one of the ladies and take them to your master. Or would you have killed her?”

He remained silent.

Julius sighed. “I so hate when I have to take the brunt of a conversation. Never mind. I’ll discover which it is. Would your master tell the other party, I wonder?” Northwich and the Young Pretender were supposed to be allies, but Julius had seen how much that meant recently. They did not trust each other one bit. Moreover Northwich’s oldest son, the Earl of Alconbury, was playing his own game. There were more sides in this fight than on a complex mathematical figure. “I may go to one and tell him and watch for his reaction. How about that?”

King sniggered.

Alex nudged the man in his back with the tip of a wicked-looking pistol. “Get in the carriage. If you utter one word, just one, I’ll kill you. The ladies will avert their eyes while I do it, I’m sure.”

He glanced at Julius, who nodded in agreement. “My poor horse should find its way back to the stables it came from. I am at your mercy, cousin.” He met Alex’s eyes and shook his head. He did not want Alex to talk to the women about him, not yet. He needed to tell Eve himself.

Alex grimaced, but nodded. Not only was Alex Ripley his cousin, he was Julius’s best friend. Alex was one of the few people Julius let into his closely guarded private life, one that was opening to accept one more member.

Julius clamped the man’s hands behind his back and hustled him none too gently to the carriage. Julius glanced at Alex, who nodded and mimed using one of the pistols they’d liberated to knock him on the head. That would keep him quiet until they reached the house.

But the ground was uneven, and Julius stumbled, losing his balance and tumbling forward. A flash of light attracted his attention, and he groaned. The bastard had a knife. Why hadn’t they discovered it?

He tried to roll, found an obstacle at his back, and prepared to die as the knife descended toward his chest. Determination grooved lines deep into King’s features, and Julius read death in his eyes.

A shot exploded. King’s head followed suit, the top bursting open. A shower of warm liquid sprayed Julius.

* * * *

Eve’s hand shook as Lord Ripley gently eased the smoking weapon from her grasp. Her mother had fired first, and she’d taken out the man’s horse. But when the attacker swooped, his large knife promising instant death to Julius, she had not stopped to think. She took careful aim and fired.

When she saw the result, her head swam. So much blood! At first she thought she’d caught Julius, and her heart plummeted, but then he moved and scrambled to his feet. Lord Ripley jerked his head around, his eyes glittering in the moonlight, and then swung into action, moving to stand between the body on the ground and the carriage, blocking their vision of the gruesome sight. When the coachman threw a cloth down, Julius threw it over the body, taking little care over the task. A dark pool formed around the dead body. A highwayman. Out of the blue, death had arrived. It had happened that quickly.

His lordship shouted something to Julius, who nodded and headed for the coach. His stride was steady, but he didn’t open the door and enter the vehicle. Instead, the carriage swayed as he swung himself up next to the driver.

Lord Ripley climbed inside the carriage and slammed the door closed. He laid the incriminating pistol gently next to him and gripped the leather strap when the carriage began to move. “He’s fine,” he said directly to her. “You saved his life. Julius is well capable of taking care of himself, but he was taken off guard. That man could have killed him.”

“W-What happens now?”

Ripley frowned. “We will contact the magistrate and give him an account of what happened.”

The implication of what she had done slammed into Eve. Tears of shock sprang to her eyes, and she pressed her hands to her stomach as nausea roiled in her belly.