Edith Layton (26 page)

“’e didn’t want ’er purse, the rogue!” a scruffy
lemonade vendor volunteered. “I seen the whole. I were standing here, like always, and I seen ’e was following along close behind the lady. I noticed, ’cause he were looking strange, keyed-up, you know wot I mean? Thought he was gonna pinch her purse. Next thing I knows, ’e gives ’er a shove, for no reason. Tell you one thing, Lady, if you ’adn’t turned when you did you’d ’ave been in the gutter with that great coach rolling over you! Coachman couldn’t never have stopped in time, and so that villain knew. For I seen him looking afore ’e pushed you.”

“Did you see his face?” Lucy asked.

“Aye, clear as I’m seeing yours. Dark eyes, like a madman, ’e had. Dark beard, you could tell. Looked like ’e’d just shaved it, see, but it were already coming in again. It were that kind, y’see.”

Lucy’s heart sank.
William?
Madman, indeed! To attempt Wycoff was a mad, cruel thing. But herself? Was he so angry at her?

“Aye,” the monger went on, “’e didn’t need that broken nose nor that wicked scar cross it to tell you
’e
was a villain, not that one!”

A broken nose! A scar?
Lucy thought.
But William’s is straight, and he has no scars
. No one in the crowd knew why the poor lady smiled so wide to hear the description of her attacker. That too must have been what made her companion gasp aloud, and her lovely amber eyes go so wide.

But Lucy turned her head at the sound and looked at Gilly. Then her own eyes narrowed.

“I’ll get a hackney for you and send you back to
the hotel,” Gilly said quickly. “But I’ve got to get home and tell Damon—to send someone to watch over you until I get back.”

“No,” Lucy said, “You are not leaving me now.”

“I can see you’re upset—well, who wouldn’t be?” Gilly almost gabbled. “But this is for the best, you’ll see.”

“No,” Lucy said.

“But do you know? I feel rather faint,” Gilly said, fanning herself with one hand, while the other went to her abdomen. “All this excitement! I’d be better off at my own home. I’ll see you safely into a hackney cab, and come visit you as soon as I can.”

Lucy drew on every ounce of her resolve. She blinded herself to Gilly’s look of distress. “I’ll go with you,” she said. “You’re not leaving my sight, Gilly Ryder. Where you go, I shall go.”

Lucy was shaking, with relief, and shock.
Not William, after all
. She finally felt the pain stinging in her hands, looked down at her ragged, blood-stained gloves, and felt her aching knees go weak. She was confused, but one thing she did know. Gilly knew something she didn’t. And Gilly was trying to go somewhere and do something she should know about, too. Shaken and flustered, Lucy held on to her composure with effort. Someone tried to kill her! Someone had tried to kill Wycoff, too. Wycoff was no fool, but neither was she. She remembered what had happened before when he had been offered less insult, so she had a terrible suspicion about what it was that Gilly knew. One thing was certain, Gilly
couldn’t leave her. But she was trying to go, and so what could she do?

But she was older than Gilly Ryder, she reminded herself. That made her remember a tactic that always worked with Jamie when all else failed. But Jamie thought she was all-knowing. Still, it was worth the gamble. She had to make her expression menacing and her voice certain. She stared at Gilly, hard. “I know more than you think I do,” she said levelly.

Gilly took a breath. She made a decision, quickly. “Then come with me,” she said. “There’s something we have to do.”

Lucy remembered to ask the officer to take statements and names, if he could, and send word to the hotel, if he would. Then like a queen, she ascended the short stair to the hackney they called for her. And collapsed on the seat. “I know much, but tell me all,” she told Gilly through gritted teeth, as she began the painful process of peeling her glove off. Half the fabric was ground into her skin.

“You ought to go home, you should wash that, soaking it off would be best,” Gilly said taking one of Lucy’s hands in hers. “Green Park, by the reservoir,” she told the coachman when he asked.

Lucy hissed and snatched her hand back, not because of the pain in her hand, but because of their destination. “So far? And by a reservoir? It’s morning…Isn’t that the famous place for…It is! He challenged William to a duel?” she asked. “
Lud!
He must have done.”

Gilly grimaced. “Well, he thought the fellow tried to kill him. We all did.”

“You all?”

“Me, Damon, Drum, Rafe. He didn’t want you to know, Lucy, he didn’t want to distress you.”

“He didn’t want me to stop it,” Lucy said.

“Well, but he weren’t—wasn’t going to kill the bloke—fellow, see how upset you’ve got me? Forgot all my hard-earned language, I did. I promised to button my mug. What will they think when I get there—with you? Anyway, Wycoff’s expert with sword and gun. It’s just a lesson. One that needed teaching, or so we all thought. But this! Blimey!”

“I tried to stop a duel between them once before. They didn’t need me then. Pray God, they don’t this time. Something terrible is happening, and I don’t know why. This may all be part of it, too. If there’s a killing…”

“Don’t worry,” Gilly said, “I tell you, Wycoff’s brilliant at fencing
and
shooting. Damon said so.”

“I know,” Lucy said, raising her head, her eyes stark. “It’s not that I’m worried about,” she lied. “But if he kills William…
We
know William’s not the one now. But he doesn’t. How will he ever forgive himself? He has so much he’s trying to atone for now, that would be, I think, one thing too many.”

“Here, let me help with that,” Gilly said, turning her attention to Lucy’s hands. “One thing I’ve learned is to do what you can, and wait on the rest. We can do something about your wounds now. I’ll need strips from my petticoat, and yours,” she told
her maidservant, sitting wide-eyed in a corner of the carriage, “and hand over your gloves. We’ll tend the worst, and pray for the rest.”

Lucy nodded, remembering the last duel she’d tried to stop. For all her running and panic, it had been over before it began. She could only hope this one hadn’t started yet.

T
he hackney tore through the streets and barreled into the park.

“It’s too quiet,” Lucy said anxiously, looking out the window. “Are you sure this was the day, the park?”

Nothing paced the green lawns but birds, there was no sound but that of their songs. Thickly treed and verdant, it was pastoral, the perfect place for a man to go to get away from the bustle of city life for a day. And the perfect place to stage a duel where no one would be the wiser.

“Yes,” Gilly said worriedly. “But there’s acres to cover yet…. Wait—there! There’s a coach, and another—faster!” she told the driver as they went up a little gravel path.

Three coaches stood waiting. Seven men stood
on the grassy slope. Two were in shirtsleeves. Facing each other. Each held a pistol—Lucy could see them glinting in the sunlight. But at least both men were standing. The taller one had turned his head and was staring at the arriving coach as it clattered up the path. Lucy flew out as it came to a stop. She stumbled, but righted herself and kept going, hobbling and weeping, until she launched herself into Wycoff’s outstretched arms.

“What’s this?” he said, holding her, sweeping the hair out of her tearstained eyes. “What’s this?” he asked again, because he didn’t trust his voice to say anything more, she was trembling so.

“It’s not William,” she said, grabbing his arms, looking up into his eyes. “It’s not. Don’t fight with him. It’s not William.”

“I know,” Wycoff said, “We only came here this morning because it was too late to get word to him. I kept the appointment only to offer him my apologies.”

“But, the pistols…” Lucy said, her eyes on his, so blue he felt he was gazing into the depths of the sea.

He shrugged one shoulder. He looked embarrassed. It was not an expression she’d often seen on his face. “We—” he said, some color appearing on his high cheekbones. “After all was said—we decided to have a shooting match. Just to settle a question of competence.”

Lucy buried her face in his shoulder. He felt her shoulders shaking. “Laughter?” he asked hopefully. “Or tears?”

“Both,” she said, raising her head. “What children men are! The best and brightest of you. Oh Hathaway, my dear.”

“Well,” he said softly, “that was worth everything, I think.”

“Not everything!” Gilly said angrily. “Look at her hands! They’re torn. Her knees, too!”

He glanced down at her ragged skirt. Suddenly grim, he raised one of her padded hands. “You ran so hard and fast you stumbled and hurt yourself. Ah, Lucy,” he said with infinite sadness, “do you care for him so much then?”

“I care for you, you have enough of your plate,” Lucy said. “How would you forgive yourself if you hurt him and he was innocent? I know you, you’d suffer.”

“Then you know me better than I do,” he said with a twisted smile.

“Stubble it! She didn’t fall. Someone pushed her into traffic,” Gilly said bluntly. “Someone tried to kill her.”

Lucy felt Wycoff’s body grow taut. His head snapped up.

“Aye,” Gilly said. “Tried to shove her in front of a carriage on Bond Street. She fell to the pavement instead.”

Wycoff’s breath caught. He tightened his arms around Lucy.

“He got away,” Gilly went on angrily. “Dark, he was, they said. And of middling height,” she added, staring at William, whose dark face had gone white.
“But you both were here then. And this bloke had a broken nose, with a scar cross it. Same cove as the one what tried for you, Wycoff, unless I miss my guess. And so Lucy thought, she’s quick as can be,” Gilly said with admiration. “That’s how she twigged to the duel, she guessed the whole. I just told her the details when I couldn’t shake her off and knew we had to get here to tell you what I’d learned before pistols were fired. I didn’t spill a thing,” she hastily told her husband, who’d come to stand beside her.

“No, I know,” Damon said, hugging her.

“I promise I’ll never keep anything from you again,” Wycoff said, holding Lucy close. “For one thing, it’s no use.”

“But you kept this from me,” Lucy said sadly.

“Yes. But I never made that promise before, did I?” he asked. “As to the duel, Rafe and Lord Drummond came before dawn to tell me what they’d discovered. The man who shot at me is one George Harris.” He paused. He touched her hair, and gazed into her eyes. “He’s not a very good assassin, because his last position was as a valet—in the employ of the baron Hunt.” He waited to see her reaction. It seemed all present were holding their breath.

Lucy grew still. She swallowed hard, then slowly nodded.

“It made sense that they’d try to eliminate me,” Wycoff said. “If you married me, their plans for
Jamie were done. I never thought they’d attempt anything with you; I’d never have left you alone if I had. Please forgive me. It was beyond foolish. I don’t know if I can forgive myself for that.”

“My fault too,” Rafe said, shaking his head. “Never imagined it either.”

“Nor I,” Drum agreed. “But when they failed with Wycoff, they probably decided to go after easier prey.”

“No,” Wycoff said slowly. “It may have been that they never meant any harm to me. Remember, I was with Lucy, close by her side, when I was shot. Harris isn’t a good marksman. He obviously realized it, or he’d have used a pistol instead of a shove when he got close enough to Lucy today.”

Someone gasped. Someone muttered a curse.

Lucy gazed at Wycoff, her face pale. “Well, it makes sense, I suppose,” she said dully. “The baron and his wife wanted my Jamie very much, didn’t they?”

“
Our
Jamie,” Wycoff said, tightening his hold on her. “And we must be sure before we make any accusations,” he added with a significant look at Drum and Rafe.

She gave him a sad smile. “Thank you. Don’t try to spare my feelings. I doubt this Harris person had any personal reason to want either me or you gone from the scene.”

“So soon as we get word of this ‘Harris person’s’ present whereabouts, his career as assassin, as well
as valet, is over,” Drum said with deadly calm. “Leave him to Rafe and me, we’ve experience in such matters.”

“Yes. And Damon, if you’d take Lucy home now, please?” Wycoff said over the top of Lucy’s head. She saw the tension in the muscles knotted in his jaw. “I still have business to do.”

“Don’t lock me out again,” Lucy said, drawing away from him. “I belong with you in whatever business it is we have to do. He
is
my brother-in-law,” she added when she saw his expression. “I belong with you when you deal with him.”

He nodded, reluctantly. “So, what do you think we should do?”

“We must tell the baron we know,” she said simply.

“Yes,” he said, gazing at her as though they were alone there in midst of so many.

“And that will suffice?” Damon Ryder asked quietly.

“It will,” Wycoff said. “He and his wife are vile. But they are, when all’s said, only noble persons whose name transcends their honor. That name is in our hands now. When they know it, it will be ended. Because their name is all they have.”

“But—” William huffed, “they must be made to pay more.”

“Very true,” Drum said, with a wry smile. “But this is England. They are noblepersons. They can’t be shot, as they deserve to be.”

“Why not? Why not challenge
him
?” William insisted.

“And have the matter out in public?” Wycoff asked. “No. It’s Jamie’s name too.”

“And risk Wycoff?” Lucy gasped at the same time. “I won’t have it!”

“Thank you for your faith in my marksmanship,” Wycoff said, his lips tilting at their corners.

“I have faith in you,” she said firmly, “even wounded as you are. But that puts you at a disadvantage, and they’d cheat, I know it. I couldn’t bear the thought, please Wycoff, not that way.”

“Then I won’t,” he said, taking one of her bandaged hands. “Don’t fret yourself.”

“So what can you do?” William insisted.

“We can make sure it never happens again,” Wycoff said.

William didn’t argue the point when he saw the other man’s eyes.

They went to the baron’s hotel after Lucy changed her frock and had a physician look at her injuries.

“We could wait until tomorrow,” Wycoff told her.

“You could. I can’t,” she said simply. “We’ve word from Rafe and Drum. George Harris will not trouble us again. Let’s go now and get it
all
done, so I can breath easily again.”

They only stopped to pick up Wycoff’s father on the way. They were all grim-faced and silent when they arrived at the baron Hunt’s rooms.

“Lucy. Jamie!” the baron said in greeting as they entered his suite. “Wycoff. This is a happy surprise.”

“This is my father, Earl Broughton,” Wycoff said tersely. He didn’t present the baron to his father, and his father didn’t so much as bend his head in answer to the baron’s bow. The baron’s eyes went wide. It was a deliberate insult.

“Do have a seat,” the baron said nervously. His wife rose from her chair, and then sank down again when she saw the stern faces on her guests. Even Jamie looked sober.

Wycoff didn’t take a chair. He remained standing and his voice was cold and clear. “We know,” he said without preamble. “We could send you to Newgate. But we won’t, if you give us your word, in writing, that you will never attempt such a thing again.”

“You have no proof!” the baron said angrily.

Wycoff’s mouth thinned in a bitter smile. “Your denial is proof enough. An innocent man wouldn’t be asking for proof now. He’d ask, ‘Proof of what?’ But your crime sits heavily on your mind. As it should on your black heart. We have more. A signed statement from your valet, and would-be murderer, George Harris.”

“I fired him for pilfering last year. Who would believe such a man?” the baron scoffed.

“Few, especially since he was hired by your secretary, not you, for this job of work, I grant,” Wycoff said smoothly. “But that’s enough for us.”

“And for me,” the old earl said heavily. “For you too, Hunt. And for everyone in the world we inhabit. At least, if it is my word against yours in the matter. It is more than enough,” he said to the baron’s altered expression. “We both know it would be.”

Wycoff shook his head. “I’d have known immediately, but your hired killer wasn’t as good as he claimed to be, thank God. He wasn’t trying to shoot me. It was Lucy you were after from the start. That was what misled me. Why should anyone want to harm her? But I’ve made enemies in my misspent past. At that, it might have been more clever for you to have taken my life first, so as to deflect suspicion. But you weren’t thinking. You were acting from panic, weren’t you?

“No matter,” he said as the baron began to protest again. “My friends, who have experience in such matters, discovered your hand in this. I didn’t understand until your attempt on Lucy. I thought she was safe, until then. I should have realized merely killing me wouldn’t solve anything for you. My marrying her would have put paid to your plans for Jamie, but only temporarily. Because she’s lovely, you saw that for yourself. Even if I were out of the picture, it wouldn’t solve your problem and give you clear possession of Jamie. You were afraid she might attract another man to rescue her from her situation. Killing her would leave Jamie to you, entirely.”

“Can we discuss this without the boy here?” Lady Hunt asked shrilly.

“
No!
” Lucy said, her hand clenched tight on Jamie’s. “Because if anything should ever happen to me in future, whether by accident or God’s design, he must know what you attempted. It’s his right.”

“We are not villains!” the baron thundered. “We care for the boy. But if and when he inherits—what would become of my dear lady then? We thought about it long and hard. Jamie, we like you very well,” he said, almost imploring, as he gazed at him. “We’d be proud to have you as our own son, but you’re not that.”

The baron looked at Wycoff. “What if I died and he inherited, and he didn’t love my lady? What if he should banish her to the dower house, or worse, pension her off to some small cottage somewhere out of his sight and his mind, what then? But if he lived with us, and grew up with us, he’d adore her, as I do. He’d provide for her, and care for her. I did it for love, and only that, you must see that.”

“You could leave your lady your unentailed funds,” Wycoff said. “Many good men do such for those they love, and with their heirs’ blessings,” he added for his father’s ears. “The estate would go to Jamie, but you could provide enough money for her so that she’d never go begging.”

“No,” the baron said, shaking his jowls. “What of the estate? It’s been in my family for three hundred years. It needs money to keep up. You’ve no idea of the expenses. Should it go to rack and ruin, destroying generations of hard work, and all because of one man and his feeling for his wife?”

“Yes,” Wycoff said, icy rage making his words clipped, “it should. For one man and one woman, which is how your line started. And how any line can begin. Yes, absolutely. You had to choose between pride and love. There’s no choice, not really. Not if you really love. Come, this grows painful for both our ladies. Sign the paper. Then we’ll go.”

“Do you hate me, Jamie?” the baron’s wife sobbed as Jamie rose to his feet.

“No ma’am,” Jamie said, “but I don’t love you.”

But neither does her husband
, Lucy thought sadly as she stood. “He will never harm you, though,” she told the lady. “He’s a good boy and will be a good man, in his time”

“I’m ashamed that he should know,” the lady cried. “That was cruel of you, whatever we did.”

“Was it?” Lucy asked, putting a hand on Wycoff’s arm to prevent him from answering. This was hers to say. “I don’t think so. I think it was important he knew firsthand where he stood in the way of things. For the future. His future….” She paused, and looked Lady Alice in the eyes. “When you first asked for Jamie I asked you what would happen if you ever conceived a son yourself in time. You said you’d rejoice and Jamie wouldn’t suffer. But if you saw me as an impediment so easily removed, who can tell what would have been my son’s fate if it actually came to that? Can you? Think on. What if you began to perceive him as a danger to your own long wished-for son? And don’t say it’s
not possible. Murder begets murder, and no good would ever have come of it.”