The Rogue's Surrender (The Nelson's Tea Series Book 3) (33 page)

And like a cornered rat, she’d lash out. “First, you are being watched. You cannot possibly think to get away with this? The Admiralty Board knows Melville didn’t steal treasury funds. And Napoleon has killed people for less than what you’ve done against him.”

Fleming’s face reddened. He seized her arm. “Tell me where the gold is, or you will never see your brother again.”

Eddie? Her heart sank in her chest. What was he suggesting? Fleming couldn’t possibly have access to her brother. Garrick had promised to keep Eddie safe.

“You’re lying. You couldn’t possibly carry out that threat.”

“What did they tell you? Stupid chit, Nelson’s Tea lies for a living.” He cackled. “So like them to woo you with promises they
cannot
keep.”

He growled like a vicious animal.

Panic clawed at Mercy’s throat. Did Fleming have Eddie? No. It wasn’t possible. She wouldn’t believe it.

“No.” She shook her head. “I will not allow you to trick me. My brother is safe. Lord Seaton would never lie to me. Not about this.”

“That is where you are wrong. Seaton is broken. He would lie his way out of the grave.” Spittle burst from Fleming’s mouth as he shook his finger. “I have your brother, and if I don’t walk out of here now with the information I want — a free man — my men will kill him.”

Tears pooled in the backs of her eyes. She struggled to maintain her wits.
Dios mio
, what if Fleming was telling the truth? What if Eddie had been abducted before or after Garrick’s brothers had sailed into port? The
Priory
had repelled at least two attacks by the French.

There was Admiral Roche to consider. What was his cigar doing to Garrick? Had they used his torment against him?

She couldn’t take that chance. “I want proof my brother is alive.”

“Will this convince you?” Fleming reached into his jacket and produced a locket. He opened the hinge, revealing an intricately crafted lock of her hair she had woven into a knot as a keepsake, a talisman to keep her brother safe at sea.

He cackled gleefully as recognition registered on her face. “Will this proof suffice? Or will you require one of his ears?”

“Dear God!” Her feet gave way. She struggled to stand, desperation flooding through her veins. The only way Fleming could have gotten hold of the locket was to have forcefully taken it from Eddie. He’d sworn never to part with it.

“I say, whatever is going on here? Do enlighten me, will you?” The effeminate voice behind Fleming drew her stare to a white-powdered wig behind the lord’s head. The sight of a friendly face put support back into her legs. “I’m all aflutter. What is so intriguing?”

“None of your concern, Your Grace.” Fleming snarled, curling his fingers into Mercy’s upper arm where Percy couldn’t see them.

Mercy sucked in a breath as fear lanced her heart. Did she dare say anything against Fleming that would force his hand and ensure Eddie’s demise? Was Fleming so desperate to retrieve his gold that he’d behave like a cornered rat and strike down her cousin in his own home? She slowly pulled the hidden blade out of her corset so the sound wouldn’t draw attention.

“He’s got Eddie,” she exclaimed. “He claims to have taken my brother prisoner.”

Percy quirked his brow. “Odd’s fish, a minnow like you, Fleming? Inconceivable!” His stare sharpened, bayoneting Fleming to the floor where he stood. He lifted his quizzing glass and paused, feigning a feminine pose — loose hips and slack arms — the act forewarning a coiling cobra waited to strike. “And do you believe this worthless piece of baggage, cousin?”

Fleming harrumphed. “Who are you to fling insults, Blendingham?”

“
Your
Grace.” Simon appeared beside her, correcting Fleming. Now the only way Fleming was going to remain alive was to count on the duke’s grace.

Mercy breathed a sigh of relief, thankful she no longer needed to fight off Fleming’s threats alone. And yet her thoughts lingered on Eddie. Where was he? What had Fleming done to him?

She reached for Fleming’s fingers to pry them off her arm. “Let me go.”

Percy laid his hand over Fleming’s. “The lady gave you an order. Loose your moorings.”

“I do not take orders from you.” Fleming sneered, and then cast a glance at Simon. “Especially this deceitful, superficial ungraceful cur.”

Percy flexed his wrist, jockeying his quizzing glass into motion with surprising dexterity. Fashioning an arrogant pose, he peered through the lens like a scientist measuring the breadth of an insect, wings splayed on a board.

“Ungraceful? Imagine that. For I spy with my magnificent eye a man not my equal.” He lowered the apparatus, allowing it to swing hypnotically from a chain. “Your tailor, sir, has done nothing to recommend him. Your poorly stitched cravat and ill-fitting sleeves suggest a pauper and inferior etiquette.”

Fleming took umbrage. He cleared his throat as if to speak.

“It’s plain,” Percy said, refusing to give the lord time to rearrange his thoughts, “though you’ve no doubt found something to your liking here, as anyone would, of course, you take too much upon yourself like a rat scurrying into the pantry.”

“How dare you!” Fleming didn’t heed Percy’s warning. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Do you, sir? Caution
is
advisable.”

“Your baseless insults show everyone how spineless you really are, Blendingham. Or should I say, Captain Sexton?”

“Oh!” Percy raised his quizzing glass to his lips. “He seeks to shock me anon. I’m all aflutter.”

“This swine is no man’s equal.” Simon stepped between Mercy and Fleming, giving her hope that her two relatives would end Fleming’s diatribe so she could go search for Garrick. “Allow
me
to dispose of this rubbish.”

“Rubbish? The way you disposed of Reverend Holt?” Fleming’s gaze darted to the dance floor. Was he searching for Roche? What did he have planned? “I am not Lord Burton or your spineless parson.”

Percy’s eyes darkened, warning Fleming stood on a perilous ledge. “I should think not. Else I’d be forced to believe in the supernatural.”

“Your popinjay antics are meaningless to me. I know who you are and exactly who you work for.”

“Work?” Percy guffawed. “Perish the thought. I’ve never labored a day in my life.” Percy paused, tapping his quizzing glass to his nose. “Pleasure however is an effort worthy of applause. I commend those eager to partake in the joys of the flesh. I really do.” Percy’s eyes deadened, and he lowered his voice. “There is nothing better than achieving one’s objective… in whatever form it might take.”

Fleming gritted his teeth. “Your patronizing debauchery is tiring.”

Percy’s jaw slackened. He laid a hand over his heart and glanced over Fleming’s shoulder at Mercy.

“Ah, there it is, cousin.” Her inclusion led Mercy to believe Fleming’s destructive behavior would finally come to an end. “I fear this creature is backed into a corner and now bares its claws.” He stepped closer to Fleming. “Look how it grasps for words, perspiring under reflective light.”

Fleming reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Instead of moving his hand upward to wipe his brow — as it appeared he would — he reacted suddenly, elbowing Percy in the ribs.

Percy inhaled suddenly, the sound a frighteningly painful wheeze. His eyes widened then closed. He paled then instantly collapsed.

Several bystanders gasped. “Heavens, the duke!”

The quartet’s ebbing
melody came to a screeching halt.

Constance rushed to Percy’s side. She knelt down beside his unconscious form, draping her skirts over the blood that slowly appeared on his waistcoat. “My poor darling.”

She glanced up at Simon, her expression worthy of Gillian’s old occupation on a Covent Garden stage. “Good heavens! I fear my husband has overtaxed himself.”

Gillian pushed her way through the gathering crowd, and sank to her knees next to Constance. “Quickly. Someone get the smelling salts.”

Jeffers appeared suddenly as if on cue. “This should do the trick to revive His Grace, Your Grace.”

With everyone focused on Percy, Fleming darted for the veranda doors.

Men moved suddenly to block his path, locking their arms about him to prevent his escape.

One turned red in the face. “Ungrateful swine. How dare you plant a fist in our host’s stomach?”

“You thankless wretch,” screamed Lady Stanhope. “You should be ashamed.”

Mercy listened to the accusing arguments with true concern clutching her breast. Had Fleming damaged the duke’s ribs? She prayed Percy’s collapse was only a consequence of excruciating pain and nothing more.

Henry and Adele joined Simon, conversing in hushed tones. Where was Garrick? Had they caught Roche?

Mercy craned her neck, searching the sea of parting guests to locate any sign of the admiral. She slipped her knife back into her bodice and grabbed hold of the cross at her neck, whispering a prayer for divine intervention.

Though many assigned to Nelson’s Tea gathered around Percy, she spied several members sorting the crowd in an effort to keep it under control.

Fleming’s arrest was certain. If Roche hadn’t been caught by now, had he fled when Garrick chased after him?

Mercy searched the ballroom, her gaze darting over faces until she was drawn to the veranda doors where a figure standing outside drew her attention. Her heartbeat accelerated. Who was it? The man was most assuredly staring at her.

A couple walked past.

She craned her head, standing on her tiptoes.

The man moved closer to the veranda entrance, making himself more visible.

“Eddie.” Her brother’s name escaped her lips on a breathless sigh.

He is alive!
How magnificent he looked, dressed in a dark blue suit and buff-toned trousers. Almost… English. Was it really Eddie? Could it be true? Or was her mind only showing her what she wanted to see?

She blinked then opened her eyes again. Eddie was still standing there.
It is true!
He smiled fondly, crooking a finger as an invitation to join him.

Grateful beyond imagining, Mercy kissed her silver cross and let it tumble back to her breasts as she made her way to the open doorway, everyone else forgotten. When she reached him, she flung herself into Eddie’s arms.

“Mi hermano!”

“Mercedes.” His voice, the one she’d bemoaned never hearing again, settled over her in uplifting waves.

Conflicting emotions surged inside her. Garrick’s brothers had escorted Eddie safely to England, facilitating their reunion, just as Garrick had promised they would. He hadn’t lied.
Fleming is the liar!
“Oh, Eddie! Thank God, you are safe.” She kissed his cheek. “You are here.” She kissed his other cheek and embraced him, squealing with delight.

Eddie swung her around and around like Garrick had twirled Adele until dizziness plagued her. He set her down and stood back, gazing upon her with such fondness her heart seized with joy.

“You cannot know how long I have waited for this moment,” he said.

“Oh,
mi hermano
, you have no idea how long I have vigorously prayed for this moment too. I feared the French—” She put a stop to such talk by clasping her hand over her mouth. She inhaled a deep breath. “Enough chatter. Let me look at you.”

She lifted his arms. His body was as lean as it always had been, but sturdier, his shoulders brawn, his muscles firm. The sea agreed with him or rather, life with the Seatons had. A smile of contentment tugged at her cheeks. Was it too much to hope that Eddie had found a new calling?

“I promised myself — when I thought I’d lost you — that I would see you again, but my ship…”

Oh, dear. Of course, he would think about his ship now. A captain without a ship wasn’t worth his salt. Did he think of himself less than a man without his captaincy? “You are a talented officer, brother. England needs men like you. Perhaps you could choose to serve a different king, eh?”

His lop-sided grin tugged at her heart. She had never been able to resist it.

“I missed you,
hermanita.
Your impudence never ceases to amaze me. I must hear more about your adventures. Let us go someplace quiet.”

She glanced back inside the manse, pulled in two different directions. Was Percy going to be all right? He was sprawled on the floor. Did Constance need her? Her cousin’s face flushed as she tended to her husband. Had they found Roche? None of them would be safe until the admiral was caught.

“Ah. It is silly of me to expect you to forego the pleasantries inside, Mercedes. You do want to enjoy the ball, eh?”

“I do but—”

“Forgive me for hoping we could continue our long-anticipated and overdue reunion away from prying eyes.”

“But of course.” She glanced back at the house. Sumpton Hall’s radiant interior called to her like the nuns chanting vespers at St. Mary’s. “Should I tell someone where we are going so they do not worry?”

“No need to bother. You will be back before anyone realizes you are gone.” He unleashed a boyish smile that warmed her heart tenfold. “The others, they are busy, no? I have so much to tell you. Where can we go, eh?”

She searched the land buttressing the exterior of the manse. “We are sure to find plenty of privacy in the garden. Spring has arrived and the scents of blossoming flowers will be a comforting reminder of home.”

“Gardens. That is one thing we Spaniards and English have in common, eh?” Eddie’s laughter filled her with immeasurable joy. “The garden it is, then.” He clasped Mercy’s hand, intertwining his fingers within hers and helped her descend the stairs to the miniature maze below.

They strode through a labyrinth of low-lying hedges for several minutes, sounds of the garden mushrooming to life. Their footfalls jostled pebbled stones beneath their feet. Music resumed inside the manor house, fading as they continued walking farther into the garden.

Mercy allowed herself to be swept along in this comforting moment, sidling up to Eddie’s arm, hugging him, desiring not to be parted. This man, her brother, was all she had left of her immediate family. At least here — in England — Roche couldn’t sink his talons into her brother and inadvertently lead him to certain death.

Moonlight shone down, illuminating the path. They came upon a large fountain with a pond stretching out beyond into the darkness. In this solitary place, with her brother at her side, Mercy’s joy was cloud high. Step by step, she found the peace she’d yearned for at last.

Though she didn’t doubt Percy’s pain, a part of her regretted abandoning her cousin in his time of need. Was his collapse a ruse to ensnare Fleming? If so, he’d milked the moments for everything they were worth. In either case, Russell, the good doctor, was in attendance at the ball and could easily restore her cousin to his former self. Simon, Garrick, Jeffers, and Henry would facilitate Fleming’s arrest, making sure the soulless lord got what he deserved.

She smiled confidently.

Everyone would be so busy they wouldn’t miss her for some time. Surely, no one — including Constance — would begrudge her a few moments alone with her brother. And oh how she wanted to savor their much-anticipated reunion.

First, and foremost, in her thoughts? Bridging the widening chasm between them. She envied the camaraderie Garrick experienced with Adele. The two siblings shared mutual respect. She had only ever sought that with Eddie.

There would be plenty of time to celebrate Fleming’s arrest and lament Roche’s escape. Ample time to win Garrick’s love before he left London for Talland Bay.

Abbydon Cove.

Would Eddie choose to live there with them? Was Garrick’s home as picturesque as he claimed? As the eldest son of the Earl of Pendrim, Garrick would succeed his father and become the next earl. Now that his past had been reconciled, and his old demons laid to rest, would Garrick be ready to take on that enterprising role? If so, he’d need a good woman at his side.

Mercy meant to be that woman.

Eddie’s grip tightened. Confused, she glanced down at their linked hands. “Keep up, won’t you?”

Why was he being so abrupt? They had nothing but time now to enjoy the fact that they were both alive. What was so pressing? She stopped by a large urn topped with leafy green vegetation and pulled against his painful grasp.

“What is wrong?” he asked.

She glanced over her shoulder, gauging how far they’d traveled. Sumpton Hall stood imposing behind them, its welcoming light dimmed by the immeasurable distance.

“We have all the time in the world to enjoy each other’s company. There’s no need—”

“Where is it?” Eddie spun Mercy around to face him. His face an expressionless mask, staring at her with disturbing intensity.

She blinked. It wasn’t like him to resort to violence. “Where is what?”

“
My
ship.”

“Didn’t you see it when you docked?” Or had Garrick’s brothers docked at a different port?

“I saw what was left of it… a monstrosity.”

But of course, he meant the changes to the ship. “You speak of the
Priory
, yes?” At his nod, she continued, “Garrick and his crew dismantled the vessel, restoring it to its former glory.”

“Is that what he told you, eh?” He spat on the ground near her feet.

How vile! What was wrong with him? She understood he’d lost his captaincy, but… “You are quick to judge when our people stole the ship from Garrick and—”

“Garrick? So you are on a first name basis with these English?”

Fury and a need to come to Nelson’s Tea’s defense boiled inside her. “These English saved my life! They also happen to be related to us.”

“I want no part in this relationship you’ve developed with a pirate.”

“
Papá
smuggled goods from pirates, Eddie.”

He hissed out an unpleasant sound. “Is that what you call it?”

“Do not cast stones.”

His boyish grin returned. He let her go and patted her hand lovingly. “My apologies, of course.
Papá
has always done what his conscience tells him to do. As do I. I did not mean to hurt you,
hermanita
. I have been forced off my ship into company I didn’t expect or desire to keep. That is a lot for a prideful man like me to accept.”

“I understand, of course.” But she didn’t. Eddie behaved arrogantly. While it must have been horrible for him to have been reliant on and indebted to foreigners, these were their blood relations. “Weren’t the Seatons good to you? Garrick swore to me his family will support every alliance our fathers have agreed to uphold.”

“And I have no reason to doubt it.”

She reached up and caressed the side of Eddie’s face, longing for their youth and quiet, unblemished moments spent together on shore. He looked so much like their
papá,
it hurt. It pained her to think that she’d almost lost them both. “What burns inside you,
mi hermano
? What aren’t you telling me?”

“
I
must retrieve the gold,” he ground out between his teeth. “I have no choice.”

Napoleon’s gold? Her jaw grew slack. She feigned ignorance. “What… gold?”

“
You
know where it is.” He gripped her arms fiercely. His eyes darkened like black oily pools, boring into her with an intensity she’d never witnessed before. “Where is it?”

Mercy summoned strength from a well deep inside her; a well she didn’t know existed in order to speak. “We hid it.”

“From whom?”

She bit her tongue. How much did he know? How much should she tell him? “A corruptible member of the House of Lords, Lord Fleming, and…” Would he understand why if she told him? “Admiral Roche.”

“Admiral Roche?”

“They are in league with one another.” She had to make him understand. “The money belongs to the crown.”

“Of course.” He nodded. She breathed a sigh of relief. “But where is it? I must know.”

Why was he pressing her for information? Was Eddie involved with Roche? God help her, was he part of the plan to swindle Napoleon? It couldn’t be. Could it? Anything but
that
!

“I cannot tell you.”

He shook her. “Silly girl, are you not aware how important this information is?”

“Yes.” Her thoughts swiveled around and around as hundreds of terrifying images and scenarios skittered through her brain. When at last she finally found her voice, she jerked her arm to win her freedom. “What is wrong with you?
Mi hermano
, you are hurting me. Let. Me. Go.”