Corey McFadden (45 page)

“Yes,” Maude said. “It belonged to my grampa. In fact, the pair were a gift to him from your grampa.” She giggled. “Actually, I believe I tried to kill you once with one of these.”

“Ah, yes. As I recall, you shot me off my horse. What a brat you were.” He laughed softly and tugged one of her errant curls.

“I was never a brat. You were such a humorless prig as I remember it.” She nuzzled at his hand and the amusement which had flared in her eyes for just a moment was replaced by worry. “Oh, Edward, what if he shoots you first? Let me hold the gun when he comes in. Then you can grab him and hold him and I’ll shoot.”

“Maude,” Radford said in mock exasperation. “Please don’t wound my ego any further by suggesting I am not a match for that silly sod, gun or no gun. Allow me, just this once, to go through the motions of protecting you. I’ll keep the gun. You just lie quiet and do nothing.” He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’ll never let him hurt you again, my love,” he whispered softly. “Tonight we finish it, and you’ll have nothing more to worry you again.”

She lay back against him. So her aunt’s detectives had successfully tracked her down and she wondered what her cousin had in store for her and Edward. She wished she could feel so sure that she and Edward would overtake him, but she knew how vicious John could be and she knew how desperate he must be feeling now. Desperation gave fools great power. And he must hate them both so much.

“We must try to figure out where we are, Maude, and where we’re going.” Radford sat up and pulled the window flap back. The wind and rain lashed in. “I know it’s dark,” he went on, “but you look out that side, and I’ll look out this one, and let’s see if there is anything we recognize. I suppose it’s been about an hour since I woke up and we were probably leaving the city about then.”

Maude pulled the flap on her side over and peered out. The rain lashed at her face, but the fresh, cold wind felt wonderful after the stuffy, chloroform air inside the coach. She could feel her headache receding. She hadn’t really much hope that she would recognize anything because she was not familiar with the roads in and out of the city. She smiled to herself, thinking that on her last trip she’d been unconscious and dressed as a boy at that.

Just as she was feeling that the cold and wet were worse than the stuffy air inside, she felt Radford’s hand on her arm. She pulled her face from the window and turned to find him smiling at her.

“We’re on our way home,” he announced, pleased with himself. “We’ve just passed the Queen’s Lady. That’s the inn we’ve always marked as the halfway point between London and Radford.”

He sat back and handed her his handkerchief again. She was aware that she dripped everywhere, her face, her hair. So much for Madame Arnaud’s delicate work on the chignon.

“We have about an hour before we get there, assuming we don’t stop first. I have a feeling John won’t risk a stop, particularly in this weather.” He noted Maude’s troubled expression. “What’s the matter, monkey? What’s worrying you?”

“Aunt Claire.” The name fell like a dead weight in her heart. “She’s always been John’s brains and his nerve, and she’s worse than he is. Honestly, Edward, you have more to fear from her than you do from John and his pistol.”

Radford pulled her close and stroked her hair gently. She had suffered such abuse and neglect for so long at the hands of that vile woman it was only natural that she should have an unreasoning fear of her.

“Claire cannot hurt either of us, my love,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck. “I intend to get the upper hand over John the minute the carriage stops. He won’t have a chance to get to his dear mama.” His nibbling became more insistent. “Too bad I can’t be sure he won’t stop the coach. I’ve never made love in a moving carriage before.”

Maude giggled and turned her face to his. Before he seized her lips with his own, he noted that the shadow of fear had left her eyes.

Chapter Twenty-four

At last John drew within sight of Miller’s Bridge. It was too dark to make out much, but he thought he could see a dark bulk ahead. He hoped desperately it was Claire’s carriage waiting for him. He could use her to help him finish thinking this through. He’d had a cold, wet ride and too much time to brood on what could go wrong. His mother never seemed to worry about failure. She always concentrated on how to get exactly what she wanted. She would make everything come out right.

His plan was to transfer Radford and Maude to the Romney Manor carriage, then send it tumbling into the rushing stream. Later they could say, between heartrending sobs, that Radford and Maude had come to Romney Manor to meet with Uncle James and that they had left then to marry at Gretna Green, with the blessing of the family. John could drive the hired coach back to London tonight and leave it, and no one would be able to trace it to him. He had not been foolish enough to rent it in his own name, and a carriage accident in the country, particularly on a night such as this, was not so uncommon a thing to arouse question.

And if Messrs. Booth and Parks were suspicious, they’d be able to prove nothing. Graves was surely dead by now. The sanctimonious old fool would be found sometime near dawn perhaps, a nameless corpse in the seamier streets of London, unlamented and sought by no one, and good riddance. And John had made sure that the ruffians in his employ today had known no more than necessary to get the job done.

Ahead, John could hear the rushing water. Good. High, rushing water would make an even better case for an accidental drowning. The rill under Miller’s Bridge had a respectable flow, but in drier times one could stand in mid-stream and keep one’s head above water. Not so tonight.

A light flickered in the dark. As it drew closer, the light became a lantern, and he could make out a carriage looming ahead. Excellent! It had to be Mama. No one else would wait in this weather, though the rain had stopped some quarter of an hour before. He licked his lips and flicked the reins to spur the tired horses on. He needed ten minutes alone with Maudie in the carriage. Mother would have to understand. He had waited too long and suffered too much on this miserable journey to give up his final pleasure on her luscious body now.

As he grew closer, he could see a face in the window of the carriage. There! It was Mama! He drew alongside and climbed down from his perch. The horses stood, heads down, spent. John opened the door of his mother’s carriage. She was smiling broadly and it was the first real smile he remembered seeing from her in months. She reached out and pulled him into a big hug, a rare show of affection for her.

“My precious,” she crooned, releasing him, “I knew I could count on you to find her. And right under our noses all that time. I never dreamed our esteemed neighbor had sheltered her. Why, Amelia never picked up a word that Radford had a new lady friend. Not that I would ever have imagined our dreary little Maude would be to Radford’s taste. He has quite a reputation as a rake, I understand.” She smiled warmly at John and reached up with her handkerchief to pat his dripping face dry. He stood between the two carriages, in the open door, sheltered from the wind.

“Mama, as usual you underestimate Maudie’s charms. And you’d be surprised what a figure she cuts, all tarted up by his lordship. She’s quite delectable, really.”

“Hmmph,” was Claire’s brief response. “Look here, John,” she began briskly, “what’s all this about Parsons being taken away by the police? Your note said not to worry, but if Parsons has been found out, so have we. Don’t think for a moment he will make any attempt to shield me.”

In the lamplight he could see the worry crease her face. Odd, how old she looked in this light. He had been away most of these last two months and she seemed to have aged terribly under the strain of Maude’s disappearance. He’d never thought of his mother as old, and it gave him rather a twist in his heart to see it.

“Not to worry, Mother,” he said reassuringly. “I’ve thought it all through and I don’t see how we can fail. You see. Booth and Parks must know about the accounts, but if Radford plans to marry Maude, as I understand he does, it behooves them both not to make a public scandal about it. They come here tonight, have a nice reconciliation with us, all is forgiven and that sort of thing, and off they go to elope. The carriage accident is so heartbreaking, don’t you think?” John smiled into his mother’s eyes and was relieved to see her slowly smile back. He had been so afraid she would point out some glaring flaw in his reasoning that he had overlooked in the haste of the day’s activities.

“Yes,” she said slowly, as if thinking it through. “Yes, I believe it will work. And Radford’s younger brother won’t want to muck about in any scandal either. I think you are right, my dear. If we spent a bit of Maude’s money, well, who’s to complain after she’s dead?”

Claire’s expression lightened, and John was relieved to see some of the lines smooth away.

“Well,” she began again, extending her hand for him to help her alight, “how do you propose to bring about this unfortunate accident, my pet? I take it our happy bride and groom are secured in your carriage?”

“Indeed they are, Mama.” He smiled proudly. “For all his reputation for being such a formidable opponent, I found his lordship remarkably easy to lure away. I coshed them both on the head, tied them up securely, and gave them each a dose of chloroform into the bargain. I don’t think we have to worry about them for now. Besides,” he said, striding back to the driver’s perch and reaching up, “here is our final bit of insurance.” He handed his mother the pistol.

“Very good, precious,” Claire said, hefting the pistol appreciatively. “Of course we don’t want to use this unless we have to. A bullet wound would turn it into a robbery attempt instead of an unfortunate carriage accident in bad weather. I’d prefer not to have the constabulary in on this, if at all possible.”

John smiled. It was such a relief, hearing his mother reason it all out. She made everything sound so possible. He could feel his tension draining away.

“We’ll have to use our carriage, I’m afraid, Mother. I cannot risk not returning this one. It’s rented and I don’t want anyone to remember anything remarkable about today’s rental. I thought we could pull the pins from the struts of our carriage so that the horses could get free. No point in losing two perfectly good horses when we can contrive to save them. We’ll have to leave them to wander, but they’ll still be harnessed together so they won’t get far.” As he spoke, John walked over to Claire’s carriage and examined the mechanism which held the struts to the carriage. “Shouldn’t be too difficult,” he called out. “There should be a few tools in the kit under the driver’s box.” He turned back to his mother.

“John, how do you propose to tip the carriage? And how can we be sure that they drown?” She turned and cast a doubtful eye on the carriage door. “I wouldn’t put it past either of them to stumble out and pull themselves back to the riverbank. You can’t very well leave them tied up, can you? That would give everything away when the bodies are found.”

John looked befuddled for a moment. Indeed, he had not stopped to consider that he would have to remove the bonds before he tipped the carriage over. The water would be too deep for him to risk wading in to do it after they were dead. Then his face lightened.

“I’ll just chloroform them again. Mother. There’s plenty of the stuff left in my bag, and after the smell wears off, there’s no way to tell it was ever used. When I’m sure they’re fully unconscious, dead even, for all I care, I’ll take off the ropes.” He smiled, his confidence returned. “And as far as tipping the coach, I’m afraid I’ll need your help for that. It will be all the more heavy with two bodies inside, but once we get it to rocking, we’ll be able to tip it. Perhaps we can break off one of the struts to use as a lever.”

Claire looked dubious but it was clearly too late to come up with an alternative. “Very well then, John, but it’s late and this will take time so we might as well get started. I wouldn’t expect anyone out on the road at this hour in weather like this, but we can’t be too careful. Why don’t you use the chloroform now? I’m worried that it’s been several hours since the first dose and we don’t want a fight on our hands.”

“Mother, please. Neither of them will be in shape to fight, I promise you. In fact, I expect they are both still dead to the world. I left the coach windows sealed so there wouldn’t be any air inside...” his voice trailed off as their eyes found the loose flap on the coach window. Claire turned a wry eye on John and raised an eyebrow.

“Drat! I must have forgotten to close it after I turned off the hired coachman in the city,” John said. “Well, no matter, Mother, they are securely bound, and don’t forget, I smashed them both in the heads with that pistol. They won’t be conscious, or they’ll be so groggy that it won’t much matter.”

He started forward, his stomach in knots. All evening he had planned to futter his cousin mercilessly and now he wasn’t even sure he could get through this without chucking up the remains of his last meal. What if the bastard was awake and waiting for him?

“John, wait!” Claire called out, just as he reached for the latch on the door. “Wait until I position myself with this pistol, so that I can see clearly and shoot if necessary. Get that lamp and set it over here where it casts light on the door.”

Claire barked out the orders and John jumped to obey, glad for even this small reprieve. He set the lantern down near her feet and turned expectantly back to Claire. It was clear she was in charge now and he waited for the next order.

“Now, John, what position did you leave them in, do you remember?” she asked, expertly examining the pistol to see if it was loaded.

John remembered all too well the sight of Maude lying with her dress up, her head against the door. He had twitched it down, hadn’t he, so the coachman wouldn’t see, and Radford had been on the floor. “Of course I remember, Mama,” he said. “She was on the seat and he was on the floor, but they are dead weights and we had a bumpy ride. I can’t be sure they haven’t shifted while I drove.”