Dark Angel (53 page)

"I expect so," Palmerston said. "Castlereagh hasn't called it yet. He'll have to tell your father first and I don't think he's looking forward to it. I think he was secretly hoping I'd talk to you and you'd tell Granby before he had to do it himself."

"I'll have to, I suppose." Edward gave a strained smile. "Thank you, Harry. I appreciate your coming to me with this."

Palmerston grinned. "Just remember you owe me a favor next time I'm called before the House to answer questions about War finances. Be sure to thank Dolly again for the dinner on Friday," he added, getting to his feet. "It was a splendid evening."

Edward swallowed. The thought of the dinner party and its aftermath did not make him feel any easier about his brother. He saw Palmerston out of the house himself, then returned to his study, thinking furiously. It couldn't possibly be true. Edward had had his disagreements with Talbot, but he couldn't believe his brother would try to have Caroline killed. The whole story must be lies or misunderstanding or both. And yet...

Talbot
had
steered contracts toward the foundry. And Talbot, with his position in the Ordnance Office, would have been in a far better position than Jared to arrange to bribe an inspector. God knew Talbot had never been overly scrupulous. But even if he had been involved in the bribe, shocking enough in itself, to connive at the murder of Jared's widow...Aside from the morality of it, why would Talbot have been so desperate?

Edward shook his head. He could not believe such things of his brother. But he had met Adam Durward five years ago at the time of the fraud investigation and he was inclined to agree with Palmerston's view. Durward wasn't a plausible traitor.

Edward stopped pacing the length of his study and stood still, aware of the pulse beating in his head. He was no longer sure what he thought, save that he was determined to get the truth from his brother. The truth, he feared, was far more complicated than Talbot had made it out to be.

Edward strode from his study, slamming the door behind him with unusual force, and quickly climbed the stairs. He found his father and uncle sharing afternoon refreshments with Dolly in her sunny sitting room, but there was no sign of Talbot.

"Edward," Dolly said, greeting him with a pleased smile. "Come and have something to eat. We're dining at the Templetons' and you know how late they always serve and how ghastly the food is when it does come. If Templeton weren't so important to your career I wouldn't bother going there at all."

Edward waved aside her offer of food and did not bother to sit down. "Where's Talbot?" he demanded.

Dolly raised her brows at his abrupt tone. Then she frowned. "He's gone off somewhere. Very disagreeable of him. I met him in the hall when I came back from my morning ride. Of course, I barely consider myself on speaking terms with him since he was so wretched to Caroline, but I did remind him he was supposed to go to the Templetons' with us and he said he probably wouldn't be back till morning, the wretch."

For some reason, the news that his brother had left London made Edward feel considerably worse. "Did Talbot say where he was going?" he asked.

"No, but when he said he'd be gone all night I asked if he was going to Shepton, and he didn't deny it, so I suppose that's where he is. I expect he has an assignation. I do think men might have the decency not to arrange liaisons when they're supposed to be going to dinner parties."

Edward did not bother to answer. He looked at his father, who regarded him with concern. "Edward?" Granby asked. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure." Edward dropped into one of the yellow satin-covered chairs grouped about Dolly's tea table. "Palmerston just came to me with the most extraordinary story."

Granby's brows drew together. "What sort of story?" he asked in a controlled voice.

Edward hesitated. Dolly was looking at him in inquiry. Even Anandale, who had seemed to shrink into himself after the revelations about Caroline, appeared interested.

"Oh, don't mind me, Edward," Dolly said. "You know I never chatter about anything important."

Edward drew a breath. "Castlereagh just received a letter from Charles Stuart. It seems that before Adam Durward left Lisbon, he told Stuart he suspected Talbot may have had something to do with the bribing of the Ordnance inspector five years ago."

There was a moment of stunned silence. For once, even Granby was taken by surprise. Edward said nothing further. He could not bring himself to mention the story that Talbot had made attempts on Caroline's life.

"By God, that's too much," Anandale exclaimed with sudden passion. "Can't Durward be content with ruining my son's life? Must he go after Talbot too?"

Edward was startled by his uncle's reaction. He had been afraid that Anandale, who was so wracked with guilt over what had happened to Jared, would seize on the idea that someone besides his son might be to blame. Instead Anandale had sprung to Talbot's defense more quickly than Talbot's own father. Perhaps, Edward thought, Anandale was trying to make up for not having defended Jared five years ago. Not that the two situations were the same. Jared had undoubtedly been guilty. It was still far from clear what, if anything, Talbot had done.

Edward looked at his father. "I think I should go down to Shepton and have a talk with Talbot."

Anandale pushed back his chair. "I'll come with you. Got to stand by the family at a time like this."

"I think I'd best come as well," Granby said in a quieter voice. "I should talk to Castlereagh, but I want to hear Talbot's side of the story first."

Dolly looked at the three men, now all on their feet. "I suppose this means
none
of you are going to the Templetons'. I shall have to spend the evening making excuses for you. I do hope Talbot has a good story to make up for all this trouble."

Edward walked to the bell-pull to ring for the carriage. "So do I," he said grimly.

Sherry leaned over his horse's neck and urged the animal to a faster pace. Clouds of dust filled his nostrils and he could feel the sweat dripping down his face. The steady pounding of the horse's hooves was a constant dirge, reminding him of his own criminal stupidity. If he hadn't been so self-confident, so damnably sure that Talbot wouldn't try anything in the peace and tranquility of England, Caroline and Elena and the child might be safely in Sussex. Burning, incredulous anger filled Sherry at the audacity of what Talbot had done. Though he had taken Durward's story about Talbot seriously, he realized that he hadn't fully believed it until now.

From the moment he recovered consciousness at the inn and realized Caroline and the others had been taken, Sherry had been too overwhelmed with fury and self-reproach and the need for action to think beyond the fact that Talbot must be behind the abduction and that he had most likely taken the women to Shepton. Now, as familiar landmarks told him he was nearing Talbot's estate, Sherry began to consider his approach once he got there. According to Durward, Talbot believed Durward, not Caroline, was the threat now. So Talbot must have taken the women to lure Durward to Kent. In which case, Talbot would want to keep them quiet somewhere until Durward arrived. In an upstairs bderoom perhaps? Or—of course. The gamekeeper's cottage.

It was still called the gamekeeper's cottage, though it hadn't been used by a gamekeeper in years. Talbot had turned the small building into his own private retreat, outwardly plain, inwardly secure with all the luxuries, a convenient place to meet a married lady with a jealous husband or a country girl with an inconvenient family. Talbot could put the women there and then wait comfortably at the house for Durward. Sherry realized that by sending word to Durward he might have inadvertently led him into a trap. But Durward would not arrive unprepared. With any luck, Sherry would be able to rescue the women before he got there.

Sherry turned his horse in at the gates of Shepton, but instead of galloping down the drive toward the house, he headed across the fields and over an ornamental bridge spanning a small stream to the oak coppice which stood on the edge of the grounds. He was forced to go more slowly here, for the path was narrow and he was less certain of his way. He had only visited the cottage once or twice.

The air was cooler beneath the trees and the late afternoon light was filtered through a curtain of moss-covered branches. Sherry glanced from side to side, remembering the cottage was almost invisible from the path, uncertain which way to strike off. Uncertainty galled him and he was nearly ready to go tearing through the underbrush in any direction whatsoever when he caught a glimpse of lichen-covered gray stone in the narrow gap between two massive tree trunks.

Barely suppressing a cry of triumph, Sherry urged his tired horse off the path. He rode a few yards closer to the cottage, then swung down and tethered his horse to a convenient branch. Pushing impatiently at the underbrush, he strode across the damp, mulchy ground. Only when he reached the edge of the small clearing in which the cottage stood did he stop and glance about.

The cottage was as he remembered it, a squat stone building with a sloping tile roof and large casement windows framing a wooden door. Sherry crossed the dozen or so feet to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. He moved to one of the windows and looked in at the cottage's outer room.

There was no sign of Talbot or the women. A mahogany table, topped by a large Chinese vase, stood just below the window. A thick Wilton carpet covered the floor. Two leather-covered chairs stood before the stone fireplace. A glass-fronted cabinet held an array of crystal and bottles. All the amenities. Once Sherry had thought it very clever of Talbot to have devised such a retreat. Now he felt a desire to smash everything in sight.

A door on the opposite side of the room led to the bedroom. If he was right, the women would be locked in there and Talbot would be back at the house. Sherry wound his handkerchief round his hand and punched his fist through the windowpane. The glass shattered with a muffled but satisfying crack. He reached inside and unfastened the casement latch, then hoisted himself up onto the window ledge. But as he climbed over the ledge onto the table inside, his booted foot met something solid. Before he realized what was happening, the Chinese vase went crashing to the floor. A moment later, the door from the inner room burst open.

"What the devil do you think you're doing?" Bob Colborne demanded. He pulled the door to behind him, but not fast enough to drown out a woman's scream.

At the sound of the scream, something exploded in Sherry's head. If he could not take his anger out on Talbot, Talbot's batman was the next best thing. Heedless of the gun clutched in Colborne's hand, Sherry jumped off the table and flung himself forward with a cry of fury. He heard a sharp report, and then a burning pain ripped through his side. He had a moment to think that he had bungled again before he lost consciousness for the second time that afternoon.

For the past two hours, Adam had willed himself to numbness. To feel anything would be to open the floodgates on a tidal wave of fear and rage and desperation. He and Hawkins sat in silence. Adam kept his eyes on the road ahead, racing the curricle past slow vehicles, turning automatically at crossroads. Speech seemed a waste of effort. They needed all their energy for what lay ahead.

They had had to stop once to ask for directions to Shepton. Now they were nearly there. Adam felt himself coiling within, preparing for the coming confrontation.

"That must be it," Hawkins said suddenly as they came round a bend in the road. He gestured toward an ivy-covered stone gateway to the right, overshadowed by the spreading branches of an enormous oak.

Adam forced his hands to ease on the reins as he turned the curricle through the gateway. A few yards farther, a few minutes more. They could not afford to make a single blunder. The tree-lined drive was interminable.

At last they reached the house. It looked deceptively still and tranquil, but the gravel circle before it showed recent marks of hooves and wheels. "Do we hide the carriage?" Hawkins asked as Adam reined in the horses.