For the Love of a Soldier (5 page)

Hadn’t the fool had enough? Garrett noticed the man clutched a folded sheaf of paper. A promissory note? He cursed under his breath. Damned if he’d take it.

Denny faced the servant and leaned forward, thrusting the paper at the man and speaking in low tones.

A clatter of hooves slapping the pavement drew Garrett’s
attention as his coach rolled into sight. Both his coachman, Ned, and his man, Havers, sat on the box. The glow from the torchlight illuminated the Kendall coat of arms, the two crossed swords in the shield on the side of the gleaming burgundy carriage.

Garrett walked over to the vehicle. As he passed Denny, he didn’t break stride. “I told you, I don’t want your money.” He waved Ned back into his seat, forgoing the assistance to make a faster exit. When he reached his coach, he turned back to rake his eyes over the young man. “Take my advice and go home. Then stay there until you are grown.” He reached for the carriage door and tossed his parting words over his shoulder. “It might save you some money.”

He heard the footsteps closing the distance between them. He had to give the man points for perseverance. Persistent as the vultures circling the dead and wounded.

“If you value your arrogant life, I suggest you read this. However, the choice is yours.”

Garrett turned at the challenge, studying Denny’s flushed features. Spots of pink dotted the man’s smooth cheeks. Hell, had he even shaved yet? He studied Denny’s slim build and short stature, his head barely meeting Garrett’s shoulders. Christ, he doubted the boy had reached manhood yet. He nodded toward the note. “A few more shillings can’t save me, but if you insist.”

He cocked a brow when he accepted the folded sheet and Denny’s gloved hand briefly tightened before he relinquished his grip. Garrett meant to shove the paper into his jacket pocket and be done with the matter, but seeing Denny edge away from him, his expression guarded, Garrett changed his mind. He flipped open the note and scanned the contents.
Christ Almighty.

What game was this?

Burning rage filled him. His body vibrated from its heat, and he raised his eyes to blast Denny with it. The man staggered back and pivoted to flee, but not soon enough. War trained, Garrett had often had only seconds to react in battle.

His hand shot out and curled around the younger man’s arm in an imprisoning grip. The same jolt bolted through him as it did when he accosted him earlier in the card room, and he instinctively loosened his hold. The man was reed thin, Garrett’s hand almost able to encircle the width of his arm. With
a twist of his grip, he could easily break bone. Damn, if he wasn’t tempted to do so.

The conniving, murdering, bloody bastard.

“Why don’t we step into my carriage where we can discuss this matter more privately?”

Fear flashed in Denny’s eyes. “That’s all I know. I don’t know anything more.” Denny tugged at his arm, struggling to free himself.

Garrett leaned down, watching Denny’s eyes widen as he towered over him. “If you refuse to talk to me, you can explain this note to the magistrate. The choice is
yours
.” He tossed Denny’s words back at him. “Get in the carriage.”

Denny stiffened, panic draining his face to sheet white. “With you?” He swallowed and moistened his lips. “Alone?” The word croaked out in horror.

Patience snapping, Garrett growled, “Move. Now.”

He prodded Denny forward. When he made no attempt to climb the steps, Garrett gripped his jacket and practically swung him off his feet. He gave his rear end a shove as he flung him inside, ignoring the man’s shriek of rage. Shriek? The boy definitely hadn’t reached manhood yet. He squawked like a woman. It confirmed his earlier opinion. The man
was
soft.

Before he climbed in behind the boy, he called to Havers, who leaned over the box to peer down. The sight of his familiar craggy features, shock of dark hair, and steadfast brown eyes calmed Garrett. “Drive around. Don’t head home immediately.” He moved to enter the carriage but turned back again. “And Havers, keep a sharp look out. There might be trouble. Be ready for it.”

Havers didn’t blink, nor did his expression alter as he nodded. “Right, sir.”

Loyal, obedient, and unquestioning. They didn’t come better than Havers.

Garrett vaulted into the carriage as Denny’s fear turned to anger.

“How dare you put your hands on me!” Denny cried, lunging for the door. “I won’t go anywhere with you. You’re mad.”

Talked like a woman, too. Garrett grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket, yanked him back, and thrust him onto the cushioned seat across from him. He decided against retrieving the
revolver out of the compartment under his cushion. He carried a good four stone over his adversary, so had little need for the extra threat.

“I’m mad? You’re the one setting yourself up to swing by the neck outside Newgate.” He watched in satisfaction as Denny’s anger drained in the dim carriage light, and he retreated into the corner of the compartment as if seeking refuge there. “Who the hell do you work for?”

“What?” Denny breathed, his whole body going still, blue eyes wide.

“You heard me. I want names. And I want them now.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t know anything more than what I wrote. I overheard two men talking. I barely saw their faces and they neglected to give their names. Good Lord, they were discussing fees for a murder! Your murder! They weren’t exactly exchanging calling cards.” Denny’s words finished in a choked cry, and his head turned to the window as he furiously blinked watery eyes.

Disgust filled Garrett over the man’s pathetic reaction. “Listen carefully, Denny. You’re not going anywhere until I get names.” He reined in his own anger, but his words were implacable.

Denny whirled back to him, a spark of his earlier defiance lighting his eyes. “It’s Daniels, not Denny. You might start with getting
my name
right.”

“Why bother? After the magistrate finishes with you, your name’s irrelevant. There’s no need to address the dead.”

Daniels gasped and made another lunge for the door.

Garrett’s hand shot out again. Cupping his forehead, he shoved him back. “Stop that. You’re not going anywhere. We can sit here all night—or until you remember what you’ve forgotten.”

Daniels edged back on the seat, his eyes shifting over the carriage before turning a mutinous expression on Garrett, his gloved hands fisting. “You can’t extract information from me that I don’t have. If I was involved in this plot against you, why would I be here now? Jeopardizing my own life? Why in heaven’s name would I warn you of something that implicates me? Do you take me for that big of a fool?”

Garrett scowled and made a threatening move toward Daniels. He backed off when the man flinched and pressed farther into the corner, holding up his hands. Bloody hell. He felt like
he had attacked a wounded man. Daniels was either one hell of an actor, or he spoke the truth, damn him.

Sighing, Garrett leaned back in his seat and raked a hand through his hair. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything you know.”

Daniels eyed him warily for a moment before, in a slow and steady tone, he recounted the conversation he had overheard on Hammond’s back patio.

Garrett snorted. “A tall man wearing black formal attire, and a shorter man with coarse speech dressed as a footman? The tall man stated he knew the footman didn’t work for Hammond?” At Daniels’s nod, Garrett continued. “The man you followed had dark hair, an aquiline nose, and thin features?” Another nod from Daniels. “That could describe half the fops there tonight. That’s it? The only information you have?” Christ. The man was a useless idiot. Intelligence won battles. It won wars.

How the hell was he to fight an unknown enemy without it?

Spots of pink flamed on Daniels’s smooth cheeks. “It was pitch-black, and I stood some distance away. But with a guest list of over three hundred, it’s little surprise I didn’t know the man. You may be on a first-name basis with all the members of the ton, but I, thankfully, am not.” He finished the last in a heated tone and looked away.

Garrett cocked a brow at the blatant insult to the exalted aristocracy. Perhaps the man was not a complete idiot after all. “Why didn’t you speak to Hammond immediately? We could have caught them leaving. You should—”

“If I can’t identify the man, whom are they to apprehend?” Daniels interrupted him. “As I’ve tried to explain, the only information I have to pass along is a warning for you.”

“Why didn’t you follow him onto the dance floor?”

Daniels recoiled. “Once on the floor, he blended in with all the other guests, and I lost track of him.” He dropped his eyes. After a moment, he lifted them to meet Garrett’s. “I am sorry.”

“So am I,” Garrett muttered before turning to brood. The clatter of the horses’ hooves and the lumbering creak of the carriage as it rolled along the pavement filled the silence. The night watch bellowed out the time and the weather.

“You said the man tossed something for payment. You didn’t catch what it might be?”

Daniels shook his head. “Only that it was gold.”

“That narrows it down.” Sarcasm riddled Garrett’s response.

“I’m sure if you were there, you would have asked for a closer inspection.”

“If I were there, they’d be dead and we wouldn’t be here.”

Daniels’s eyes shot to his. “Yes, well, not all of us are military heroes.”

“You don’t need to be a hero to show courage, man,” he snapped.

After a moment, he heard Daniels shift in his seat and clear his throat. “Can you think of anyone who would want you harmed? A jilted husband? Someone with whom you’ve dueled? Won money from?”

Garrett’s eyes narrowed on Daniels. “I see you’ve managed to catch up on the gossip since you’ve returned from abroad.”

“I’m not deaf, sir. If I were, we wouldn’t be here, would we?”

“Point taken. However, if we go by that, it circles back to you. I won money off you.”

“But you gave it back.” The words were barely audible.

Garrett cocked a brow. “So you won’t kill me?”

“Again, if I wanted you dead, why would I be here? Warning you?” After a moment of silence, Daniels sighed. “Look, I’m trying to help you. You don’t have to trust me, but it’s important that you trust this warning. You need to heed it. That is, if you value your life.”

“Now there’s the question,” Garrett murmured and watched Daniels’s eyes widen at his cynicism. “But reminding me there is a queue of men who’d like to put me six feet underground is help I don’t need.”

“Don’t forget women.” Daniels lifted his chin. “I’m sure with your charm and grace, they must just swoon at your feet.”

Surprised by the taunt, Garrett eyed Daniels, whose bravado faltered under his pointed stare. He shrank back in his seat and again averted his gaze. Garrett frowned, something nagging him about the man’s reaction. He slung his arrows, but then braced himself as if unable to bear the brunt of a return salvo. Like a mouse swatting at a lion. The man would never survive a day in battle.

“They swoon all right, but it’s not from charm. When you’re older and more experienced, you’ll understand.” His eyes raked
Daniels with derision. “Or perhaps not. But by all means, add women to the list. Like Herodias’s daughter, I’m sure one or two of them would love my severed head on a platter.”

A wine red flush stained Daniels’s cheeks as he stared out the carriage window.

Frowning, Garrett studied his profile. He was an odd bugger. There was something effeminate about him with those long-lashed eyes. The blue of them so bright and deep you could swim in them. His pink cheeks were almost gaunt, the man reed thin. His lips were the only thing full about him. They were too full, almost sensual, a luscious red and…He stiffened. Daniels was right. He was mad. Contemplating the man’s lips, for God’s sake. He didn’t give a good Goddamn if the man was light on his feet.

What mattered was if he was a lying bastard.

Damned if he knew if Daniels spoke the truth. Before Garrett could question him further, there was an explosion outside.

The unmistakable sound of gunshots ripped into the silence of the night.

All thoughts of his passenger fled Garrett’s mind. He fought to maintain his seat when the horses bolted into a breakneck pace, tossing them about like sacks of seed.

Shouts and curses rent the air.

Swearing, Garrett lunged for the door. The coach veered sharply around a corner and slammed him into the unforgiving barrier, his hand gripping the latch. The carriage tipped at a precarious angle. For one dangerous moment, it hovered suspended half upright. It tilted toward Garrett, before it flipped onto its side. Well sprung and luxurious, the vehicle was not constructed to take city turns at full speed.

Garrett’s shoulders slammed into the doorjamb and his head snapped back. Before he could draw breath, Daniels’s body catapulted onto his. The man’s screams echoed through the cabin, then instantly died when his head smacked into the doorframe above Garrett’s shoulder. His body slumped against Garrett’s, still and silent.

Shouts drifted in from outside, men’s voices yelling to one another.

He recognized Havers barking a response and trusted him to handle the clamor while Garrett eased Daniels’s crumpled
body off of him and scrambled to his feet. He knelt on the door now flush with the ground between the two carriage seats and leaned over Daniels’s unconscious figure. His screams still echoed in Garrett’s ears, rattling him.

His palm slid over the man’s temple and shoved his hair back, feeling the beginning of an egg swelling. The skin was not broken, but as he studied Daniels’s temple more closely, he discovered the thick brown hair was but a wig. Underneath, blond strands were drawn back from the man’s head. Surprise filled Garrett. Other than bishops and barristers, wigs were long out of fashion.

The thump of noises against the side of the coach distracted him, and he looked up as the door above him swung open. His coachman Ned’s anxious features peered down at him. “My lord? You all right?”

“Yes, fine. Havers?”

“He’s following one of ’em two bastards who shot at us. Havers took one down.”