In for a Penny (28 page)

Nev began to hope he might be successful. “Go home. Go home peacefully before anyone else sees you. I promise I will do everything in my power to save your friends. I am already hiring the best lawyers I can find—”

“Hang lawyers!” someone yelled, and the mood of the mob shifted to violence. “Lawyers are lying, thieving buggers! Free the men now!”

“See how
you
like losing your family!”

“The only one who might identify us to the magistrate is
you
!”

A rock flew out of the crowd and struck Nev hard on the shoulder.

Penelope reflected that she and Lady Bedlow were very different women. Penelope wished only for peace to sit silently by the window and watch the drive for Nev’s return. Lady Bedlow’s fear, on the other hand, rendered her even more voluble than usual. She kept up a steady stream of anxious questions (whose answers she did not wait to hear), disjointed reminiscences about Nev’s prowess in school as an orator, and vows of vengeance against any laborers who dared to so much as raise their voices in her son’s presence. In this Mr. Snively encouraged her until Penelope could no longer tell where her hangover ended and her nerves began. Or, God, her morning sickness, what if she were really going to have a baby and something happened to Nev?

She wouldn’t think about it. She couldn’t. If he didn’t come back, and she had told him she might leave him—

There was a brief silence. Penelope drew a grateful breath,
and then Lady Bedlow said softly, “Mr. Snively, if he doesn’t come back—”

“You must be brave,” Mr. Snively said. “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.”

“For God’s sake be silent!” Penelope’s voice was half a shriek, and all the conversations in the room stopped abruptly. “Not another word! You’re driving me mad!” Lady Bedlow’s jaw dropped, hurt tears starting in her eyes. Everyone was staring. Penelope knew she ought to feel ashamed, but she didn’t. She only wanted Nev.

A woman she did not know put a hand on her arm and began speaking in a low, sympathetic voice. Penelope shook her hand off. “Don’t touch me!” She turned back to the window. There was someone coming up the drive, but it was a woman, so Penelope wasn’t interested.

Whispers rose around the room in a wave. Penelope didn’t care, so long as they left her alone. She felt someone coming up behind her, and tensed for a confrontation.

“Steady on,” Thirkell said. “Nev’s talked his way out of worse scrapes than this.” He didn’t say anything else, only stood solidly at her shoulder. Penelope felt comforted.

She watched the woman come slowly up the drive and realized it was Agnes Cusher. Her heart quickened. Had Agnes been at the riot? Did she bear news?

Agnes was almost at the door. Penelope glanced at Lady Bedlow, sobbing quietly into Mr. Snively’s handkerchief. She had better hear what Agnes had to say herself first.

“I have to use the necessary,” she told Thirkell, then slipped out of the room and half ran to the front door. The footmen must all be searching for Sir Jasper; no one saw her ease the door open and slip out.

Agnes started back, looking shaken. “B—bad news—”

Penelope closed her eyes and prayed she wouldn’t faint. “What happened? Is he alive?”

“Who?”

Penelope was at once disappointed and transcendently relieved that the woman had no news of Nev.

“I’ve come about the girl. Miss Raeburn. She’s taken bad, calling for you.”

“Calling for
me
?”

“You’ve got to come and talk to her. I’m afraid she’ll do herself a hurt. She liked you, that time you came to visit.”

Penelope did not want to go. She wanted to stay here and wait for Nev.
Selfish
, she reprimanded herself. It did not hold the same weight it once had.

But what would Nev say if Penelope let his mistress suffer alone? What if Miss Wray were really to injure herself?

Agnes actually reached out as if she would take Penelope’s arm, though she didn’t quite dare. “Come on. I shouldn’t even have left her alone for this long. Not with the men up in arms.”

A fresh fear struck Penelope. She should not go out with only another woman, not today. It might prove dangerous. But she couldn’t take Lord Thirkell with her; she had to leave him here to protect Nev’s mother. And she could not ask for any other escort, because any gentleman present would be sure to recognize Nev’s mistress, and it would be a scandal.

“Please, you
must
!”

The desperation in Agnes’s voice decided Penelope. “Let’s go.” She started down the steps.

Amy, her eyes closed, leaned against one of the huge oaks that lined the long drive to the Grange. Sure enough, Kit had known the way, but it had seemed to take years to get even this far—years of putting one foot down in front of the other, sweating, and struggling for breath. She had spent the last month indoors, in rooms with tiny windows; the sun was blinding. The heat too was unbearable, even in the shade. It
was at least another quarter mile to the house, and the world was already starting to wobble around the edges.

“Come ’long.” Kit tugged at Amy’s skirts. “Shilling.”

Amy opened her eyes reluctantly, seeing the little boy through a wash of blue produced by too much sunlight.

Kit waddled a few feet toward the manor and stopped, staring at Amy insistently.

“Coming, Kit.” Amy pushed herself upright and started forward. She made it three steps before she tumbled and fell, the flats of her arms hitting the gravel with a painful scraping. She lay with her cheek against the ground and stared at the rolling park that was Nev’s birthright.

Something terrible was going to happen to Nev’s wife because Amy was too weak to make it another quarter of a mile. Her last thought before she lost consciousness was that the heroine of a play would have managed it.

Nev’s arm throbbed where the rock had hit it. “Think about what you are doing,” he shouted, placing a calming hand on the restive horse. “Who is tending the harvest while you play at storming the Bastille?”

There was silence.

“I know my father didn’t treat you well. I know you have no reason to trust me. But I’m trying, and I am going to save your friends. You aren’t helping them by proving Sir Jasper right that you all wish to murder the gentry in their beds. Bring in the harvest and be patient—”

Aaron Smith looked uncertain.

Helen Spratt stepped out of the crowd. “We’ve been patient an awful long time.” The coarse tones of her voice cut effortlessly through Nev’s words. “I’ve been patient, and my mother was patient before me, and my grandmother. I ain’t going to be patient anymore. I’m getting Harry back.” She leveled her fowling piece at Nev’s face from two feet away. “Get out of my way.”

The crowd drew back, gasps and shocked whispers rising.

“Helen,” Aaron said, real alarm in his voice.

Nev’s heart pounded, and Sir Jasper’s horse snorted behind him, pacing backward.
I can’t die
, he thought.
I have responsibilities.
He had to stand aside. But if he did, they would march to Greygloss and do something unalterably foolish, and they would all be hanged, every last one.

Besides, Penelope and his mother were at Greygloss.

He straightened. “No. If you want to hang, the quickest way to it is by shooting me. Well, here I am.”

“
Helen
,” Aaron Smith hissed. “Don’t.”

She hesitated.

“Then stand down!” Nev roared. “If you want to change anything, we have to work together!”

“Work together my arse.” She fired the gun.

“Are you sure we’re on the right path?” Penelope followed Agnes down a little trail that skirted the edge of the Greygloss woods. Through gaps in the trees she caught glimpses of the Gothic ruin on its hill coming closer, so she supposed they must be going in the right direction. Still, she did not like being so near the spring guns. Of course the traps would hardly sneak out of the forest and ambush her on the path, but—Nev had told her never to wander the Greygloss grounds alone. She wished she had listened to him.

“I think I’ve lived here a little longer than you, my lady,” Agnes threw back over her shoulder as she hurried along ten paces ahead.

“Agnes—” Penelope began warningly.

“Just be quiet. We’re almost there.” She went round a curve in the path and was out of Penelope’s sight. Penelope hurried to catch up.

She almost ran straight into Sir Jasper. Agnes hovered anxiously at his elbow. He smiled at her, and her earlier nausea
came crashing back. In his hand he held an elegant dueling pistol.

“Here, drink this.”

Amy came back to the world in a haze of blissful shade and something cool sliding down her throat. She opened her eyes. A sandy-haired, tanned face hovered over her, and a strong arm supported her shoulders.

“Good, you’re awake.” There was a faint Scots burr in his voice. “Here, have some more water.”

Amy sipped the water gratefully. She was reflexively calculating how to use her position in his arms to lay a groundwork for seduction, when everything that had happened came back to her. She sat up with a start, nearly knocking her forehead into his. They were in an elegant sitting room that seemed to be inexplicably missing half of its furniture. “Kit?” she called.

“Your little boy is fine. I sent him down to the kitchens for a snack.” The man looked oddly familiar.

“He’s not mine. How long have I been asleep? I have to see Nev—Lord Bedlow—at once!”

The man stiffened. “Lord and Lady Bedlow have gone out. I believe they went to Greygloss.”

A hot spurt of frustration boiled up inside Amy. She didn’t curse, she never cursed—but she
wanted
to. She shot to her feet, then regretted it when her knees refused to take her weight. Her rescuer sighed and snaked an arm around her waist, holding her up.

Amy clutched at his coat. “You’ve got to take me there. Lady Bedlow is in danger.”

The man started. “Penelope in danger? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know precisely. But I overheard Agnes Cusher talking to Sir Jasper. It sounded like they were plotting to hurt her. You must take me to her at once!”

The man frowned. “What exactly did you hear?”

Amy nearly ground her teeth together. She didn’t have time for this! “They spoke so softly that I heard very little.” She was painfully aware how thin that sounded. “But I distinctly heard Lady Bedlow’s name, and I am morally certain they were planning some mischief.”

He nodded as if she had confirmed something he already suspected. “You’ve been ill,” he said gently. “You shouldn’t be walking about alone. You might have suffered a serious setback.”

“I am not delirious! I need to get to Greygloss!”

“Why would Sir Jasper want to hurt Penelope?” His voice was the embodiment of patience and reason. “You’re sick, and anxious, that’s all. Just lie down, and I’m sure—”

It was all for nothing. She had actually made it here and now it was all for nothing because she was a female and weak and had fainted, and why would such a capable-looking male believe a word she said? Amy reached out and overturned a bowl of fruit. Porcelain shattered and an apple rolled under a far table and it was the most satisfying thing she had ever seen. “Listen to me! Why won’t you listen? I am
not delirious
! He’ll hurt her!”

He looked really alarmed, and for a moment Amy thought she had won. Then he reached out and seized her wrists. “You’ll injure yourself. Please, everything is all right. Sit down, and Lady Bedlow will be home directly. You can talk to her then.”

Amy began to cry, childish tears of frustration and weakness. She knew she was only making it worse, but she couldn’t stop.

“There, there.” Handing her a handkerchief, the man gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t cry. It’s all right.”

“It’s not all right,” Amy sobbed.

Nev was never sure if Helen had meant merely to scare him or if she had terrible aim, but the shot flew harmlessly into the air over the horse’s back.

The spirited Thoroughbred reared up, his hooves flashing dangerously close to Nev’s face. Struggling to keep hold of the reins, Nev felt something give in his arm as the horse prepared to plunge directly into the mob.

Nev hung on to the reins as hard as he could, wishing desperately he had Palomides with him instead.
“Whoa!”
The horse reared again. Heart pounding, Nev threw himself in front of the horse, shoving Helen Spratt out of range of its hooves. He dodged a fierce kick and lunged, grabbing the bridle from the other side as well. When the horse next reared up, he hung on grimly, letting all his weight pull the gelding back toward earth. “Whoa!” he shouted again. “Calm down!”

He might not have managed it if Aaron Smith had not darted forward and jerked on the bridle with a casual strength that surprised Nev.

It seemed like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds before the horse stilled, nostrils flaring and eyes rolling. Nev, trembling with relief and anger, took a few precious moments to soothe the horse, running his hand over the beast’s flanks and whispering to him. Only when he trusted his voice not to shake did he turn around.

“Sir Jasper.” Penelope was pleased to hear that her voice did not shake. “I am glad to see you. There has been some trouble, and I believe you are needed to read the Riot Act. Mr. Snively is waiting for you at the house.”

“Of course there is trouble,” Sir Jasper said. “I warned you that you could not coddle these folk. I
warned
you what would come of it if you did not keep them on a tight rein. I hope you are satisfied when our houses are all burnt to the ground.”

Penelope shrank back at the poison in his voice. “I doubt any homes will be burnt if you are quick,” she said, trying to maintain her calm. “Please, do not let me detain you.”

He laughed. “There will be time for that when I’ve dealt with you. You’ve meddled enough.”

“What do you mean?” Afraid she knew, Penelope tried to look around without being too obvious about it. There was no one in sight but Agnes, and Agnes would not meet her eyes.
Miss Wray never had a relapse at all
, Penelope realized. That was when she began to be really frightened.