One Night With a Spy (16 page)

The water had risen well past his knees while he was pondering his situation. Elliot stared up at the ring of light, willing someone to develop a sudden uncontrollable thirst for nice cool well water.

Julia rounded the corner into the front hall and nearly ran into Marcus. "Have you seen Elliot?" she asked without preamble.

He grinned at her. "Elliot has disappeared? There must be a bit of perspiration in the offing."

She didn't smile back. "I'm worried. He promised he would help me with the horses when the well was finished."

Marcus frowned slightly. "Why did you not ask me for help?"

Julia looked away. How could she explain that she didn't trust herself to do
anything
with him, for she kept finding herself overcome with the desire to… well,
desire
was as specific as she dared be, even to herself.

"That is beside the point. I know he would not have forgotten. Furthermore, his horse is still here."

Marcus folded his arms and leaned one shoulder against the wall. He looked like a lord.

She blinked. Where had that thought come from? She knew the peerage of England as well as she knew her own family tree. There was no Marcus Blythe-Goodman in the House of Lords.

"I know you're fond of Elliot, my lady," he said. "But we both know he's a bit unreliable."

She tilted her head. "We do? How do we know that, pray tell?" She folded her arms as well, aping his stance. "He worked as hard as you to haul water, and he was right with you during the stable fire last night, and he has spent the entire day cleaning the well at your side."

He scowled. "That is true. I wonder why I have such an impression of him, then?"

She raised a brow. "Because he works very hard to cast just that impression. I should think you would have noticed."

He blinked. "I'll have you know that I take Elliot very seriously… especially the fact that he was out of sight when the house was searched, as well as when the stable caught fire."

She shook her head. "I have already dismissed those suspicions. Furman at the inn confirmed that he was indeed in his room during the ransacking and when the well was tampered with, and you know very well that his poor horse could never have made it back to the house ahead of ours to set the fire."

"How… efficient you are." He grimaced slightly but she could tell she had convinced him. "So what do we do, mount a search? Isn't that a bit extreme? He's a grown man, after all."

Julia chewed her lip. "He was assisting you at the well, was he not? That is where Meg and Igby last saw him."

Marcus nodded. "That is where I last saw him also."

She spread her hands. "Then let us begin at the well."

«
^
»

I long for a strong hand to lift me from the darkness of my melancholy.

The yard was deserted and everything seemed perfectly normal… but there was one thing out of place.

Marcus bent swiftly to retrieve something from the ground. "This is the mallet Meg used to pound together the sieve box."

Julia leaned over to peer at it. "Don't be silly. My staff never leaves valuable tools lying about." Then she gasped. "Is that—"

Marcus touched the head of the mallet. His hand came away with a smear of blood on one fingertip. "It is. It seems our prankster has just graduated to attempted murderer."

She caught her breath. "Murder?"

"There's no sign of struggle. He must have been knocked unconscious immediately." He straightened and looked all about them. "Look for marks where someone might have dragged a bod—Elliot."

They circled urgently but carefully, desperate for some sign of where Elliot had been taken. They met on the other side of the cistern.

"There is no sign of anything of the sort," Julia said, her voice tight. "There is a great deal of ash on the cobbles. You would think we'd be able to detect
something
."

Marcus worked his jaw, frustrated. "Elliot is not a small man. I'm not sure I could carry him off that neatly."

"But if he wasn't carried off, then he would still be here—"

As one, their gazes shot to the neatly covered cistern.

"Oh, no."

Horror shuddered through Julia. Marcus didn't bother with a reaction. He simply acted, flinging himself at the cistern cover and dragging at it with all his might.

"Beppo! Meg! Igby!" Julia ran to pull at the other iron ring.

The Barrowby staff piled out through the kitchen door and came at a run. "My lady?"

"Get a strong rope, quickly!" Julia gasped. Meg took over at her ring and the cistern cover was lifted and dragged aside.

Julia flung herself down on the edge. "Elliot?
Elliot
?" She looked up. "We need lanterns. I cannot
s—"

"Well, I… can't either," a rasping voice echoed from the darkness. "You just… bloody blinded me."

Igby came running with a lantern. They lowered it quickly down. Finally they saw him, clinging to the slippery side of the well, only his gray exhausted face above water.

"Oh, thank God!" Julia brushed away the blurring in her eyes. "Elliot, dear, are you injured?"

"My… head hurts… and I'm cold… and I'd sell Marcus's soul for a hot toddy… but I'm well enough."

Beppo came running with a length of sturdy rope. Marcus threw one end down the shaft. "Elliot, tie it about your chest!"

Julia watched as Elliot made a grab for the rope—and slipped completely under the water. She held her breath for him, but he did not reappear for a long moment.

Then his head broke water, but he seemed disoriented. He fumbled weakly with the rope for a long moment.

"Do you have it?" Marcus called.

Elliot seemed to be fading before their eyes. "Hands… can't seem to…" He slipped beneath the surface once more.

Julia looked up at Marcus in a panic. "We're losing him!"

"No we're not." Marcus pulled the rope back up in a few swift motions. He tossed the dry end to Meg and tied the other about his own chest. "Beppo, bring another rope. Meg, lower me in. I don't want to land on him."

"Heaven… forbid."

Elliot had resurfaced. Julia laughed damply. "Hang on, dear. Marcus is coming for you."

"I… knew it. Always… the damned hero."

Marcus was lowered in by Meg and Beppo. The Igbys took the other rope and made a loop for Elliot in the end. They passed it down to Marcus, who quickly had Elliot ready to raise.

"He's losing consciousness," Marcus called. "He cannot climb."

"You stay put then, sir," Meg called back and let Marcus's rope go to help the others with Elliot. Julia stayed where she was, pressed to the opening of the well.

"Are you all right, Marcus?"

"It's b-bloody cold down h-here," Marcus said calmly.

Julia raised her head. "Pickles, have hot baths ready for the gentlemen!"

"Already got the water heatin', milady."

Elliot's soaked head crested the lip of the well. Julia reached to wipe wet hair from his eyes. "Oh, God. He's as cold as death."

Meg hefted him out. "I'll plunk 'im in that tub then."

Igby, Igby, and Igby began to pull Marcus up. Julia heard muffled cursing and one sharp "Ow!" but after a moment, Marcus had climbed the well using his feet and was hefting himself over the wall.

He was dripping icy water and one hand was bleeding, but he was grinning. "You're going to have to pump that again, lads," he told the Igbys. "I don't know about you, but I don't fancy drinking Elliot pot liquor."

Julia slapped him on the bicep. "Don't laugh! I'm worried about him."

Marcus laughed. "I wouldn't be too worried. Before he passed out, he told me that he could see directly into your gown when you were leaning over."

Julia gasped and clapped her hands over her bodice, but then she ruined her 'offended lady" bit by snickering. "I was simply trying to give him something to live for," she said loftily.

Marcus shook his head. "That would revive a dead man," he said with a short bow. He turned to stride after Pickles to his bath, leaving Julia to ponder the flash of dark intensity that had crossed his face. She had the feeling he wasn't jesting anymore.

Her fiancé was warm and dry and had been inspected by both the Middlebarrow physician and Quentin.

"He's had a bad chill and needs a great deal of hot tea, but he'll fare well enough," the doctor, said.

"If 'n 'e was an 'orse, I'd feed 'im 'ot gruel and cover 'im with good wool blankets," Quentin had stated

To be on the safe side, Julia took both judgments to heart until Elliot pleaded with her to stop. Perhaps it was guilt over the way she'd come to prefer another man while she was promised to him, or guilt over the way he'd come to danger through his association with her, or guilt over the way she'd planned to use him for her own convenience, but Julia could not overcome the compulsion to fix Elliot.

Now he sat in the parlor with her, wearing a suit of Aldus's antiquated clothing and grudgingly downing yet another cup of hot tea.

"Elliot, you must leave Barrowby," she said abruptly. "I cannot have you risking your life for nothing."

Elliot blinked, then put the tea down before he scalded himself. "It is not for nothing."

"Yes," she insisted, her voice filled with gentle regret. "It is."

He frowned. "No, it is for you. You and I—" He stopped, awareness dawning in his eyes. "Ah. I see now. This is the bit where you ask if we might remain friends, isn't it?"

She bit her lip. "I'm caught out. I'm so sorry, Elliot. I'm doing this badly."

"As if anyone could do it otherwise." He swore beneath his breath. "You've taken a fancy to Blythe-Goodman, haven't you?"

Julia closed her eyes. "I—"

He snorted. "I knew it the day I brought him to call on you. Big, good-looking bloke like that—what chance did the rest of us have?"

She opened her eyes to give him a tenderly repressing glare. "I'm not a game of chance, Elliot."

He crossed his arms. "My lady, winning you is the very definition of the term 'lucky bastard.' "

She laughed shortly, shaking her head. "Ah, Elliot, you truly know how to sweep a girl's feet from beneath her."

He looked down for a moment, then raised his gaze, all superficial hardness gone from his expression. "My lady, exactly how well do you know Marcus?"

She drew her brows together. "Odd. That is precisely how he asked me about you."

Elliot did not relieve the intensity of his gaze. "There is more to him than meets the eye."

She blinked. "I vow I've had this very conversation before." Then she sat and folded her hands on her lap. "Elliot, do you
know
of any reason why I should not continue my association with Marcus?"

Elliot's gaze slipped from hers. "I don't know anything… precisely. I have some suspicions that he is not simply the man he seems."

"As do I." She smiled at his evident surprise. "Elliot, do you think I would risk myself and Barrowby in the hands of someone I know nothing about?"

He frowned slightly. "And what do you know?"

"I know that he is brave enough to break open a lion's den to save its life." She began to list on her fingers. "I know that he is honorable enough to help save
you
even though he took exception to our engagement. I know that he is not afraid of hard work, or of wading knee deep in privy muck, or of admitting that he is in the wrong, or—"

Elliot held up a hand. "Pray stop, before I fling myself back into the well. Sir Flawless might have to leap in and save me. Again."

She took that hand in her own. His gaze fell to where they touched. "Elliot, you are my friend. I don't know everything about you, but I trust you. Do you have that same trust in me?"

He raised his gaze. "I do. I shouldn't, but I do."

She smiled. "Then trust that I
know
Marcus. I see the man inside the cheap superfine, behind the handsome face. I don't know everything about him, but I know he is a good man, in the same way that I know you are a good man."

He shook his head. "I'm sure I haven't done a thing to give you that impression."

She released his hand and stood. "Elliot, don't be a dolt. Now go find some wealthy lady who will appreciate you properly!"

He stood as well and grinned at her. "I did, and she threw me over for an oversized lout with a penchant for hairy beasts and privy muck." He bowed over her hand. "My best, forever, my lady."

Watching Elliot ride away in her carriage was a relief, but only a temporary one. His suspicions of Marcus had sunk beneath the spell of attraction Julia had been under for days and triggered a few questions of her own.

The man concealed on the hillside watched as one of the gentlemen was carried away from the house, followed dejectedly by his pathetic old mount tied behind. So, she'd rid herself of the dandy. The fellow had been a mistake, one that she would thank him for correcting when she found who awaited her instead.

As he watched, the other one, the larger man with the irritating swagger, brought his finer horse out onto the drive and mounted easily. Ah, leaving with his friend after all.

It seemed as if his work here were nearly done. She would not wish to stay much longer, he'd wager, alone on her troublesome estate.

He would give her a day and a night to stew in her solitude, then he would arrive with proper fanfare, introduce himself, and offer her the world.

As soon as she emptied her accounts into his keeping, of course.

Very neatly done. Pity it was over so soon. He'd enjoyed seeing the pain on her pretty face.

Then again, he had one more bit of bad news to look forward to. He wished he could see her face when she discovered that her precious pet had been captured and killed by angry farmers in the next dell.

In the village taproom, Marcus joined Elliot where he sat morosely drinking his ale.

Elliot didn't look up. "She jilted me."

Marcus sat opposite him. "I know."

Elliot shrugged. "That isn't the worst of it—she told me to leave Middlebarrow entirely. She said it wasn't a good situation for me at the moment." Elliot dropped his head and laughed bitterly. "
She's
protecting
me
!"