The Belligerent Miss Boynton AND The Lurid Lady Lockport (Two Companion Full-Length Regency Novels) (35 page)

He tiptoed the few steps of the hallway to listen at another, larger door, and was rewarded by the sound of his wife's voice as she made a rather odd statement: "Here comes another one, Aunt Agatha. They're much more frequent now."

What the devil was going on? He tried the door unsuccessfully, but the homemade lock was not made to long withstand the strength at the command of a man possessed with fear for his wife. As the lock gave with only a faint click, Jared leapt cat-like into the room, pistol aimed and cocked, only to come up short at the sight that greeted him.

Amanda was propped up in an enormous feather bed, wearing an outlandish pink nightgown that all but drowned her. Its neatly embroidered neckline gaped badly, and the sleeves had been rolled up at least a half dozen times. Pacing the uneven plank floor with her gray hair sadly disarranged and a look of harassed impatience on her face was his Aunt Agatha, still in her cape because the room was quite chilly.

That problem was being remedied, however, by a hulking youth who was fanning the flames of a small fire on the hearth. It was this person who claimed Jared's immediate attention, and he quietly shut the door and pointed both pistols at the stooping man as he quietly advised him to raise his hands.

"Whatever for, Nephew?" Lady Chezwick barked in exasperation. "Dear Peter here was only trying to make us more comfortable, unless of course you have any long-suppressed urge to rid yourself of your only aunt by allowing her to freeze to death. Oh, do put those horrible things away and let us get on with our business. I'm glad to see you, by the by, but you took your own sweet time in getting here, didn't you?"

Jared let the pistols drop limply to his sides at this cavalier treatment of his derring-do. He was speedily brought to his senses by the sound of Amanda's unavoidably delayed greeting, offered just as soon as her latest pain passed. He ran swiftly to her side and gathered her clumsy figure into his arms.

"Are you all right, darling? I've been out of my mind with worry." This question came from Amanda, who was rather miffed when Jared laughed softly and commented that
he
was not being held hostage by anyone, and that her concerned question would have sounded better had it come first from him.

"But what are you doing in this bed, imp?" he asked in confusion. "You look lost in that tent of a gown. Wouldn't it have been warmer to have remained dressed."

Lady Chezwick attempted to inform her nephew that the birth of his heir seemed imminent, but Jared had really spoken randomly, to cover his great relief at having found Amanda safe. He interrupted his aunt's jumbled explanation to begin the second phase of his mission, inquiring into the location of his despicable cousin so that he could separate that man's stringy body into a dozen or more unequal parts.

Peter spoke up then. "There's two men with him, my lord, two very nasty men. But if you would please not hurt the master, my lord? He really don't mean any real harm," the servant explained haltingly. "It's that terrible Lady Wade who talked him round to the thing. Scary, that's what that lady is. But it's a game to the master, sort of like playacting, you see. Not overfull in the brain-box neither, begging your lordship's pardon, him being your kin and all."

Jared looked to his wife, who confirmed this with a single nod of her head. "I've had ample time to observe Freddie for myself, dearest, and what Peter says is true. The ninny weaves a fine drama, says all the right words with the correct bluster, but I just can't see him in any of the leading parts. In truth, I'd be willing to wager he wishes he'd never started this whole thing. It's Lady Wade who frightens me."

Lady Chezwick was not to be overlooked in any cataloging of Freddie's character, the lack of it, or his degree of guilt in the attempted murder or her own kidnapping. "That spindly-shanked jackanapes below hasn't the brains to find his way out of a room, even if the only doorway were decorated in foot-high red letters spelling out 'Go this way, you vacant-faced twit!'"

Jared dismissed his aunt's small joke and, unaware of any problem other than the most obvious ones, jibed at Amanda, "You're destined always to pick up strays, aren't you, my love? All right, if you believe this boy is to be trusted I'll bow to your judgment. Freddie, however, we'll discuss at some other time. Kevin is on his way with Bo, if they haven't already taken up their places outside. With all this idle chatter we've dawdled away more than enough time for their part of the plan to be put into action. Freddie has been very accommodating in eliminating Lady Wade and isolating the both of you out of sight and sound, so things are progressing quite well. Indeed, we might have spared time for a hand of whist, were we so inclined."

As his aunt made a rude face at him, Jared went to the draperies and pulled them back before placing a pair oflighted candles at the window, letting his friends know that Freddie had two hired thugs with him. In a few moments a hail of pebbles pinged lightly against the panes. "Ah, that would mean Kevin understands and is in place, ready to move at my signal." He kissed his wife on the forehead and told her to stay where she was and keep warm.

"
Hummph!
" muttered Lady Chezwick, who had been feeling quite neglected anyway. "Where do you think she would be going at a time like this—to a tea party with our own mad King?"

"Aunt!" Amanda warned, and the lady reluctantly held her tongue.

After employing a candle once more, to signal Kevin that he was in position and ready to make his own move to capture Freddie, Jared left the bedroom and listened outside the door until he heard Peter bar it with a chair. He then tiptoed to the head of the stairs and waited in the shadows, mentally picturing the events taking place in the darkness outside the cottage.

Jared had instructed Bo and Kevin to eliminate any guards, but he had left the method of removal to their discretion. If those two stalwart protectors of helpless females approached the problem in their usual hey-go-mad way, it was no more than could be expected of the same gentlemen who had once dared a midnight invasion of the second floor bedchamber of one of their Cambridge deans in order to gain an audience with that man. That mad start was later explained to be in the way of pointing out to the old prunepuss the humor to be derived from the presence of a monkey sporting a top hat and cutaway coat at evening prayers.

The dean was not to be deflected from his set course of action by this nocturnal visit, alas, which had included the dismissal of the miscreants for the remainder of the term. Indeed, those poor innocent lambs, whose intentions had been of the most noble, found themselves (and one rather rank-smelling monkey) firmly banished from the scene of their disgrace for the space of two terms.

Some dozen years of exposure to polite society had perhaps helped discourage such lapses, but Bo's and Kevin's unusual solution to the problem of the lookout and his mate proved that once-rampant flair for the ridiculous to have been only shallowly concealed beneath a thin veneer of sophistication.

As Kevin and Bo watched from their hiding place in the shadows, one of Freddie's hirelings completed the physically comforting chore of relieving himself against the cottage wall.

His cudgel shoved beneath his arm, he was busy re-buttoning his breeches when a slightly bored voice coming from the blackness drawled softly, "I must say, my good fellow, that's a deuced shabby way to treat good English soil.
Tch,tch
," Kevin continued silkily as the man stood stock-still, surprise keeping him rooted to the ground for the moment. "Just see what you've done, there won't be sprout nor flower in that whole patch come spring if you persist in these wanton showers of destruction."

"Wot does Oi cares for yer blinkin' posies " the man replied as he turned about to search out the disembodied voice of his taunter, still groping at his buttons. Before his slow wits could more than begin to alert him to the full extent of the danger he was in, he felt a discreet tap on his shoulder and whirled around yet again. This time he was presented with a clear view of his unexpected company before a beefy fist solved all his problems of how to deal with this turn of events by effectively dropping him into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Kevin had advanced in time to receive the unconscious form of the now-harmless lookout, and Bo quickly shared the burden by taking firm hold of Clem's ankles. They carried him off to the mill and the ungentle arms of Jennings, who took great delight in stuffing the unprotesting thug into his own recently-vacated hideyhole.

The pair then returned to the cottage and Kevin, first placing a finger over his lips to warn Bo to silence, banged on the heavy door and called out, "Me bloody arse is 'alf froze. I wants a spell inside, I does. Git yer carcass out 'ere, yer lazy lout, afore me dabblers snap off."

Shortly sounds of shuffling footsteps and half-hearted curses reached their ears, and they took up positions flat against the wall on either side of the door.

The light from the fireplace cut a pie-shaped wedge in the cobbles outside before the shadow of a man appeared, closely followed by the fellow himself. "Yer ain't bin out 'ere no more'n 'alf a blinkin' minute, ya bawlin' babe. Git o'er ta where me peepers can spy ya out, ya bloodless ninny, and it's warmin' yer arse real good I'll be." The man waited for an answer, and when there was none he stepped further out into the path to call, "Clem? Where the bloody 'ell are ya, ya thievin' 'ound?"

"Why, if I may be so bold as to put a word in here, sir, I might be able to give you the whereabouts of the worthy Clem," a silken voice informed him just before the cottage door was silently nudged closed.

"Wot the—" the kidnapper breathed in confusion as two well-dressed London gentlemen moved toward him. He took a tentative step backwards before the chubby one sighed and commiserated, "Too bad. Nowhere to go, you know." Freddie's hired man turned to face the second gentleman, but found his demeanor no less encouraging as that man simply lifted one neatly–-manicured finger and crooked it in a gesture that beckoned the frantic man closer.

"No, Oi don't," the man croaked, for his throat seemed strangely tight.

The ensuing near-silent struggle was painfully predictable in its outcome, and soon a second storage bin was put to good use by the highly-delighted Jennings.

"Beggin' yer leave, sirs, but I can't but puzzle why you went to such trouble over these two no-goods. Tappin' em so gentle-like on their noggins when a knife betwixt the ribs would be just as quiet—and a heap less work than heftin' em inta me so as ta keep em mum," Jennings put in, as he lowered the lid on the second neatly hemp-wrapped body.

"Lud, no! Messy. Can't stomach the sight of claret," Bo responded, horrified.

Kevin interpreted. "What Mr. Chevington means is that we, as law-abiding subjects, abhor unnecessary violence. Right, Bo? Besides, he continued, with a grin that made him resemble a slightly raffish choirboy, "it was much more fun this way."

#

Inside the cottage, Freddie was fast becoming hysterical with fear. That his two hirelings had disappeared boded no good, but had they merely run off, or had they fallen afoul of Jared?
Why does nothing good ever happen to me
, Freddie wailed in his heart of hearts. Even Peter had fallen victim to the Delaney charm and deserted him. He should be standing with his master, protecting him from Jared.

Freddie's thin hold on his nerves finally slipped away and he ran to the bottom of the stairs and screamed out his valet's name. "Peter. Peter! Come here at once. Everything is going wrong. This was a mistake. I wish to return to London."

When Freddie received no answer to his request he was forced to consider the last of his options—Blanche. But before he could begin to climb the staircase, the menacing form of his cousin appeared at the head of the flight like some horrid ogre from a particularly violent nightmare.

"I think it is appropriate at this time to say something profound, such as: The play is over, Freddie. The actors have no more lines, and the audience has all gone home. All that is left is the moral to this twisted tale, one most assuredly denouncing the evils of jealousy and greed." As he spoke, Jared descended the steep flight, his eyes never leaving the thoroughly-cowed form of his cousin.

"It wasn't my idea, Jared, none of it. I swear. It was all Blanche's scheme," Freddie babbled in a thin, wailing voice. "It was her snickering and suggesting that drove me to it. And you, Jared. You forced me to it. I —I was desperate and not thinking clearly. Forgive me, dear cousin, for I meant no real harm. Your wife and the old biddy have suffered no injury, surely you see that."

"Dear me, yes," came Kevin's amused voice from the doorway. "There's a grain of truth in there somewhere, Jared, if we can but find it. For you did do this poor lad dirty, proclaiming loud and long how you'd never wed. And then you tugged his little rug of security from beneath him by not only bracketing yourself but by showing all the signs of begetting a bloody legion of little Delaneys to push your cousin out of his place in line." Obviously Kevin's first flush of anger had faded, and rather than putting Freddie to the tortures of the rack as he had promised himself he would do, he was now finding himself feeling almost sorry for the man.

Bo seemed to be of the same forgiving nature. "Shabby, that's what it is. For shame, Jared."

Jared listened to his friends' judgment of his inhumanities toward his cousin without bothering to inform them of his already-formulated plan to ship Freddie off to America, where he would receive an allowance of one thousand pounds per year as long as he agreed to keep his high-heeled feet firmly planted in the soil of that country. To do otherwise would only bring a dirty mantle of scandal down around his wife's shoulders, and that he would avoid at any cost.

Lady Wade, however, was a different bag of worms altogether, for her hatred and desire for revenge seemed to know no bounds. Yes, her disposition could prove to be a bother.

Just then Kevin, who had disappeared upstairs, reappeared with the disheveled Blanche bumping and tripping down the stairs at his heels. Her strangled mouthings prompted Kevin to remove her gag, and she immediately launched into a scathing denunciation of Freddie and an equally earnest declaration of her own innocence.