The Gallows Bride (11 page)

With a
soft smile of thanks, Jemima took his arm and allowed him to gently
guide her down the stairs toward the lavishly furnished room that
appeared to be the breakfast room.

As she
entered, Edward, Dominic and Sir Dunnicliffe, who were already
seated around the table, got to their feet, murmuring greetings as
they waited for her to sit.

Dominic
took the opportunity to quickly introduce her to Sir Dunnicliffe,
once Sebastian had eased her into a chair.

Jemima
jumped as a slightly dishevelled Peter appeared at her elbow,
clearly newly awoken, but apparently determined not to allow her to
stray too far from him. Taking a seat beside her, he winked at her
and murmured a gentle ‘good morning’, sitting back to watch as the
footman swung into action.

Within
moments, Jemima was staring down at a huge, heavily laden plate of
the most sumptuous food she had ever seen in her life, with a cup
of tea at her elbow, and a rack of toast and pot of strawberry jam
before her.

She
looked askance at Dominic, only for him to smile secretively back
at her, before returning to his own meal.

Shaking
her head ruefully at the vast array of pie, bacon, eggs, meets and
bread before her, Jemima began to eat, well aware that Sir
Dunnicliffe was also watching her. Assured that she was at last
eating, Peter accepted his own meal and hungrily tucked in, trying
not to openly stare at the stunning vision beside him.

Completely oblivious, Jemima ate slowly, her attention on the
man opposite. He was dressed as urbanely as Dominic and Sebastian,
but despite his debonair appearance, there was something about him
that was different; dangerous and almost sinister.

As she
chewed, a small knot of uncertainty began to grow deep within her.
Her logical mind warned her to remain calm; that he really didn’t
pose any risk to her whatsoever. But the events of the past few
months had taught her not to be too trusting of anyone, regardless
of how harmless they looked or what they promised.

Despite
the presence of several very large and brawny men beside her, her
fear grew.

Munching
on a richly buttered piece of toast, Jemima lifted her eyes and
took the opportunity of Sir Dunnicliffe’s attention being diverted
by his conversation with Dominic to study him closely. There was
something so familiar about him that Jemima was certain she had met
him, or at least seen him, somewhere before, only she couldn’t
quite place where. She felt it had been recently.

She
scoured her still hazy memory for any trace of the man opposite.
She had certainly never met him as he was now. He looked so urbane,
as though he had just come in from the streets of
Mayfair.

She
froze and swallowed the toast harshly, taking a large gulp of tea
to stop the racking coughs that threatened. Blinking ferociously,
she studied the man opposite more closely, removing in her mind’s
eye his neatly starched cravat and pristine white shirt, and
replacing his emerald silk waistcoat with the garb of a
gaoler.

Dropping
her fork, she pushed away from the table, fear locked in her
throat. Staring in horror at Sir Dunnicliffe, she knew with
absolute certainty that this was the man who had been standing in
Mr Simpson’s office, and who had remained with her in the corridor
of the gaol while she awaited execution.

“
You!” Jemima gasped, launching from her seat in order to get
away from him and the memories his presence at the table brought
her. Her breakfast, so tasty only moments earlier, suddenly sat
like a lead weight in her stomach and made her feel queasy. She
sucked in great gulps of air in a desperate attempt to quell the
panic that threatened to overwhelm her. The now familiar urge to
run was strong; only the presence of Peter now standing next to
her, kept her still.

“
Jemima?” Dominic shot Sebastian and Sir Dunnicliffe a
questioning look, easing back from the table himself in case there
was any trouble.

Peter
was clearly prepared to run after her if she took off, and had
turned in his seat warily, his eyes flicking between a clearly
horrified Jemima, and an apologetic-looking Sir
Dunnicliffe.

His gaze
locked on the latter and he studied the intent way the man was
staring back at Jemima, without any hint of surprise at her
horror.

Immediately, the hackles on the back of Peter’s neck rose and
he rose to his feet, leading Jemima over to the window, away from
the table and whatever it was about Sir Dunnicliffe that had scared
her.

“
I’m sorry, Jemima, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Sir
Dunnicliffe offered, leaving the table and moving toward them. He
ignored Peter’s warning look and stood directly in her line of
vision as she stared blankly over the immaculately presented lawns
outside, forcing her to look at him.

Instinctively Peter shifted to put himself between Jemima and
the source of her distress, only for Jemima to put a hand on his
chest, stopping him with a slow shake of her head.

“
It’s all right, I just wasn’t expecting -” she whispered,
momentarily unable to put words to the random thoughts that swirled
through her mind.

“
I can understand your shock,” Sir Dunnicliffe said
softly.

Jemima
looked quizzically at him. “Can you? Can you really?” She wasn’t so
sure, but at least he wasn’t posing any immediate threat to her
safety.

Did he
work for Scraggan? What was going on?

Dominic
took the words right out of her mouth.

“
I think you had better explain what is going on,” he
demanded. The gaze he turned on Sir Dunnicliffe was far from
friendly, and held a hint of warning that, government official or
not, if he didn’t come up with answers, and fast, he would be out
of the house as quickly as he could blink.

“
Jemima recognises me,” Sir Dunnicliffe explained. “Don’t you
Jemima?”

After
several moments of calm recollection, Jemima slowly
nodded.

“
From where?” Peter was still tense, not liking the sudden
paleness of Jemima’s cheeks. Sitting around the table earlier, she
had looked beautiful, with her once pale cheeks softly tinged with
colour, and all trace of fear gone from her eyes as she had enjoyed
what was probably her first proper meal since leaving
Padstow.

“
Gaol.” Jemima’s blunt word made everyone lunge backward from
the table and stand, glaring menacingly at Sir Dunnicliffe, who had
the grace to look abashed.

Holding
up his hands defensively in an attempt to ward off their imminent
attack, he glanced ruefully at Jemima.

“
If you could call off your guard dogs for a moment, I think
we need to adjourn to the room next door and I can bring everyone,
including you, up to date.” His voice was tinged with mild
amusement that fell flat against the level of tension, which was
practically humming in the air.

Jemima
nodded jerkily, allowing Peter to draw her away. She was frowning
thoughtfully by the time she was seated in one of the large brocade
chairs beside the fireplace.

Despite
the roaring flames in the grate, she felt chilled to the bone. The
raw memories of the past two days made her feel as if she wanted to
crawl out of her skin.

“
I think you had better explain,” Dominic ordered, his voice
cold and faintly threatening.

“
He was one of the gaolers,” Jemima replied with a shudder.
She glanced up at Sir Dunnicliffe, who had remained
standing.

He
looked most officious with his hands clasped behind his back, his
shoulders broad and straight, staring at each man in turn before
looking at Jemima.

“
I think it would be best if I started from the beginning,
then you will all understand what this is about, and what needs to
happen next.” Sir Dunnicliffe knew he sounded pompous but was happy
to adopt an ‘official’ stance in order to ensure they didn’t lynch
him.

“
Please do,” Peter snapped, settling back in the chair beside
Jemima, one booted foot resting casually on one knee in a pose that
was anything but restful.

“
Firstly, please call me Hugo. Sir Dunnicliffe seems such a
mouthful.” He bowed at Jemima and offered her a soft smile that lit
his eyes and eased some of the dark menace from his
countenance.

“
You are quite right, I was in Mr Simpson’s office, and waited
with you in the corridor on the morning you were supposed to be
executed -” He heard Dominic’s snarl, but refused to move his eyes
from Jemima’s. He knew she was wary of him; that his presence in
the house had frightened her, most probably because he brought so
many bad memories with him. He couldn’t blame her if she despised
him. All he could do was hope that once he had imparted all the
facts then she would feel more inclined to be amenable toward
him.

If not,
then he had a major problem on his hands.

He
glanced around the room at the assembled men and mentally heaved a
sigh. He may be able to call upon Jemima’s good nature to plead her
forgiveness, but this lot of battle-hardened warriors before him
would be far harder to appease, if it was at all
possible.

“
I am head of the Star Elite,” Hugo explained, glancing at
Dominic and Peter. “The rag-tag group of ex-soldiers and friends
you rounded up to help you hunt for the smugglers in Norfolk are
still together, mostly.”

He
watched Dominic shift forward in his seat, clearly intrigued by the
latest news.

“
Ashley Carrington?”

Hugo
nodded.

“
Simon Montague?”

Hugo
nodded again.

“
David Petersen, Rupert Samuels and Jonathan
Arbinger?”

Hugo
hesitated and shook his head slowly. “Not David Petersen, I’m
afraid. He got married a few weeks ago and has decided to return to
Yorkshire to run his family estates. He has been replaced by
someone else, though, who is equally well trained. Except for Pie
Masters and Archie Balfour, everyone else has changed
too.”

Dominic
and Peter exchanged a searching glance. “They are now called the
Star Elite?”

Hugo
nodded. “When you, quite rightly, returned home and left the men
back in Norfolk to tie up loose ends, they went after the smuggler
who got away. Determined not to be beaten, they have spent the time
since locating him and gathering a wealth of information on his
activities. We have unearthed a lot, I can tell you.”

“
Over the course of the past few months the men have been
specially trained in gunmanship, espionage and all sorts of special
skills that have made them the elite of the War Office. They were
given a name under which to work, and now consist of Rupert
Samuels, Jonathan Arbinger, Pie Masters, Archie Balfour, Simon
Ambrose, Stephen Montague, Harper ‘Harry’ Hamilton-Smythe and Jamie
Montford. They
are
the Star Elite.”

Peter
swore, shaking his head in wonder as the names of at least five men
he went to school with, were mentioned.

“
So they have been on Scraggan’s tail ever since?”

Hugo
nodded cautiously. “Among others, but mostly we have been keeping
an eye on Scraggan, as he is the ringleader; the head smuggler, if
you will.” He turned to Jemima. “We always managed to only get so
far, though, before we were blocked in one way or another. Until
your father brought his valuable information to the War Office.
That is what gave us a new lead to follow, which has proven richly
rewarding.” He held up his hand when Peter tried to
interrupt.

“
Let me explain. We have men undercover. Although you know who
the Star Elite are, it is important that you don’t know who is in
Padstow as they are heavily disguised. They are able to feed us the
information we need to find out about Scraggan’s activities before
they happen, but there is a lot information missing. Because we had
men already undercover when your father came to us, we heard that
you and Eliza had left Padstow and Scraggan had sent his men after
you.”

“
So you knew that because of their father’s visit to the War
Office, they were in significant danger? Why did you not give them
protection?” Peter demanded, impatience lining his every
word.

“
Because they left before we could find them,” and he turned
to Jemima, his eyes sad and full of sympathy. “I would like to take
this moment to offer my sincere condolences to you on the loss of
your father. He was an exceptionally brave man who gave his life
for the welfare of his country. You should be very proud of
him.”

Silence
settled over the room for several moments. Jemima nodded her
thanks, unable to speak past the huge lump in her
throat.

“
If it wasn’t for your father, and his valuable contact in the
village, then we wouldn’t have had the leads we had. We have been
able to capture several French spies on British soil as a direct
result of your father’s bravery.”

Jemima
gasped, feeling a thrill of pride at the knowledge that her
father’s actions hadn’t been ignored after all. She blinked back
tears, determined to hear the rest of Hugo’s explanation. Although
she still didn’t trust him, some of her initial horror had started
to fade, leaving curiosity in its wake.