The Scandal of Lady Eleanor (46 page)

“I do not wish you to believe it was a matter of trust for it was most certainly not. I thought it best to protect you. If you had known, Ella, what Levering would say tonight, there is no way you would have agreed to make an appearance.” Eleanor acknowledged the truth found in his words. “You must know, Sweetheart, how much I wanted to rip out Sir Louis's heart and serve it to my hounds for his laying his filthy hands on you; but, to free you, I swallowed that hatred and allowed the man to hang himself. I simply wanted the pleasure of running him through with a sword. The fact that the Prince now sends Levering to a penal colony was never part of my thoughts.”

“What if Sir Louis talks while in prison?”

“Who would listen to the man?”

“It is not your reputation, James,” she objected.

Worthing's arms clasped behind her waist, nudging her to him. “I must take exception, my Dear.You are my wife, and what happens to you concerns me. However, I care not for what Levering says. I know an Eleanor Fowler he will never know—a woman of tenderness and empathy and passion. My son respects you. My parents and my sister adore you, and I cannot breathe unless you are in my life. Without wishing to minimize your feelings, we could analyze this all evening, but nothing would change. I wanted to give you freedom to choose and beg for you to choose me, Eleanor.”

She hesitated, picking at the invisible lint on his coat. “It was quite delightful to witness Sir Louis's coup.” She kissed his lips briefly. “And the Prince was most kind to favor me.”

James grumbled, “Much to my chagrin.”

“Were you jealous, my Husband?” She accepted another brief kiss from him.

“Is it mutinous to consider calling out one's King for the attentions he gave my new wife?” James settled her in his arms.

Ella snuggled into his chest. “I could become the future King's mistress if I tire of you,” she teased.

“That shall never happen.”

“Your words smack of conceit, my Lord.”

“I promised to please you.” James turned her chin so he might kiss her properly. “And if I ever fail to do so, you may freely choose his Royal Highness or any other man with my blessing.”

“I choose James Kerrington, Viscount Worthing.” Ella nibbled on his ear as he lifted her to his lap. “I choose to be your Viscountess—your wife—the mother of your children.” She met his lips in an open-mouthed kiss.

“Such a life with such a wife,” he mumbled as desire overtook his reason. “Even Shakespeare could not complain.”

“What do we do about Fowler and Kerrington?” The two men clung to the shadows of the misty street corner outside of Carlton House.

A dark line crossed one man's face as he pulled up the long coat he wore. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Although it was midsummer in England, the dampness of the country sank deep into his bones. It was certainly nothing like his homeland—a place where a man might sleep without his clothes and still never feel the chill. “I have an idea,” he snarled. “We find what pleases them most and take that away.”

“We trade for the emerald?” his friend looked hopefully at a passing hack, thinking that they might seek the comfort of a dry room now that the Duke and the Viscount had withdrawn from the Prince's party.

“First, we must deal with those incompetent nobodies with whom you formed an alliance. Mir will not be happy if we leave any witnesses.” The man strode forward into the muted lamplight to hail the cab. “You would not wish to make Mir unhappy.”

“No…no, I would not wish that on any man.”

EPILOGUE

TWO MONTHS LATER…

 

They would see the port of Calcutta by morning. Louis Levering had remained on deck even though it was well after dark. He hated the hole with a passion. Raised as a gentleman, he could not tolerate the absolute crudeness of his fellow inmates. It was strange that he had managed his own vulgarity before, but now he found crudeness beneath him. The others smelled of filth and decay, and the stench in the hole nauseated him beyond belief. Of late, he had bribed his jailers to allow him to stay on deck. Sleeping in the open, even chained to one of the masts, was a hundred times better than what awaited him below decks. Tonight, the wind, unseasonably cool, blew steadily, and a blanket was not to be used. He needed a bath—needed a change of clothes—needed to find a way out of this mess.Without a trial, the Prince had ordered his transportation to Australia, and now he found himself aboard ship with a penal colony as his destination.

Only once during his short incarceration in London did any of his former friends come to see him in prison—all of them afraid to associate with the man who had attacked the Prince Regent. The thoughts of his “so-called attack” brought a sneer to his lips. He had foolishly allowed Fowler and Worthing to manipulate him. Viscount Lexford, the man he had known as Allister Collins, practiced a sham for which he fell, costing him everything. Belatedly,
Sir Louis had discovered that Gabriel Crowden held a reputation for being a “ghost” of a thief. He had played into their hands, and now he would pay the ultimate price. His only chance lay in Calcutta. Once before, he had aligned himself with a man known to hate both Fowler and Worthing. He had convinced his friends Heath Montford and Gavin Bradley to contact their former associate about what the Realm had done to him. Finally, a week later word came—a note on his meal tray—all it said was that help awaited him in Calcutta. Levering knew not what form that help might take, but he would gladly accept release. He would even serve the dark-skinned emissary he had met but twice before. Anything but Australia!

Restless, unable to sleep, he made his way to the railing. His chain barely allowed him the movement, but if he angled toward one of the three wooden traverse bulkheads, he could stand along the railing and feel the wind and mist in his face. “A few more hours,” he told himself as he looked out into the darkness. A starfilled sky had given him the hope that things would soon change.

Engrossed in his thoughts, Levering did not hear the sailor behind him. In a split second, the man held a knife to his throat, and Levering abandoned his thoughts of struggling. “I paid to be up here,” he croaked—the pressure of the man's forearm across his Adam's apple choking him.

“No one cares.”The sailor's warm breath stung Levering's cheek, a sharp contrast to the chilly air.

He tussled, desperately trying to see his attacker. “I do not understand.”

The man tightened his hold. “You caused my employer many headaches with your petty plans.” The menacing voice hissed near Sir Louis's ear, and for once, Levering knew real fear.

“I can fix this.” He began to bargain. “I have friends meeting me in Calcutta. Tell me what you want, and I will make it right… amends can be made.”

The assailant chuckled lightly. “I am the one you were to meet
in Calcutta.” Levering went still; the expanse of his problem spread wide to his imagination. “I want the emerald one of the Realm holds, but your bungling greed alerted them to my search. Now, I must find another way. Everything was progressing in my favor until you stepped in with your pathetic plan to blackmail Fowler.” Each word slithered from the man's mouth, biting away Sir Louis's confidence. “I resent such interference; a man who cannot control his own business is a pitiful excuse for a man.”

“What do you require of me?” Sweat rolled down Levering's face despite the windy conditions.

“I require your death, Mr. Levering.Your ineptitude will haunt this earth no longer.” With a jerk of his wrist, the knife sliced Levering's neck, cutting his carotid artery. Immediately, the man released Levering's body, allowing it to drape like a drunken sailor over the railing. The chain held Louis Levering in place; his body dangled from the waist over the wooden banister, the blood draining from his blype and into the dark water of the Indian Ocean. Sir Louis, unable to fall into the water and incapable of climbing back on board to seek safety, his life dripping away, fought no more.

 

As the light broke on the horizon, the sailing master summoned the captain to the scene. “Who is he?” Levering's body was laid out on the upper deck, the sailors who discovered him retrieving the lifeless form onto the wooden flooring.

“The one who attacked the Prince.” An old sailor jabbed at Levering's body with the toe of his shoe, making sure the corpse no longer moved. “What shall we be doin' with him, Captain?”

“Have the quartermaster fill out the proper paperwork—inform his family—let the Home Office know.Then dump him overboard. I do not want him littering the deck when we hit Calcutta. We would have too many questions to answer.”

“Yes, Sir.”The boatswain motioned for the two sailors who had found the body to come forward. “Should we find out who did this, Sir?”

“Why?”The Captain leveled a steady gaze on his junior officer. “Would anyone care? The man bribed someone to be up here. He took a chance by leaving the safety of the hole. If anyone asks, we let him out for exercise. A swift wind sent the mast turning, and the sail accidentally knocked him overboard. We tried to save him, but as it was night, we lost the man in the dark waters. For the record, tell everyone it is likely he was unconscious when he hit the water. We will hear enough from the port authorities for allowing him a moment of freedom, but it is nothing we have not heard before.”

“Yes, Captain. I will see to it, Sir.”

“Are you sure, Lucifer?” A little over a month later, Worthing and Kimbolt sat in the study at Linton Park.

The bulky-looking man turned his hat over in his hand. “I spoke to the sailor who found Sir Louis's body the morning the
Star of the East
docked in Calcutta. He be swearing someone slit Levering's throat during the night and left him to bleed to death. The captain ordered the men to throw Levering's body overboard. Otherwise the Indian port authorities would be holding them to investigate the crime.”

Kimbolt added without thinking, “Shaheed Mir?”

“Probably,”Worthing contemplated this new information. “Levering's attack in Hyde Park overlapped the Baloch's one.”

Viscount Lexford and Lucifer had gone to Calcutta when the Realm discovered the note sent to Levering, but they were unable to prevent the attack on Sir Louis. Lucifer's common-man appearance allowed him to move freely among the unwashed throngs found on Calcutta's docks. He pretended to seek employment on the
Star of the East
, buying drinks for several sailors on day leave. “Most of the sailors, Sir, blended in easily with the natives,” Lucifer reported. “I followed as many as I could, but nothing proved worth the time I be spending.”

“Thank you, Lucifer, for your dedication. A bonus should come
your way.” Worthing shook the man's hand. “Why do you not find something to eat in the kitchen? I will have a room made up for you.”