The Switch (19 page)

"The devil you did," Tom muttered. "Even I have not had that honor yet. There was no opportunity what with having to rush back here to save Charlotte."

"Charlotte? Who the deuce is Charlotte?"

"Charlie!" Beth and Tomas answered as one. When Radcliffe merely stared at them blankly, Tomas explained. "Beth and Charlotte are twin
sisters
."

"Charlie only pretended to be a boy so that we might travel safely," Beth added quickly. "Are you all right, my lord? You have gone quite pale."

Radcliffe shook his head. "I think you had best explain this to me… slowly."

Beth bit her lip and glanced at her husband, then back to Radcliffe. "Well, it is really
very simple. You see. Uncle Henry had arranged our marriages to Carland and Seguin, and Charlie and I—Well, really, my lord, you yourself said Carland has seen three wives to the grave. As for Seguin, I fear he has some peculiar predilections. Though I must confess I did not know that until you took Charlie to the brothel."

Radcliffe gave a start at that, honor passing across his face even as Tomas turned on him accusingly. "You took her to a brothel?"

Grimacing now, Radcliffe shook his head. "I took Charles. The boy was missish. I thought to make a man of him."

"I fear that would be quite impossible," Beth murmured with amusement, then hurried on with her explanations when he glared at her. "At any rate, we decided Carland and Seguin were unsuitable and that we would flee to our cousin Ralphy's."

Radcliffe gave another start. "Ralphy? I thought you were headed to London."

She smiled apologetically. "Well, no, not really. Charlie simply told you that in case you should
run into Uncle Henry and give us away. We were really headed to Ralph. He is our cousin on our mother's side, and Uncle Henry did not know about him as far as we knew. It seemed the best place to go, but it is not safe for a woman to travel alone… Nor even for two women, so Charlie decided to dress as a man. She thought it would keep us safe from ne'er-do-wells, as well as make it harder for Uncle Henry to track us. He would have been looking for two women, you see?"

"I see," he said dryly, recalling the slim youth facing him in the stables. His fear had been obvious, but equally obvious had been the boy's determination to protect his…
her
sister. "Why did the two of you not tell me the truth?"

"Well, we did not know you then, my lord."

"Nay, at first you did not," he conceded. "But after, when I offered my aid—"

"We never really meant to accept your assistance. In fact, we did try to refuse it, if you will recall, but you seemed unwilling to leave us to our own devices. So we were forced to start out for London with you, but planned to sneak off in the middle of the night and head back for Ralphy's alone."

His eyebrows rose at that. "And why did you not do so?"

"You did not stop," she pointed out dryly. "We expected you simply to lead us to the next inn to rest for the night ere continuing on the next day, but you rode us through the night, stopping only at dawn. We were too exhausted to be able to leave then."

Radcliffe smiled wryly, recalling Charles's stumbling wearily about their room that first morning as dawn had crept into the sky. She had taken a grave risk in sharing that room. She could have been
ruined had she been discovered. He suddenly recalled waking up with her wrapped around his body and his own shock and honor at his physical response to the boy's proximity and grimaced. If he had known then what he knew now… Pushing such thoughts aside, he asked, "Why did you not leave the next night, then?"

She shrugged. "You had pointed out the necessity of having a firing arm and we did not have one. Then, too, as time passed and we got to know you, my lord, we came to quite like you. It did not seem right to run off in the middle of the night when you had been so kind. So we decided mayhap London would be the better destination for us. You had offered to help change our jewels for us and…" Flushing guiltily, she glanced at Tomas. "Well, we did rather hope that we might find alternative husbands, saving us from having to hide at our cousin's country estate and spend our lives as spinsters," she admitted self-consciously.

Smiling, Tomas placed his arm around her comfortingly. "And so you did, my dear, and I am grateful for it."

"As am I. I was attracted to you from the first, but I knew you were the man for me that day at Radcliffe's club," Beth murmured back,hugging him close so that she missed Radcliffe giving a start again.

"My club? When were you at my club?"

"The day after we arrived, my lord," Beth answered, glancing at him with surprise. "Do you not recall?"

"I took Charles there, not you." .

"I was Charles that day," she admitted, blushing furiously.

"That day?" He looked nonplused. "What do you mean, that day? I thought Charlie…" He was looking bewildered again and
Beth hurried to explain.

"Well, Charlie seemed to be having so much fun that I thought to try it. After all, you had taken her to learn to shoot, to a brothel, sat up all night drinking with her…" She frowned as he seemed to pale further with each example of the "fun" he had shown Charlotte. "I thought I should like to try being a man for a day. So the morning after we arrived, we switched. Charlie played me, and I played Charles."

"I see," he murmured faintly and thought he actually might be beginning to. He vividly recalled the trip to his club that she spoke of. How could he not? It had been the first time that he had been with Charles and not found himself reluctantly attracted to the boy. Thinking on it now, he realized that that afternoon had also been the first time he had found himself attracted to who he had thought was Beth. It had actually been Charlotte. He had kissed her there for the first time, then they had gone to the theater that night and she had flirted horrifically with—"But you were Beth again that night when we went to the theater?"

"Aye."

"And the next day?"

"Aye."

"But not that night?"

"Nay." She looked surprised that he could tell when she had been herself and when not, but he was not about to explain that it was not actually him but his body that had known the difference. Every time Charlotte—what a horrendous name—had played Beth, he had been drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Just as he had been drawn to Charles only when Charlie was the one wearing the breeches. It was damned relieving, that. At least he knew there was nothing peculiar about him. He was suddenly quite happy with himself and the world around him. His feelings were all sorted out now. It was Charlie. Charlie he had desired,

Charlie he had wanted, Charlie he found charming, and Charlie he had loved. The wicked little femme had really pulled one over on him. She looked damned good in breeches. Mayhap he should have her wear them once in a while to—

"—realized Carland was headed here, we headed directly back."

Radcliffe blinked his less than sterling thoughts aside as he caught the end of Beth's explanations. He had missed quite a bit of them while imagining the things he would like to do with Charlie.
The important parts, he suspected with irritation as he turned to her now. "What did you say?"

"I said we headed directly back."

"No, before that."

"Oh." She frowned. "About Carland?" When he nodded, she explained, "Well, he and Uncle Henry were in the same inn as us last night. He didn't see me, luckily, but Tomas overheard them talking. From what they said, we gathered that they knew we were in London and some plans were afoot to bring us to them. Tomas and I did not even stay the night in the end. We left right away and returned."

"Why did you rush right back? If you and Mowbray are married, all is well. Your uncle cannot force you to many Carland if you are already married."

"Nay. Not me. Charlie."

"Charlie?" He paled at that. "But you two said

"We could hardly tell you that Charles was to marry Carland," she pointed out logically. "And we feared that had we told you I was to marry Següin, you may have been less than sympathetic. After all, at the time, we'd heard nothing derogatory about him except that he was old. You may have stopped our attempted escape. You may even have turned us in to our uncle."

"Charlie with Carland?" His honor was obvious. "My God, he would never put up with her sass. She would be dead within the day!"

Beth nodded solemnly. "That is why we returned. To help her flee."

"Flee?" He looked as if the word were alien to him, then stood up suddenly. "Nay. There is no need for her to flee. We are to marry."

Beth blinked at that. "You are?"

"Aye. I told her this morning."

"You
told her'
?" She frowned with concern.

"Aye," he answered distractedly, his thoughts on all she had said. Charles was really Charlotte, and she had gone somewhere with Bessie this morning and had not returned. Did her uncle already have her? Cursing, he jumped to his feet and moved to the door of the library. He tugged it open, then paused, his eyebrows raised. Stokes, whom he had been about to call, was standing right there, looking as dignified as a butler could when caught with his ear to the door.

"Aye, my lord?" the man murmured calmly, straightening.

"Did Charles have anything with him when he left?"

Stokes cleared his throat. "I presume you mean besides the young lady?"

"I mean something such as baggage," Radcliffe bit out impatiently.

"Nay, my lord. They had no baggage."

Radcliffe relaxed slightly at that. "Did he mention where they were going?"

"Nay, my lord.
She
did not tell me where
she
was headed. But…"

"But?" Radcliffe coaxed when the older man hesitated.

"Well, my lord, cook helped Lady Charles and the young woman dress. Perhaps she overheard something of use."

"Cook? Why was Bessie not assisting him?"

"I suspect that may be because Bessie was the veiled woman with
Lady
Charles."

"Of course," Elizabeth exclaimed. "It must have been Bessie."

Radcliffe nodded solemnly, then ordered, "Fetch cook to me."

"There's no need to fetch me, m'lord, I'm here." Those anxious words made Stokes turn sideways to reveal the woman in question standing a foot or so behind him, wringing a cloth between her work-worn hands fretfully. "I was comin' to tell ye as how I was worried about the lady and Bessie. Lady Charlie said as how they shouldn't be any later than noon and it's well nigh supper now. I've been frettin' and stewin' all day over the two of 'em. I knew somethin' was afoot."

"Where did they go? Did she tell you?"

"Nay. But—" Sighing, she grimaced and confessed, "There was a piece of paper on the table and I kept sneakin' peeks at it, trying to find out where they was going."

"And?" Radcliffe snapped, unintentionally intimidating the woman with his ferocious expression.

"And—" She paused, frowned, licked her lips, then shook her head with irritation. "It was an address in Change Alley."

"Change Alley?" Elizabeth murmured blankly.

"By the docks," Tomas explained while Radcliffe cursed under his breath. "Where the brokers go to invest in ships."

"Where in Change Alley?" Radcliffe asked. "It was an inn," she murmured unhappily. "Which inn?"

Her brow furrowed in concentration and she tipped her head back to squint at the ceiling as if expecting it to be written there, but finally she shook her head unhappily. "It's on the tip of my tongue, but—" She shook her head again helplessly.

"Think, woman!" Radcliffe snapped, too worried to be patient.

"You are scaring her, my lord," Stokes pointed out. "That will hardly help her recall." Nudging his master out of the way, he clasped her shoulders gently and bestowed a sweet smile on her. "Now, just relax, love, and concentrate.
The paper was on the table. You peeked at it and read… ?"

"I peeked at it and read"—she was squinting again—"I read something-something inn. Change Alley. What was it now… ?"

Radcliffe shifted in frustration. "We do not have time for this."

"Give her a minute, my lord. She will remember." Stokes gave her an encouraging smile and nod as he added, "Won't you, love?"

Her smile in response was confident. "Oh, aye. I'll remember. I made a special note to myself to remember, so I'll remember… eventually. Now, if I were to see the name, 'twould spark my memory fer sure. Mayhap if we just rode down there—"

When Radcliffe went still at the suggestion, Tomas murmured, "Mayhap that would be a good idea, Radcliffe."

Before he could agree, Elizabeth suddenly murmured, "Mayhap the note is still upstairs." Turning to the cook, she asked, "What was Charles wearing this mom?"

"Black breeches, a white shirt, and a dove gray waistcoat. She said as how it was solemn and blackmail was a solemn business."

"Aye. I shall see if the letter was left behind," she announced and whirled about, her skirts flying as she hurried from the room.

Charlie's head was throbbing, her brain slipping and crashing about inside her skull like loose livers in a bowl. It was a most uncomfortable sensation. Opening her eyes slowly, she grimaced as the light assaulted her, and squinted them closed briefly before trying again.

"Yer awake!" That relieved gasp from somewhere above her head was enough to send her eyes flying shut with a moan once again. "My lord? I mean, my lady? Are you all right?"

"I am alive," Charlie muttered grimly, not sure if it was a good thing or a bad one at that point. Or even if it was a state that was likely to remain. Her head was positively killing her. Reaching up tentatively to prod the area, she was dismayed to find her skull still intact and a bump all she had to show for her pain. There wasn't even a chop of dried blood to show for the agony she had suffered. "Amazing."

"What is, my lady?" Bessie asked curiously at the thready word from Charlie.

"Nothing," she murmured on a sigh and forced her eyes open once again. She was lying on the floor of a carriage, her head resting in Bessie's lap. The girl was curled up on the floor with her, unconcerned for the care of the gown she wore.

"How long have I been unconscious?" she asked, easing to a sitting position.

"I am not sure. Two, mayhap three hours."

"Two or three hours?" Charlie gasped in dismay, then dragged herself up to sit on the bench seat and peer out of the window. Bucolic scenes of country life were passing by the window. Trees, cows, and sheep, along with the occasional hut all whizzed by under a bright blue sky clear of all but the fluffiest of pure white clouds. They were definitely far and away from the smog and stench of the city.

Cursing under her breath, she glanced at the worried girl beside her. Bessie had discarded her hat, her long red hair had given up its tight bun and now hung down her back in a tumble. "Did you overhear anything about where we are headed?"

"Nay. They merely picked you up and bundled us both into the carriage. I was so worried about you, I did not pay much attention to them once the door closed. I am sorry."

Charlie waved her apology away. How could she be upset that the girl was more concerned about her health than about their destination? "Are we locked in?"

Biting her lip, Bessie glanced toward the door, then back helplessly. "I am not sure, but I do not think so."

Charlie started to nod at that, then caught herself before committing the undoubtedly painful movement and sighed. "You do not know if all of them came with us then either, I suppose?"

"Nay," the girl admitted with a disheartened sigh.

" 'Tis all right," Charlie assured her quickly. " 'Tis easy enough to find out."

Bessie raised an eyebrow at that, then bit her lip anxiously when Charlie shifted closer to the window and stuck her head out.

The breeze that hit her face was soothing. Charlie inhaled deeply, her eyes closed, then opened them again and leaned farther out to peer toward the front of the carriage. From this angle, she could just see an
arm and the back of a hip. She couldn't even tell if it was the driver's hip or someone else's, but judging by how close that hip was to the edge of the driver's wide bench seat, she would guess that the driver was not alone up there.

"Get your head in or I'll knock it off!"

At that, Charlie whipped her head around to peer toward the back of the carriage, her eyes widening in amazement when she spied the man hanging from the back left footman's stand. It was the behemoth who had attacked her. She pulled her head in at once and sank back onto the seat. She had her answer now. At least two of the three attackers now rode the carriage with them and the driver. What good that information was, she didn't know quite yet.

"She must have taken the note with her," Beth said as she hurried back into the room, slightly out of breath from rushing about.

Radcliffe blinked, not from the news, but from her transformation. Gone was the dress and fancy, upswept hairstyle. Even her breasts were gone. Beth was now "Charles," her hair covered by another of those awful wigs Charlie had been sporting since Radcliffe had first met the pair, her breasts hidden somewhere beneath the gray overcoat she now wore with black pants.

"Amazing," Stokes murmured, drawing Radcliffe's gaze.

Taking in the older man's bemused expression, Radcliffe grimaced and sighed, knowing that his own expression was not much different. He did not know which was more amazing, the fact that the two sisters were most definitely identical, how different yet similar Elizabeth looked as each character, or the fact that
everyone had been fooled for so long. Her stride, though a little longer and more confident, was definitely still a feminine stride, and her hand gestures were as well. How had they neglected to figure out that the pair were twins—and girls?

"I thought being in a male garb might be more practical," Beth explained.

"But Charlie is 'Charles' right now," Tomas pointed out and she nodded.

"Aye. Trust me. I have the sense that my pretending to be her may come in handy at some point." Turning to cook, she asked, "Have you recalled the inn's name?" When Mis. Hartshair gave an apologetic shake of her head, Beth patted her
arm reassuringly. "I am sure that once we get there you shall recall." She glanced toward the men questioningly. "Shall we go?"

"Aye." Radcliffe strode forward. "We shall have to take your carriage, Mowbray. I sent my driver on an errand with my carriage. He will not be back for hours."

"Oh, no!" Tomas said. .

Radcliffe peered from Beth's horrified face to Mowbray's grim one. "What?"

"I sent my driver home to bed," Tomas admitted unhappily. "He had driven for two days and a night straight without a wink of rest. He was falling asleep on his bench. I thought sure we could get a ride home with your driver."

"Mayhap Fred has not yet left," Stokes murmured hopefully of Radcliffe's driver. He rushed off to check.

"All will be well." Charlie roused herself from her anxious thoughts at that calm announcement from Bessie. She had been searching her mind for a way out of this mess. Unfortunately, she wasn't coming up with any brilliant notions just yet. Of course, she wasn't planning to tell Bessie that. She had got the girl into this and was
determined to get her out. Preferably in one piece. Not that the other girl appeared worried. The maid was looking as serene as a cow, Charlie noted with some irritation. Didn't she know the fix they were in? For God's sake, they had been kidnapped!

"Is there something you know that I do not?" Charlie asked suspiciously, and the other girl's eyebrows rose slightly at the question.

"Nay."

"Oh." Charlie glanced away, then back, a frown tugging at her lips as she continued to study the young woman's calm continence. "Then why do you say all will be well like that?"

Bessie smiled. "I have said a prayer to Saint Sebastian."

"St. Sebastian? Is he not the saint for the plague?"

"Aye, well, there are no plagues about just now so I thought he might be the least busy. Besides, it worked when I was locked in at Aggie's. He sent me you."

Charlie simply nodded. She was all for prayers and such, but had found in her life that it was always good to help prayers along a bit with some effort of one's own. After all, plague or no plague, saints were awfully busy fellows. They couldn't be expected to be everywhere and do everything asked of them. Clearing her throat, she offered a reassuring smile. "There is little we can do at the moment but rest. When we see our chance, we shall make our escape."

"Aye. Besides, Lord Radcliffe is no doubt charging after us right now." At Charlie's blank look, she pointed out, "
'Tis well past noon. No doubt Mrs. Hartshair has realized something is amiss and fetched the blackmailer's letter to give to him. He will go to the inn and force that nasty old barkeep to tell him where we are being taken, then he shall follow and rescue us." She said it as if she had the deepest faith in the matter. Charlie didn't have the heart to tell her that the letter in question was presently lining the inside of her pocket.

"Slow down. Stokes. We must read the inn names for Mrs. Hartshair," Radcliffe shouted out the window as the carriage turned into Change Alley.

Fred had already left with the carriage when Stokes had gone in search of him. The fastest option at that point had been to hire a hack and Stokes had left promptly to do so. As soon as he had left, Beth had rushed upstairs to fetch some things that they may need. She had returned with the large sack Tomas now held on his lap, just as Stokes had arrived back at the helm of a rickety old coach.

It seemed that all the drivers had been out on fares when he'd reached the stables, and that he had only managed to gain the hack he had at an absorbitant fee. Assuring Radcliffe that he had served in a stable in his youth and could well handle driving the contraption. Stokes had pointed out that speed was of the essence and urged him to fetch the household. And—much to Radcliffe's dismay—in the end it had been the
entire
household. Beth and Tomas had insisted on going, of course, and Mrs. Hartshair was needed for the name of the inn. But Radcliffe had not counted on having to take her two children as well. Unfortunately, after learning that the cook next door—the only woman friend Mrs. Hartshair had managed to make since taking over the cooking at Radcliffe's—was laid up in bed with pneumonia, there had been little choice but to take the children with them. Which was why Radcliffe had Billy, Mrs. Hartshair's son, on his lap, while she held her daughter Lucy on her own in the cramped confines of the carriage.

"The Fox and Whistle Lin," Beth called out, leaning out of her window on the opposite side of the carriage, glancing back to see Mrs. Hartshair shake her head firmly.

Peering out his own window, Radcliffe began reading the names of any passing inns himself, disheartened each time the cook said "nay." He was becoming seriously concerned that she had recalled the wrong street address when he called out the next name. He glanced back to see her spring to attention like a soldier.

"That's it! The Cock and Bull. That's it, I tell you!"

Hearing her excited cry. Stokes pulled over at once and Radcliffe quickly set young Billy on his feet in the carriage so that he could disembark. Tomas was right behind him when he stepped down from the carriage, but paused to frown at Beth when she, too, followed.

"Nay, Beth. You should wait here with Mrs. Hartshair and Stokes."

"But, dressed as I am, they may think I am Charlie and talk more freely."

"We do not even know who Charlie was meeting here."

"All the more reason to take me with you," she argued staunchly. "They may give themselves away when they see me."

"She may be right," Radcliffe murmured when Tomas opened his mouth to refuse her again. When the younger man nodded reluctantly, Beth was off at once, leading the way to the inn.
They entered.

"No one seems to be reacting," Tomas pointed out, his gaze moving narrowly around the room as the three of them paused inside the door to allow their eyes to adjust.

"Aye. Let's talk to the barkeep."

Once again, Beth led the way. The moment the beefy barkeep spied her, they knew they had hit pay dirt. His jaw
dropped so far that it almost hit the floor. "What the devil are ye doing back here? Ye should be well on the way to—"

He caught himself just in time, but cried out in the next moment as Radcliffe stepped around Elizabeth, caught the beefy man by the throat, and dragged him halfway across the counter. "Well on the way to where?"

His eyes bulged in alarm, but his mouth stayed firmly closed until Radcliffe made a fist with his free hand and brought it up to the man's face. "You were saying?"

"Gretna," he blurted out.

"Gretna Green?" Radcliffe's hand clenched tighter on the throat he held.

Turning blue in the face, the man choked out an affirmation, and Radcliffe released him to whirl toward the exit with Beth and Tomas hurrying after him.

"That must be where Carland and Uncle Henry were headed when we ran into them," Beth murmured worriedly as they reached the carriage. "Were they the blackmailers."

Nodding, Radcliffe opened the door. "Come along, Mis. Hartshair. I shall give you some money and you may hire a hack to get you and the children back to the townhouse."

"My lord!" Stokes cried, even as Beth gasped. "You cannot simply dump the lady and her children here unattended."

"This
is
a rather nasty neighborhood, Radcliffe," Tomas murmured reasonably.

"You are right, of course. Stokes, you stay with them and see them home. Tomas and I shall take turns heading the horses for this journey."

A concerned murmur from Beth made him glance at her to see her staring at her husband's stoic face.

"I shall be fine," Mowbray assured her quietly, but she shook her head.

"My lord, Tomas and his driver took turns driving to Gretna Green and back. It is how we managed the journey so quickly. As it is, the two men were so exhausted last night that we decided to rest the night at an inn. Of course, after hearing Carland and Uncle Henry's discussion, we had to give up our room and hurry home. He has had very little sleep the last four days and nights. I fear he is not up to sharing the duty."

"I will manage it," Tomas reiterated firmly, but Beth shook her head apologetically.

"If this concerned anyone but Charlie, I would be willing to risk it, Tom, but—"

"She is right," Radcliffe announced with obvious frustration. "We cannot risk it with Charlie's future at stake."

When he turned to survey the woman and children peering at him uncertainly from the carriage, Mrs. Hartshair offered him a hesitant smile. "My babies will be good, my lord. They tend to sleep during long trips."

Radcliffe threw up his hands in defeat. "Very well. Everyone back into the carriage. We shall all have to go. Stokes and I shall take turns at driving. Tomas, you rest up so that you may be of assistance later." He knew better than to suggest the man stay here. He would not stay behind without his new bride, and Beth would not allow him to ride off to Charlie's rescue without her.