Trouble With Harry (23 page)

From the corner of his eye Max saw a yellow-and-black-striped shape slide under the seat opposite. Evidently the gentleman was right. There was a snake in the carriage.

Max sighed again. It was going to be a long, long day.

***

The trap in the roof of the carriage lifted, and Ben leaned down to announce, “Vauxhall Gardens, my lady. We will take you as close to the ruins as possible.”

“Thank you,” Plum said, chewing her lip as she watched out the window. “The ruins, what would they want at the ruins? They're not even real, no more than the faux castle and cannons and cascade are real. What on earth can they want at the ruins?”

The carriage came to a halt before Plum could puzzle out an answer. “Which way are the ruins?” she asked as she leaped down without waiting for the steps to be lowered.

“That way, through the long lawn, to the left of the iron bridge, beyond the thatched pavilion.”

“Ben, you come with me. Sam, you stay here in case Lord Rosse shows up. You can tell him where we've gone. Are you armed, Ben?”

“Aye, my lady.”

“Excellent. Try not to kill anyone unless you absolutely have to.”

“Right you are,” Ben said cheerfully. The two of them set off at a run across the small, delightful groves, charming lawns, serpentine walks, and shady bowers that made up some of the sixteen acres of the famed Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens.

As they approached the ruins, Ben pointed and yelled that they were close. Suddenly the figure of a man burst from behind a partially standing wall, spinning and yelling and waving his arms around like he was a madman. Clinging to his back was the lithe shape of a tall boy.

“Digger!” Plum cried and, picking up her skirts, dashed toward the pair. It wasn't easy going with crumbled bits of stone, rotted wood, and awkward mounds of grassy earth that had been artfully arranged as part of the romantic ruins, but where there was Digger, there was bound to be the rest of the children. The man Digger was beating about the head caught sight of her and bellowed a warning, then turned and lumbered back behind the wall. Behind her a shout included her name. Plum slowed and glanced backward. Thom and India and a tall, handsome young man were running toward them. She waved and spun back around, catching up to Ben as they rounded the corner of a large piece of ruins. The scene before them was of utter chaos. Plum paused for a brief moment, unable to believe what she was seeing, then with a quick smile and a whoop that rivaled those the children were making, threw herself into the fray.

If the situation had not posed danger to the children, Plum thought as she raised her skirt high enough to kick out at the man who was dragging Digger from his back, it would be amusing. Digger's assailant clutched himself, doubled over, and rolled to the ground screaming something about his unborn children. Digger gave her a cheeky grin and the pair turned to where a ginger-haired man was trying unsuccessfully to tuck Andrew and Anne under his arms. The twins were shrieking and squirming and biting at the man, but Plum didn't stop to lavish praise upon them for their intelligent behavior—she lowered her head and charged across the rocky ground toward the man who had her stepchildren. The cowardly miscreant took one look at her—and the three people following on her heels—and dropped the twins, spinning around to head for the scenic wood that bordered the faux ruins.

“After him,” Plum cried to the young man who accompanied Thom, falling to her knees to embrace the twins. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“Mama! Mama help me!” a youthful voice cried. Plum turned from where she was pressing kisses onto the squirming twins, jumping up to look down what was meant to represent a ruined cloistered walk consisting of a few broken archways and fallen columns.

“Digger, take care of the twins,” Plum cried as she dashed off. At the far end of the walk rose a large block of stone topped by wildflowers. The ginger-haired man stood next to the stone, a pistol in one hand and McTavish in the other. Movement behind her indicated that Thom and India had followed her.

“Stand back, all of you, or I'll see to it this little bastard goes to meet his maker! You! You the boy's mama?”

Plum walked forward slowly, gesturing behind her back in an attempt to warn the others off. “Yes, I am his mother. You can't want to harm him, it will do you no good. Why don't you take me instead?”

“Come closer, and we'll talk about it,” the ginger-haired man said.

Plum turned her head slightly to the right, never once taking her eyes from the muzzle of the pistol pressed to her youngest stepson's head as she slowly paced toward him. “Digger?”

“Yes, Plum?” His voice was as soft as hers.

“Take the others to the carriage. Be very quiet and do not attack anyone. Their safety is in your hands.”

“I'd rather stay here with you.”

Plum risked a glance to the side to where her stepson stood. He looked just like Harry at that moment, a realization that wrung her heart. “I know you would, but you must think of their safety first.”

“All right. I won't let you down.”

“Tell Sam and the other men to stay back.” Plum stepped forward, her hands spread to show she was unarmed. “Let the child go. He's not as valuable as I am, surely?”

“That's as may be, but I was hired to take the youngsters.” The man edged nervously around the side of the stone, his grip on the boy's neck tightening as he had to drag McTavish over a small hillock. “No closer now, my lady. I wouldn't want you getting heroic. You, there, in the back. Release my man or I shoot the lad.”

Plum prayed that the man who accompanied Thom would do as he was asked. Evidently he did, because a thin, weedy man with two bruised eyes and a bloody nose staggered to the far side of the walk, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

The man with the pistol nodded toward her. “Take the lady, Davey. Hold her in case the gent back there gets any ideas.”

“Who is it?” Plum asked in a whisper as the bloodied man limped toward her.

“The handsome gentleman? That's Nick, my burglar,” Thom whispered back.

“Tell him to be ready. I will pretend to stumble and fall toward the man with the pistol. You must grab McTavish while the burglar takes care of this one.”

Thom stepped away as the hired thug grabbed Plum's arm, snarling an oath under his breath. His fingers bit cruelly into her arm as he jerked her forward.

Plum, mindful of the broken stones and the debris that littered the ground, knew full well that she was endangering herself and her babe, but she would not tolerate the devils having McTavish. She braced herself, spying a likely looking piece of stone over which she would stumble, but just as she was about to throw herself forward, the sound of muffled hoof beats reached her ears.

“If that's another one of your men, tell him to stay back,” the ginger-haired man warned, cocking the pistol. “Or I'll blow this little bastard's head from his neck!”

Plum was incapable of speech, so furious was she, but even she paused for a moment when a riderless horse burst into the open space from beyond the ruins. Its reins were hanging loose, and immediately upon sighting the group of men, it shied and veered away. At that moment a dark shape leaped out from behind the far edge of the standing wall, seeming to fly across the empty space before landing on the ginger-haired man. McTavish was knocked forward as the two men fell, a pistol shot breaking the peaceful quiet.

“Harry!” Plum shrieked and kicked out at her guard before throwing herself protectively over the top of McTavish. He squirmed beneath her, and she eased up enough to let him breathe. But when she saw Harry knock the pistol from the ginger-haired man's hand, she leaped to her feet and hauled McTavish up, shoving him at Thom before running forward to see how badly Harry had been hurt.

“Hurt? Me? Woman, what are you babbling about?” Harry asked, shaking his hand and pushing his spectacles back.

“I heard a shot! The pistol was pointed toward you! When you shoved McTavish out of its path, you were in the way! Where are you bleeding? Are you in pain?”

Plum started checking over her husband's arms and chest, but he put a stop to her stripping him bare in front of everyone only by grasping both of her hands and shaking her slightly.

“Plum, I'm not injured. The pistol discharged without striking anyone. If you look to your right, you can see where it struck what's standing of that wall.”

Plum looked, and then sagged against him in relief. “Oh, Harry! I'm so glad you're not hurt.”

“Well, as to that, so am I.” Harry grinned. “This brute hasn't fared as well, however.”

“Oh, he deserves to be unconscious,” Plum said indistinctly, her face pressed against her husband's neck. She didn't even spare a glance to the man who lay fallen behind him. Harry and the children were all that mattered.

“He does, but I would have liked to ask him a few questions. We'll just have to hope he didn't scramble his wits when he hit his head on that rock,” Harry said, pushing Plum gently from his chest to squat down and examine the man. “Damn. Well, I guess there's only one left. Nick, thought you'd be here. You didn't kill that one, did you?”

“I assumed you'd want him alive,” the burglar Nick said. The man who had grabbed her by the arm was lying on the ground, moaning and cradling his head.

“Good. Plum, you and Thom take the children to the carriage. Ben, you go with them.”

Plum, shaking a little in the aftermath of the attack, rubbed her arms. “Do you know Thom's burglar?”

Harry grinned. Now was not the time to explain about Nick. “We've met.”

“Oh, what will you do now?”

He prodded the man with the toe of his boot. “Hmm? Oh, Nick and I will stay behind and have a little chat with our friend here. And make sure the other ruffian is taken into custody. Is this all there were, two of them?”

“No, there were four altogether, but the other two were in a separate carriage. I didn't see them when we arrived,” Thom said.

“Must have run off once they realized there was trouble,” Harry mused. “Ah well, we have the one. You ladies go on home, now.”

“I think we should stay. You may need some help persuading him to talk,” Plum said, giving him a look that warmed him to his toes. No other wife but Plum would want to stay and torture the truth out of a roughneck. Was it any wonder he loved her so? Still, such business was not for women.

It took some convincing, but at last Harry managed to get Plum and the children off toward home, but only after he promised both ladies that he would fill them in with all the information he gleaned from the hoodlum.

“And now, my good fellow, let us have a little discussion,” Harry said cheerfully as he turned back to the battered man. Nick grinned. The man looked like he was going to be sick.

It didn't take much to make the bloodied man talk—faced with the threat of a couple of fingers broken, he sang like a nightingale—but unfortunately, he was evidently not in the confidence of the man who had arranged the kidnapping.

“I don't know 'im,” the thug Davey whined, nursing his fingers. “Max, 'e was me boss. I worked for 'im. Max is the one what knew 'is nibs.”

“His nibs? The man who hired Max was a gentleman?”

“Aye, talked right proper, and dressed fair to make yer eyes water.”

“His name,” Harry snarled.

“Don't know it, 'onest I don't!” Davey shrieked as Harry raised his fist. “Max never tol' me, 'e just said as we 'ad a job to snaffle some cossets, that's all 'e be tellin' me, so 'elp me God!”

Harry questioned the man for an hour before he passed out, but long before that he realized that what the man claimed was true—he was just an underling, hired as a body to help kidnap the children, nothing more. He damned the situation that left the leader, Max, insensible. He was so close to finding out who was behind the attacks. If only he had arrived earlier…

“Can you take care of them, Nick?”

“I'd be happy to,” Nick said as he heaved the unconscious man none too gently onto his shoulder. “I'll take him to the police, shall I?”

“Yes.” Harry stood staring down at the ginger-haired Max. “I'd best speak to the magistrate about this, but first I'm going to have a sketch of his face made and take it to the Home Office. Maybe someone will recognize him.”

Nick hesitated, worry furrowing his brow. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

Harry swore under his breath as he turned away from the man. His face was grim and set with determination as he admitted the truth to himself. He was no closer to naming the man behind the plot against his family. He would have to redouble his attempts to dig out the proof that was needed to identify the villain. “It's nothing I can't take care of.”

“Well?” Thom asked two days later as she burst into Plum's sitting room.

“I have an appointment tonight to meet with a man your burglar says will take care of my problem,” Plum said triumphantly.

“Oh, thank heavens,” Thom said, plopping gracelessly into a nearby chair. “I just knew Nick wouldn't let me down. He's so wonderful, don't you think? He was very brave at Vauxhall.”

Plum glanced from her niece to the letter she'd received from the burglar named Nick. “He writes legibly, I'll give him that, but Thom—he's a burglar.”

“I know,” Thom said, kicking her foot idly as she slouched back. “He's a very good one, too, I'm sure.”

“A burglar is not at all a suitable beau for a young woman of your family,” Plum said sternly, although she suspected it would do little good. Thom was always rescuing some needy creature or another—usually it was cats and dogs, but evidently now she'd felt this burglar needed saving. “I'm sure he's not at all nice for you to know. He isn't—”

Thom's face set into a mulish expression as she sat up. “He isn't what?”

Plum's hands fluttered about expressively. She hated to sound like a snob, but there were limits to how far she was willing to bend for Thom, and burglars were that limit. “He's not a gentleman.”

“Hrmph. I don't care about that. He's my friend. I like him. And he saved Harry's children from certain death. Twice!”

Plum bit back her objections. Thom was absolutely right, no matter how unsuitable the young man was for her, he had saved the children, and for that she would be eternally grateful to him. Perhaps once Harry had caught the person responsible for the horrible attacks, she could do something for the man. Clean him up, educate him, find him a good job… “As you say, we all owe him a great deal, and I will be happy to do what I can to show my gratitude. Now, I have been busy writing, and I'd like your opinion on some of the scenarios I've created.”

“Scenarios?” Thom leaned forward to peer at the sheets of paper on Plum's writing desk. “What scenarios?”

“Scenarios for Charles, of course. Oh, speaking of him, I've had another letter. That makes the third in as many days.”

Thom made a rude face. Plum, who agreed wholeheartedly with her niece's unspoken opinion, said nothing but handed the letter over, watching as Thom read it with growing indignation.

“He has nerve threatening you like that! How dare he?”

“Evidently he feels that my lack of response to his demands for money are an indication I am not taking care of the matter.” A particularly unwholesome—for one Mr. Charles de Spenser—smile curled her lips. “Little does he know that I am, indeed, taking steps to resolve the situation.”

Thom smirked, tossing the letter back onto Plum's desk. “The beastly man. I should just like to see him make good his threats. Harry has so many men attending us whenever we go out, a butterfly couldn't get through their defenses.”

The smile left Plum's face at the reminder of the cloud that hung over their heads. “Yes. I do hope he finds out soon who is behind the attacks. The stress of it is weighing very heavy on Harry. Last night he only had the strength for one—” Plum stopped, blushing a little as she realized what she had been about to impart to her niece.

“Yes?” Thom asked brightly, a wicked glint to her eyes.

“Never mind, it doesn't concern you. Now, let us go over these scenarios I have created.”

Thom smiled. “You are the only woman I know who has the strength of mind to create scenarios for the murder of her ex-husband-who-wasn't.”

“Murder!” Plum looked up in surprise. “Oh, no, Thom! I gave that idea up days ago. These scenarios are regarding Charles's scandal, not murder!”

“But…but…you said you wanted him killed! I saw you attempting to garrote Shakespeare's head!”

“That was days ago,” Plum said, waving away the idea. “I changed my mind that very day when I realized I didn't have the stomach to kill Charles. No, this plan is much better. I will hold the threat of a scandal over his head so that he is forced to keep silent on the subject of me. I have several excellent scandals planned.”

“But I told Nick—he thinks you want someone to kill Charles!” Thom's eyes were wide with worry.

“I don't!” Plum objected.

“I know that now, but I didn't when I wrote to Nick!”

Plum's straight brows pulled together as she mulled over what to do with an unwanted murderous henchman, deciding after a few minutes of contemplation that since she was paying him, he would just have to do as she told him. “He will simply have to revise his expectations. If he does not agree to participate in the scandal creation, I will find someone who will. Now, let me show you what I have come up with.”

“I don't understand why you have to create scenarios at all,” Thom complained, obligingly pulling up her armchair to sit next to Plum. “After everything I've seen of the
ton
, it seems all you have to do is look sideways at someone and you have a scandal.”

“It's not quite that easy. The threat of the scandal is what I will use, not the event itself. For that reason, I have used my literary skills to draw up several convincing scenarios.”

“
The
Shameful
Secret
Truth
Regarding
a
Viscount's Youngest Son and His Unnatural Love for a Milk Cow Named Junie
,” Thom read aloud. “Well, I like the title. Very lively and colorful.”

“Thank you,” Plum said modestly. “I have always felt I had a gift for turning a neat phrase.”

“Mmm. What's the next one?”

“I call it simply
Lost
His
Wits
and
Believes
He's a Large Willow Tree on Hampstead Heath
. As you can see, it is a bit more involved in that Charles has to be first drugged, then taken to Hampstead Heath where several willow fronds will be tied to his arms.”

“Very interesting,” Thom said. She tapped a finger on the bottom of the paper. “And the loosed tigers?”

“They are there to throw suspicion away from anyone who might have noticed that Charles was drugged. I thought that a particularly clever touch in that it will confuse people. Otherwise, they might just think it was a jest on the part of his livelier friends, and dismiss the idea that he was insane.”

Thom frowned. “But wouldn't a tiger be likely to maul innocent passersby?”

“Yes, but if you read the note at the bottom, the tigers' handlers are to be available at all times in order to keep an unwanted tragedy from occurring. The tigers are there just to cause confusion, really. If you were there and tigers were on the loose, would you stop to consider whether or not a man dressed as a tree had been drugged?”

“No, I suppose I wouldn't. That is a good distraction. And the third scenario?”

“The tigers gave me this idea. It's called
Soulless
Wretch
of
a
Man
Who
Enrages
and
Torments
Innocent
Bear
Cubs
. That is a bit more difficult to enact, since a bear cub must be found and enraged before it can be discovered with Charles, but I am convinced it would work.”

“Yes, I see your point.”

Plum nodded sagely. “I have two more scenarios, but I'm not as pleased with them as I am the first three. I will present them to the murderer that your burglar found, and convince him that it's much better to simply arrange for a scandal than to murder Charles.”

Thom didn't look convinced, although she said, “If you say so. When do you meet with him? And may I come with you?”

“Tonight.” Plum eyed her niece, chewing on her lip as she thought how best to phrase her request. “I don't want Harry to know where I'm going.”

“No, of course not,” Thom said, supportive to the end.

“So I thought to tell him that you and I had been invited to a recital. Harry dislikes recitals—he says they bore him to tears, so if he thought that we were going to one, he might not insist on accompanying us.”

“But he would send Juan and the footmen with us.”

“Yes, but here's where it pays to have a devious mind—I have written to Lady Davell, and told her how well I've heard her oldest daughter plays and sings, and as I expected, she invited us to an intimate dinner so we can hear the girl. I've accepted on your and my behalf, and to Sir Ben's we will go…only I will make an excuse early on and return home. Or they'll think I will.”

“Oh!” Thom said, her eyes full of admiration. “But really you'll go to meet the murderer!”

“Exactly.” Plum smiled, pleased that Thom grasped the finer nuances of her plan. “I shall slip out of the house with no one the wiser, returning home after I am done.”

“There's just one thing—you won't have anyone to protect you if you slip out unnoticed. What if you are attacked?”

“The accidents have all involved the children, not me. I'm quite certain no one is the least bit interested in me.”

“Harry won't like it,” Thom said doubtfully.

“Harry won't know, so it won't disturb him.
Will
it?
” Plum asked with meaningful emphasis.

“No, I suppose not. I do wish I could come with you to meet the murderer. I've never met one before, and if he's anything like Nick—”

“I'm sure he won't be. You said Nick turned down the opportunity to do the task himself, which I admit shows a niceness I hadn't expected in a burglar, but still, a murderer is a different sort of individual altogether. Now, here's what I want you to say in case Harry decides he wishes to accompany us—”

Her worries were for naught. Harry, who had been acting a bit strangely ever since he returned from a visit to his friend Lord Weston's house—he was prone to subjecting her to odd, unreadable looks—posed no objections when she mentioned casually that she and Thom had been invited to dinner at the unexceptional Sir Ben Davell's.

“I have an engagement myself this evening,” he said, giving her yet another of those odd, piercing glances, as if he wanted to speak to her about a subject, but couldn't bring himself to it.

“Oh, do you? Something to do with
the
situation
?” Plum asked in a whisper, casting a worried glance over to where the children were playing a game of Goose.

“It has to do with a situation, yes,” Harry said, his beautiful changeable eyes filled with enigma.

Plum, who half expected her conscience to object to going behind her husband's back rather than enlisting his aid with a problem, was pleased to find that about this, at least, her conscience was quiet. Charles was her problem, and it was her responsibility to see to it that he was taken care of just as Harry was responsible for seeing to the children's safety.

The similarity of their situations struck her in a manner so profound that Plum was able to kiss the children good night and wish Harry a pleasant evening without the slightest twinge of guilt. She was doing this for his sake, for all their sakes, and although it was undoubtedly a sin to willingly threaten another person with scandal, Charles was a detestable snake, and no doubt the good Lord would understand her actions.

In fact, Plum reflected a few hours later as she made her escape by a side door of Sir Ben's house, the ease with which her plan was enacted seemed to be proof of a blessing from on high. She hailed a hack loitering around the square and ordered him to take her to Green Park. Once there the man was agreeable enough to wait for her return.

“I shouldn't be long,” she told him as he handed her out of the carriage.

“I'll wait for 'owever long ye need me,” the man said.

She smiled and gave him a coin for his trouble. The poor man looked as if he could use it—he actually had a hook in place of his left hand.

Five minutes later the large young man named Nick stepped out from behind one of the trees lining the walk. He was dressed shabbily, but he met her gaze without wavering, and she renewed her intentions to do something to repay him for his kindness in saving the children.

“Lady Rosse? We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Nick Britton. Do you still wish to go ahead with your plan?”

Plum clutched her reticule nervously. She was not a fool; she knew that ladies who wandered around parks after dark were leaving themselves open to attention from less than desirable individuals, which is why she brought along one of the pistols she had found in the bottom of Harry's desk. It was a very small pistol to be sure, but she had great faith that it would dissuade anyone who bothered her. Although she probably had nothing to fear from a mere burglar, she would take no chances. The pistol was loaded and ready to be pulled out at the first sign of trouble. “Yes, I do wish to go ahead with it, although with one slight change. I don't want the man killed. My niece misunderstood my plan, you see, and she thought I was looking for a murderer, when what I really need is someone who will assist me in arranging for a scandal.”

Nick looked startled for a moment, then rubbed a hand across his mouth, mumbling his answer through his fingers. “I see. Yes, that is quite a misunderstanding. I'm sure the…er…individual you have hired will be most interested to hear the truth.”

Plum bit her lip. “You don't think he'll be disappointed, do you? I should hate to have a disappointed murderer on my hands. I imagine they are difficult enough to deal with when they are happy.”

Nick bowed his head and looked to the side, where trees threw black shadows so dark that not even the light from the lamps on the street could penetrate it. “I should say that this man will not be in the least bit disappointed, but perhaps I had better let him tell you that in person. Good luck, Lady Rosse.”