Marshal and the Heiress (37 page)

Baxter sunk to the floor.

“The address,” Ben said.

The man spat out something, and one of the workman stepped forward. “I know tha' place.”

“We'll keep him fer you,” another said. “You go see about the bairn.”

Ben hesitated.

Drew nodded. “They'll keep him,” he said. “I'll go with you.”

Ben turned back to the groom. “Who planned this?”

Baxter whimpered. Drew stepped forward, putting the heel of his boot on the man's stomach. “Who?”

There was a hard promise to the voice, and the man trembled. “Trapp,” he said finally.

“The trainer?” Drew asked.

“Aye,” the groom said.

“Why?”

“I don't know. I just needed money.”

Ben looked at Drew, then at the men surrounding the groom. He wanted to get to Sarah Ann. And then Callum Trapp.

“We'll keep him here for ye,” one of the men assured him.

Drew looked at the man who said he knew the address. “Are you sure you know the way?”

“Aye,” he answered. “Maeve Lackey lives there, entertains men occasionally. She said she had a brother who was a jockey. Jockey,” he added jeeringly at the fallen man.

“Let's go,” Ben told Drew and the other man, who introduced himself as Jack Dundee.

Dundee moved quickly through the dirty, smelly streets of the riverfront, followed by Drew and Ben. Ben kept thinking of Sarah Ann, her terror at waking in a strange place, at losing everything and everyone she'd come to know.

He wanted to kill Callum Trapp. He would kill him with his own hands. But what was the trainer after? Was he working for someone in the household?

They reached a dilapidated brick building. The street in front was swirling with slops hurled from windows. They ducked one such pail of contents. Cooking smells mixed with the other odors, and Ben felt he might be sick.

Dundee turned to him. “Maeve has a room on the first floor. To the left.”

Ben led the way to the door, his hand on his pistol. He didn't know if anyone besides Baxter and Trapp were involved. He tried the door first, but it was locked and he pounded on it.

“'Old your 'orses,” said a woman's voice from within. “I'm comin'.”

The door opened a crack, and Ben pushed it wide open, ignoring the indignant cries of a slatternly looking woman dressed only in a dirty, flimsy nightrobe.

“Where is she?” he said.

“Where is who? What right you got coming in here?”

“You have my daughter. That's my right,” Ben said coldly. His eyes searched the room. He saw a door and went to it.

The woman sought to hold him back, but he easily shook off her hand as he opened the door to a tiny room. A small still form lay huddled on a dirty bed.

He reached the small lumpy bed in three strides and knelt next to it. Sarah Ann was sleeping deeply. A half-filled glass sat on a rickety chair next to the bed, and he sniffed it. Laudanum.

Ben lifted Sarah Ann, cradling her in his arms. He didn't know gratitude could be so painful. “Forgive me, Sugarplum, for leaving you alone.” He leaned down and lightly kissed the dirty beloved face, closing his eyes against the force of emotion sweeping him. He saw a drop of water on her face; it took him a moment to realize it was a tear from his eyes.

“Is she all right?” Drew asked.

Ben nodded. “I think so.”

“What should I do with her?” Drew indicated the woman who stood hunched against the wall, eyeing the door that was guarded by Jack Dundee.

“I dinna do nothing,” the woman said. “My brother said the brat was orphaned. I wa' doing a kind deed, I was.”

Ben looked down at Sarah Ann's dress, now dirty but still obviously of expensive cloth, and then back at the woman. “You're a liar.”

“Ye ha' no right—”

Ben ignored her and turned back to Sarah Ann. “Sugarplum,” he whispered. Her eyes remained closed.

“When did you last give her some of that?” he asked the woman, indicating the glass.

“I dinna gi' 'er anything.”

“Then your brother?”

She shivered. “He'll kill me.”

“Baxter isn't going to be in any position to kill anyone,” Ben said. “When?” The question was like a shot.

“An 'our ago,” she finally whined. “He arrived and told me to look after 'er for a while. That's all I know.” Her bravado seem to fade with every word.

An hour ago.

That meant Sarah Ann would probably be asleep for several more hours. Ben wanted to see those blue eyes, to assure himself that no damage had been done. Damn Trapp.

Damn Scotland. He would never forgive the country, nor himself for bringing Sarah Ann here.

Ben stood. “I want to get her back to Calholm,” he said. “I want to face Trapp.”

“So do I,” Drew said harshly. “What should we do with this woman?”

“Take her with us to her brother and call the constables. Let the law take care of them. We'll need their testimony against Trapp. If I don't kill him first,” Ben said.

Drew smiled, a cold smile that surprised Ben. Drew Cameron seemed to make an art out of congeniality. Ben was seeing another side now, one that intrigued him. There was a recklessness that Ben recognized. He'd tried to tame his own; Cameron hadn't. He merely disguised it.

But none of that mattered. Ben wanted to take Sarah Ann home, to a place she knew and where she felt safe, even though he wondered whether she would ever feel safe again.

Annabelle was at Calholm, though. Annabelle and Henry and, he prayed fervently, Peppermint.

And Lisbeth.

Everyone and everything Sarah Ann loved.

And their enemy.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lisbeth rose at dawn. She went to check on Sarah Ann's room, then Ben's. They were still empty.

Why weren't Ben and Drew back? They'd said they were going to search the woods again. They couldn't have been hurt. Or had they hurt each other? She remembered Ben's accusations, his suspicions about Drew. But she trusted Drew as she trusted herself and knew he would not hurt Sarah Ann.

Lisbeth found Duncan in the dining room and asked him if Ben had returned. The old man had obviously gotten no more sleep than she, and his eyes were dulled with fatigue.

The butler hesitated to answer her question, and Lisbeth realized he knew something that she did not. “Tell me, Duncan.”

Distress filled his face.

“Duncan?” she prodded. “You must tell me.”

He sighed heavily. “Mr. Masters told me he and Lord Kinloch were going to Glasgow. He said no' to tell anyone unless the young miss was found, but I don't think he meant ye, my lady.”

Lisbeth wasn't so sure. Had his suspicions of her returned? She couldn't bear the thought, but then she knew how hard Sarah Ann's disappearance had affected him.

But why Glasgow?

Ships. The thought occurred to her instantly. They had gone to check the ships.

“Thank you, Duncan,” Lisbeth called over her shoulder as she hurried from the room. Before she did anything else, she would check the stables. Perhaps Callum had seen the riders coming home.

To her surprise, Callum Trapp met her at the stable door. He, too, looked weary.

“I've been out looking for the young lass,” he said. “I found her pony. He was tied in the woods south of here.”

“Is he all right?” she asked.

“Aye. He ate several cups of oats.”

“But did you … find anything else?”

Callum shook his head, and Lisbeth's hope died. Despite the missing groom, even the sick dog, she'd still hoped that perhaps Sarah Ann had ridden out alone on her pony, or perhaps had gone with the groom and then had become separated. And the groom, fearing the wrath of the family, had simply left. She'd frantically sought any explanation other than the one Ben believed.

“No sign of the lass,” Callum said. “And the American's horse is still gone.”

“He and Drew have gone to Glasgow.”

A frown creased his brow. “Glasgow? Why?”

Lisbeth shrugged. “I don't know. I thought you might have talked to him about it yesterday when you searched the road.”

Callum shrugged. “No.”

Lisbeth saw the deep worry in his eyes. “I know you care for her, too,” she said quickly. “We'll find her, and she'll be so happy to see Peppermint. When Ben … Mr. Masters returns, please ask him to find me.”

Callum turned around stiffly, going toward his room. Lisbeth knew he'd grown very fond of Sarah Ann. He'd helped teach her to ride and had been proud of how fast she'd learned. Under that glum exterior, Callum had more than one soft spot.

Lisbeth returned to the house and talked to the cook about breakfast. It was another gray Scottish dawn, with a light mist falling. She usually didn't mind these mornings, seeing a quiet beauty in them. But that morning seemed dreary and threatening. And sad.

Lisbeth kept her mind busy with seeing that the guests breakfasted, then started off on another search. Hugh went with them. Barbara, who didn't like horses, stayed at the house. She offered to look after the few remaining wives and daughters, as well as Henry and Annabelle, if Lisbeth wanted to join the other searchers. The offer stunned Lisbeth for a moment. Then she accepted.

She had not told Barbara or Hugh about Glasgow, but as the hours had crept by, she knew she had to do something or quietly go mad. She planned to ride toward Glasgow. There was but one road.

She didn't care now what the guests or family thought, what anyone thought. She dressed in her boy's trousers and shirt, and wool jacket. She tucked her hair under her cap and pulled the cap down over her face. Few would recognize her, and she could ride astride, making better time.

She slipped down the back steps and headed for the stable. It was empty. Apparently even Callum had returned to the woods. She looked in briefly on Peppermint, then saddled Shadow.

Only the grace of God kept Ben awake as he and Drew rode toward Calholm with a sleeping Sarah Ann. Ben had finally relinquished her to his companion, for his arms had grown numb from holding his daughter.

A few more hours, Ben told himself, and they would be back at Calholm, and he would have Trapp's neck between his hands. The constables in Glasgow were holding Baxter and his sister, who were telling all in hopes of not being charged as accomplices. But neither seemed to have knowledge of anyone but Trapp engineering Sarah Ann's abduction.

Ben felt a prickling of unease. He'd accomplished his mission of rescuing Sarah Ann with little difficulty, and he'd never been happy with ease. Something always lay lurking behind a veneer of success.

Dusk was falling and as usual clouds filled the Scottish sky. The prickling along Ben's nerve ends increased as they approached a copse of trees protecting a turn of the road. His hand went instinctively toward the pistol tucked in the back of his trousers.

He didn't have time to reach it.

Suddenly, a figure appeared from the woods, a pistol already in his fist, and his finger on the trigger.

“Stand and hold,” Callum Trapp said, not even trying to hide his identity.

Ben's hand kept moving toward the pistol.

“Raise your hands now, or ye'll taste a bullet.”

“I think we'll taste it anyway,” Ben said dryly, but he slowly raised his hands. His only hope now was to take the trainer by surprise. A deadly calm settled over him.

“Trapp,” he acknowledged.

“Ye don't sound surprised.”

Ben was careful. He didn't want to tell the man that he was through, that Baxter was telling everything to Glasgow authorities. Trapp wouldn't have anything to lose then.

“I was starting to figure it out,” he said slowly, working his way through the lie. “Who had something to gain? Hugh and Lady Barbara, of course, and Lisbeth, but I didn't think any of them had the … steel to do it.”

Ben shifted in his seat. He was aware of Drew next to him, his stillness as he held Sarah Ann against him.

“Even then,” he continued, “I really didn't think you would harm a child. I thought you cared for her.”

“I dinna harm her. Baxter would have found a good home for her. If you hadn't interfered—”

“And you were the one who shot at me, I suppose,” Ben said lazily, stalling, looking for an advantage. “Why?”

“Ye have no right to Calholm,” Trapp exclaimed. “Lady Lisbeth is the only one who cares about it, who cares about the horses, who cares about the Marquess's dream. We can win the Grand National with Shadow. The old Marquess promised me that when he hired me.”

“Lisbeth doesn't know anything about this,” Ben said, stating it as fact.

He snorted. “Lady Lisbeth? She's too soft in some ways, but when I make Shadow a champion, she'll be content.”

“Her husband? Did you kill him, too?”

He shrugged. “He was going to sell the horses. I heard him telling that whore, Lady Barbara. He was sleeping wi' her, too. Lady Lisbeth was well rid of him.”

So Callum Trapp
had
acted alone.

“And the accidents in Glasgow and Edinburgh?” Ben inquired with deceptive calm.

“I 'ave friends I asked to keep an eye out for an American and a little girl.”

It made sense. Trapp had been to steeplechases and hurdle races throughout Scotland. It wouldn't have been difficult to find accomplices with so much at stake: a Grand National champion.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I have to kill you both.”

“And Sarah Ann?”

Trapp shook his head. “I'll regret that. I never meant for the lass to be hurt, but now there's no 'elp for it.”

“She's still sleeping from laudanum,” Ben said. “She knows nothing about you. You can say you found her. You can even be a hero,” he added dryly.

He saw the flicker in Trapp's eyes, but it quickly disappeared and he shook his head again, regretfully. “She might have heard something. Now, get down from those horses,” Trapp ordered, obviously tired of the conversation.