Taken by the Wicked Rake (26 page)

Even now, the others doubted him. Hal stared out the window of the carriage. “If he is taking her to Warrenford Park, we should have seen sign of them by now.”

Stephano repeated his assurances. “If they kept to the roads, we will catch them. And even if they did not, we will not be far behind them.”

“You had best hope that you are right about this,” Stanegate said. “If you have tricked us into haring cross country after Alex Veryan, while our sister is carried back to the Gypsies? Or if she suffers in any way from this misadventure? I swear, you will not live to see morning.”

Stephano smiled in pride, as he thought of her. “If she were on her way to my camp, I would be at her side, not yours. As for the rest? I have seen the way she behaves when she fears the worst. Under pressure, she is quick and resourceful, and her nerves are as strong as any man’s. And I have seen her abductor.” He sneered at the memory. “She is more than a match for him. He does not realize that she pocketed my knife when she freed me.”

Stanegate blinked at him sceptically. “So you suspect she has a knife in her pocket. What would she do with that, even if you are right?”

Again he laughed at how little the man knew his baby sister. “She would stab him. Or cut him, more like. She has proven to me that she is not afraid to use the thing. If he touches her, he will be made more than sorry for it, even before I find him and finish with him.”

He glanced at the man across the carriage from him. Stanegate was watching him intently. At last, the other man spoke with no preamble. “This supposed marriage to my sister. Did it take place in a church?”

“No. It was a Rom ceremony. My people witnessed it, of course. And celebrated with us. But it was not a formal thing, with church records and rings. That is not our way.” He chose his next words carefully. “To be legally binding in England, we will have to be married again. Which I am eager to do, so that there can be no question of her status.”

“But for now, she is free by law to marry elsewhere.”

“If she wishes.” He looked steadily back at his unwilling brother-in-law. “If she prefers to forget me, and return to her old life, then I will not force her to remain. But neither will I stand by and watch you force her to do that which she does not wish.”

Stanegate was staring through him, trying to break him. “And if you wished to forget her?”

“Marriage is not entered into lightly, in my people, nor in yours.” Perhaps that was not totally true in his case. But the truth did not support his argument. “I would not have said the words, had I not meant them.” Some where in his heart, perhaps he had. “I cannot go back to my tribe and tell them it was nothing, that I brought a
gadji
into their midst, called her wife, and shared my vardo with her. No woman would want a man so quick to cast off a wife who was no longer convenient.”

Stanegate frowned thoughtfully. “But suppose you did not need to go back to your people. I understand that the Americas offer opportunity to a man of intelligence and resolve. Ten thousand pounds would go a long way, if one wished to begin a new life.”

So the man meant to bribe him? He scoffed. “I have at least that in a year, and more.”

“Twenty then.” There was no desperation in Stanegate’s voice. It was the calm tone of a man used to getting his way.

“Could you forget your wife, for twenty thousand pounds?”

He could see the question had struck home, for the man paused, and showed no sign of raising his bid.

Stephano pressed on. “If it is a matter of money that worries you – or your sister’s comfort or safety – let me remind you that I do not live in a wagon because I want for a house. You have seen Bloomsbury Square. Not as grand as the Carlow town house, of course. And there is some recent fire damage and a hole in the woodwork.”

His brothers-in-law both smiled at the memory of the damage.

“But there is ample space to raise a family. I have seventeen thousand a year. The original source of the money might not be to your liking, should I be forced to go back to my beginnings and account for every penny. But the business has been legal for a long time, and my investments are sound. Do not think I will need to pick pockets or tell fortunes, or that Verity will be wearing scarves and dancing in the street for pennies. Her life will be the same as any gentlewoman in England, with servants to tend her and enough money to outfit herself in the style she chooses.”

Stanegate’s mouth quirked as though he had taken bitter medicine. Clearly, the news that Stephen was well able to care for a wife was not what he wished to hear. And while he might be in trade, a gem merchant was hardly the same as a green grocer.

While Stephen Hebden might have been willing to let the matter rest and trust the men he was with, Stephano knew he could not. “I would be naïve not to realize that you are quite capable of sending me to America against my will, once this is settled. Your other sister married a ship’s captain, did she not? If you wish to give the man knowledge of me, I suspect he would not hesitate to dispense justice. Considering my shameful behaviour in the matter of Verity’s sister–” he paused significantly, “–for which I am heartily sorry. Although I realize that no apology could be sufficient.”

He paused again, trying not to worry that he had given Stanegate an idea that had not already occurred. “But if your thoughts lean in such a direction, I have a rather unusual request.”

“You request mercy from us?” This came from Hal, who sounded quite incredulous at the idea.

“On the contrary. I request that you show no mercy at all. Treat me as I treated you. If you cannot accept a truce, or my word that I will care for your sister, then I wish you to finish me quickly. Perhaps a ball to the back, should tonight’s escapade come to gunfire, as I fear it might. An unfortunate accident, arranged between gentlemen, that will leave Verity with no ill feelings for her family and no doubt in her mind that her marriage is truly over. I left ample proof with my servants that I consider us wed and that my property and accounts should go to her on my death, should she wish to claim them. But I want her to be a widow, not an abandoned wife. Whatever happens, I beg you not to leave her with the impression that I willingly deserted her or forgot my vows. For I swore to her that I would not.” When he said it, it sounded foolish in his own ears. It hurt to think the woman he claimed as wife might not trust his word.

His new and unwilling brothers were looking at him in scepticism. “You would turn down the money – and a chance at freedom – in favour of a quick death, to preserve Verity’s feelings?” Stanegate said. “You cared little for her feelings when you took her from us in the first place, and only for your own gain. Why should it be different now? What do you think to gain, should we kill you tonight?”

“I…” He gave a weak laugh, knowing that in speaking the next words, he left his true fear open before them. “If I die tonight, as I suspect I shall, at least I will not have to continue in an empty life without Verity at my side. For as I examine my future, I find that it would be quite unbearable to be parted from her. If you allow me to go free, I will seek her out. But to be imprisoned, or trans ported, knowing that she was here, wondering what had become of her…if she was safe, if she had forgotten?” He shook his head. “That is well beyond any punishment that I have meted out to you and your families.” He looked around him, at the faces in the carriage. “For all the ill I have done, at the end of it, none of you were left loveless and alone.”

He could feel the stillness in the carriage, as the men around him considered their current state of happiness. He could see fleeting moments of softness in their eyes, as they thought of their wives. And then, Stanegate shifted in his seat. “I hardly think your unfortunate demise will be necessary, although I will admit that the prospect had occurred to me. We will discuss the legality of your marriage and the state of Verity’s future later, when the current affair is settled and we are safely home again.”

Stephen relaxed, and he felt a lessening of tension in the men on either side of him. Although nothing had been said, he suspected that, somehow, everything had been settled. “If you would let me see the rattle in your pocket, now that we have time, I think I can shed some light on what happened. We must be sure, before we arrive, that we have the right man.”

Hal snorted. “You have taken long enough to come to that conclusion, Stephen.”

He grimaced in response, but wondered if the use of his given name was evidence of a reconciliation. “A point well taken. I have blundered badly while searching for the truth of this. It is too late to admit that I was wrong, I suppose. But it must be said. I was wrong. And I am sorry for it.” He looked them in the eye, one after the other. And there was not precisely forgiveness in their returned gazes. But there was something. A jot of understanding. And a twinkle that said they thought him to be a hot-blooded idiot. But hadn’t they thought him that, as children? And he could not fault them for it, because it was so often true.

“Show us the rattle, then,” he said. “If I am correct, it holds the truth.”

Stanegate reached into his pocket for the toy that he had rescued from his son, giving the thing an experimental shake and blowing the whistle, which gave not a shrill tweet, but a dry rattle. He stared down at it, then offered it to Stephano, who took it, turning it over and over in his hands and searching for the weak spots in the seam.

He smiled. “It is the work of my Rom step father. A pity I must break it. Have one of you a knife that I might use to pry?”

Nathan reached into his pocket, and handed over his fob, complete with penknife. It made Stephano smile at the easy trust the man showed him. And then, he returned his attention to the rattle, searching for the point where the whistle had been hammered into the barrel. He was able to detach the thing with a single gouge into the metal, one that could be hammered out later, to preserve Thom’s work.

And as the toy cracked in two, it exposed a tiny scrap of yellowed paper, rolled tightly and stuffed far down into the body. His hands shook as he set the pieces of the toy aside and unrolled the paper. “My father’s writing.” And he was sure it was, although it had been twenty years since last he’d seen it. On one side of the paper, the alphabet had been written top to bottom. Next to it was a column of numbers, and beneath a list of nulls and instruction for trans position of the coded information. At the bottom of the paper was a row of digits, and beneath it, in block letters:

VERYAN IS THE SPY

He handed the paper to Stanegate, who passed it around the carriage in silence. Then Nathan Wardale said, “Veryan was looking for the code key that night. And he is still looking, after all these years. He told me so himself, last year. He thought my father must have taken it.” He shook his head. “As though we would have kept it a secret, had we known.”

Hal spoke. “He must have waylaid Framlingham that night, thinking he could kill him and make away with the key before he was discovered.” He glanced at Stephano. “Your father was too clever; he had already hidden it. They struggled. Veryan grabbed a letter opener.” Hal gave a thrust with his empty hand, as though imagining the action. He glanced at Nathan. “And your father arrived too late to help, but in time to see the end. As did our father. Veryan was forced to retreat empty handed, and arrive with the rest of the agents from the Home Office, acting as though he’d come when summoned. By that time, Christopher Hebden was dead, William Wardale was accused of murder, and the rattle was on its way to the nursery.”

Silence fell over them again, as if each could see the events of the night playing out in their minds. While the Carlows were affected by the information, Stephano doubted they felt the turmoil that he experienced from it. The painful vision of his father struggling and dying. And the frustration he felt knowing that with his last gasp, Christopher Hebden had wanted to be sure that someone would learn the truth. It was all followed by a rushing sensation in his soul, as though the earth had shifted, and all the disordered pieces of the story fell into place. Finally, over twenty years later, the truth was known and there could be justice.

He looked across the carriage, into the eyes of Nathan Wardale, who must be feeling something similar. But for Nate, it would be vindication. The single line scribbled on that paper brought his family out of disgrace. And if the crown saw fit, it would restore Nathan to his rightful title. The paper trembled in his hands. “We have all seen it then?” He held it out, as though he still expected the words to dissolve to nonsense before his eyes. “You are witnesses? Because I doubt anyone would believe it, if I brought it forth. Marc, you hold it.” He pushed the paper back to Stanegate. “They will believe you, before the rest of us. You have precedence.”

Stanegate smiled. “Today perhaps. But you hold the higher rank, Leybourne.”

Nathan shook his head. “Too soon. Do not use it, until we are sure.”

Stephano laughed, as his old friend went pale at the mention of his title. “He is afraid you will curse his luck.”

For some reason, they all found this funny and the tension in the carriage eased. It was just as well. He would rather see Nathan preoccupied with his future than with collecting a pound of flesh from Robert Veryan for all that the Wardale family had suffered.

Stephano feared he would not be so lucky. If he was forced to choose between his recent happiness with Verity and his destiny, there was little he could do to fight what was about to happen. His father’s killer lived and prospered. Whether his mother had realized it or not, all the words she’d spoken were meant for Keddinton. And for years, he’d known he was to be the instrument of that curse. Now they would go to Warrenford Park to confront his father’s murderer. He would gut Robert Veryan, and that would be an end to it.

And an end to him, as well. For it would not be possible to kill the man in cold blood, in front of witnesses, and walk away from the crime. He had no title to protect him, like Stanegate had. By removing Keddinton from the world, he had no doubt that he would be doing everyone a service and fulfilling the task that his mother had set for him. He would be doing his new brothers a service, as well. There was no quicker way for Stephano to end up on the gibbet than to kill a viscount. The Carlows would be rid of him, and their little sister could return safely home to marry the well-born
gaujo
of their choosing.