The Spider's Touch (48 page)

He was still fuming when Katy came hurrying around the stone pillar in the aisle. Her cap was loose, her cheeks were flushed and shining with heat, and she could hardly speak through her gasps.

Gideon hastened to his feet to meet her then pressed her into a pew. “Get your breath first, then tell me what has happened.”

“He’s got her, sir,” she gasped out. “I saw him enter your house, but I didn’t know who he was—till I saw ‘em both get into a coach. Then I asked, and your porter, he told me—it was Lord Lovett. I could tell, she didn’t want to go with him, sir. So I ran after ‘em. Ran the whole way! But I can take you. They’ll still be there.”

Gideon heard her out, first with fear, then with a fury that threatened to explode. He cursed himself for taking the time to ride to Richmond Lodge, when that one day’s delay had put Mrs. Kean in danger. He would not waste his anger here, but he would guard it to fuel himself for a fight.

As much as he wanted to rush, he could see that Katy was spent.

“You won’t have to take me,” he said, “if you can tell me where they are.”

She looked up anxiously. “But I don’t know the names of the streets.”

He tried not to be impatient. “Can you tell me the way? Is it far?”

She shook her head to this last, and her look turned eager. “It’s in a street full of pretty, new houses. They’ve all got roofs over the steps—like little crowns—and steep, pitched roofs.”

Gideon was about to ask her where it was relative to the park, when she tapped herself angrily on the forehead.

“I’m that worn out, I almost forgot. There’s a low wall with an iron railing at the bottom of the street and a statue of the Queen, too. I’m that stupid, I should have thought of the statue first.”

Only one street in Westminster fit that description, and it was very near by. “I know it,” he said. “You have done extremely well. Now, as soon as you can walk, I have one more favour before you can rest.”

Exhausted as she was from all her running, Katy made no protest. She was a strong woman, and she rose soon enough even to satisfy Gideon’s impatience to be gone. As he led her into the Palace Yard, he told her to find Tom and send him to Queen Square just south of Birdcage Walk. “Tell him to bring Looby saddled, and my weapons, in case I should need them.”

Katy would have run off directly, but he put her into a hackney coach and handed her money for the driver and the waterman. Then he told the coachman to drive her to Parliament Stairs to take a boat.

If Gideon had not been so eager to rescue Mrs. Kean, he would have been amused to see Katy’s round eyes, but he wasted no more time before covering the short distance to Queen Square.

As he arrived in the street, which was lined with new houses, he noticed a commotion in front of one on the south side. A crested coach stood in front of it, and servants were hurrying in and out, packing it with chests and boxes for a journey. Gideon asked a passing groom if he knew behind which of the doors Lord Lovett lived, and he was pointed to the house where the bustle was going on. Not surprisingly, the curtains were drawn and there was no visible sign of Mrs. Kean.

Gideon found himself in an intolerable quandary. He would be smarter to wait for Tom, in case he needed reinforcements. Expecting to meet Mrs. Kean in Westminster Abbey, he had not brought his sword. It had suited his foppish disguise to carry a cane instead, and he would not be able to subdue a trained swordsman and his servants with no better weapon than a cane.

 But against these prudent thoughts, he could not bear the thought of what Lord Lovett might be doing to Hester. He could tell himself that Lovett would be frantically busy, getting ready to flee, now that he had been seen taking her from Hawkhurst House. But Gideon could not forget the look of stunned surprise that he had seen on Colonel Potter’s face.

While he stewed briefly over his course of action, a post-chaise clattered around the corner and pulled to a stop behind the coach. The groom who had been sent to fetch it stepped down, and instructing the postillions to wait, ran up to the house.

It seemed that now would be the only chance Gideon would have unless he could stop them on the road. And not knowing how long it would take Tom to find him, he simply could not take that risk.

He pulled the handkerchief and snuffbox out of his pocket and posed them elegantly in his left hand. In his right he carried the cane, as he sauntered up to Lovett’s door.

“Here, you scoundrel!” he said, in his most affected voice to a footman he met on the steps. “I insist upon seeing your master on a matter of urgent business.”

Before the servant, who was toting a heavy box to the coach, could think to block his path, Gideon dodged him and headed up the stairs. He moved quickly, ignoring the protests that floated up behind him. Then, at the top, he hesitated for only a moment before trying the first closed door he came across.

His guess regarding the location of the withdrawing room was correct. Inside, Lord Lovett halted abruptly on his way to the door. He had a wicked grip on Mrs. Kean’s right arm, and it appeared that he had been dragging her across the room.

Both looked up when Gideon burst in, and Mrs. Kean’s face lit with a mixture of hope and fright. She did not seem to have been harmed, but the relief in her eyes told him that he had not been wrong in believing her in danger.

Annoyed and impatient, Lord Lovett had paused in the centre of the room, but now he raked Gideon’s figure with scornful amusement, taking in the extreme fashion of his garb.

Gideon believed his only chance would be to disarm him with a lie.

“Ye gods!” he exclaimed, taking a few swaying steps into the room, while throwing the door closed behind him. “I thought that I saw you coming in here, Mrs. Kean, but I could not credit my wits! This will not do, ma’am, y’ know! I beg you will reconsider. Think of the scandal for your poor family!”

Lord Lovett did not even blink. “This gentleman is a friend of yours, my dear?” he asked, drawing Mrs. Kean close. “Curious, isn’t it, that we have never met?”

Gideon did not trust his smoothness, nor did he care for the flash of fear in Mrs. Kean’s eyes.

“I was a friend of Mrs. Kean’s father, sir, in Yorkshire. I hope you do not mean to deny it, madam?”

He had been almost certain that Lord Lovett had seen through his pretence, but his righteousness had planted a doubt. It was not beyond the bounds of reason that Mrs. Kean would have acquaintances from her former life in Yorkshire whom he would not know.

“I see,” Lord Lovett said, changing his tactics. “Then, I can assure you, sir, that you have nothing to fear on Mrs. Kean’s account. We are on our way to be married, so there is nothing for her family to be upset about.”

“Married! By gads! Well, why did you not say so, my dear! I’m certain your old father would have been pleased. May I be the first to shake your hand, my lord?”

With that, Gideon started to mince his way towards them, the cane gripped tightly in his fist.

He had meant to raise it and bring it down hard on Lord Lovett’s head, but something gave him away—either the white of his knuckles or more likely the intention of violence in his eyes—for before he could lift the cane half-way, Lord Lovett took a sudden step backwards, pulled out a dagger, and slipped it in front of Hester’s throat.

She gave a startled cry.

Gideon froze. He gaze flew to hers, but all he could read in it was an apology for getting him into this danger.

Lord Lovett had moved without a word, but now he courteously remarked, “May I assume that this is the Mr. Mavors in your letter, my dear? You will pardon me, I hope, if I express a bit of disappointment. I had expected you to have better taste.

“Now,” he said, “if your friend will excuse us, we have a carriage waiting.” He began to edge with Hester to the door, keeping a watch on Gideon’s eyes, as they turned with him.

Gideon knew that he was confronting an experienced swordsman. Only a swordsman would have known to read his opponent’s intention in his eyes. He dared not try any tricks, for the blade was already pressing into Mrs. Kean’s throat so hard that she could barely swallow.

He was finding it difficult to swallow, himself, out of fear of what Lord Lovett might do to her.

They passed close to the chimney, where Lord Lovett paused. He told Gideon that if he did not wish to see Mrs. Kean’s throat slit right there, then he should turn to face the wall.

Gideon did as he was told.

 He heard a clank of iron, heard Mrs. Kean shriek, “No!” and in the next painful instant, all around him went black.

* * * *

Hester was so shocked by the sound—something between a crack and a thud—when the poker hit St. Mars’s skull, that she went completely stiff. This made it easier for Lord Lovett to half-carry, half-drag her to the chaise.

She did not fight him. Even in her dazed state, she sensed that the best thing for St. Mars—if he was still alive—would be for his assailant to be miles away. She had no doubt that Lord Lovett would kill him with no compunction if he proved to be more trouble.

The fear, that he might already be dead, made her stomach roil so violently that she could barely separate this sensation from the rolling of the vehicle. She could not imagine a world without St. Mars.

She had not realized that he was unarmed until she had seen him lying on the floor with no sword at his hip. She had always known him for a courageous man, but that he should attempt to free her with no weapon at his command stunned her with the selflessness of his daring.

She stayed in a sort of trance for many minutes. Before she became aware that time had passed, they were rumbling across London Bridge. She might not even have wakened then, but for the shouts of the vendors on the bridge. Then, she started and looked about her, jerked to the reality of her situation by the sight of Lord Lovett, lounging against the opposite wall and staring at her with an intrigued expression.

“I trust you have recovered from that unpleasant incident?” he said, as if she had just witnessed a family spat.

Hester decided that she would no longer play his game of politeness. “It amazes me that you can speak of murdering a fellow creature as if a human life were nothing more than an inconvenience.” She heard a quiver in her voice, but it was from fury, not fear. Her only concern at this moment was for St. Mars.

She was astonished to see Lord Lovett flush. She had thought him beyond desiring anyone’s good opinion but his own. He would not oblige her with further proof of his conscience, however, but made his expression neutral and gave a negligent shrug.

“What may seem heartless to you was a matter of necessity to me. No one has been injured who could have been spared.”

“But, why?” she said in anguish. “Why, when Sir Humphrey was your friend?”

He gave a surprised laugh, which unsettled her as much as, apparently, her question had him. “You still do not know? And I thought you had discovered everything.”

She shook her head, and said, through tightened lips, “A blood stain can tell me who committed a murder, but certainly not why.”

He stared at her, his smile tinged with self-mockery. “Do you know? I do not believe that I shall tell you. Who knows but what—” He did not finish his question, but she could see that he was calculating some new risk in his head.

She straightened her spine and stared him in the eye. “It does not matter why. I presume you did it to save your own skin, which makes you cowardly and despicable, no matter what the reason.”

She could tell by the way he blinked that she had scored another hit. His lip curled derisively, but he was not proud to own the truth. Then, she remembered that he had murdered two of his friends and realized what a fool she had been to provoke such a dangerous man. She had much rather be silent and accommodating and with luck he would let her go once they were safely at the coast. If he left her earlier, he would be able to travel the rest of the way by horse, which would be much faster, if she could only persuade him to let her live.

She put an end to their conversation by pretending to gaze out the window. She had only traveled in a post-chaise once before, and their speed relative to a private coach was remarkable. She had not given much thought to their destination, but she wondered about it now. While locked in Lord Lovett’s drawing room, afraid that he meant to kill her, she had heard him giving orders to his servants, so she understood that they were going to France.

Now, looking at the passing scenery, she realized that she had traveled this way before. It was the route to Hawkhurst and Rotherham Abbey.

Her heart gave a leap of hope. She could not think of this road without remembering a magical night only a few months ago when St. Mars had swept her up onto his saddle and changed her life. Then, before an instant could pass, she recalled that St. Mars would not be coming. If Lord Lovett’s servants had called for a constable, he might have been taken up and thrown into Newgate, where he would face trial for murder and treason. Even worse—he might still be lying on the floor where Lord Lovett had left him, bleeding to death.

She wondered if Katy knew what he had done and if she would manage to tell Tom in time. Wouldn’t Tom, as attached as he was to his master, do something to save him?

She couldn’t know how much initiative St. Mars’s servants would show. But it was so much more comforting to think of their helping him than to worry about how desperately injured he might be, that she turned all her thoughts in that direction.

* * * *

They had traveled in this uneasy silence for more than an hour, before Lord Lovett broke it. “What a remarkable creature you are, Mrs. Kean! Here, you have been abducted, and you have not once inquired what I intend to do with you.”

“It makes no difference, for wherever you leave me, Isabella will send her husband or her brother to fetch me.”

“Now, we both know that is false, when I left them with the particular impression that you and I were running away together. Your cousin Isabella will be jealous because you have stolen her lover. Your aunt will rant that you were always an ungrateful chit. Dudley Mayfield will not give tuppence what becomes of you, and his lordship will make some excuse so that he won’t have to call me out. Given that, I am surprised at your lack of interest in your fate.”