The Valentine's Day Ball (30 page)

“You crossed at night?” she asked, distracted by this particular revelation.

“Yes, at night. Had to give Jean-Francois’s friend a bloody fortune to take me over!”

“That is unfortunate. At least, you are here, though I’m not sure I understand why.”

“Not understand? The devil, you say!” He reached into his pocket and flung a grimy, crumpled scrap of paper onto the table. “And how was I supposed to feel when I read this? Well, let me tell you, Miss Lindsay, I felt bloody awful! And then to find out you’re travelling with that snake in the grass!”

Jane put her hand to her ears and screamed, “Stop!”

The silence following this eruption was deafening. Even the carriages in the yard were still for a moment. Jane was appalled at her freakish outburst. The usual inn sounds resumed, and she expelled a pent-up breath.

Drew stood up and began walking in her direction. Jane circled behind a chair and warned, “I shall scream if you touch me.”

“Do you think I care what people will think?”

She knew he meant it. He had no respect for society’s opinion. But she did.

“You profess to care for my opinion. I can’t bear the thought of you touching me.”

He winced, but he moved farther away.

“I have reason to believe Havelock may have been trying to kill you.”

Jane gripped the back of the chair and shook her head.

“It’s true. The accident at the abbey, the shelf in the larder—all of that.”

b

Jane circled the chair and sat down. She covered her face with her hands and her shoulders began to shake. Drew took a step toward her then stopped. She didn’t want him to comfort her.

“Jane, I realize it may be hard for you to think a relative capable of this, but he is a desperate man; he will do anything to get his hands on Heartland.”

She raised her face. He expected to see tears. Instead, Jane was laughing. This was more frightening than tears.

Between spasms of laughter, she gasped, “The most amusing thing, Drew, is that he says the same thing about you!”

She continued to laugh, and Drew waited patiently for her to regain control.

“Jane, you know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Do I? How? You’ve been sending me those silly notes and lying about it. They nearly drove me crazy, especially when I realized Cherry wasn’t behind them. You must have known they would upset me. I’m hardly the type to have a secret admirer.”

“You are exactly the type, with that frigid facade you put on for the world.”

“You do have a way with words, Lord Devlin.”

He watched her walk toward the door. She opened it, holding it open for him to pass. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t fall into your arms this time, Lord Devlin. I fear I’ve had enough of men and passion to last me a lifetime.”

“But Jane…”

She shook her head, and Drew realized it was useless. He might persuade her, but somewhere, deep inside, she would always wonder. He didn’t want a wife who couldn’t trust him implicitly. He strode past Jane and out into the yard. He found Tom Summers by the carriage where they were harnessing a new team. One of the new horses was proving restless. He reared, moving back and forth in the traces.

Standing beside the carriage, Drew heard a strange cracking sound. He bent down, looking carefully at the tongue of the vehicle. Not wanting to sound a general alarm, Drew called to Jane’s coachman.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Summers, I think you better check the carriage. Looks as though someone has tampered with it.”

“Impossible, my lord. Except for a quick bite, either me or James has been watching the carriage,” replied the old man indignantly. Nevertheless, he too bent to inspect the tongue. He straightened up and shouted, “Here, you! Get that horse out of harness!”

“Wot’s yer problem, mister?” yelled one of the ostlers.

“Get that beast out o’ th’ way, I says. There’s somewhat wrong wi’ the carriage.” Drew, Summers, and young James inspected the wooden tongue. Summers shook his head. “This here tongue’s been cut. See where the ax took out chips of wood?”

“Who’d do such a thing?” asked James.

“Who, indeed?” said Drew quietly.

They stood up. “Mr. Havelock,” whispered James, not realizing he was voicing the thoughts of his two companions. “That’s why ’e was being so nice. ’E wanted to get you an’ me away from th’ carriage and into the stables!”

“You’re no doubt right, my boy, but I don’t think your mistress is in any mood to hear such a tale at this moment.”

“So ye’ll just keep mum about it, d’ye hear?” said Summers.

“O’ course, Mr. Summers. I wouldn’t upset Miss Lindsay for the world,” said the young man stoutly.

“Good,” said Drew. “I must prove whether our suspicions are correct. Did either of you see Mr. Havelock leave? Did he go in the direction of London?”

“Yes, my lord. ’E might double back, if ’e was wishful to see if ’is dirty work paid off. With a cut like this, ’twould probably hold past Newbury. It’s flat going till after that. ’Twould take some pulling and lunging up a ’ill t’ make it break in two.”

“In other words, the tongue would snap where it would do the most harm.”

“Aye,” said Summers slowly. “When ye catch that young beggar, m’lord, give ’im one for me.”

“I’ll give him several for all of us,” promised Drew.

“You may as well let them repair this, Summers. That way, if Havelock intended to backtrack and intercept you, he’ll wonder what’s become of you.”

“Then ’e would end up ’ere.”

“True, and I’ve no worry but you’d know how to handle him. Just keep a close watch on your mistress—now and later. When I meet Mr. Havelock, I intend to persuade him—forcefully, if I’m lucky—to leave the country again. This time, for good.”

“Amen to that, m’lord.”

Drew’s rented phaeton was brought into the yard with two fresh horses. He swung up easily and waved to his two co-conspirators.

“Good luck t’ ye, m’lord!” called Tom Summers.

b

Jane watched this exchange with interest from the darkened doorway of the inn. When Drew was out of sight, she joined her coachman beside the damaged carriage.

“What’s the problem, Summers?”

“Just a bit o’ trouble wi’ th’ carriage, miss. Don’t you worry about it. It’ll delay us ’bout an hour; we may ’ave t’ put up for th’ night somewhere, but we’ll put most o’ th’ ground between ’ere and ’ome behind us before nightfall, never you fear.”

“What happened to it?” asked Jane, peering past the coachman.

“Just a weakness in th’ tongue, miss.”

“May I see it?” she demanded. He stood aside. Jane, who was as knowledgeable as most men about carriages and horses, took only a quick glance to determine that someone had tampered with the vehicle. She turned to her coachman. “When did this happen? Is it possible Lord Devlin had access to the carriage while you were eating?”

“Lord Devlin?” asked the incredulous groom.

“James!” warned the older man.

“But Mr. Summers, if ’t weren’t for Lord Devlin, we might never ’ave seen the thing! We’d ’a been killed!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Lindsay, but what th’ boy says is true. Lord Devlin thinks it might ’o been done by yer cousin.”

“Yes, he would think that,” murmured Jane. “Do whatever you must to get us on our way, Summers.”

Jane wandered back inside. She returned to the private parlour, her thoughts uncomfortable company in view of all that had passed.

Perhaps she had been too hasty. And yet, she was too weary to try and make sense of all that had happened. If Drew were to be believed, she had been travelling with a man who wanted her dead. Then why hadn’t Roland tried to kill her somewhere along the road?

She had no answer to this question, except the unpalatable thought that Drew should not be believed. Oh, perhaps Roland had been partially correct. Perhaps Drew had wanted Heartland so badly that he would consider marriage to its mistress. But that fact held no comfort for her. To marry a man whose true object of desire was her estate? Never.

“Miss Jane, the landlord wondered if you’d like a room upstairs to rest in until our carriage is fixed,” said Tucker, poking her head in the parlour’s door.

“No, Tucker, I’ll just wait here.”

“Miss Jane?”

“Yes.”

“About Lord Devlin—”

“Tucker, I know you are partial to his lordship, but I’d rather not discuss either him or my cousin. Not now, not ever.”

“As you wish, Miss Jane.”

“Just call me when the carriage is ready to go.”

Chapter Ten

H
avelock reached London by four o’clock and soon had secured lodgings at a modest boarding house near St. James Street. He sent the carriage to a nearby inn, which agreed to return them to The Crown in Reading. Next, he changed his coat and made his way out of doors, determined to enter the first gambling den he came across.

“Why the hurry?” asked a smooth voice from behind.

Havelock wheeled to face his nemesis, his beady eyes bulging in their sockets.

“Devlin! How the devil…?”

“That’s how I earned the nickname, Havelock. Always turning up at the most devilish moment.”

Roland Havelock looked to his left—a dark alley lay that way. To his right? A busy street. He took a step back, preparing to flee.

“Not so fast, old boy,” drawled Drew, grabbing the mountainous man by his lapels.

“Here now Devlin,” protested Havelock.

“Precisely. Here and now,” replied Drew with a deadly calm. Exhibiting a physical strength that had frightened much braver men, Drew yanked Havelock into the alley and threw him against the brick building, making the big man’s teeth rattle.

“What do you want of me?” Havelock squeaked.

“A bit of truth and a promise.” Drew pulled a pistol from his pocket and stepped away, keeping the firearm levelled at his prisoner’s ample girth. “Tell me all you have done to Jane; tell me how you’ve tried to kill her.”

“You’re mad, Devlin!” cried Havelock. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“We both know why, though I regret having to admit I probably put the idea in your head.”

“So you admit to being a party—”

“I only admit that I didn’t realize how dangerous you would become. Now tell me.” Drew could see Havelock’s brain churn, wondering exactly what Drew already knew. He would be loathe to admit anything he didn’t have to.

“Actually, it wasn’t all that much. Just a scare or two.”

“Tell me!”

“Well, Sims did most of it,” whined Havelock. “But he never succeeded.”

“Ah, yes, Sims. He was responsible for the larder shelf. And the abbey stones?”

“That was Sims, too!”

“But your hands are not entirely pristine, are they? The chocolates?” Drew was fishing now. He had never been convinced there had been anything wrong with that box of sweets. Drew waved the pistol and demanded, “Well?”

“All right! Yes! Yes, I poisoned the chocolates and the tea, as well! Just let me go, Devlin! Please! I’ll leave, the country, anything!”

“The tea? Now that would have been…?”

Too late, Havelock recognized his mistake—Devlin hadn’t known about the tea. Havelock’s shoulders sagged and he confessed, “In Dieppe, but I gather Jane didn’t like the taste of it. She must not have drunk it, except a little. She only became ill.”

Hearing the details, Drew wanted to pull the trigger, ridding the world of one of its evildoers. Instead, he said coolly, “And then we come to the carriage.”

Roland Havelock’s head jerked up. He had counted on Drew not being aware of his latest attempt. Until that very moment, Havelock had clung to the hope that even as he spoke, his cousin might be lying dead in a ditch. Now, all was well and truly lost. Jane would live. His mother would never inherit Heartland, and its income was lost to him forever.

He nodded and said, “Yes, and the carriage.”

“One more thing, Havelock.”

“No, I swear—there was nothing else!”

“I beg to differ. Where did you get rid of the Heartland pendant?”

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about now. The last time I saw it, it was on the table beside Jane in the gold salon.”

“You’ll forgive me if I wonder why you would bother to remember such a trivial detail.”

Havelock was panting like a trapped animal. His eyes slid back and forth searching for an escape that would not materialize.

Drew cocked the pistol. “I am always amazed at the hair triggers the gunsmiths put on these duelling pieces.”

Havelock wiped his brow on the sleeve of his coat, staring at the pistol all the while. Finally, he began to tremble. “Fleet Street. Number twenty-three. But it won’t be there any more!”

“You had better pray that it is,” said Drew. He yanked the cravat from Havelock’s neck and tied his fleshy hands behind his back, securing it to a pipe that ran the length of the building. Then he pulled out his own handkerchief and gagged him.

“Now I will send word to a couple of friends about where to find you. They are sailors on one of my ships. They will take you on a healthful sea voyage to the Americas. Try to be thankful for this, because I promise you, if I ever set eyes on you again, I will gladly put a bullet through your temple.”

b

Drew left and made his way to the shipyards and arranged Havelock’s voyage. Next, he went to the nearest posting inn. He hired a fresh pair and turned his rented phaeton back toward Bath.

He changed teams at The Crown in Reading and continued on to Newbury. Here, his inquiry brought the news that Jane’s carriage had passed some three hours earlier. Waving his thanks to the young ostler in the yard, Drew continued on until he reached the George Inn in Hungerford.

It was after midnight, but the ostlers in the yard were quick to come running as he halted his phaeton.

“Will ye be stayin’ th’ night, sir?”

“Yes. Tell me, did a lady and her maid stop here several hours ago? Her old coachman was driving.”

“Aye, sir. Ye’d be thinkin’ on Miss Lindsay of Heartland, Bath.”

“Yes, that’s the one,” said Drew eagerly.

“Aye, they stopped an’ stayed, sir.”

Drew threw the young man a coin and hurried inside.

He was greeted by a sleepy landlord who was anxious only to return to his bed. Still, the proprietor knew quality when he saw it. He perked up more upon learning that his late-night arrival was a peer.

He led Drew upstairs and showed him to a room. Lighting several candles, he apologized for its meagre size.

“It’s fine. Tell me, where is Miss Lindsay’s room?”

“Now, m’lord, I don’t hold with…” He winked and pocketed the gold crown Drew slipped into his out thrust hand. “Last room on the left at the end of the hall, m’lord.”

Drew waited until the landlord shuffled back down the steps. Then he changed his riding boots for slippers and eased out of the room and down the hall, a single candle providing a small pool of light.

He tried the door and found it unlocked. Damn the foolish chit! Jane must have lost her mind! A solitary female traveller to be so trusting in a public inn…

Silently; he crossed the bare floor, and he raised the candle to light the bed. Yes, that was Jane’s long, glorious hair fanned out across the pillow. He set the candlestick on the bedside table.

Leaning over the bed, Drew whispered, “Jane, wake up.”

b

Jane stirred, groaning as the horror of her nightmare hit her. Drew had been in it, Roland too. She was torn between them…Jane heard someone calling to her. She tried to open her eyes, but she was so very tired.

“Jane!”

Drew. It was Drew!

She opened her eyes, but the shadowy candlelight lent his face a ghoulish cast. Closing her eyes, Jane reached beneath the pillow. She sat up, shoved the ghoul away with one hand, and produced a tiny silver pistol and fired.

Drew staggered back, one hand flew up to cover his cheek. His voice strangely clear, he said, “Why does the woman I love want to shoot me?”

He collapsed onto the floor as the padding of bare, running feet ended with the door being flung open. Tucker, candle in hand, pushed past the inn’s interested occupants.

“Miss! Sweet Lord! It’s his lordship!” she breathed.

The landlord elbowed his way inside, a wide-eyed maid following in his wake. He knelt beside the fallen viscount, made sure he was still breathing, and clambered back up on his feet.

“An accident, my dear patrons, a mere accident!” announced the landlord, his deep voice restoring normalcy to the nightmarish scene. He shut the door and the knot of people dispersed. Quickly, he lit all the candles he could find.

Jane, who had been frozen since the gun discharged, came back to life, dropping the weapon and beginning to shiver. “Is…is he…dead?” she asked, her teeth chattering.

Tucker glanced up from her position on the floor. Her white nightcap was soaked with blood where she had pressed it against the side of Drew’s head. “No, Miss Jane, not dead.”

“But…the…blood?”

“Head wounds always bleed mortal bad.”

“What happened, Miss Lindsay? This man arrived not more than twenty minutes ago. He claimed to be Lord Devlin.”

“And so he is,” said Jane, regaining her sense of competency. “You must send for the doctor immediately.”

The landlord nodded to the silent servant who hurried from the room.

“We’ll need to get him into bed.” Jane stood up and pulled on her wrapper.

“His room is down the hall, miss,” said the landlord, who was also judging the wounded man’s weight against his own strength.

“It would take an army to carry him all that way,” said Jane. “We’ll put him in my bed.”

“Very good, miss.” With Tucker staunching the flow of blood, Jane and the landlord pushed and pulled until they had Drew settled in bed. Tucker lifted the cloth, but the bleeding continued.

“Miss Jane, send someone t’ th’ carriage for th’ medicine case.”

“In a trice, Miss Lindsay,” responded the landlord.

By the time the doctor arrived, the bleeding had stopped. The physician cleaned and examined the narrow, ugly gash that ran along one side of Drew’s head.

“He’ll do. I’ll just bandage his head again. He’ll be fine in a day or two, though he may have a headache. He’s a very lucky man. A half-inch to the right and he would be blind or dead.”

Jane shut her eyes and sent up a small prayer of thanksgiving. The doctor departed, and Jane sent Tucker away to get whatever rest she could for the remainder of the night.

Jane pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down. She stared at Drew, willing him to wake up, if only for a moment.

Why had he been in her room? Had he followed her all this way, waiting for dark when she would be asleep so he could come into her room and smother her? What had he wanted? That awful nightmare had clouded her sound judgement. If she had been completely awake, she wouldn’t have shot at him. Would she?

And so, the question remained: what was he doing at this particular inn, inside her room?

With a sigh, Jane admitted she would never know the answer. She would always doubt her ability to discern truth from prevarication when listening to a man, especially when her heart was engaged.

Oh! And it was definitely engaged. Her soul filled with despair. She was in love with this fierce, unconventional man! But where there was no trust, love would moulder and die.

The sun rose. Outside, it would be another beautiful day. Her eyes red from lack of sleep, Jane sat by the bed, waiting.

b

Drew opened his eyes, wincing at the discomfort this caused him. He focused on the blurry figure by his side. It was Jane, her troubled green eyes never faltering.

“The doctor says you’ll soon be fit again.” Jane’s voice was devoid of emotion.

“That’s certainly good to know.” He watched her a moment longer before saying resignedly, “It’s over, isn’t it, Jane? We both must admit it and get on with our lives. I can see it in your eyes. I had hoped…But last night proved to me—rather forcefully—” he added, a glimmer of a smile lighting his eyes, “that we can never again completely trust each other. Thank you for staying with me through the night.” He raised up on one elbow and extended his hand for her to shake. Jane looked at it for a moment before putting her hand in his. One firm shake of the hand, and he released her.

Without another word, Jane left the room.

Tucker came in twenty minutes later to collect Jane’s clothing. She flashed him a look of frustration, but said nothing.

After helping Jane dress, Tucker hurried back to Drew’s bedside for a brief farewell. “Now then, m’lord, I only ’ave a moment before we leave. D’you need anything?”

“No…yes! My valet. Tell him to come here and bring my groom, my curricle and team, my clothes—just everything. I’m going back to London from here.”

“Very good, m’lord.” Tucker turned as she heard Jane call her from the yard.

“And, Tucker, tell our confederates that I’ve taken care that Mr. Havelock is out of the country. Still, I’ll feel better knowing you, Pipkin, and Mrs, Brown are keeping an eye on her.”

“God bless you, m’lord!” said the tearful servant, taking his proffered hand and pressing it warmly.

b

Jane’s carriage entered the front gate of Heartland in the late afternoon. Tom Summers sounded his yard of tin to announce their arrival. Jane eagerly peered out the carriage window, anxious for that first glimpse of home.

There it was, like a haven of peace! She sat back in the seat, folding her hands in her lap very properly.

“Remind me, Tucker, to send for extra domestics to help clean in the next two weeks. And, of course, I must send out the invitations tomorrow. I fear it will be a late night.”

“Yes, Miss Jane,” said the maid.

“But first, it is imperative that I send a note to Aunt Sophie. I must set her mind at ease. Then I can resume my preparations for our Open Day celebration.”

The carriage stopped and James let down the steps and opened the door. As Jane descended from the carriage, she smiled. Not only could she feel the house welcome her, but Pipkin had assembled most of the first-floor staff by the front door.

“Welcome home, Miss Jane,” intoned the butler.

“Thank you, Pipkin. I am so delighted to be home.”

Pipkin bowed his head and said, “‘Go home to thy friends, and tell them how great things the Lord hath done for thee, and hath had compassion on thee,’ said our Lord.”

Jane grinned. It was good to be back home where she belonged. As she entered the house, a feeling of contentment settled over her. She made her way upstairs, lingering at the landing to look down at the marble entry with its crystal chandelier.

Mickey followed, loaded down with her things. He waited patiently for her to proceed.

Jane turned to him and asked, “Did you miss me, Mickey?”

“Yes, Miss Jane.”

“I missed everyone here, too.” She noticed a large, unfamiliar box he carried. “Where did that come from, Mickey?”

“Th’ boot, Miss Jane, along o’ all th’ rest.”

Jane continued up the stairs to her room. When Mickey had put down his burdens, Jane said, “Go and ask Mr. Summers who put this box in the boot of the carriage.”

“Yes, Miss Jane.”

Jane placed the plain box on the bed and opened it. The red dress! And the others, too! But how? She picked up the deep red evening gown and held it against her. How excited she had been at the prospect of wearing the daring dress for Drew.

Jane walked over to the cheval glass to study her reflection. It would be every bit as revealing and appealing as she had hoped. Abruptly, she returned it to the box. The other dresses she would wear, but not the red one. It had been made for someone else, someone who was alluring and exciting—not plain Miss Lindsay.

“Miss Jane?”

“Yes, Mickey?”