The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (53 page)

“Wouldn’t be
surprised.”

Nor would Tally,
unfortunately.

“So here you are.”
Reed seemed winded. He’d probably run up the four flights of
stairs.

“Reed! What are you
doing up here?”

“Making sure my
“
wife
” sees me.”

She made a sound of
exasperation.

He grinned. “I’d
like to speak, privately, with my...” at Foster’s scowl, he
changed it to... “your mistress.”

Foster glanced at her
and, at her grudging nod, he left. Eyebrow raised, she looked her
inquiry at Reed.

“I missed you… next
door, I mean.”

There was an unusual
flush staining his neck and ears. Was he embarrassed?

“I’ve become
accustomed to seeing you first thing in the morning.”

She knew what he meant.
She’d missed not having his smiling face to greet her this morning.
Knowing she’d never be seeing him again, in just that way, had
darkened the day. But what could she say? It was over now, and she’d
have to learn to live without him. She stood quietly, waiting for him
to speak.

“I’ve thought of a
few reasons why you might change your mind.”

“About what?”

“About wanting to
stay married to me.”

“You’re crazy! We
can’t stay married because we aren’t married in the first place.”
She turned away to hide the spurt of joy that gushed up at his words.
Struggling with her own confused feelings (She didn’t want to be
married, did she?), she gazed out the window. Those men were still
watching the house. Hadn’t Foster said Reed knew them? Why were
they still there if he’d recovered his memory? Come to think of it,
why had they been there in the first place? She turned to ask him,
when he spoke.

“In addition to the
good reasons, such as how well we get along and share a lot of the
same tastes, and how I make you laugh, and…”

She was surprised to
note a vulnerable air about him. He seemed nervous.

“I thought maybe you
had refused those other proposals because… well… they didn’t
suit you.” His voice faltered for a moment, then resumed. “Maybe
you’d want to be married to me because I suit you and I really am a
better catch?” He flashed her his devilish smile, the one that
mocked himself more than her.

“No catch is the best
catch.”

Now his look turned to
consternation. “Why ever not?”

“Because, as I
explained...” she hesitated. “Oh, maybe not... I didn’t finish
last night. I plan on
never
getting married,” she said it in slow, deliberate terms he couldn’t
fail to grasp. “Marriage is like a trap baited to lure silly sheep.
It binds the woman and robs her of all her rights and free will. Why
would I be so foolish as to wish that on myself, if I have no need
to?”

“For security,
perhaps, like most women,” he suggested mildly.

She nodded her head
with a little smile. “Luckily, I have no need to. My Great Aunt Ida
saw to my financial security.” Behind her back, she crossed her
fingers, praying her twin brothers hadn’t made a liar of her.

“To have children?”
he coaxed with an endearing smile.

Her own smile
disappeared and she hesitated but was no more inclined to give in. “I
will just have to learn to enjoy my sisters’ and brothers’
children. Having my own is not worth the price of my freedom.”

His jaw muscles
clenched and unclenched. She sensed that, like his anger last night,
this was the real Reed Gordon Eames. A determined man, willing to
fight for what he wanted. And it appeared he’d gotten over her lies
and wanted to marry her — for real this time.

“To save your
reputation. If it ever comes out that we lived together, Tally
Leighton…”

She gasped. She hadn’t
told him her real name yet!

“Ma’am!” Joseph’s
swift little footsteps raced up the last few stairs and reached the
landing. She turned her head toward the door.

“Ma’am?” He stood
at the open door.

“Come in, Joseph.”

He entered and said,
“Mr. Foster thought I should tell you that, when I was next door
getting the rest of our belongings, someone knocked at the front
door. No one was there to answer, so I did.” He shrugged his slight
shoulders helplessly. “A man asked for a Mr. Manfred and I told
them there was no one of that name here… there…” He looked
confused for a moment before continuing his explanation. “He told
me to be sure to give the message to my master, then he left. Mr.
Foster thought I should tell you and Mr. Leighton about it.”

“Thank you, Joseph.”
She saw he was worried he might have done the wrong thing by
answering the door. “You’ve done well.”

He sent her his wide,
sunny smile, pleased he’d got it right this time. She shook her
head in amusement as she heard him running back down the stairs.

She turned back to
Reed, but saw he was moving swiftly toward the door. In fact, he was
almost out of it.

“My head hurts,” he
complained, holding his hand to his head like in a bad melodrama.
“We’ll finish this conversation later.”

“There’s nothing
more to say.”

“Make no mistake,
Missy
, I have plenty
more to say on the matter.” With a cheeky smile, he waved and left,
closing the door firmly, behind him.

“Well, really!”
Tally was dismayed. She’d been just about to tell him her real
name, only to have him leave like that.

There was something odd
about his hasty departure. That infectious grin. That jaunty wave.
She didn’t, for one minute, believe his head ached.

“You called?” Reed,
in his “Mr. Manfred” disguise, found Jace and Max across the
street at their rented house. He’d interpreted their message to
mean they wanted him in his disguise.

“Gadzooks!” Max
spun around, knife ready to slice any attacker into pieces. “You
shouldn’t sneak up on us like that! You could get yourself killed.”

“I know enough to be
ready to defend myself when I do startle you, Max.” Reed chuckled.
“What’s going on?”

“Traubridge!” Max
was bubbling with suppressed excitement. “We’re about to set the
hounds on him. He’s on his way back to London as we speak. Word is
he’s going to pack up and flee the country. The Vanisher is trying
to vanish!”

“He must have
received some kind of warning while he was at his father’s
funeral.” Reed pointed out. Pulling out a chair, he turned and
straddled it.

“Not from Hallmoor,
of that I’m certain.” Jace defended their Chief. “He would take
his own life before he betrayed his country. Still…” he paused,
“the bastard must have someone on the inside feeding him
information.”

“In the Chief’s
office?” Though they had spoken of this possibility before, Max
sounded astounded. As were they all. Hallmoor ran a tight ship and
his men were known to be very loyal.

“Must be. It’s the
only explanation.” Reed said. “Whoever it is could be doing it
for the money, but my bet is he’s being blackmailed.” His friends
nodded in agreement. “Traubridge must have some hold over him and
is forcing the poor sod to keep him apprised of events that affect
him and his enterprise.”

Maybe hitting his head
and losing his memory had actually saved the day rather than
imperiled the success of their mission. At least his documents were
still in his possession and their contents hadn’t been seen by
anyone other than the three men around the table.

“That puts you in
even greater danger,” Jace said. “In Egypt, he only thought you
might be involved with us and know something worth killing you for.
After all, someone other than Max and me — who he pegged right from
the start, probably thanks to the same informer — had to be aware
of his undertaking, to free all those young ladies and spirit them
onto a ship home. Also, the fact that you left around the same date
as us, makes you a prime suspect. Hence, the attempts to do away with
you before you reached England’s shores.”

Max continued that line
of thought. “If we’re right and he has someone feeding him
information from the Chief’s office, Traubridge now knows for
certain you’re the last one about to deliver the final
incriminating documents.”

“Sounds right,”
Jace said. “At the very end, the Chief’s personal secretary,
Jones, knew of your involvement. Hallmoor appears to trust his staff
implicitly. Unwisely, it appears.”

“Traubridge no doubt
wants to clear things up while Hallmoor is preoccupied with their
father’s funeral and estate matters,” Reed suggested. “He might
even try to take advantage of his brother’s absence to destroy
certain files in the Chief’s office. We should send someone over to
guard the files.”

“Already done. I sent
Timothy Vane, Darlington’s youngest and told him to bring along at
least four more Spares as reinforcements. They’re to guard the
office and the files in it.”

“Excellent,” Reed
approved. “Perhaps they should remove the files to a safer and
unknown location. The Horde’s preferred method would be to set fire
to the whole building and to hell with all the innocent people in
it.”

“Good idea. I should
have thought of that.” Jace nodded. “I’ll send word to Timothy
to get started on it.”

“So how are we going
to catch Traubridge alone, without those savages around to protect
him?” Max asked.

Jace slid his chair
closer and leaned forward, indicating they should do likewise.
“Here’s what happened. Yesterday, Hallmoor got wind of his
brother’s hurried return to town and smelled a rat. He immediately
had a courier ride all night to alert me and to say he’s taken
measures to slow down Traubridge’s return trip. In fact, the Chief
is expected to reach London this evening, several hours before his
step-brother.” He slapped his hand on the table. “I told you I
thought he was onto his brother’s illicit activities.”

“Here’s where I
come in,” Reed said.

“Naturally,” Jace
and Max said the same thing at the same time. They knew him enough by
now to acknowledge his acumen for devising clever tactics.

He ignored their
good-natured mockery. “Chase and Francis have agreed to help. I
need only send word to them and our plan can begin. Your role is to
gather as many of the Spares, as you can. We’ll only prevail by
sheer strength in numbers.” He pulled out a large map from inside
his coat and, unfolding it, he placed it on the table in front of
them. “Here’s what I thought we could do.”

* * *

Edgar Traubridge was
emptying his home of everything he could carry with him and making
arrangements for the rest of his things to be packed and sent to…
Where? Not Egypt this time. There were informants there. He’d
better lie low elsewhere for awhile.

Italy? Now that the
wars were over and Napoleon was no longer terrorizing the Continent,
the place was overrun with British travelers. He hated the idea but
perhaps less civilized Spain or even rougher Portugal? He needed to
be near the ocean, where a trip to Algiers was easily arranged should
he suddenly need to escape.

“Be careful when
packing my Egyptian artifacts, Clarence, and take special care with
the “Green Heart of the Nile”. We want everything to arrive safe
and sound, don’t we?” He gloated at just the thought of his
favorite possession. A necklace of pure gold, set with the finest
emeralds ancient Egypt had produced. It was named for the verdant
green banks of the Nile River and was said to have belonged to an
Egyptian king’s daughter in the 12th dynasty. Worth well over
twenty thousand pounds, to Edgar it meant much more than money. It
represented the first major step in his bid to surpass his older
step-brother.

“Yes, sir.” The
anxious look on Clarence’s face told Edgar that his longtime butler
knew who would be blamed if they didn’t. Poor devil wasn’t to
know these were the very last duties he’d be performing for his
master. Edgar couldn’t afford to leave any loose strings dangling.
Hallmoor, or Olvin as he was now called, would extract information
from anyone left behind, damn him.

Which meant disposing
of Adley, too. Pity. He’d been an able assistant, but Edgar knew
going alone was his only chance of making it away safely this time.

The doorbell rang.

He moved swiftly to
enter the open door to a secret hallway in the wall behind the
fireplace and, placing his hand on the stone that would activate the
closing feature, he prepared to push it once he knew he had to remain
concealed. He’d left this bolt-hole ajar and at the ready because,
thanks to Jones, he knew his step-brother was, even now, arranging to
have him arrested as soon as Olvin returned from the funeral. He had
little time to gather his belongings and escape. “Remember, I’m
not home to anyone, especially not to family.”

“Yes, sir,”
Clarence intoned without inflection before going to open the front
door. He returned within moments. “It’s a message for you, sir.”

Traubridge came out of
his hiding place and took the envelope. “That will be all for now,
Clarence. Get on with packing my clothes. I will be leaving the
instant everything is ready. Have the boy run to the stables. Tell
them we need two of our largest carriages. In the back lane. And pack
it quickly, Clarence, we don’t have much time.”

“Yes, sir.”

Edgar heard the wobble
in the old butler’s voice. Clarence knew this was not the normal
procedure. That something serious was happening. Never had his master
been forced to make such a hasty departure.

It was all Hallmoor’s
fault! Edgar’s older brother had doggedly pursued information to
catch the Vanisher, which — Edgar had been delighted to learn —
was the nickname they’d given him. And now, Edgar’s informant had
told him that his step-brother was about to receive documents from
that bastard, Selwich, containing all the ammunition he needed to
hang yours truly.