Elizabeth Thornton (34 page)

Then he’d go and deal with the girl.

H
ugh was pacing. Giles was sitting close to the fire, nursing a large brandy. They were in the upstairs parlor in Vayle House.

“It’s only a scratch,” said Giles in answer to Hugh’s question. “She didn’t lose much blood. I think it was nerves that made her faint.”

“Who attacked her?”

“We don’t know.”

“What did he want?”

“I can’t say.”

“Why did she go to Box 10?”

“Look, she’ll be here in a minute. You’ll have to ask her.”

Hugh slammed his open palm against the flat of a small side table, making Giles jump. “Why have I been left here to kick my heels? Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?”

Giles answered him mildly, placatingly. “Be patient. You’ll know everything soon enough.”

“If it’s only a scratch, what’s keeping her?”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

Hugh looked closely at Giles and decided that he shouldn’t be taking his frustration out on him. He was slumped in his chair and looked as though he’d aged ten years in the last half hour. He pulled up a straight-backed chair and seated himself. “All right, I’ll wait,” he said quietly. “But I’m not going to be put off now. You invited me into this when you sent me that cryptic note.”

He’d been attending a meeting of the Dilettante Society in the Thatched Tavern when the Vayle footman finally tracked him down. His mood had ranged from gloomy to downright irritable, and he could hardly concentrate on what he was saying about ancient trade routes and Greek coinage. At the back of his mind hovered the ever present problem of Abbie. She’d made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him, and he couldn’t force himself on a woman who didn’t want him.

Then Giles’s note arrived, saying that he was worried about Abbie, and that if Hugh could attend the performance at the King’s Theater that evening, he’d appreciate it.

He’d been out of the Thatched Tavern like a shot, with no explanation to his friends, most of whom he’d known at Oxford, except to say that something urgent had come up. And it was urgent. It had taken the footman two hours to discover where the Dilettante Society held its meetings, and a lot could have happened in two hours.

He’d arrived at the King’s Theater during one of the intermissions. He knew Daniel’s box was in the dress circle, and he headed straight for it. What kept going through his mind was that George was up to his old tricks and Abbie was helping him again. Apparently she still didn’t understand that this wasn’t a game for amateurs.

But just beneath the anger was stark, raw fear.

When he’d rounded the corner into the dress circle, he came to an abrupt halt. He saw Giles and Harriet and the dowager, Lady Clivendon, but there was no Abbie. They all looked shaken. Giles beckoned him over.

“Daniel is looking for her in the crush,” he said. “I hope I’m wrong, but I think she may have gone by herself to Box 10. It’s in the upper circle. I’m going to take Harriet and her mother back to our own box, then I’m going up there.”

He hadn’t waited to hear more. And when he arrived at Box 10 and tried to enter it, he’d practically had his head blown off.

He looked at Giles. “Why didn’t you send for me sooner?”

Giles let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know. I wanted to. It makes no difference now. It’s too late to save George.”

The door opened at that moment, and Lady Clivendon, Daniel, and Harriet filed into the room. Hugh and Giles rose at their entrance.

When no one else entered, Hugh said, “Abbie?”

Harriet answered him. “She’s resting.” Something in his expression prompted her to add, “She’s all right. Truly.”

Her words mollified him, but only fractionally. He looked at Daniel. “I’m not leaving here,” he said, “until I know exactly what’s going on.”

“Please,” said Lady Clivendon, “take a chair, Mr. Templar. We don’t want you to leave. We want to ask your advice. You see, we don’t know what to do.”

When everyone was seated, she said starkly, “George has been abducted, and someone tried to kill Abbie tonight.”

She knew it was a dream, but try as she might, she couldn’t wake from it. She was in the bookshop in the Palais Royal, and she was all that stood between Nemo and Colette. Nemo was in the blue uniform of a French Lifeguard, but that didn’t fool her. He was Nemo; he was the Charioteer; he was the man who had assaulted her in her own bed, the man who had abducted George. She had a pistol in her hand. All she had to do was pull the trigger and Colette and George would be safe. But she couldn’t do it. Her finger was paralyzed. He was reaching for her, reaching for her … Why couldn’t she pull the trigger?

She sat bolt upright in bed, fighting for every breath.

“It’s all right,” a voice soothed. “It’s me. Harriet. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s George, isn’t it?” Abbie cried out.

“No, this isn’t about George.” Harriet spoke in the same soothing tone. “You’re to leave at once with Hugh Templar, and I’m here to help you dress.”

As awareness came back to her, Abbie wiped the sweat and tears from her face with the edge of the sheet. “What are you talking about, Harriet? I’m not going anywhere with Hugh Templar.”

“Oh, yes you are!” Hugh came striding into the room. “You had a lucky escape tonight, but you may not be so lucky next time. You’re coming with me. You’re going into hiding until we catch this thug. Now show me your hand.”

He didn’t wait for her to comply with his order but reached for her right hand and studied the red line and puckered skin.

“It’s only a scratch,” Abbie said.

“Yes,” said Hugh somberly. “But it could have been so much worse.”

Her panic had faded but she was still overwrought,
and because she was tempted to disgrace herself by throwing herself into his arms, she spoke sharply. “What are you doing here? How did you get in? If Daniel—”

Hugh made a vicious motion with one hand, silencing her. “Now you listen to me. I’m here with your family’s approval. You’re leaving with me if I have to bind and gag you, and that’s flat. I know everything, Abbie. Your family told me about George and about your close shave with Nemo tonight.
Nemo!
My God, he’s a cold-blooded assassin. He’ll try to get to you again. You can count on it. And this is the first place he’ll look. Even now, he may be watching the house.” He looked at Harriet. “Pack a small bag for her—with only the essentials, do you understand?”

Harriet nodded wordlessly.

When Abbie began to protest, he reached for the blankets and dragged them back. His eyes were like flint. “Either Harriet dresses you or I do.”

“I’ll dress her,” said Harriet, coming to life. “Abbie, I’m ashamed of you. Mr. Templar is going to help us find George. This is too important to let your differences stand in the way. Anyway, it’s what Mama wants, and we all agreed to do whatever he says.” Then, in a shaken plea, “Abbie … please?”

Abbie spoke through her teeth. “I’d do anything for my brother.”

“Good,” said Hugh. “Now get dressed! And quickly!” And turning on his heel, he left the room.

When the door closed, Abbie angrily swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. Harriet had already laid out the clothes she was to wear.

“When I went to bed,” said Abbie, “I thought we’d decided to call in the authorities. You said you’d waken me when they got here.”

Harriet slipped a lawn chemise over Abbie’s head. “It was Mama,” she said. “She trusts Mr. Templar, don’t ask me why. And how could we go against Mama?”

Abbie sank onto the edge of the bed as the familiar despair and inertia washed over her. It wasn’t true to say that Vayles never gave up. She had given up. Why couldn’t her mother see that there was no point in going on with this? No point in getting dressed, no point in going with Hugh, no point—

Harriet had turned to see what Abbie was doing. Aghast, she cried out, “Why are you just sitting there? Put on your stockings. Didn’t you hear Mr. Templar? You’re to hurry!”

Abbie snatched up a stocking and began to pull it on.

Hugh planned their exit as if they were escaping from Newgate prison. The carriage was ordered round, and Giles and Harriet went off as though they were leaving for another engagement. They were, in fact, going to Hugh’s house with a message for Harper. When the carriage pulled away from the front doors, Lady Clivendon turned to Hugh.

“Now tell me the truth, Mr. Templar,” she said. “Do you think George is still alive?”

He didn’t know. He just didn’t know. It didn’t seem likely, but he hadn’t had time to reflect on all that he learned tonight. When he looked into the anguished eyes of Lady Clivendon, however, and sensed Daniel’s and Abbie’s stillness, he couldn’t bring himself to destroy the little hope that was left to them.

He said, “When an agent goes missing, we never give up on him until we have proof that he has been killed. That hasn’t happened here, so I’m working on the assumption
that George is still alive. I won’t give up on your son, Lady Clivendon, I promise you.”

Tears filled her ladyship’s eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Hugh’s quiet assurance to her mother had moved Abbie to tears as well. Not only that, but his graciousness made her feel small. She didn’t know what his motives were in helping her family. Maybe all he wanted was the glory of being the one to stop Nemo. And maybe he wanted to make amends for all that she’d suffered after he handed her over to Maitland. Whatever his motives, he was going to track down Nemo and, God willing, rescue her brother. She should be kissing the ground he walked on.

She couldn’t go that far, not nearly that far. But at least she could be civil to him and properly grateful.

Her mother clasped her in her arms. “You will be careful, Abbie?”

“Don’t worry, Mama. Mr. Templar knows what he’s doing. I’ve read his file, remember? He’s … well … a gladiator. If anyone can beat Nemo, he can.”

Her ladyship nodded. “And now,” she said, “I’d best go along and do my part to help you get safely away.”

As she began to ascend the stairs, Hugh spoke to Daniel. “Daniel, do something for me. Ask Giles to get me a list of all the engagements of the royal family for the next few days. No, make that the royal family
and
the Prime Minister and his cabinet.”

Daniel said, “Nemo is going to complete his mission in the next few days, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what he meant when he told Abbie he’d be leaving England and they wouldn’t meet again.”

“Yes.”

“But why did he give himself away like that?”

When Hugh hesitated, Abbie answered, “Because he was going to kill me. Because he thought I’d be in no position to tell anyone.”

They fell silent as the strains of Mozart floated down to them from the upstairs formal drawing room. Abbie felt a bubble of hysteria rise in her throat and quickly swallowed it. Her mother was playing the piano to a captive audience of maids and footmen on the understanding that when she came to the end of each piece they would applaud.

Everything had returned to normal at Vayle House, or so they hoped anyone watching would think.

“
Now!
” said Hugh, and they turned and made for the kitchen door at the back of the house.

The grounds sloped down to the river, to the jetty where a small rowing boat was tied up. Hugh wouldn’t tell Daniel where they were going. His coachman would be their go-between, he said. All messages were to be left at his club, and Harper would pick them up every day. And if anyone were to ask about Abbie, they were to say she’d gone home to Bath. Meantime, the Vayles were to keep up appearances as though nothing had happened.

“Don’t you think you’re being overcautious?” asked Daniel. “Shouldn’t we at least tell your special branch people what’s going on?”

“If we do,” replied Hugh, “they will want to question Abbie. They may decide to use her as bait to catch Nemo. It’s what I would do. They’ll promise, of course, that they’ll keep her safe, but there’s no guarantee of that. I don’t want Maitland and his men looking for Abbie. Do you understand?”

There was a silence, then Daniel chuckled. “Oh yes,” he said, “I understand perfectly now.”

“Good,” said Hugh curtly. “It’s about time someone did.”

Abbie did not hear any of this. She was looking back at the lights of Vayle House, listening to the faint strains of Mozart that wafted over the lawns. Her mother was playing to a roomful of servants. She, herself, had to creep away like a thief in the night from her own house because someone was trying to kill her. Her brother had been abducted. Her world had tilted on its axis, and she didn’t know how it could ever be put right.

They went downstream, past Somerset House, making for Blackfriars Bridge. They weren’t alone on the river. The Thames was never idle. Lights winked from boats and watermen called to each other as they passed.

“Are we being followed?” she asked at one point, the only words that had passed between them since they entered the boat.

“I doubt it, but even if we are, I don’t think anyone can catch up to us now.”

Hugh spoke with far more confidence than he was feeling. Nemo had become a legend in his own time, and Hugh only hoped that the stories that had circulated about him were exaggerated. Nemo wasn’t only ruthless, he was pitiless. He remembered something else. Nemo had a thing about women.