Lord Fool to the Rescue (5 page)

John led two men up the stairs, held up a hand to indicate they should wait in the hallway, and entered Ledford’s bedroom.

The first wore spectacles and carried a red book as if it were the pillow for the Crown Jewels. When he noticed Tempest, he bowed his head politely, then choked, then blushed profusely. By the low light of the lamps, he appeared purple as he shook and sputtered and stepped away from her—as if she’d brought on his personal plague. The reverence he’d shown the ledger was gone. The book disappeared behind the man’s back.

Then she knew.

The auction. The results of it were no doubt contained within the pages.

She considered retiring to her room, but thought better of it. Who was she to be embarrassed by the lurid actions of men? Let
them
be mortified.

She lifted her chin and looked the man in the eye. Or, rather, she would have if he were again capable of looking in her direction. Instead, he cowered behind the second man, who was confused by the actions of the first until he noticed Tempest’s presence. Instead of blushing and looking away, he strode over to her, took her hand, and bowed as if just presented to the Prince Regent.

“Miss MacIntyre, I presume?” He gave a warm smile, as if truly pleased to have stumbled across her in the hallway.

“Yes. I am.”

“I am…hmm.” He frowned at the floor.

Had he forgotten who he was?

“I am…Mister Gordon, miss. Keep a stiff upper, that’s a good lass. Nearly finished with all this nonsense—”

The first gentleman cleared his throat rather pointedly.

Mister Gordon dropped his chin to his chest and gave the other man what could only be called an evil eye from beneath his white brows.

The first man shook his head and turned expectantly to the door.

Gordon gave her fingers a little squeeze before stepping away.

What an odd man. And if his business with her stepfather had anything to do with the auction, why would he not be embarrassed to face her?

Had the Duke of Stromburg been wrong? Was there really to be a wedding after all? Did she indeed have an appointment to meet her intended the following evening?

If she dared hope, if she dared believe such a thing, wouldn’t it be wonderful if this warm man was in her intended’s employ? Surely this kind gentleman wouldn’t work for a monster.

The door opened. John stood back to allow the doctor to exit the room.

“How is he, Doctor?” Tempest’s concern was real, but it wasn’t for her uncle.

“He’ll be fine, fine. In a bit of pain, though. Let him drink himself numb, says I. Burns cause tremendous pain, you know. But it’s just the one leg, and a bit of his hand. I’ve left some balm. Apply more in the morning and wrap him in clean dressing once a day.” The doctor took a few steps and turned back. “He said it was pig’s fat.”

“Yes, sir. He tossed it on a fire.”

“Well, I’m sure he learned a lesson there.”

I’m sure he didn’t
, she was tempted to say, but she smiled and nodded.

“Murray, are you there?” Ledford called from inside the room. “Come in, man! Come in!”

John gestured the men inside. While he waited to shut the door after them, he shook his head at Tempest, just as he’d done earlier.

She jumped to her feet, to ask him where the women were, but he firmly closed the door in her face.

Alone in the hallway, she pressed her ear to the door.

“Who’s this, then?” Ledford bellowed.

“This is…the man with the highest bid, sir. Or rather, he represents the man with the highest bid.”

“The book! Hand me the book!”

Dear Heavens! It had only been an action after all. As her stomach plummeted, it nearly pulled her to the floor, but she hadn’t the leisure for self-pity. She must discover what they had planned for her!

Ledford laughed in surprise, then laughed himself silly. The others made no sound while they waited for the baron to compose himself.

“Not bad for one night’s work,” he finally said. “Now, who is this Lord X?”

“Lord Anonymous.”

She assumed it was Gordon who spoke. He’d used no title on her uncle—a slight the man typically would not have tolerated. Perhaps he’d been drinking long before the doctor arrived.

“I suppose I don’t give a fig who it is if he’s got the goods.”

“Payment in full I believe.”

“You don’t mind if I take a moment and count it, I’m sure. Servants and all that.”

“I understand you perfectly, sir.”

Silence stretched. A creak near the door led Tempest to believe Big John guarded the door. He knew she was just on the other side. He’d assume she’d be listening. Why did he not warn her stepfather to lower his voice?

“Fine. Fine. It’s all here. You can come for her at noon tomorrow if you’d like. I’ll make bloody sure she’s prepared. I’ve told her she’s to meet her intended. Maybe your master would like to make a pretense of a ceremony of some sort, gain her cooperation you know—

Just a moment.”

She knew that tone. Something had displeased her stepfather. Someone was in terrible trouble, and she feared it would be her. Even if someone were coming to take her to her doom on the morrow, she still had to deal with Ledford for hours to come. She needed him in a good humor if she was to get her friends back safe and sound. And she might have less than 11 hours in which to do so!

“What’s this?”

“I…I…”

“The Duke of Redmond sent that note along.” Gordon sounded none too happy either.

“Well, it appears the jig is up.”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems my stepdaughter has been told about our little arrangement. There will be no use pretending now.”

“I don’t believe my master would have wanted it any other way, but you decide, Ledford. Do you want the money or not?”

Tempest’s disappointment would know no bounds, it would seem. Gordon had been so warm and friendly, like he’d been truly concerned for her. What he’d truly been was a good actor.

Three things kept her from running down the stairs and out the door.

Penny. Hilde. And Maude.

Again, she pressed her ear to the door. Knowledge might be the only weapon she could secure.

“The deal is final. The money is mine!” Ledford’s voice had gone up an octave.

More likely, the money would soon belong to Ledford’s creditors. That was, unless the man lost it gambling before they arrived at the door. Even with a burned body and liquor replacing the blood in his veins, the man would prefer gambling to breathing. No doubt the next knock would be a mob of card players come for a pre-arranged night of gaming. Her stepfather couldn’t keep a tuppence for more than a day without the thing driving him mad with possibilities.

Unfortunately, the man was clever but lacked luck, never mind intelligence. He might still be waiting to win his first wager…ever.

“Well, then,” said Gordon through the door. “Excellent. I’ll take the lady with me now, if you don’t mind. I don’t trust you not to lose her between now and noon, with the miss being forewarned and you laid up as you are.”

“But…but that would constitute two nights. I’d need twice the money!”

“Nonsense. We won’t…ah…
arrive
for hours. There was no stipulation as to location, I assume.”

“No, there was not,” the third man interjected.

“Well, then. There you are.”

Tempest waited for her stepfather to protest on some other grounds, but he did not. Thanks to the note from the Duke of Redmond, she wouldn’t have time to rescue her friends!

Her first instinct was to find somewhere in the house to hide until this Gordon fellow gave up looking for her. But her body had decided something else entirely. Her hand attached itself to the door handle and turned. She pushed her way into her mother’s former room. Big John was moved a bit more easily than she expected. Again, she had the niggling feeling the man might have been on her side for the past two years and she’d not known it. She’d been wrong to assume the servant was as evil as his master, but she’d consider that later.

“I’m not going anywhere until you agree not to punish the women!”

All heads turned to her.

Ledford smiled. “What women?”

“Mister Gordon, my stepfather is hiding the female servants of this household in order to gain my cooperation. He’ll have to produce them and insure their good health and employment or I’ll be cooperating with no one.”

To her great relief, Gordon turned a frightening face to the man in the bed.

“Well, Ledford? What are you going to do about it?”

Her stepfather rolled his eyes. “Who are you, to speak to me about my own matters? Take the chit and go. And you’d best have her back here by noon on Sunday, or else your master will be paying for more than just—”

Gordon covered the distance to the bed in two steps. He grabbed Ledford’s bandaged hand. The latter bellowed loudly enough to vibrate the bell on the parish church. The man called Murray, whoever he was, ran to the door and disappeared, as if he’d squeezed around the wood without having opened it first. A moment later, the front door slammed.

Tempest knew not whether to laugh or cry. Who was this Gordon fellow to not fear the wrath of a peer of the realm, minor peer though her stepfather might be?

“Where are they?” Gordon let loose of Ledford’s hand and reached instead for the white dressings on the man’s leg.

“Fine! Fine! They’re locked in the wine cellar.”

“Who are you?” Gordon turned his attention to Big John.

“He’s John,” Tempest offered. “He doesn’t speak.”

“John, I want you to go let the women out. Bring them here. Do you understand?”

John nodded, biting his lip. Tempest thought perhaps the man might actually smile if he hadn’t controlled himself thusly.

“Does he need a key?” Gordon looked at Ledford.

Ledford crossed his arms.

Gordon grabbed the man’s knee, his face showing no emotion at all when the man bellowed and begged. Only when a key was thrown in John’s direction did Mister Gordon release his hold.

“We’ll just wait here, shall we?” He grinned at Tempest.

Ledford gasped and reached for the decanter on the small table near his bed. Gordon slid it just out of reach.

Funny how long a minute lasts in the dead of night when one is denied sleep. After five of those minutes, her stepfather stretched again for the liquor.

Gordon slapped his hand. “Surely this won’t take long, Ledford.”

“I’ll have your head for this!”

“Oh? And whose head would that be?” Gordon winked. Was his name really Gordon?

Tempest couldn’t hold back a smile.

“What are you smiling at, Temper Temper? You haven’t a pleasant day—or night—ahead of you. And you’ll be back under my roof soon enough, begging my protection. You might want to take that into consideration before you enjoy yourself at my expense.”

“Why Stepfather, your expense is exactly what I was considering.” Tempest stepped toward the bed, her hands itching for the feel of muslin bandages, when Hilde’s voice bellowed down the hall.

“Where is she? If he’s done anything to that poor child—”

Hilde arrived at the door and stopped. She looked from the bed, to Tempest, and back again.

“Oh, you poor sir,” she said sweetly. Too sweetly. “Don’t you fret now. We’ll have you well taken care of, don’t you worry none.” She turned to Tempest. “You get out of here, the lot of you. Let Hilde take care of his lordship.”

There was no time to explain to Hilde what was going on. Mister Gordon took her gently by the arm and led her out. She thought about resisting, but after the man had put her stepfather in his place she felt as if resisting would show terrible manners. After all, there was hope this Lord Anonymous would be reasonable.

And until he proved otherwise, Tempest decided not to despair completely.

At the door, John stood waiting with a large bag that looked as though it had been stored beneath the garden roses. He held it out like an offering.

Gordon stopped so she could accept it.

She knew she would never step foot in that house again—for she did intend to escape, even if it meant flinging herself from a moving carriage at some point. So she wanted to open it, to communicate with this possibly gentle giant one last time, in apology for never trusting him before.

The inside was thankfully cleaner that the outside. The yellow gown was folded carefully, on top of it lay the little angel made of china. The small precious chip on the left wing proved it was her own. Her mother’s letters, everything she’d meant to take away with her, lay with it.

She handed the bag to Gordon, then reached up and pulled the big man’s face toward her. A kiss on the cheek was insufficient payment for what he’d given her, but it was all she had to give.

He seemed to appreciate that fact and winked.

The door was open. Gordon gestured to the black carriage awaiting them.