Shadows and Light (20 page)

And Liam, the Baron of Willowsbrook, would be that lesson.

Your father understood the necessity for making changes that will keep Sylvalan strong
.

Liam stepped out of the club where he’d had dinner, turned up his collar against the drizzle that had begun falling, then looked around for a hackney cab that he could take back to the town house.

Baron Hirstun’s bitter statement had done nothing but convince Liam that opposing whatever the eastern barons were trying to do was right. As soon as Hirstun uttered those words, Liam had recalled with painful clarity the scold’s bridles his father had acquired for his mother and sister. Yes, his father would have enjoyed having a way to silence any opinion but his own — and he would have enjoyed even more being able to take control of Elinore’s inheritance to spend as he pleased. There was no doubt in Liam’s mind that his father would have voted for the changes the eastern barons were proposing. It must have
been an ugly surprise to those men to discover that the son was a different kind of man from the father.

Liam sighed. Not a hackney cab in sight.

The sigh turned into a grimace as his belly clenched and a queer shiver went through him. Had the beef he’d eaten for dinner been a bit off? The sauce that had been poured over the beef hadn’t been to his liking, and after the first two bites he’d scraped off as much of it as he could. Not that he’d had much appetite anyway. It had taken hours for the sick, shaky feeling to go away this time. He wouldn’t have gone out at all if he hadn’t felt the need to listen to whatever comments might be dropped by the other barons in a last effort to convince their colleagues to support their side of the vote — whichever side it might be.

There was nothing more he could do tonight, and nothing he wanted more than to return to the town house to relax for a little while before getting a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow would be a difficult day, no matter how the vote turned out.

No point standing around getting wet
, Liam thought as he started walking back to his town house.

There was a noticeable lack of traffic on the streets at an hour that, a year ago, would have been considered the prime of the evening. From what he’d gathered from the men who had been in Durham for a few weeks, there was also a noticeable lack of social activities. The women who were usually the premier hostesses who planned the balls and parties and musical evenings when the barons and other gentry gathered in Durham had made no effort this year. Even the ones who
had
planned such evenings at their husbands’ command had done so with so little enthusiasm that the affairs felt more like a gathering of mourners than a party.

Liam spotted a hackney cab heading in the opposite direction, but it was past him before he could raise his hand to hail it.

He grimaced as his belly clenched again and kept walking. Sweat suddenly broke out on his forehead. His legs and arms felt oddly heavy, as if he were trying to walk through deep water.

He passed a narrow alley between two shops that were closed for the night. A few moments later, he heard two pairs of footsteps behind him.

He tried to walk faster but couldn’t seem to get his legs to respond.

The footsteps got closer. His heart beat harder.

A little farther behind him, he heard the
clip clop
of a horse’s hooves and the rattle of wheels on the cobblestone street.

Maybe he should turn and face whoever was now following him. Maybe he should dash into the street and hope whoever was driving the vehicle saw him in time to stop the horse. Maybe —

“Boy!” a voice full of annoyance shouted.

Liam turned, staggered back a step as a wave of dizziness washed through him.

Two large, rough-looking men stared at him for a moment before taking another step toward him.

“Boy!” the voice shouted again.

A hackney cab pulled up. The door swung open. Padrick, the Baron of Breton, got out of the cab and strode toward Liam, his expression harsh enough to make the two rough-looking men hesitate.

“Mother’s tits!” Padrick exploded, brushing past the men. He clamped a hand around Liam’s arm in a grip hard enough to bruise. “When I told your father I’d keep an eye on you while you were in town, I had no idea he’d saddled me with a snot-nosed drunken wastrel! Well, your evening on the town has come to an end, laddy-boy, and I’ll not listen to a word otherwise.”

Stunned, Liam started to raise one hand toward his nose to see if he needed to use his handkerchief, but Padrick
hauled him toward the cab with a force that almost pulled him off his feet.

“Get in,” Padrick snarled, shoving Liam through the cab’s open door.

Liam sprawled, his upper body on the seat, his legs on the floor. Padrick stepped on him as he entered the cab and slammed the door shut.

The cabby set his horse to a fast trot, quickly leaving behind the two men who had followed Liam.

With an effort that made his arms shake, Liam maneuvered himself into a sitting position. “I’m not drunk,” he said.

“No, you’re not drunk,” Padrick said with quiet anger. “You’re a fool. A courageous, passionate young fool. Where are you staying?”

“The family town house.” He was sweating heavily, and being rattled around in a fast-moving vehicle was making his gorge rise.

Padrick huffed. “If they were waiting for you at your club, they’ll be waiting at your town house.” He leaned his head out the window and shouted, “Cabby! Pull up at the end of the next block.”

Liam watched as Padrick pulled out a folded piece of paper and the stub of a pencil from his jacket pocket.

“Here,” Padrick said, pushing them into Liam’s hands as soon as the cab stopped moving. He left the cab, returning a few moments later with one of the cab’s lanterns. “How did you get to Durham? Horseback or carriage?”

“Horseback,” Liam gasped. Why was it so hard to breathe? “But a groom drove an open cart to carry my trunk.”

“Fine, then. Write a note to your butler. Tell him he’s got thirty minutes from the time he receives this note to have your valet pack your trunk and have the groom get your horse and the cart ready to travel.”

“Travel?” He wasn’t traveling any farther than it took to get to the town house.

“Tonight’s the Summer Moon, and the sky is clear. They’ll be plenty of light to travel by.” “I’m not —”

“You’re getting out of Durham. Tonight. Before whoever decided you were an enemy gets a chance to finish the job.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Padrick grabbed Liam’s arm. “The only reason those two men didn’t drag you into an alley and beat you to death was because their minds were clouded long enough that they weren’t sure you were who they thought you were. But once it wears off and they realize they’ve been tricked, they’ll come after you again. Now write the note, Liam.”

Yes. Write the note.

He laid the paper on the seat, gripped the pencil, and struggled to make his hand shape the words. By the time he folded the paper and wrote the town house’s address on the outside of it, he was shaking badly.

Padrick took the paper and the lantern, went out to speak to the cabby. When he returned, the cab took off at the same brisk trot.

“Where are you taking me?” Liam asked faintly.

“To my room at the hotel,” Padrick replied. “It’s closer. And we should be safe there for long enough. I need to pack and settle my account, and you need — Well, I think I have something that will help you.”

Liam didn’t argue, didn’t answer. Mother’s tits. The club he belonged to was supposed to be one of the best in the city. How could they serve beef that had gone bad? Was that why they’d poured that sauce over it? Because they’d known it had gone bad? Irresponsible of them. And he would tell whoever was in charge exactly that.

He must have faded out for a bit, because the next thing he knew Padrick was hauling him out of the cab and into a modest hotel.

Only two flights up to Padrick’s room, thank the Mother, and every step a misery.

Padrick unlocked the door, pulled Liam through the small sitting room and into the bedroom. He pushed Liam to the floor near the window, then retrieved the chamber pot. He was back a few moments later with a small bottle in his hand.

“Drink this,” Padrick ordered, holding out the bottle to Liam.

Liam shook his head. He couldn’t drink anything.

Making a vicious sound, Padrick grabbed Liam’s hair, yanked his head back, and poured the contents of the bottle down his throat.

Liam choked, then gasped for breath when Padrick released him. “You bastard. I’ve already got food poisoning.”

“What you’ve got, laddy-boy, is poisoned food,” Padrick said harshly. “A meal prepared especially for you.”

Liam stared at Padrick. “Poisoned? Why?”

“Because you stood in that council chamber and said everything the eastern barons and the Inquisitors who seem to be controlling those barons didn’t want anyone to say. You made the other barons wonder if these new ideas were coming from their own people or from someone outside of Sylvalan who might have his own reasons for wanting to have our society ripped apart. You made them wonder
exactly
what was happening in those eastern villages. And you pointed a finger at the men whose appearance in Sylvalan started all these changes. I don’t think the poison was meant to kill you, which is a small blessing, just make you weak enough that you wouldn’t be able to fight or escape the men they sent after you.”

“Lucky you came along, then.”

“I was looking for you,” Padrick snapped. “I didn’t want to hear tomorrow morning that you’d been found in an alley somewhere with your head smashed in.”

Before Liam could say anything, his belly clenched again. He got his head over the chamber pot before he became violently ill.

“What did —?” Liam gasped. “What —?” Another wave of sickness threw his stomach past his teeth.

“A purge,” Padrick said. “Whether it’s a mild poison or something strong enough to kill you, you have to get it out of you as quickly as possible.” He pushed the window open, leaned out far enough to take deep breaths of fresh air.

Liam wondered why a baron would feel the need to carry a purge, but he didn’t feel well enough to ask.

“Are you through?” Padrick asked.

Liam nodded weakly. “It’s not just my dinner, it’s my stomach as well that’s filling the chamber pot.”

Padrick put a cover over the chamber pot, then helped Liam to the bed. “You rest a bit while I pack my things.”

“There’s no reason for you to leave. And we both have to stay for the vote. We have to.”

Padrick rested one hand on Liam’s shoulder and leaned over until they were eye to eye. “Get it through your stubborn head, Liam. One way or another, they’re going to make sure you don’t walk back into that chamber tomorrow morning. And not just for the vote. If you die, who becomes the next baron?”

“A cousin of my father’s. I think.”

Padrick nodded. “And if he’s a man who can be swayed — or bought — to the eastern barons way of thinking, what will happen to your family?”

Liam thought of Elinore and Brooke … and shuddered.

“You’ll best serve your family and your people by staying alive. And that means getting out of Durham.” Padrick went to the wardrobe, took out the saddlebags, and packed swiftly. When he was done, he turned to Liam. “I have to go out for a few minutes. Will you be all right?”

Liam nodded. He felt hollow — and fragile enough to
shatter. He knew Padrick was right, and yet … “You don’t have to go. You could stay for the vote.”

Padrick paused at the bedroom door. “Laddy-boy, if these Black Coats are as smart as I think they are, they’ll figure out quickly enough who helped you tonight. I don’t fancy getting a knife in the back because of it, and you’re in no shape to ride alone. Besides, getting myself killed would seriously annoy my wife, since I promised her I’d be careful while I was here. You rest for a bit. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Come on, laddy-boy,” Padrick said, hauling Liam to his feet. “Time to try your legs.”

Liam stared fuzzily at Padrick. “I thought you were going out for a few minutes.”

Padrick studied Liam carefully. “I’ve
been
out. And so, it seems, were your brains.” He paused. “Can you walk on your own? Don’t answer that. I shouldn’t have bothered to ask.” Settling his saddlebags over one shoulder, he draped one of Liam’s arms across his shoulders.

“If someone sees us…” Liam said weakly.

“You’ve had too much wine, which you inconveniently sicked up when you got to my room,” Padrick said quietly as he led Liam through the sitting room and into the hotel’s hallway. “I told a couple of the western barons who are also staying at this hotel that you’d received distressing news from home, but you’re too ill to travel by yourself so I agreed to go with you. They’re seeing to getting my horse saddled and hunting down a hackney cab for you.”

“Can you trust them?” Liam asked, gripping the banister as tightly as he could to steady himself as they made their way down the stairs. “What if they…” He suddenly realized he was trusting his life to a man he knew only by sight, and Padrick was trusting men he didn’t know at all.

“They won’t raise their hands to do me harm,” Padrick said softly, grimly. “They know full well if they did, they
could never go home again, they could never go anywhere near the western part of Sylvalan and be safe.” He paused, then added, “The barons aren’t the only ones who rule in the west, Liam, and they aren’t the most powerful.”

The words buzzed in Liam’s mind, but he couldn’t get them to make sense. The smell of sickness clung to him, making him wish he’d thought to rinse his mouth to cleanse it.

A hackney cab stood waiting. A saddled horse waited behind it. He didn’t see the other western barons. Either they didn’t want to be seen helping Padrick, or they’d been told
not
to be seen helping for their own safety.

He would have stopped to get a better look at Padrick’s horse, which was the finest animal he’d ever seen, but Padrick hustled him into the cab and closed the door.

Liam heard Padrick give the driver the address of his town house. The cabby clucked to his horse, and they set off at a brisk pace.