Sweet Deception Regency 07 - The Divided Hearts (27 page)

When Simon returned home late on Friday
afternoon, Judith greeted him with relief. She waited until he was
inside the drawing room before she closed the door and pulled a
stool up close to his chair.

“Thank goodness you’re home, Father,” Judith
sighed.

“Perhaps I should leave more often, my dear,
to be greeted with such enthusiasm.” Judith smiled wanly and his
eyes sharpened as he took in her pallor and the shadows under her
eyes. “Is something the matter?”

Without hesitation, Judith told him of the
conversation she had overheard and the message she had given
Patrick. He did not interrupt but there was a curious look of
satisfaction that passed across his features. When she finished, he
smiled gently and patted her hands.

“I gather from both Timothy and Mrs. Baker
that there has been trouble in town.”

“On Monday a barn was set afire and the
owner swore it was Palatine,” Judith said, indignation apparent in
her voice. “Then on Wednesday, two men were set upon and robbed by
a masked man on a black horse.”

“It would appear that Zeke and his bullies
have been hard at work this week.”

“Can’t something be done about them,
Father?”

“I’m afraid, child, that it would only be
your word against theirs. Zeke and his uglies have much at stake in
this venture. I do not want you involved. You have done what you
could and I am very proud of you.”

“But, Father….”

“No, Judith.” Simon’s face was set in grave
lines. “There is nothing more that you can do. I will not have you
going to a magistrate with this information. Zeke Waters is a brute
and I do not want him seeking you out for revenge if his plans are
thwarted.”

“But what of Palatine? How can we be sure
that he received the warning?” Judith cried.

“We will have to trust in the fates.”
Simon’s mouth was a thin line of determination. “I say it again,
Judith. You have done all you could do.”

Judith had pinned so much hope on Simon’s
return that she felt deflated. Somehow she had expected him to
spring into action, although what action she expected him to take,
she had little idea. All through supper her anxiety built until she
thought she might go screaming from the room. Both Patrick and
Simon talked enthusiastically, exchanging news, but Judith could
barely chew her food.

At the end of the meal, she announced she
was exhausted and would retire early. Her father eyed her with
worry, but Patrick noticed nothing. He was full of excitement that
he was going to spend the night with the Finney’s. Climbing the
stairs, she muttered darkly that with everything else going wrong,
it would serve Simon right if Patrick brought home another
loathsome animal.

Once in her room, Judith found it impossible
to relax. What if Palatine had not received her warning? The man
would arrive at the cemetery unprepared for the attack. She
couldn’t bear the thought of that heroic figure injured or worse.
She would always feel a responsibility. She had to make sure he was
safe.

Once Judith decided to go out, there was
little that could have kept her from the assignation. She wasted no
time in changing her clothes. The dark brown dress she had worn to
dinner would pass in the night and she rummaged in the press for
her black lace shawl to cover her hair. She took off her slippers,
holding them in her hand as she blew out the candle and eased open
the door into the hall. She crept down the stairs, her stockings
silent on the treads. At the bottom she froze, seeing the crack of
light under the drawing room door. Judith had assumed her father
had retired but she would just have to be careful that he did not
discover her. She knew without question that he would forbid her to
leave the house.

Outside the back door Judith expelled her
breath in a soft whoosh of air. Her heart pounded in her chest and
she leaned against the side of the house to catch her breath. Then
replacing her slippers, she slipped through the garden and out the
back gate into the lane. She was not as frightened as she had been
on her nocturnal visit to the old mill. She was far more familiar
with the town and this time she knew her destination.

The night air was humid and fell around her
like a cloak. For some reason, she felt a measure of security in
the dark. She skirted between several houses until she came to
Thames Street and turned north. She walked close to the edge of the
road, keeping to the shadows as best she could. At the slightest
sound, she shrank against the available cover, waiting with
thundering heart until she felt safe to continue. She was all too
aware of the passage of time and hurried until she approached the
intersection with Farewell Street. Her breath was rasping in her
ears as she cut across the verge and crept along the edge of the
woods across from the entrance to the burial grounds.

Even in her anxiety Judith could appreciate
the eerie beauty of the scene. She crouched low to the ground,
gazing in awe at the stone monuments, crenelated silhouettes like
sentinels frozen at attention. Small clouds scudded across the
night sky, crossing in front of the moon. One minute the cemetery
was lit with sharp relief and the next it was plunged into shadowy
darkness. Spectral trees thrashed their arms in the freshening
wind. And all around her, the night was silent except for the
occasional forlorn cry of some hunted animal.

Now that she had reached her objective,
Judith had no idea what she ought to do. She was facing the
entrance into the freemen’s section with its stones crowded
together as if for comfort. Beside it was the slave section. But
between her and the burial grounds was Farewell Street, bordered on
either side by an open section, barren of vegetation. Unless the
moonlight was obliterated, she would not be able to cross without
being seen. Tears of frustration filled her eyes and she bowed her
head in her hands.

Gunshots exploded in her ears and she threw
herself flat, burying her face in the grass. Shouts erupted across
the road and she came to her senses realizing in despair that she
was too late. Palatine had been caught in the trap!

Judith struggled to her feet, clinging in
terror to the trunk of a small sapling. She could hear shouts and
curses and in the moonlight she caught sight of dark figures
weaving between the gravestones. The wind had picked up and she
glared at the sky and the traitorous moon bathing the scene with
light. Her heart fluttered with hope as she spotted the dark mass
of clouds moving toward the bright circle.

“Hurry! Please, hurry!” she whispered
urgently.

Her eyes flashed back to the cemetery and
she caught her breath as a single figure rose from behind a stone
angel. Without question, she knew it was Palatine. His black cape
flew out behind him as he sped toward the entrance gate. Behind him
the hue and cry was given and she could see other figures racing to
intercept the dark silhouette. She jerked her head toward the sky
in an agony of suspense. The black cloud was almost touching the
moon. She swung back to the chaotic scene and spotted the lone
runner, wanting to cheer as the light began to fade. The cloaked
figure reached the gate, thrusting it wide. Just as darkness
descended, Judith heard a sharp crack and Palatine stumbled.

“He’s been shot,” Judith moaned. Devastated
by the pain of her failure, she squeezed her eyes shut.

When she opened them, she stared dully into
the darkness. Shouting figures still raced through the burial
ground. She squinted, searching the darkness for the downed figure.
Her eyes found the gate, then quartered the ground looking for the
injured man. Suddenly she sucked in her breath as she discerned the
dark mass. She blinked her eyes several times before she could be
positive that she had seen a faint movement. Yes. He was alive! She
wanted to shout in joy as Palatine struggled to his feet. Hunched
over as if he were in pain, he staggered across the road and
disappeared into the trees in the direction of Thames Street.

Across the road, a torch flared and the
rowdies converged on the gate. She had been so caught up in the
sheer triumph of Palatine’s escape that she had forgotten the band
of men intent on destroying him. Painstakingly, they examined the
ground and Judith realized they were searching for evidence of
Palatine’s injury. If they discovered a blood trail, they would
track him like a wounded animal.

“Not if I can help it,” Judith muttered
under her breath.

She had failed in her attempt to warn
Palatine but she could make amends by leading the pack away from
the injured man. She had no way of knowing how badly he was hurt
but if she could confuse the trail he would have a chance to
escape.

Without a second’s hesitation, Judith ran
along the edge of the trees until she was well past the entrance to
the cemetery. She dropped to her knees, searching the ground for a
rock. At last her fingers closed on a large stone and she stumbled
to her feet and raced for the street that angled away from Thames.
She stopped and turned, throwing the rock with all her might, back
toward the entrance and the light of the torch. It fell, rolling
across the gravel in a satisfying scraping sound.

“Over there!”

Judith recognized the harsh voice of Zeke
Waters. Fear forced her feet to move and she sped down Farewell,
heading back toward Newport. Behind her she could hear the cries of
pursuit. She hoped that her flying skirts would give her the
appearance of a caped figure. The shouts behind her were
frightening. It would be disastrous if she were caught. She knew
that by now the men were so uncontrolled that if they captured her
it would make little difference that she was a woman. They would
wreak revenge on her for foiling their plot. She refused to dwell
on the exact form this retaliation might take. But without doubt
she too must make her escape.

Panic touched the edges of her mind, but she
forced it away, knowing that only a cool head could save her. She
must remember that she had the advantage. The furious men had
already expended a great deal of energy chasing Palatine. Even so,
her steps began to flag as she approached another street. She
stopped, gulping in welcome breaths of air while she debated which
way to go. Ahead lay the open Parade, so she turned the corner
racing past the White Horse Tavern. As she neared home, she wove in
and out between houses hoping to lose her pursuers. The lane behind
Simon’s house was blessedly empty and she slipped in the back gate,
collapsing in a heap on the flagstones of the garden.

She fought for breath, dragging in air to
fill her burning lungs. Above the noise of her own labored
breathing, she could hear shouting but it was thankfully several
houses away. As the pounding of her heart subsided, she could feel
her mouth stretching into a wide grin of triumph. Palatine was
safe.

Slowly her breathing eased and she sat up.
She was slightly lightheaded from her long run but the elation at
her escape did much to buoy her spirits. A rectangle of light from
the open French windows of the drawing room, framed a portion of
the herb garden. She was surprised that her father was still up and
hoped that he had not discovered she was missing. Hauling herself
to her feet, she slapped at the dust on her clothes. Her hair had
come undone, clinging in damp curls to her perspiring face and
tumbling in disarray down her back. She searched for her
handkerchief and dipped it in the water barrel, grateful for the
coolness against her cheeks. She carefully opened the back door and
slipped quietly into the kitchen, trying to make as little noise as
possible as she crossed the room. The band of light beneath the
drawing room door was a beacon of welcome in the otherwise darkened
hallway.

Judith sagged against the kitchen door,
debating whether to disturb her father. She felt battered by the
terrifying events and emotions of the night. She knew he would be
furious at her for involving herself. But since she was safe, he
would forgive her. Or at least she hoped so. In her weakness, tears
sprang to her eyes and she wanted nothing more than to be comforted
by her father. She crossed the hall and quietly knocked on the
drawing room door. A scrabbling sound of movements came clearly
through the paneled door and she smiled, suspecting that her father
had been dozing over a book. Her hand closed over the knob and she
pushed the door open.

To her surprise, Simon sat in his favorite
wing chair, his elbows propped on the edge of the chess table.
Lolling in a chair across the board was Nathanael Bellingham.

“Judith! What has happened?” Simon cried in
alarm as he took in the disheveled appearance of his daughter. “And
where on earth have you been?” he added in a booming
accusation.

Judith opened her mouth but no words formed
and she stared blindly at the two men. Nate did not rise, lounging
against the chair back, his expression curiously still. Simon
pushed back his chair, crossing the floor quickly to Judith. His
eyes flashed to her white face and, without a word, he pushed her
down on the chair against the wall. He quickly retraced his steps
to the chess table, snatching the snifter of brandy that Nate was
already extending. Back at Judith’s side, Simon pressed the glass
into her cold palms and helped her raise it to her lips.

The burning liquid made Judith choke and her
eyes flew open at the taste. She opened her mouth to suck in air,
but her father raised the glass once more and she swallowed
automatically without protesting. Fire singed her throat and she
gasped. Then warmth spread like heated fingers through her body and
her head miraculously cleared. Her eyes focused and she discovered
she was staring at Nate.

The first thing that she noticed was his
hair. It was unpowdered. She had always wondered what it looked
like. It was black, the raven strands looking polished in the glow
of the candles. It was thick and wavy, pulled into a queue behind
his head. What a travesty to cover such a glorious head of
hair!