The Gift (37 page)

The prince caught her attention when he motioned to one of the men standing behind him. The guard immediately went over to the side entrance and pulled the door open. A short, thin man holding a dark cap in his hands came into the office.

Sara didn't recognize the man. It was obvious, though, that her father did. He couldn't quite hide his surprise. "Who is this man intruding upon our discussion?" he asked.

His paltry attempt to bluster his way through the ordeal didn't work. "He's Luther Grant," Sir Richards drawled. "Perhaps you've met him, Winchester. Luther used to work as a senior attendant in our department. He was so trustworthy, he was given charge of the vault. It was his sole duty to keep England's secrets safe."

The director's tone of voice had turned biting. "Luther's going to be protecting the walls of Newgate Prison from now on. He'll have his very own cell to watch over."

"The game's over," Caine interjected. "Grant told us you paid him to look at Nathan's file. When he couldn't find anything damning there, he looked at Nathan's father's file."

Winston's expression showed only disdain. "Who cares how the information was found out?" he muttered. "The only thing that matters is that—"

"Oh, but we do care," Sir Richards interrupted. "You've committed an act of treason."

"Isn't that a hanging crime?" the prince asked.

From his expression Sara couldn't tell if he was goading her father or if he really didn't know.

"Yes, it is a hanging crime," Sir Richards said.

Winston shook with fury. "I have never been disloyal to the crown," he announced. He stared at the prince regent. "When every other politician in this city has ridiculed you, I've stood firmly by your side. My God, I even argued in your defense when you wanted to rid yourself of your wife. Is this how I'm repaid for my loyalty?"

The prince's face turned red. It was obvious that he didn't like being reminded of his unpopularity or of his attempt to rid himself of his wife. He glared at Winston even as he shook his head. "How dare you speak to your prince regent with such insolence?"

Winston realized he'd gone too far. "I apologize, my lord," he blurted out, "but I am desperately trying to protect my daughter. The marquess of St. James isn't good enough for her."

The prince took a deep breath. His color remained high, but his voice was much calmer when he said, "I disagree with you. I've never taken an active interest in the War Department, for it bores me immensely, but once I read the facts about Nathan's father I asked Sir Richards to give me the son's file as well. Nathan isn't responsible for his father's sins. No man should have to be." His voice rose an octave when he added, "My subjects could blame me for my own father's weak condition if that was the case, isn't that so?"

"They don't hold you responsible for your father's illness," Winston assured him.

The prince nodded. "Exactly so," he muttered. "And I don't hold Nathan responsible for his father's errors. No, the marquess isn't responsible," he repeated in a weary voice. "But even if he were, he more than proved his loyalty by all the courageous deeds he accomplished on England's behalf. If the secrets could all be revealed, Nathan would be knighted for his heroic acts. As to that, I'm told that the earl of Cainewood would deserve like treatment. Reading the files took up most of my evening, Winston, and I now say that having all the facts before me, I feel honored to be in the same room with these loyal, distinguished men."

No one said a word for a minute. Nathan could feel Sara trembling. He noticed that she was watching her father, and he wanted to whisper to her that it was all going to be all right, that he'd never be able to frighten her again.

The prince spoke once more. "Sir Richards refuses to allow the information to be made public, however, and I have decided to bow to his superior wisdom in this matter. Suffice it to say that these men have my gratitude. I now have a bargain to put to you," he said. His gaze had turned to rest on the director. "If Winston assures us that he won't speak a word about Nathan's father, I suggest we don't lock him up."

Sir Richards pretended to mull over that suggestion. "I would rather see him hanged. However, the decision is up to you. I am but your humble servant."

The prince nodded. He looked at Winston again. "I know that certain members of your household are aware of the information about Nathan's father. It will be your duty to keep them silent. You'll be responsible for defending Nathan against any such scandal, for if a hint of a rumor reaches me, you'll be charged with treason. Do I make myself clear?"

Winston nodded. He was so furious he could barely speak. The prince's revulsion was apparent. The earl of Winchester knew he wouldn't be included in any of the more important functions in future. As soon as the prince gave him the cut direct everyone else would follow suit.

Sara could feel her father's rage. Her throat closed up, and she thought she was going to be sick. "May I have a glass of water, please?" she whispered to Nathan.

He immediately got up and left the room to fetch a drink for her. Caine also moved from his chair and took Luther Grant out the side door.

Winston turned to Sir Richards. "I could challenge this. It's still Grant's word against mine."

The director shook his head. "We have other evidence," he lied.

The earl of Winchester stood up. He obviously believed the director's bluff. "I see," he muttered. "How did you find out about Luther?" he asked the prince.

"Your wife told us," the prince answered. "She came to her daughter's aid, Winston, while you tried to destroy her. Leave, Winston. It pains me to look at you."

The earl of Winchester bowed to the prince, turned to stare at his daughter for the briefest of seconds, and then left the office.

Sara had never seen such black fury on her father's face. She was filled with terror. She knew her mother would soon bear the brunt of his anger.

Dear God, she thought, she had to get to her first.

"Will you please excuse me?" she cried out as she rushed toward the door.

Sara had barely received the prince's nod before she'd closed the front door behind her.

"Do you think she's ill?" Sir Richards asked.

"I can't imagine why she wouldn't be," the prince answered. "Richards," he added in a softer tone of voice, "I know how the various department heads whisper their contempt for me. Oh, I have my spies to keep me informed. I also know you've never said a word against me. Although I've incorrectly been judged as a ruler who changes his mind whenever the whim comes over me, I tell you now that it isn't so. I won't change my mind about this issue with Winston, I assure you."

Sir Richards walked to the door with the prince. "You do realize, my lord, that I lied when I told Winston we had other evidence against him. It really is Grant's word against his, and if he were to push this issue…"

The prince smiled. "He won't push anything," he assured the director.

Nathan walked in by way of the side entrance with a glass of water in his hand and Caine by his side. The prince had just taken his leave. "Where's Sara?" Nathan asked.

"She went to the washroom," Sir Richards explained. He went back to his desk and collapsed in the chair. "By God, that went smoothly. I couldn't be certain how the prince regent would behave. He was on the mark this time, wasn't he?"

"Will he stay on the mark?" Caine asked. "Or will Winston be back in his camp come tomorrow?"

The director shrugged. "I pray that he won't change his mind, and my feeling is that he'll keep his promise."

Caine leaned on the edge of the desk. "I cannot believe you let him read the files, Richards."

"Then don't believe it," his director answered, grinning. "I gave him only a brief summary of some of the lesser deeds accomplished. Quit your frown, Caine. Nathan, for God's sake, quit pacing with that glass in your hand. Most of the water's on the carpet now."

"What's taking Sara so long?"

"I believe she wasn't feeling well. Let her have a few more minutes of privacy."

Nathan let out a sigh. He went to refill the glass while Sir Richards caught Caine up on activities within the department.

Nathan tried to be patient, but when another ten minutes went by and Sara still hadn't returned to the office he decided to go after her. "Where the hell is the washroom? Sara might need me."

Sir Richards gave him directions to the floor above. "Are the papers ready for signatures?" Caine asked when Nathan turned to leave.

"They're on the desk," Nathan called over his shoulder. "As soon as I get my hands on Sara we can get this over and done with."

"He's quite a romantic," Caine drawled out.

"Actually, what he's about to do for his wife indicates to me that he really is a romantic at heart. Who would have thought Nathan would fall in love?"

Caine grinned. "Who would have thought anyone would have him? Sara's as much in love with him as he is with her. Nathan's determined to start over," he added with a nod toward the papers.

"Ah, love in bloom," Sir Richards said. "Sara will certainly be pleased with his thoughtfulness. God knows she's deserving of some happiness. It was hard on her today. Why, the look on her face when the prince made mention of her mother nearly broke my heart, Caine, and I'm certainly not given to emotion as you well know. Lady Sara looked so frightened. I wanted to reach out to her, to pat her and tell her it would all wash out. I'm not usually so demonstrative, but I tell you I had to restrain myself from going over to her."

Caine looked bewildered. "I don't recall the prince mentioning Sara's mother."

"I believe both you and Nathan were out of the room at the time," Richards said. "Yes, that's right," he added with a nod. "Sara sat all alone. Nathan had gone to fetch some water for her."

"Sara isn't in the washroom," Nathan bellowed from the doorway. "Damn it, Richards, where'd you send her? Down the street, for God's sake?"

Caine stood up. "Nathan, we might have a problem." His voice was harsh from worry. "Sir Richards, tell us exactly what the prince said about Sara's mother."

The director was already pushing his chair back so that he could stand up. He wasn't certain what the danger was, but the scent was there, permeating the air.

"Winston demanded to know who told us about Grant. The prince told him it was his wife who gave us the name."

Both Nathan and Caine were already running out the door. "Surely Winston wouldn't dare touch his wife or his daughter," Sir Richards muttered as he chased after the two men. "You're thinking that's where Sara went, aren't you? Charles," he shouted over his shoulder, "bring the carriage around."

Nathan reached the ground level with Caine right on his heels when Sir Richards turned the corner of the landing above. "Nathan, you don't believe Winston is capable of hurting either his wife or his daughter."

Nathan threw the door open and ran out onto the sidewalk. "No," he shouted over his shoulder. "Winston won't touch them. He'll leave it to his brother to mete out the punishment. That's how the bastard operates. Damn it, Sara took your carriage, Caine. God, we've got to get to her before Henry does."

A hack was racing down the street. Nathan seized his opportunity. He wasn't about to wait for the director's carriage. He ran into the street, braced himself for the struggle, and grabbed the reins of the two horses.

He threw his shoulder into the side of the horse closer to him. Caine added his strength, and the vehicle came to a screeching stop.

The driver was thrown on top of the vehicle. He started shouting. The fare, a blond-headed young man with spectacles and a squint, stuck his head out the window to see what all the commotion was about just as Nathan pulled the door open. Before the man knew what had happened Nathan had tossed him to the pavement.

Caine shouted directions to the driver while Sir Richards helped the stranger to his feet. The director was being very solicitous until he realized he was about to be left behind. He rudely shoved the man back to the ground and jumped inside the hack before Caine could pull the door closed.

No one said a word on the ride over to the Winchesters' townhouse. Nathan was shaking with terror. For the first time in his life he rebelled against the isolation he'd always enforced upon himself. He needed her, and dear God, if something happened to her before he could prove to her that he could be worthy, could love her as much as she deserved to be loved, he didn't think he could go on.

In the space of those long, unbearable minutes Nathan learned how to pray. He felt as unskilled as an atheist, couldn't remember a single prayer from childhood days, and so ended up simply begging God's mercy.

How he needed her.

The ride over to her mother's residence wasn't quite as traumatic for Sara. She wasn't in a panic because she knew she had enough time to get to her mother first. Her father would have to go to his brother's townhouse. That ride would take him at least twenty minutes. Then he'd have to spend at least fifteen more minutes working his brother into a rage for the injustices dealt to him. Assuming that Henry would certainly be in the throes of his daily hangover, it would take him time to clear his head and get dressed.

There was also the oddly comforting fact that surely in that amount of time Nathan would put the pieces together and figure out she wasn't in the washroom. She knew he'd come after her.