The Vengeful Bridegroom (27 page)

Madelene smiled and looked at her friend, their gloved hands still clasped together. “Patience, it is quite the drama.”

“Oh, I can only imagine. You married the man who dueled with your brother.” Patience fluttered her dark green-tinted fan to hide her words from those who would read her lips. “I have been worried for you. First you went missing, then no one heard from Matthew Colgate for some time. No one knew what to believe.”

“I know, I wanted to tell you, my friend, but it happened so quickly. I had little time to prepare myself for it as well.” Madelene hurried on the conversation before their husbands could reach them. “Patience, I need your help. It is of the utmost importance and concerns my brother
and
my husband. Please don’t ask any questions, and later, I’ll enlighten you about everything.”

Patience smiled and pressed Madelene’s hand. “You don’t need to tell me anything other than what I can do to help you.”

Madelene saw Lord Londringham and Gabriel stop to chat with the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester. Breathing a sigh of relief, she told her friend, “I plan to be ill about eleven o’clock this evening. I want you to have a footman obtain a carriage for me.”

Patience nodded but frowned. “Your husband will not allow you to leave without him by your side. Your feigned illness will worry him, I have no doubt.”

Biting her lip, Madelene asked, “Perhaps your husband could distract him with a card game and port?”

Patience looked over and smiled at her husband, who happened perchance to be looking at her and returned her smile. “Consider it done. Hmm, I guess there is more than one adventurous lady in London?” The older woman patted Madelene’s hand.

But Patience’s kindness and assistance did little to ease Madelene’s mind on what the night would bring.

“What shall I tell the mistress if they return and you are not here?” Styers asked of Mrs. Lavishtock as she pulled herself into the hired hackney at the back of the house.

Seated in the carriage, the housekeeper leaned out the window. “They’ll not return before I do. But if they do, tell them I’ve retired to bed. They need not know I’ve gone out for the evening. Keep this to yourself, young man. I go about on urgent business for Madame Westcott.”

Styers shook his head, watching the hack turn the corner and continue out of sight. Something was up for sure tonight.

Matthew Colgate glanced around the darkened tavern’s great room where dockers and sailors became acquaintances sharing a beer and a story about the latest pressgangs or a trip to the Far East. All was quiet; no one should bother them or give them much mind. Distant yelling could be heard beyond the door as stevedores unloaded newly arrived ships. The oily, moldy smell lingered inside the tavern as well as outside.

He hoped this transaction would be brief, already determined to hand the diamonds over to Taglioni at his town house afterward and head to the Continent. His trespasses were too great to be forgiven by his sister, and especially by Westcott. He wanted to be through with this entire affair.

Based on the time, Westcott should appear at any moment. He kept watch at the entryway from the wooden seats across the room, every time and again returning his gaze to the contents of his tankard. His shoulders slumped, he wondered how he had fallen so far. But soon it would be all over.

Madelene would understand; she always had before. And he
had
warned her. Told her if she didn’t give him the diamonds, the count might see Matthew didn’t have heirs.

She’d been a good little sister. Always told him she loved him, and proven her loyalty on more than one occasion.

Except when it came to the diamonds. She had stood by her husband. What choice did she leave him but to take George as barter? Although it had been his only solution, the babe had been much trouble. He had been quite surprised Alec offered to travel with them and care for George, but she had started complaining about the babe almost from the moment they had left Westcott Close.

Alec’s motives smelled suspicious to Matthew, who knew he couldn’t trust her. Which begged the question, why had Westcott trusted her and permitted her to live in his home? Didn’t he know she was the one who stole the diamonds from her uncle originally? Both he and Alec had reason to fear the count.

Matthew shook his head and downed his beer. His fob watch indicated almost eleven o’clock. He glanced over at the door yet again to see a few more men straggle in and wander over to a table, looking for libation.

Later, he planned to sell the town house and move to France. The situation between France and England appeared to be easing. Now Madelene was cared for, nothing here in London prevented his departure and starting a new life on the Continent.

So intent was he on his appointment with Westcott, he forgot the note Millie had given him earlier in the day. He had sneaked into the back of the house to obtain a change of clothing, aware that without a doubt the count or Westcott had someone watching the house.

In a hurry to leave, he had thrust the note into his coat pocket and promptly forgotten it, his thoughts on keeping an eye open for anyone looking for him, so that he would not be followed.

Matthew fumbled in his pocket and produced the note. He had to squint in the squalid candlelight to read it, and drew back in surprise. Then he crouched over it again.

It was Madelene’s handwriting. “Meet me at our house in Bloomsbury. I have the diamonds. Bring George. Half-past eleven, tonight.”

Flabbergasted, he read the note another time and another. If Madelene had the diamonds, why had Westcott agreed to meet him here? Who had the gems? He scratched his chin, then decided he’d best meet his sister. Perhaps there had been a change of plans, and the notes were ill timed.

He started to rise when he saw the door open and Westcott strolled in. Nothing to do but wait to see what his brother-in-law had to say. Matthew could only trust the outcome of this meeting would prove to be more advantageous than previously.

Madelene instructed Patience to give the note explaining her sudden return home to Mr. Westcott when Madelene’s carriage had departed and it would prove too late for him to stop her.

On the way to her old home, she settled back into the squabs and felt for the smooth leather of the bag in her reticule, comforted to know she would soon have George back and her brother could do whatever he wanted with the diamonds. Madelene hoped her husband would not be angry with her for replacing the diamonds with the little round soaps, but he must understand. She did it for them. For George. Tomorrow morning would start their new life.

The night grew late as the carriage drove closer to Bloomsbury Square, a place she knew as well as her own features. Her mouth dry and heart pounding, she anticipated finding Matthew at their home. And once again holding George in her arms.

Concerned the count or one of Gabriel’s men might see her and guess her mission, she told the driver to round the corner and stop two blocks from the house. She assumed the driver must have heard these strange requests before from a well-dressed woman seeking discretion, for he did not look in her direction, but did as instructed.

A hurried few minutes later, Madelene knocked on the servants’ entrance. When Millie opened the kitchen door, Madelene walked in and threw back the hood of her cloak.

“Oh, miss, it is glad I am to see you. I saw the master earlier today and gave him your note. He does not look well.” She stopped for a moment as Madelene removed her cloak. “You don’t look so well yourself. You’re awfully pale, miss.” Millie continued jibbering at Madelene while the maid shooed her into the parlor. “What you need is a bit of sponge cake, the kind you like so well? I’ll just put the kettle on.”

“I won’t be here—” Madelene began, then realized Millie had hastened back to the kitchen. She looked over to the mantel clock. Ten minutes after eleven. Not too much longer and Matthew would be here, probably entering in the same inconspicuous manner.

As she waited for the kettle and Matthew, Madelene walked around the little back parlor, touching favorite pieces, lost in yesterday’s memories. She anticipated the sharp pain she had known before whenever she looked at her father’s portrait over the fireplace, but, strangely, the hurt did not seem as sorrow-bearing.

Millie interrupted her memory tracking and served tea in the candlelit parlor. Madelene took a measure of the room and found the drapes faded yellow, the Oriental carpet worn, and the mahogany wood needed bright polish. It seemed as if she hadn’t been at her home in years, rather than a month. So much had changed in such a short amount of time. Looking about, Madelene appreciated she had outgrown this place, once a home she could never bear to think of leaving.

Eleven thirty and still no Matthew. The more minutes ticked by, the more anxious Madelene became. Millie had assured her that she had delivered the note into her brother’s hands. Then where could he be?

Mrs. Lavishtock waited outside the door after she knocked. She wasn’t familiar with this area of Covent Garden and didn’t want to linger on the porch step in the dark.

Little Arnold Duckins. Although not little any longer and still a bachelor, and still beyond redemption. She always knew he’d end up in prison, always skirting the law. When she heard he fell in with Matthew Colgate, well, Colgate had a reputation, which was quite tarnished.

But the young girl, Madelene. She needed protection from her brother’s machinations. And all had been well, until Sir Colgate had stolen the baby.

She would fix it. Mrs. Lavishtock planned to rescue George and uncover why her nephew gave lodgings to Matthew Colgate and that little Italian girl, Alec. The news Arnie was involved with a kidnapping and stolen jewels had surprised her little.

While waiting, she glanced back at the dark street where the hackney remained. The jarvey had promised he’d stay to drive her back to Bloomsbury Square, where Fanny had told her she would find Mrs. Westcott. If her nephew Arnie had allowed any harm to fall to the babe, she would make him regret they were related. The child had always got himself caught up in mischief in his earlier years. But her sister, Martha, would want her to keep her son out of gaol.

Duckins finally opened the narrow wooden door and gazed at her, his mouth dropped open. Gathering his composure, he stuttered, “Aunt, Aunt Mabel, what, what a surprise! Why, why are you here? It’s rather late for a visit.” He scarcely had spoken the words before she pushed past him and squeezed into the doorway.

“Where is he?” She drew herself up to five feet one and looked up at her nephew. “I want the babe,” Mrs. Lavishtock told her nephew firmly.

“What, what—what babe?”

“This one,” Alec said, walking down the stairs, holding George in her arms. “Take him, I can’t handle him. I want no more part in all of this.” She thrust the swaddled babe into Mrs. Lavishtock’s very relieved and welcoming arms.

Mrs. Lavishtock unwrapped the blankets to see for herself the child was as right as rain.

She heard Alec intone, “The
bambino
is fine. Maybe a little hungry, we have no more goat’s milk.” With arms crossed over her chest, the young girl raised an eyebrow. “Where are the diamonds? I assume you brought them with you?”

Duckins stared at Mrs. Lavishtock and Alec and shook his head, as if he didn’t know what to make of this exchange.

But Mrs. Lavishtock understood the young woman. The housekeeper rooted in her large skirt pocket and her fingers touched on the leather pouch. She pulled it out and threw it to Alec. “I want you and you,” she pointed to Alec and Duckins, “to stay far away from the Westcotts, whether they be here in Town or in the country. You have put them through too much, especially with taking the babe. Near broke their hearts.”

Before she finished speaking, Alec had opened the bag and dumped the gems into her hand. Her lips curved into a smile as she looked at the glittering stones. Totally absorbed in her newfound wealth, she paid no notice to Mrs. Lavishtock or her nephew, and ran up the stairs.

Mrs. Lavishtock waddled to the door with her precious bundle, who slept with a contented smile on his ruddy face.

Her nephew hurried after her to open the door. “Aunt Mabel, I wanted no part of this. They came to my door, seeking my help. I couldn’t turn them away, with the babe and all.”

But Mrs. Lavishtock paid him no heed, determined to return George to his parents without any further delay.

When Gabriel had learned from Lady Londringham that Madelene had fallen ill, he immediately planned to return home, until the countess assured him it was of a slight nature. Relieved, he thought about tonight and what he had to do.

Soon after, he took his leave of the ball and the Londringhams for the London docks. In the carriage, he shrugged on an older greatcoat and hat, the better to blend in than his evening wear.

Gabriel swung open the door to the Sleeping Mermaid tavern and strolled in, catching sight of Madelene’s brother. He gave his brother-in-law almost an imperceptible nod, then walked around the mismatched tables as if he was in no hurry, had no particular place to be, no one particular to meet.

With a casual glance around the large room, he calculated how many men filled the bar and the nearest exit from the tavern. He liked to plan for all contingencies, aware he could not underestimate Matthew Colgate. When Gabriel could assure himself no accomplices lingered near Matthew, he approached the back table and slid onto the bench.

He wanted this business to be dealt with swiftly, but how could he trust Colgate to produce George after he handed over the jewels? And what had Colgate been thinking—to bring a babe here?

Gabriel studied the man before him. His old adversary. For Madelene’s sake, he wished—It would not matter. This leopard would not change his spots. Matthew still held his left side with his right hand, and in the dull light, his face appeared very pale, quite sickly. It was obvious he hadn’t washed in a few days, and he had a desperate look about him. Gabriel was glad Madelene would not see her brother like this.

The constable would soon be on Colgate’s coattails for the kidnapping. As for the outcome of the diamond theft, Gabriel couldn’t determine because it remained to be seen what part the count might play in this act. Indeed, the count was the master puppeteer, and Gabriel was determined to cut his strings. All of them.