Chapter Eleven

"I f this fails, we will try something else," Bran said, as they waited on a ride that Coombe and his entourage would pass as they returned through the park to the gate nearest to Coombe's townhouse.

Bran was trying to soothe Jowan's anxiety, but it wasn't working. Jowan had several other plans, or at least the first inklings. Abducting Tamsyn from a public place with her consent was the only one that didn't cross the line from probably legal to definitely criminal.

Kidnapping her from Coombe's carriage was arguably highway robbery. Taking her from a concert or other engagement would mean fighting those Coombe had assigned to keep her caged. Perhaps Coombe himself, and Jowan's heart leapt at the possibility.

But they would risk injury, arrest for assault, and worse, failure.

There was always an invasion of Coombe's house. Jowan had even thought of a way to make that somewhat legal. If someone provided the appropriate magistrate with enough evidence of crimes to justify a warrant to search and seize, they could get in and bring Tamsyn out with them.

But that would mean waiting until they had collected definitive evidence, for raiding the house of an earl was not undertaken lightly.

He had better make a success of this abduction in the park. And he would. He and his accomplices had spent hours thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong and deciding on countermeasures.

"They're coming back, guv!" said the boy who was a few paces ahead, keeping an eye out for Coombe and the riders.

It was time, then. Jowan mounted his horse. "Wish me luck, Bran."

"Always," Bran replied from the back of his own steed, extending his hand. Jowan shook it and then Bran rode off, away from the main ride.

After a nod for the boy on lookout, Jowan nudged his horse into a swift walk. So far, so good. Coombe kept coming. Jowan tucked in his chin so that the hat would shade his face. The conspirators had calculated that Coombe would not give Jowan a second look, given he was on a branch ride and not likely, at his current pace, to reach the main ride before all of Coombe's retinue had passed.

Good. Coombe was beyond the intersection of the two rides. Jowan gave the horse the signal for a trot, then a canter. One… Two… Three… By the time he counted to fifteen (and he was counting quickly), he was pulling the horse up alongside Tamsyn's, clasping her around the waist, and lifting her to sit on his pommel. The clever lady had already kicked her feet free of her stirrups, and so the transfer took a count of two, but that was enough time for one of Coombe's men to react, forcing his horse forward to block Jowan's escape.

The horse Drew had provided for the rescue shouldered the other horse out of the way and bounded away, reaching a gallop within a second. Ten strides and they were through the gate. They slowed and turned left, continuing to reduce speed. Drew had assured Jowan that the horse would be able to stop within ten yards of the gate, and so two of Jowan's accomplices waited at that point.

The horse was still moving, if slowly, when Jowan let Tamsyn down into Drew's arms. By the time he had dismounted himself, Tamsyn had abandoned her riding cape to Prue Wakefield and was donning the hat Prue gave her—a stylish flat hat that tied on with a scarf and hid part of Tamsyn's face.

Jowan tossed Tamsyn up into the saddle of one of the two horses a boy was holding, then the lad mounted the other. Meanwhile, Prue had put on Tamsyn's cape. Drew tossed her up on the horse Jowan had abandoned and mounted behind her.

"Thank you both," Jowan called to them, and they rode off along Park Lane. Jowan led Tamsyn in the opposite direction. They had organized several more decoys. Drew would fire off one of them as soon as he reached the corner of Cullross and Park. Drew's horse would go one way along Park, and the near-identical horse that was standing at wait would go the other.

They'd repeat the ploy at three more corners, until sixteen bay geldings spread out across London, all around sixteen hands high and all bearing a rider in a black coat and top hat, with a passenger sitting on the front of his saddle. All those decoys had to do was stay out of reach of Coombe and his men, but even if they were caught, they all had good reason to be out on the roads on such a day.

Meanwhile, Jowan must trust them to know their work, for his part of the plan was to turn off into a street away from the shell game of the multiplying horses, where a hackney waited that would take them west to Bran and the traveling carriage.

"We will go to Ealing tonight," he told the woman in his arms. He didn't want to celebrate yet, but he couldn't stop the feeling of joy that spread through him. Tamsyn! His Tamsyn. She was in his arms, and he was holding her close, just as he'd dreamed about for so long. "It's about an hour away, so we will not need to change the horses."

"They are lovely horses," Tamsyn said, her voice distant as if she was thinking of something else.

"We will send these beauties home to their owner," he told her. "We turn here, and there, up ahead, is our transport for the next step. It's not the final step, though. The hack will take us to the last vehicle of the day."

Tamsyn giggled. "It is like the children's game. Stop the music, and if there is not a horse to plop down on, you lose."

She willingly allowed him to help her down from her horse and see her into the hack.

So far, so good.

*

By the time they left London, Tammie's mind was clear enough to be certain that this was reality and not another dream. She was impressed. The rescue had come off without a hitch. A friend of Jowan's called Drew had supplied the horses—no fewer than eighteen had been needed in total—another friend the hackney coach, and a third the travel carriage they would use to go to Cornwall.

But not immediately. Jowan said they would spend a few days in Ealing at a house belonging to one of Drew's friends. Just an hour from London, it was apparently used largely as a rural retreat.

"Drew tells me the house has a caretaker in the village," Jowan explained, "but no permanent staff, since the owners usually bring their personal servants and a cook, and otherwise prefer to hire casual help from the village, as needed. Mrs. Wakefield—she played the maid who talked to you—has chosen servants who can be depended on to keep our secrets, and they will be waiting for us."

"How long will we stay there?" Tammie asked. "Can we go straight to Cornwall? Or do you have business keeping you near London?"

"You are our business," grumbled Bran. "By the way, who is Mac?"

She shook her head. She didn't know anyone called Mac.

"Your footman told me that Mac knows," Jowan said. " The Ballad of Tam Lin. Mac knows. That was the message."

No matter how she wracked her brain, Tammie couldn't figure out who Mac was or what he might know. "But you worked out the important part," she pointed out to Jowan.

Bran groaned. "Jowan and I will spend our lives wondering who Mac is," he complained.

Tammie didn't know what to make of Bran. She had seen him with Jowan several times—in Hyde Park and when she was singing for ladies of the ton. It was a surprise to discover he was Jowan's brother. There was a story there, and Tammie meant to find out what it was.

Bran was polite, but it was clear to Tammie that he was no happier about being part of a threesome than Tammie was. It was illogical of her to be upset. Of course, she hadn't expected that she and Jowan would fall back into the same close friendship they had enjoyed before she was sent away. Nor had she expected them to be alone. She'd had a vague idea that he would provide a maid for propriety.

"We will go on to Cornwall once you are well again," Jowan explained. "You told Mrs. Wakefield that you wanted to stop taking opium and the other substances?"

"I do," Tammie declared, all the more strongly because she was not convinced she would succeed.

Jowan's pleased nod made her even more determined to try. "You will be sick, they tell me, though they cannot be sure how sick. We will stay at Sunnynook—that is the house we are borrowing—until you feel ready to travel again."

Tammie had to accept that. She had tried to stop before and had given up when the pain and the yearnings became too much for her. "Don't let me have anything, Jowan. You must promise. Do not give me opium or alcohol or anything else. Promise me."

Jowan searched her eyes. "I promise," he replied solemnly.

Tammie was not satisfied. "No matter what I say, no matter how much I beg, hold fast," she insisted, and Jowan nodded.

"You, too, Mr. Hughes," Tammie said, fixing Bran with her best stare. "Promise you won't let me have any drugs. I know it is going to hurt. I know I will feel as if I am dying, and Jowan will probably think the same. It is worth it. People hardly ever do die, or so I have been told. But if I do, at least I will have chosen. At least I will no longer be a slave to my own cravings."

Some warmth came into Bran's eyes for the first time. "I promise," he said.

"You will have a nurse," Jowan told her. "Someone who has been through this with other people. I don't know how many or whom—Mrs. Wakefield mentioned men who had been put on laudanum after suffering injuries during the war and women who had taken laudanum for their nerves and then taken more and more. She knows what she is doing, Mrs. Wakefield says."

"We'll also have a cook and a general-purpose maid," added Bran. "Just as well, for I don't think you would want to eat my cooking."

Tammie appreciated the man's effort to lighten the moment but she had another concern. "Isn't it dangerous to stay so close to London? What if Guy finds us? The Earl of Coombe, I mean."

Jowan shook his head. "The only people in London who know where we are going are the Wakefields and Drew, and no one in Ealing will know who we are or why we are there. That's why we are hiring our own servants."

"We will be using false names," Bran added. He pointed to his brother. "John Riddick." An inclination of the head to Tammie. "Thomasina Riddick, his wife." He put his hand on his own chest. "Barney Riddick, brother to John."

"Clever," Tammie acknowledged. "Enough like our own names that we are unlikely to be caught out."

Conversation lapsed after that, and Tammie allowed the movement of the carriage to rock her into an uneasy sleep.

They arrived just at dusk. Tammie woke as they were pulling up to the house—little more than a large cottage set in an acre of gardens. The travelers stepped out of the carriage to be welcomed by candlelight in the windows and the smell of newly baked bread.

The driver helped Bran carry their bags while Jowan escorted Tammie inside. The driver, carriage, and horses would stay at an inn in Ealing until they were sent for. If anyone asked, the driver would say his master was visiting someone in the neighborhood.

It suddenly occurred to Tammie that she had no baggage, but Bran gave one of the bags he was carrying to the maid who opened the door to their knock. Perhaps the ineffable Mrs. Wakefield had packed for Tammie as well!

"If you come this way, Miss, I shall show you up to your room," said the maid.

"The house looks immaculate," Tammie commented.

"The owners always have it cleaned top to bottom when they wish to use it, Miss. Or so I was told. I'm glad, for it will be much less trouble to keep it that way than to clean it all from the beginning. This is your room, Miss."

She opened the third door on the right from the top of the stairs and stepped back for Tammie to enter.

It was a pleasant room. Not nearly as sumptuous as some of those Tammie had slept in while on tour—Coombe tended to stay in palaces, mansions, and castles with the blue-blooded and the rich. Much more comfortable than most of them, though.

The paneling was painted a peaceful shade of mint green, and the same color dominated the wallpaper—a print with leaves and here and there a little bird. A woman waited for her there.

The maid undertook the introductions. "Miss Riddick, this is Mrs. Evangeline Parkerdale, who will look after you while you are here."

"Mrs. Parkerdale," Tammie said. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance." The maid-nurse was younger than Tammie expected—a tall, sturdy woman of around Tammie's age with a pleasant if somewhat nondescript face and a brisk, competent manner.

The woman curtseyed. "Miss Riddick. Call me Evangeline, please. Richards, could you fetch hot water for Miss Riddick's wash?" Richards bobbed a curtsey and left. "Miss Riddick, may I help you to change? Or do you wish to lie down for a while? Traveling can be tiring."

An hour's carriage ride? Tammie had traveled all over Europe and the Middle East and was not at all bothered by an hour's drive on good roads. "A change would be good," she said. "Let us take a look at this bag and see what might be suitable."

"There is more, Miss," said the woman. "Mrs. Wakefield sent a trunk with me. If you will step behind the dressing screen?"

Sure enough, once the bag was also unpacked, Tammie owned four night rails, six chemises and six pairs of daytime stockings, with garters to hold them up, two sets of stays, four day dresses, two evening gowns, a redingote, a soft warm shawl, and two pair of slippers. She also had handkerchiefs, a pocket, a hairbrush and pins, tooth powder, and a toothbrush.

By the time she had ascertained the state of her wardrobe, the maid Richards had returned with a bucket of hot water. "Dinner shall be in thirty minutes, Miss, if it please you," she said.

Tammie removed her clothing behind the dressing screen so that she could retrieve Jowan's ring from her hidden pocket. For the first time in half a decade, she put it on her finger, though she had lost so much weight that it had to go on the middle finger of her right hand, not on the ring finger.

Once she had washed, she allowed Evangeline to help her into one of the evening gowns. "The slippers are a good fit," she commented after she'd put them on her feet.

"Mrs. Wakefield hoped they would be suitable," Evangeline replied. "She thought you were perhaps a fraction larger than she, so she purchased slippers that she found loose."

"She did very well," Tammie acknowledged.

Evangeline also did a good job of putting up Tammie's hair. "You are good at that," Tammie commented. "I understand that your primary task will be to nurse me when I am suffering from the illness that comes on those who give up opium. I did not expect you to also make an excellent maid."

"It is how I started," the woman explained. "I was maid to a lady who took laudanum and looked after her when her son emptied all the bottles and refused to allow more in the house. After the first time, she went back to the laudanum as soon as he thought she was safe to leave to herself, so I nursed her through the relinquishing pains twice."

"The poor lady. Did she manage to stay away from the horrid drug the second time?" Tammie was already desperate for her dream world. Was it really possible to get past the desperate yearning?

"Yes, Miss. She did. And she became anxious about one of her friends who used laudanum, so she loaned me to the friend, who had a friend with a son… Suffice it to say you are my eleventh patient, Miss Riddick, and I am determined to help you all I can."

Tammie took both of Evangeline's hands in her own. "I am grateful. I have asked the two Mr. Riddicks for a promise, and I would have the same promise from you, Evangeline. Do not give in to me. I would rather die than go back to taking the drug, but when the pain and the craving are bad, I fear I will beg for it. Do not give it to me. Keep me from it. Will you promise?"

"I will, Miss. I can tell you this if it helps, none of my patients have died. We will fight this together, Miss."

"Excellent. Thank you."

With those reassurances, Tammie went down to dinner.