Chapter Fifteen

25 Curzon Street, Mayfair

London

Dawn, the next day

"A re you sure you have everything, Doris?" Lady Beadle asked. "I don't imagine we will be gone more than a fortnight, but to get to a strange city and find you are missing something most important is disconcerting."

"I used the list you gave me, my lady," Doris said. "I checked everything—twice." The maid spoke loudly and carefully enunciated, as was her custom when her mistress was not using her ear trumpet.

Lizzie stayed quiet while Lady Beadle and her maid finished the packing. She hoped she had everything but was mostly concerned that she get there for Michael. Please, God, keep him safe for me.

Then it struck her. "Lady Beadle," she said, standing beside her employer.

Lady Beadle gave no reaction to having heard her. She was still arguing with Doris—now over what color dresses were packed.

Lizzie stepped around Doris and looked at her employer. "Lady Beadle, did you pack your ear trumpet?"

"La! That's what I'm missing," the older woman cried out. "Doris, it's next to the settee in the parlor. I had it yesterday when I entertained for tea."

"I'll get it, my lady," Doris replied, barely dipping a bow before leaving to retrieve the hearing apparatus.

They were supposed to have left already, but it appeared Lord Armstrong had been detained. Although Lizzie was curious as to whether Lady Armstrong had discovered she was enceinte yet. Or maybe she knew it but wanted to wait until after the first trimester. That was what some people did, she understood.

Lizzie had long ago given up hope of having a child.

Thinking about children made her think about Simon. "Millie, did you ask Jenkins to send word to Simon that we would not be here for a couple of weeks?" Lizzie hoped their absence wouldn't discourage the young lad. He had such a thirst for knowledge, and she looked forward to working with him more. The small schoolroom Lady Beadle had created was delightful, one of the most generous gestures she could imagine. No wonder Lady Armstrong and Edward adored this woman so much. She, too, had become fond of her over these past months.

Lady Beadle looked up. "Of course, my dear. I asked Jenkins to handle that for me. And I never have to ask him to do something twice. I'm certain it was done."

For reasons she couldn't fathom, Lizzie felt chilled. Bumps covered both arms, the hair on the back of her neck stood, and a feeling of unease swept over her. Warily, she slowly scanned the area in front of the townhouse, taking in each home nearby, the trees and shrubs—anywhere a person could hide. It was early, just breaking dawn, and the sun had not completely penetrated the shadows. While Lizzie saw no one about, she was certain he was out there. She could feel it. He was staring at her…from somewhere .

She wished Lord Armstrong would hurry. She was ready to go—anything to get away from that dreadful man and his lifeless black eyes.

*

"Josie, we can't let them leave us behind. They don't know how bad the Man is. We got to protect 'em. Lord Armstrong's carriage is here. He's the man we heard Lady Beadle ask Mr. Jenkins about. Let's you and me hide inside it so we can go with them and keep her safe." The Man was watching Miss Lizzie— not me , Simon thought. It was the same thing he did when he snatched children from the East End. Simon had seen it often enough.

He cocked his head and looked at the little brown dog. "I don't think the Man recognized me, girl. Probably because I growed taller. Or maybe because I've got you, Josie. He wouldn't be looking for his boys to have a dog." He looked down at his clothes and smoothed the small waistcoat Lady Beadle had purchased for him and stood a bit taller. "Or maybe it was my nice clothes." Simon reached down and gave his dog a pat on her head and a piece of the cheese he had taken from the larder at Lord Sinclair's. "The cook told me to get whatever I wanted," he told Josie, looking at his jacket before picking a piece of thread off the sleeve.

Cautiously, Simon scanned the area around the carriage. Activity was bustling, but no one was paying attention to the carriage, where he and his little dog wanted to be. They edged closer. He heard the driver and two footmen arguing behind the carriage over where to put the food hampers and trunks. The men on horseback were joking about someone they met at a pub. Everyone was busy, but no one saw him sneak up to the side of the coach. Quietly, Simon opened the door on the side away from the townhouse and climbed in. Josie jumped in behind him.

Hastily, he scanned both benches. "Lord Armstrong sure has a nice carriage," he whispered. "It's very big. And both benches have plenty of holes to breathe. We should be comfortable." Quickly, he opened the lid of the bench that faced the driver and spread out one of the blankets. "Hurry, Josie. They'll be leaving soon." The dog hopped in, and Simon tucked in right behind her. He pulled the bench lid down and shifted around until he and Josie became comfortable. "It'll be a long ride, Josie, and we'll have to be quiet."

As if in answer, the puppy gave a light yip of understanding.

*

Graceview Manor

Folkestone, Kent

Sin sat upon Romney's large white steed and surveyed the coastal community of Folkestone below. He turned his head at the sound of horse hooves coming up behind him and saw Wright approaching on a large black mare.

"You're riding like you have a burr under your saddle," Wright said. "I never mind a morning ride, but I had no idea you meant it to be a race."

"I cannot get Lizzie off my mind. And I find myself constantly going over everything in my head. At least her brother seems to be out of danger."

"You've sat vigil for two nights," Wright said. "He's made an amazing recovery, considering his difficulties when we found him."

"I agree. My fear was she'd arrive and he'd be worse, or even dead," Sin said. "Robinson looks much better this morning. He's still feverish, but we spoke briefly, and he seems more lucid."

"Well, I'm no doctor, but that seems like the right direction," Wright said. "What do you think about taking a trip into town and nosing around? Romney's information hints that Blackwood is connected. But we need proof. I'd like to have a pulse on whether he's here yet, or when he's returning."

"That's a good idea." Sin gave a quick shake of his head and sat up straighter in the saddle. "Sleeping in a chair is not recommended." He stretched his arms. "I hadn't intended to sleep in the chair in Robinson's room last night. I must have fallen asleep after Dr. Fox left. Fatigue and brandy are a potent combination."

"I agree. On my way out, I passed the maid named May, and after asking about Robinson, she mentioned that she was getting ready to bring him oatmeal." Wright chuckled. "He probably won't want to see a hot bowl of oatmeal for a long time after he makes it through all of this. I know I wouldn't."

Sin laughed heartily. "When his sister gets here, he may find himself eating more than he thinks. She believes the stuff has many medicinal qualities. Lizzie told me often that oatmeal reduces anxiety and has anti-itch effects—among other things. When I had yellow fever, she made me eat a lot of it, always reminding me how it helps with inflammation around wounds. I ate a lot of oatmeal."

Wright laughed again. "You may be right. Perhaps we've not given Mrs. Pritchett her due. She seems to have quite a knowledge of natural remedies herself."

"I hadn't thought of that, but you're right. Speaking of Lizzie, I'm sure she's on her way. I wrote to her and asked her to come." Sin wondered how things were going with Simon's lessons. He had a feeling they were going well, and wished he were there. More and more he was realizing that his work for Wellington was coming to an end. He wanted more from life than traveling from assignment to assignment. He wanted a family, he wanted to plant roots, and most of all, he wanted Lizzie.

"Your aunt will be with her," Wright said.

"Yes, you are right about that. I cannot imagine Aunt Millie staying behind."

"I quite like your aunt. You're lucky to have her, you know. She keeps things interesting," Wright said.

Sin smiled. "She's always been that way. Celia and I loved to stay with her when we were children. Nothing seemed off-limits. And that attic of hers has a treasure trove of clothing from the past."

"Have you forgotten? I was at the dance in Bath. I noticed the orange wig," Wright said with a grin. "So, when do you want to ride into Folkestone? I thought a drink at one of the local pubs might give us a little information."

"That's not a bad idea. But let's break our fast and perhaps ask Romney's advice on where to go. He knows the area better than we do," Sin said. "Let's head back."

Sin and Wright found the Romneys in the dining room breaking their fast.

"Good morning, Lord Sinclair, Lord Wright. Did you sleep well?" Bethany asked, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

"I did, thank you, Bethany," Sin said.

"I've asked our cook to prepare more bacon for you, Sin. I know it's one of your favorites," she said, taking a bite.

At that moment, the dining room door opened, and a footman entered carrying more eggs and bacon.

"Just in time," Sin remarked before filling his plate. He took a seat across from Romney. "I have a favor to ask."

"Name it," Romney said.

"I sent a note to Armstrong and Lizzie. I have no doubt she's on her way here, but probably won't arrive until tomorrow. I asked Armstrong to come with her. In the meantime, you mentioned your suspicions that Blackwood is leading a smuggling operation. Wright and I want to find out more about his operation, and we would be grateful for any tips you can give us—like whom to speak with, that sort of thing. And do you know where the man stays when he's here?"

Romney put down his fork and wiped his mouth, then leaned back in his seat. "First, I don't need to remind you to be careful. Blackwood's become a problem around these parts over the last two or three years. Before that, we had nary a whisper about smuggling here. Now I understand it's become a major, but hushed, topic of discussion—although I've seen no evidence that the people farm our land aren't loyal to my family."

"Of course," Wright said.

"He has two lieutenants—mean individuals, in my opinion. One runs his smuggling operations while he's not here, and the other… Well, there are whispers that he buys children from poor families and uses them as chimney sweeps. The man is a monster."

"I would love to beat him to a pulp," Wright said. "Pardon me, Lady Romney,"

"No offense taken," she said. "I completely agree with you."

"What have you heard about Blackwood in this area?" Sin asked.

"I've been listening to the scuttlebutt, and I intend to put a stop to it. If a family doesn't have enough to put food on the table, I want them to come to me, not sell their child," Romney said, his face flushed with emotion.

"I have taken a child into my home who was cleaning chimneys for someone called the Man . A coincidence? I think not. I'm inclined to think ‘the Man' is the same one who controls the smuggling ring in this area. And we all know it can be none other than Blackwood."

"If our intelligence is correct, Blackwood runs a cloak-and-dagger operation," Romney said. "We should probably speak with Robinson if he's up to it—before our reconnaissance. Learn what he knows first."

"Good suggestion," Wright said after draining his cup of coffee.

Sin finished his own coffee and stood. "Let's speak with Robinson."

"I'll go with you," Bethany offered.

"No, darling," Romney said. "You've been on your feet enough. I'll accompany them. May is still up there, isn't she?"

"She should be. If she hasn't changed his bandages, please ask her," Bethany said.

Fifteen minutes later, the three men walked into Robinson's room and found the captain sitting in his bed while May fed him oatmeal. When the door opened, the pretty young maid stood. "My lords. I was helping Captain Robinson with his meal."

"Yes, I see that." Sin bit his bottom lip to keep from smiling. "I was thinking your injuries were to your leg and midsection, Robinson. I was unaware you had injured your arm."

"Considering the extent of my injuries, I thought it was important to keep my arm healthy and strong," Robinson said with a sly grin.

"May, Lady Romney wishes for you to change Captain Robinson's bandages—but can you wait until we speak with the captain? We shouldn't be more than a half-hour."

"Yes, my lord," the maid said, bobbing her head.

"Thank you, May," Robinson said, his lips curved in a crooked smile.

The young maid blushed and curtseyed, holding the breakfast tray as she scurried from the room.

"Robinson, tell me I don't need to have you chaperoned," Romney said, arching a brow.

"Of course not," Robinson said. "I promise to behave."

"Good." Romney drew up a chair. "Sin and Wright want to do some investigation in town. But I suggested we find out what you know about Lord Blackwood."

"The smugglers revere him. I believe he's in charge of everything but have limited evidence. And a few lords are reputed to be aiding him—Lord Pattison, Lord Pegram, and Lord Nesbitt are names I've heard."

"I know of them," Romney said.

"According to our intelligence, they were feeding information about the arms being sent back to England," Robinson said. "But our evidence is limited. We thought we had the right cave but took a wrong turn in one of the tunnels. They discovered us. There's also a house in Folkestone he inherited from an elderly uncle. It's not in great shape, but we were going to check it out. We just never made it," he lamented.

"Your captors didn't know who you were, did they?" Wright said. It was more of a statement than a question.

"No. They called us revenuers and beat us with their pistols, fists, and whatever was handy. It was almost as if they were more interested in thrashing us than learning who we were." Robinson's voice cracked.

"You were lucky. Had they known who they had, who knows if we would have found you alive," Wright said.

"I know we're peppering you with these questions, but did you hear them refer to ‘the Man'?" Sin asked.

"Many times…and whoever it is, they were afraid of him," Robinson said. "While I had my suspicions it was Blackwood, we never learned who it was for sure."

"Who do you think it is?" Wright asked.

"I think it's Blackwood," Robinson replied.

"I sent word to Lizzie and asked her to come," Sin said.

"Bethany sent word, too. She felt it was the right thing to do," Romney said. "I've no doubt the woman is on her way."

"She mailed me and told me she'd run out of funds and needed to return," Robinson said. "So I'm glad to hear she's back in England. I couldn't wait for her to arrive, so I left a note for her at the Admiralty and Marine Affairs Office."

"She's taken a position as companion to my Aunt Millie," Sin said.

"As in Lady Beadle?" Robinson asked, sounding surprised. "I left word for Lizzie to contact Celia and William for help, knowing they would assist her in getting settled. But goodness! I never imagined her as a companion—to Lady Beadle, no less." He chuckled.

"Lady Beadle will most likely be with her when she arrives," Wright added. "They appear to have grown quite close."

"I'm pleased to hear that. It's been several years since I've seen or spoken to Lizzie—except for the odd letter here and there. It's strange to hear myself say this, but I miss her. With our parents gone, we're all each other has."

The remark rankled Sin. Lizzie had him, too. But didn't Michael say he hadn't spoken to her? He cleared his throat. "Then you don't know about my relationship with her."

Robinson turned to Sin and narrowed his eyes. "What relationship?"

"Relax," Sin said. "I had yellow fever and stumbled upon your sister's cabin in the woods near Boston when I was at my worst. I was in America to find Romney—who, you have probably heard, had gone missing after the Battle of New Orleans. Lizzie nursed me back to health. I left to find Romney—and by the time I got back to Boston, she was gone. We ran into each other at Celia's ball—what a surprise that was!"

"I can only imagine," Robinson said, smiling.

"She was upset that the admiralty office would tell her nothing of your whereabouts, terrified that you were injured or worse. And I couldn't tell her I was coming to find you—but I can tell you, finding you alive was a balm to my heart."

"That's my sister," Robinson said. "Did you develop feelings for each other?"

"Yes. And fool that I am, I've not told her how I feel," Sin said.

"Which is?" Robinson asked.

"I love her."