Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

I t occurred to Patience, after she calmed down from the sight of Ashley covered in blood, that he might need help that night. Westwood was preoccupied with Faith and the baby, and now that Rupert had been killed, the threat was considerably higher.

Someone needed to be there to help him. What if someone had given away the plan and they were ambushed tonight just as they had been that morning? She could not prevent that, but she could at least be on the lookout. He would not want her help, of course. She also considered that Mr. Cunningham and Lord Montford could be of service and she hoped he would see reason.

Everyone was gathered in the drawing room to go in to dinner, and Major Stuart was there, but he was dressed informally in unrelieved black. He must be preparing to leave, she assumed.

He acknowledged her with a nod and she went directly to speak with him. "Are you to go out to meet them alone, then?"

"I am. Does this surprise you?" His brows drew together.

"I think after this morning's events, that perhaps proceeding with more help might be wise."

"After this morning, I think the more covert is the best way forward."

She shook her head. "You should have more eyes, more cover."

His brows straightened, then rose. "Are you suggesting yourself?"

"Assuming you would object, I would suggest Cunningham and Montford. But I can be quiet when called for and can wield a knife with deadly accuracy."

"In the dark?"

"I've never attempted throwing in the dark as you well know."

"Your suggestion is not without merit." His tone surprised her.

"Why, thank you."

"However, it would be putting yourself and others at risk when it is not their duty. As this morning was a prime example."

"This morning, Sir Horace and Rupert were acting of their own accord against your wishes. Anything we did would be at your direction only—and only to serve as a lookout or as back up only in the most extreme necessity." Patience could see that he was considering, which gave her hope.

"I am trying to think how best to employ all of you for the best advantage. First, I should speak with Cunningham and Montford to see if they are willing." He called to both of the gentlemen, beckoning them over to his side.

"Gentlemen, you may have heard about this morning's unfortunate events."

"Horrific!" Mr. Cunningham acknowledged.

"As Westwood is indisposed, I wondered if I might prevail upon you two to assist me this evening. Mainly to serve as lookouts for trouble should our plans for the return of our troop have been compromised as this morning's was. I do not believe there is any threat, but it is best to be prepared."

"Yes, of course. What do you need from us?" Montford asked.

"Let us dine quickly, and then we must be gone to be in position well before dark."

Patience thrummed with excitement, knowing a typical lady would be offended by her eagerness to participate in such a thing. She was hardly able to eat any of her food, then rushed upstairs to change into dark clothing, including the pair of breeches she'd used before. There was too much at stake to be risking her safety with propriety when no one would see her in the dark anyway. When she met with the others in the study for their departure, the men were checking their pistols and loading them.

Over dinner, they had planned their positioning, steering clear of the lookout tree in the clearing in case someone else was making use of it. Patience did not think the person would be so bold, but one could never be too careful.

"Remember your signals?" Ashley asked.

"Mine is a bird call," Freddy answered.

"Mine is a whistle," Montford replied.

"Mine is a loud cough," Patience answered, wishing she had somehow garnered a talent for more exotic noises as a child, but it could not be helped.

"All right. We exit from different doorways from the house so we are not all seen leaving together. I will not leave my post until it is dark. Remember, your safety is foremost. Do not risk yourselves under any circumstances." He looked directly at her as he said it.

Patience stuffed her hair up under a cap, then left and strolled to the stables. Major Stuart thought it best for her to leave from there because she looked more like a young groom than the rest of them. She wandered down the path and over the bridge then diverted towards her spot behind a tree, just shy of the dock.

It was still probably an hour until full darkness. Hopefully, there was to be a little bit of moon, because it would be scary being there alone, even though she knew the others to be nearby.

As she stood there alone, the enormity of the situation and what they were dealing with sunk in. It was hard to believe that Rupert was dead—murdered. Before, it had felt like a game of wits to be solved.

As darkness fell and shades of blue turned to dark purples, every sound intensified. Every leaf that rustled, every pine cone that fell, every chirp from a bird, and every chitter from an animal made her tighten her hand around the hilt of her knife.

Patience tried to think of pleasant things besides being there alone in the woods with a killer possibly lurking nearby, ready to slit her throat. So when a deep voice whispered into her ear, she jumped, barely swallowing the scream threatening to escape her lips. An unladylike curse might have been uttered.

"What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?" she scolded him, as much as anyone could trying to do so in a whisper. "You are fortunate there is not a knife in your chest."

"You were supposed to be looking out for me," he retorted.

"Once it was dark." That he was right didn't make her less annoyed at her deficiency because he was standing so close he was touching her. His nearness was scrambling her wits. His breath tickled her ear, and if she turned her head just a little, their lips would meet. He was doing it on purpose, but she would not let him distract her. Her gaze intensified on the water just beyond the dock. A few vessels had already passed, but none of them had slowed down or come near.

"Do you know what type of vessel they were to arrive in?" she asked, hoping she did not sound as breathless as she felt.

"I assume a river barge. Something big enough to look unobtrusive and something small enough to sneak into the dock quietly."

"Must you stand so close?"

"Oh, I think I must. Otherwise, how are we to talk?"

"The object was to be quiet and listen. It's difficult enough to hear over the water."

"As evidenced by my sneaking up on you."

"So good of you to remind me of my mistake."

He knew he was torturing her, and he was enjoying every moment of it. Perhaps two could play the game. She leaned back a little and nuzzled closer. His sharp intake of breath told her everything she needed to know. She smiled with satisfaction. He could hardly chastise her for giving him a dish of his own medicine.

"You are playing with fire, Patience," he breathed into her ear, sending a delicious shiver up her spine. Before she thought more about it, she turned her head slightly and their lips met.

If this was fire, then she was fully prepared to let it consume her, burn her. His lips felt nothing like Rupert's had, and she was very willing to replace that awful memory with this one.

He pulled away and she grasped his head and brought it back to her lips. She wasn't ready for this to end. She felt him smile against her lips, the oaf.

"Had a taste of me, and now you are ravenous?"

She harrumphed.

"Much as I'd like this to continue, there is a boat approaching." How had he been able to keep his wits about him?

Patience was grateful for the darkness, because her cheeks were burning with embarrassment. Some lookout she was.

As the boat pulled into the dock, the crew was anything but quiet.

"What the devil?" he muttered, and she felt him pull his gun from its holster and began moving towards the dock.

Patience took that to mean that this was not his men arriving. Remaining where she was, she put her hand on the hilt of her knife, just in case this was some sort of trick.

"Carew? Well met!" Mr. Cunningham's voice greeted rather loudly.

Stuart hissed his annoyance and muttered something she could not discern, though it was obvious he was displeased with the turn of events. Would it risk his men?

"This is not the normal welcoming party," Carew drawled. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"You could say that, but no matter. How can we help?"

"If someone could send for the grooms. They are used to helping me unload. I've only brought four this time."

Montford and Cunningham offered to go, while Patience remained where she was, unsure of what to do. Did Carew's arrival mean that the others could not land?

Stuart seemed to be discussing something with Carew quietly. Perhaps he was conveying the situation to him. The next thing she knew, he was back at her side.

"I will escort you back to the house. As you can see, there are plenty of people here."

"You stay and help. I can see my own way back. I saw myself here, after all."

"It was not yet dark." He wanted to argue more, but it was best if he remained.

"Will your men still be able to land?" she whispered.

"I believe they may be able to still come in well-hidden by the other boat. Carew's arrival is an excellent distraction."

Patience made her way back to the house, keeping her hand on the hilt of her knife. At least Grace would be happy by this unexpected arrival.

The men had indeed been able to sneak in behind the arrival of Carew's boat and crew. They jumped in and helped with the horses and looked like they were part of the crew that had come from Ireland.

As they moved Devil to the gamekeeper's cottage, he cursed his own recklessness for having given in to temptation. He needed to apologize to Patience because nothing could ever come of it. She might think it was fun now, but would soon grow weary of it. Of him. But that would have to come later.

Once inside the cottage, Baines and Fielding looked around. It was not a large place with only a bedroom and a living space with a small kitchen, but it was a better choice than the dovecote.

"I thought you two could stay here with Devil." Who they had just sat down in the wooden chair. He angled his head to the table. "There is some dinner Cook made for you."

"We've certainly stayed in much less desirable places than this," Baines remarked as he headed towards the food.

He served some food on a plate and set it before Devil then untied his hands.

"Much obliged."

Baines inclined his head as though uncomfortable with thanks from a prisoner. It appeared they had garnered some grudging respect for each other throughout this ordeal.

Fielding also made himself a plate and they dug into Cook's delicious mash and chops.

"Did the rest of the trip go as planned?" Ashley asked as he took the jug of ale Cook had packed and filled up pewter tankards for each of them.

"Much better than the beginning," Fielding answered. "How were things here? It felt wrong to leave you to clean up the mess."

Ashley could not deny it had been less than ideal. "Needs must when the devil drives, as they say. If Farmer Jones had not happened by, it would have been much more difficult. With Sir Horace shocked into a statue, and Westwood indisposed with Faith giving birth, it was a strange day to be sure."

"Has the babe been born, then?"

He nodded in the affirmative. "She had already given birth by the time I returned with the body. A healthy baby boy. I am off the hook!"

"Hear, hear!" They raised their mugs and drank to Lady Westwood.

"One development that deepens the mystery is that Rupert was shot in the back."

Baines let out a low whistle. He and Fielding certainly understood how it complicated matters. "Westwood has agreed to delay the inquest as long as possible so we may try to root out who is behind this." Ashley turned towards Devil, who was unusually subdued and looked deep in thought. "Any thoughts on what the plan will be now that the gang knows you are a prisoner? I imagine they may not be waiting for signals from you."

"I've been wondering meself."

"Where will they go at night if not waiting for you?"

Devil squirmed restlessly in his seat, looking reluctant to answer.

"We will not harm Billy. You have our word," Baines promised.

"Did any of you 'appen to see 'im? Is 'e alright?"

Ashley shook his head. "Everything happened so quickly, but I only counted four men. I can ask our men for an accounting."

Devil nodded. "I've been thinking the whole day that maybe the toff would try to kill all of us. If he knows I'm captured, he won't want to risk using us again."

"But there are also risks involved in finding someone new and in a very short time," Ashley pointed out.

"True. Shorty and Smith work at the docks—that's how we got in the first time. But with the coin he offered, it's more than a year's wages for the company."

No one could keep his morals when it came down to them having a roof over his head and food in his belly. It was hard not to be sympathetic. Ashley knew what he was saying was true. A drive through one of the rookeries was enough testament to the fact that most of London lived in abject poverty.

"We can only hope his mightiness will decide to take the risk on your gang again, Devil. If there is anything at all that you recall about the man you were in contact with that might help us narrow down who he is, now is the time to tell us. If he killed Rupert off for knowing too much, then chances are he may try to execute your entire gang when he is through with you." He knew they'd questioned him a hundred times and for hours on end, but Ashley could not give up. They were desperate.

Devil closed his eyes and let out a slow breath through his nose.

"You said he spoke in a deep voice and he would not let you see his face."

"We always met in the shadows."

"Where did you meet?"

"Sometimes he would sneak up on me in the clearing—always behind me, mind you. He was very particular that I never turn around. Or at first, we would meet at a warehouse by the docks."

It was the same thing he had been saying all along.

"Is there anything else at all? Did he wear a scent?"

"Aye, but I couldn't name it. One of them fancy smells only Lunnoners wear. It was strong as though 'e was trying to mask the smell of tobacco on 'im."

"What about his hands? Did he ever pass anything to you?"

Devil squinted his eyes. Then Ashley saw a change pass over his face. "You remembered something."

"'E wore a ring. One of them what you call a signet. It 'ad a big dark stone in it. I could not tell the colour, but it looked black in the dark."

Ashley exchange glances with Fielding and Baines. Both gave little shakes of their heads. At least half, if not more, of the gentlemen in England wore signet rings. There was no immediate connection to anyone they could think of. But it was certainly a lead.

"Our time searching might be better spent in London," Fielding said.

"None of us belongs to that set. Perhaps Renforth knows which club Rupert frequented."

"I'm not certain much more will happen here anyway. At least until we spring the trap."